FNV courier asks: 1, 3, 7, 10, 12, 21, and 42

Tysm for the ask! For my courier, Aces:

which faction did they side with (NCR, legion, yes-man, or house)?

They joined Yes Man. Initially they were uncomfortable working with him because of his association with Benny, but they got over that pretty quickly--not least because in their opinion, their other options were much worse.

3. melee, guns, energy weapons, or unarmed?

A combination of melee and guns--they use Lucky (a revolver) for distance and Gehenna (a shiskebab) for close combat. They can fight unarmed, but prefer not to. They adjust their fighting style depending on which companions they're with, for example keeping distance so as not to get in Veronica's way, or moving in close to keep enemies focused on them and away from Arcade.

7. favorite companions? least favorite companions?

Their favorites are Veronica, who they fuss over and treat like a little sister, and Arcade, who they consider their best friend. They think ED-E is the cutest little thing in the whole Mojave. They're close with Lily and Boone as well, although they take some time to warm up to the latter, the two of them wind up very good friends.

(They're friends with Raul and Cass too--those two are just kinda difficult to get in-game so I haven't spent a bunch of time with them and am not 100% sure about how Aces feels about them in comparison to the others.)

10. where were they born/raised? when/why did they leave?

Aces was born in Oklahoma before moving west, though in their case it was because they got a job as a courier, which is something they've been doing for a while. Their family raised horses.

After being shot, they don't remember this, but they do retain their skill with animals.

12. how did the bullet affect them?

Badly. They have almost no memory of their life before it, and can't remember their name. Doc Mitchell calls them "Ace" because of the ace of hearts card tucked into their hat band, and it just kind of sticks. They're blind in their right eye and have scars across the right side of their face, and because they're self-conscious of their looks, they style their hair and wear a bandanna to cover the worst of the damage.

21. what do they look like? how tall are they? are they attractive? any piercings, tattoos, scars?

Have a little doodle!

They're 6'5", muscular, and somewhat top-heavy. As mentioned, they have facial scarring from the bullet, but that's the worst injury they've sustained in their life. They have a number of minor scars and scrapes from working with horses, as a courier, and travelling, but nothing noteworthy. They keep their hair long until after Old World Blues, where it's shaved and they decide to keep it that way. By that point, they're starting to go grey.

They love wearing bright colors and dressing up when they go out on the Strip. Particularly, they like floral patterns and embroidery. They're charismatic and a little vain, and can be very showy in mannerism and appearance.

42. name a random fact about your courier.

This is sort of a meta fact I guess, but when I first played FNV I was also reading Stephen King's The Dark Tower novels, and I based Ace's initial appearance on a character in that series named Susannah Dean. I think the name on my first save was "Suze," even.

Hey, I loved your post about queerness in historical fiction. I was wondering if you could help me find a better way to explain (or know of someone who could) to the white (usually male) fans of Tolkien who are currently losing their minds because in the series for Amazon they have cast Sir Lenny Henry (a black man) as a hobbit. It feels like the exact same argument that was dealt with when Anya Chalotra was cast as Yennefer for The Witcher. It just seems like only white people are screaming that the entire cast must be white in both the case of the Witcher and Middle Earth in order to be "historically accurate to the Dark Ages" when it's all fantasy. I'm a white person and I don't get it. It's really frustrating that the only way to convince them that people of color should be allowed to play characters who aren't evil-doers is to bring up the existence of the potato in both Middle Earth and The Witcher. In this most recent fight, I've been called all kinds of names (one dude keeps saying I'm racist when I haven't brought up race or anything like that) and it's ridiculous because Henry was cast as a Harfoot who were hobbits with dark skin that they claim means Mediterranean not Black.

Ooof. I admire your initiative, I really do, but also: there comes a point where all good-faith efforts are totally futile, because these people don't actually WANT their beliefs challenged, and there won't be anything you can do about it except to exhaust yourself. You can throw all the material or documentary evidence at them that you want, but it won't work, because racism, white superiority, and the assumption of a monolithically white medieval history are a helluva drug. They are eager to split ridiculous hairs like "dark skin means Mediterranean instead of black" because, well, racism, whether or not they want to acknowledge that. Because Mediterranean is at least European, whereas for them, Black is Bad, Inferior, or otherwise Unacceptable. This doesn't even get into the types who want to claim that Ancient Rome (which was rather notably, y'know, Mediterranean and North African) was actually lily-white, because even dark-skinned Southern and Eastern Europeans can't ultimately make the racist cut.

Tolkien himself obviously had problems with his depiction of race and racialized people (witness the Haradrim, "men from the South," being the only people of colour in the story and generalized as an indiscriminate evil force fighting for Sauron against the white/Northern European heroes). That's not to say Tolkien was actively racist (see: the letter he wrote to the Nazi German would-be publishers of The Hobbit, inviting them cordially to get fucked), but it does mean that he was steeped in the usual assumptions and expectations of a white upper-class British man in the 1920s and 1930s, and not least the mindset that the (white) rulers of the (nonwhite) British Empire were superior, morally correct, and the privileged resisters of "evil" political systems. (This isn't even getting into how Germany was admired throughout the long 19th century for its perceived cultural and social superiority, the American eugenics movement directly influenced the Nazis, a lot of people thought that Hitler's only mistake was being too obviously crazy, and America and Britain only actively entered World War II when their territory/perceived global power was infringed upon.)

White people tend to assume that if they personally don't hold discriminatory attitudes (and they usually do, just because that's what society has taught them for almost all of modern history), they can't be racist, and it's a personal insult to call them that. They know that Racism Is Bad, but likewise, it's always someone else's fault, not theirs. See the huge brouhaha over the supposed plan to teach "critical race theory" in American public schools, which is really just acknowledging that centuries of racism and discrimination have created a system that disadvantages people of color at every level. This is absolute heresy for today's right wing (which has become ever more extreme, reactionary, and historically amnesiac) to admit. They can admit historical racism, sometimes, maybe, only in demonstrably "bad" people, but as far as they're concerned, there was no lingering effect whatsoever, and it's "un-American" (read: anti-white supremacist) to insist otherwise. Land of the free! Everyone treated the same! Etc. etc. The continued inferior or disadvantaged life outcomes of people of color is, according to these types, simply a result of them not being motivated/ambitious/smart enough to fix their own broken circumstances. Those centuries of genocide, cultural destruction, use as literal chattel slaves, etc, has nothing to do with it.

If this sounds ridiculous: well, obviously, it is. But as reactionary mindsets have become troublingly normalized and social media has allowed people to spread both passively and actively racist content to unprecedented degrees, it has also leaked into media. The type of white-man-fan you're arguing with won't accept any "historically accurate" argument for the inclusion of non-white people, even as they're staking their own (bad) arguments on that hill. This is because they want to claim the sole privilege to create a nostalgic/imagined/fantasy space that looks just like them. Their underlying belief is that people of color never had any power or consequential role in history, and shouldn't have, so they don't want to see a space, even an explicitly fantastic/non-historical setting (like LOTR, The Witcher, GOT, etc.), where this is the case. Whether or not they want to say it, or even if they're aware of it, they feel that even if they've been unhappily forced to accept a small lessening of their cultural power just because we no longer automatically accept that white men get to run everything, they at least can take comfort in a (white) past. And now, or so they think, the "politically correct" types also want to ruin their racist fantasy comfort zone. They can't even escape from multiculturalism in media, as it too has become steadily more diverse.

Basically: it's racism, Jan. It's many levels of racism, you can't argue those people out of it, and you have to identify and understand that, especially since their favorite diversionary tactic will be the schoolyard maneuver of going, "no, YOU'RE the racist!!!"

(Also: "historically accurate to the Dark Ages" should tell you everything you need to know. These people know absolutely nothing about history, but that won't prevent them from weaponising it in defense of the perceived threat to their cultural and racial domination. Besides, yet again, fantasy universes have no claim to historical accuracy, and if you say that, I assume you just want to feel justified in creating a fictional universe where the only powerful/consequential people are white heterosexual western European-coded men, because you not-so-secretly wish it was still that way in reality.)

Seek Him Who My Soul Loveth (1/2)

For my spin on @gayforgoodomens‘ Priest AU, for when she wondered off-hand how Crowley and Aziraphale might go about having sex for the first time, whilst simultaneously still pining/pretending they’re not breaking their vows. So, naturally, off I went to write what’s looking like will be a 6-7,000 word fic about it.

Listen, the only thing stopping me from turning this AU into a full-blown multichapter fic is (a) my knowledge of the workings of Catholicism being limited to some brief skimming of Wikipedia and what little of church I remember from when I was 7 and (b) I already have a multichapter WIP being posted, and I know I don't have the attention span to maintain two major WIPs simultaneously.

But I want to

(That being said, this is in two parts; part two should be done in a few days.)

If you prefer, you can also read this on Ao3 @ childrenofthesun.

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

"Ah, Father Crowley, there you are! So, this is where you've been hiding all evening."

 "Hardly a shock to find me out here, is it?" Crowley asked with a grin, squinting up at the cherubic middle-aged man now standing beside him. Like Crowley, he was wearing pants and a short-sleeved button-up with a clerical tab, in deference to the balmy summer weather. Unlike Crowley, he was very clean and neat, and not wearing a dirt-streaked garden apron. "I've been spending all of my free time this week working on the gardens, now that Shadwell's retired and can't go berating me for trying to do the job he wasn't even doing himself. Beyond me how he even got the job in the first place."

 The other man looked around fretfully, as if expecting the former groundskeeper to leap out from behind a poorly maintained bush and start yelling at him. "Oh, I know, but you mustn't be too hard on the poor fellow. The job was more to make him feel useful than anything. But Gabriel said we couldn't justify the expense anymore."

 "You were too soft on him, anyway, Aziraphale," Crowley admonished, smirking at the little huff Aziraphale let out when Crowley didn't address him by his title, as he was supposed to. "Letting him set up all that nonsense meant to ward off witches. It’s certainly never stopped Anathema from coming here to borrow one of your books."

 "At least it kept him busy," Aziraphale replied, sounding slightly aggrieved. His hands fluttered briefly by his wrists, as if he wanted to fiddle with the sleeves of the cassock that was his preferred style of dress. "Although it would have been nice if he had directed some of that energy towards the upkeep of the gardens. I did try to explain to him that the grounds are consecrated, and that surely would ward off evil, but in his eyes that wasn't sufficient protection."

 "I know, I tried to explain it that way, too," Crowley told him cheerfully. "Apparently, the fact that I wear sunglasses all the time means I must be in league with the Devil, so he didn't think my input was particularly useful."

"Is he not aware of your eye condition?"

 "I tried to tell him what photosensitivity is, but seems he's of the school of thought that science and witchcraft are basically the same thing. The tattoos probably didn't help me make my case either."

 Aziraphale made a face. "Ah."

 "Yup," Crowley confirmed, and Aziraphale shook himself suddenly.

 "You've distracted me, you wily old thing!" he chided.

 "Younger than you," Crowley pointed out, grinning impishly and making Aziraphale glower at him with impatience.

 "I was about to get cross with you," Aziraphale insisted. Crowley arched an eyebrow at him.

 "Oh? Whatever for?"  

Aziraphale gestured at the gardening tools in Crowley's hands. "That! It's far too late for you to be working out here, still."

 "Still light out," Crowley muttered, poking rebelliously at the soil with his trowel.

 Aziraphale rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in exasperation. "It's summer, of course it's still light out! That doesn't change the fact that it's almost nine thirty." He shifted his weight, arms now folded. The slowly dwindling rays of sunset caught in the white-gold curls crowning Aziraphale's head, making them glow as if from within.

 Lord, but did he look like an angel.

 Crowley hissed in displeasure as he begrudgingly got to his feet, the taut muscles of his back creaking in protest. Aziraphale gave him a reproving look.

 "'S not like it's going to weed itself," Crowley grumbled in a half-hearted final objection, wincing again. Now that he was standing, the ache in his back was really starting to settle in. He tried to straighten to his full height, which would give him a few inches over Aziraphale, but found that his spine would only comfortably let him stand with their eyes level.

 All right, maybe he had been overdoing it a bit over the past few days.

 Aziraphale pursed his lips. "Be that as it may, you mustn't work like this to the detriment of your own wellbeing. It will still be here in the morning. This is your home, Crowley, it isn't as if you'll be forced to leave if you don't turn the church grounds into Kew Gardens overnight."

 "S'pose I would've been kicked out ages ago, if that were the case," Crowley acquiesced, rubbing some of the dirt on his hands onto his gardening apron. "Y'know, when I first came here, I was really excited to see the gardens," he admitted. "I'd heard how lovely they were, especially for such a small church. Was a bit of shock when I saw the state they were in."

 What he didn't add was that, given Shadwell's constant undermining of any covert attempt he made to coax the gardens back to life, Crowley would have long ago gone and grovelled to the diocese to grant him a new assignment elsewhere. That is, had he not had a compelling reason to want to stay in Tadfield.

 A middle-aged, cherubic man-shaped reason, to be specific.

 "Well, you'll have plenty of time to restore them to their former glory, now," Aziraphale said kindly. "There's no need for you to rush anything."

 Crowley hummed in agreement, and went to bend down to pick up his tools, unable to stifle a groan as he did so. Aziraphale was quick to forestall the movement with a hand to Crowley's chest, his usual hesitance to so much as brush shoulders with Crowley vanishing under his concern. Allow me, he probably said, but Crowley couldn't hear him over the sudden rush of blood to his ears, pounding through his rapidly beating heart in a way that Aziraphale would surely be able to feel beneath his fingers.

 Aziraphale said something else that Crowley's brain refused to parse, too focused on trying to keep the other priest from realising the effect the simple touch was having on him. He managed to nod, not sure what he was agreeing to, but was rather proud of himself for managing not to whimper when Aziraphale's hand pulled away.

 "We'll just put these away first," Aziraphale told him, Crowley's brain function apparently restored now that they were no longer touching. Crowley dutifully trailed after him to the shed, putting his tools back in their rightful place. He grunted slightly when he reached to the small of his back to undo the ties of his garden apron, the motion tugging at the aching muscles of his shoulders. The sound alerted Aziraphale, who immediately fussed over him again, lifting the strap holding the apron around his neck for Crowley despite his protests. Crowley scowled as Aziraphale smiled serenely at him and hung the apron on its hook by the door. Secretly, however, he was glad that the dim, fading light meant that Aziraphale wouldn't be able to see that the tips of Crowley's ears had gone a hot, flaming red.

 Aziraphale took the lead again as they both headed for the rectory they shared, both toeing off their shoes and leaving them in the rack by the door once they'd crossed the threshold.

 "I imagine you'd want to shower before we begin," Aziraphale said as they headed into the living room. He picked up a book he'd left beside the sofa and took a seat, already thumbing it open. "Take your time, I'll be waiting here for you when you're done."

 Crowley glanced down at the dirt packed under his nails, felt the sweaty stick of his shirt against his back, and couldn't help but agree. Whatever Aziraphale had had him agree to, it probably would be best if he cleaned himself up first. Not to mention it would give him a little bit of time to collect his thoughts, to slow the still traitorously fast gallop of his heart.

 He headed upstairs, grabbed a change of clothes from his room, and did his best not to run to the bathroom, knowing Aziraphale would be able to hear the creak of the floorboards overhead if he did.

 Once enshrined in the privacy of the bathroom, shower turned on and old pipes groaning laboriously as they slowly heated, Crowley sagged against the door and let out a long, shaky breath.

 "Get a grip," he muttered to himself, flicking on the ancient exhaust fan. It rattled slowly to life, letting out the occasional whining protest, as the unbalanced blades scraped against the inside of the casing. "You're acting like… like he's about to lay down rose petals for you and take you to bed, when you know he couldn't find his way out of the closet if you gave him a torch and a map. And even if he could… he wouldn't do anything about it. You've both got your vows." He tore off his clothes and left them in a sullen pile on the floor, opening the shower door. Steam billowed out and he stepped inside quickly before too much could escape. He stood directly under the scalding spray, heedless of how his pale skin went instantly pink. His face was likely beyond sun-kissed, too, given the time he'd spent in the garden.

 There wasn't much he could do about that, but at the very least he could wash the sweat from his skin, furiously scrub the dirt out from under his nails. Whatever the evening had in store for him, at least he'd be clean.

 He fruitlessly tried again to piece together what Aziraphale had asked him, out in the garden. Now, though, naked and surrounded on all sides by steam, his mind only seemed to want to offer him lewd suggestions, each one more highly improbable than the last. Unbidden, he imagined Aziraphale walking into the bathroom to find out what was taking Crowley so long, then disrobing and entering the shower with Crowley, hot water cascading over them both as Aziraphale pressed him up against the tiles–

 With a burst of self-disgust, Crowley realised that certain areas of his body were getting very excited indeed by such thoughts, and were responding in a way that was meant to encourage him to keep thinking those exact thoughts as he took himself in hand. He'd done it a few times in the past, now, even though it invariably left him riddled with guilt and shame. Somehow, it seemed even more egregious than usual to have a self-loathing-fuelled wank over the man he worked with, when said man was patiently awaiting his return downstairs, none the wiser.

 With a sigh, he turned off the heat, standing under the cold spray for several seconds to try and keep his body from getting any funny ideas, before cutting off the water completely. Skin still pink in places, but at the very least clean, he towelled himself off, squeezing as much water out of his hair as he could. A glance in the mirror told him that he'd definitely been out in the sun too long. If he was very lucky, the skin wouldn't start peeling off over the next few days, but, given how his pale skin had historically reacted to overexposure to the sun, he wasn't exactly holding out hope. He applied some moisturiser to his face to at least draw out some of the heat, and resolved to stop being so forgetful about putting on sunscreen when he needed to.

 He put on his clothes quickly, only realising once he was done that he'd gone on complete autopilot, and dressed himself as if preparing for his clerical duties, collar and all. He felt a little stupid, but knew he'd feel even stupider if he went and changed again, so he decided to leave everything as it was, and headed back downstairs. Hopefully, wearing something symbolic of the Church would help remind his unruly body, mind, and heart how they were all supposed to be behaving.

 "Ready, then?" Aziraphale asked when he came back into the living room, glancing quickly at the page number before closing the book and setting it aside.

 "Yep," Crowley answered, still having no idea what he'd agreed to.

 "We can use my bed," Aziraphale decided. "Now that I've had a moment to think about it, the couch really is far too narrow to give us enough space to work with comfortably."

 "What?" Crowley squeaked.

 Aziraphale gave him an odd look. "I suppose we could do this here, with you laid out on the floor, if you'd prefer. I know that some people like a more solid surface beneath them for this sort of thing," he said, apparently unaware that he was giving Crowley a heart attack.

 "You… you want me on the floor?" he managed.

 Aziraphale shrugged. "Personally, I would have thought the bed would be more comfortable, but the choice is yours. This is to your benefit, after all."

 "…My benefit?" Crowley asked faintly, apparently unable to do much more than echo Aziraphale's words back at him.

 "Honestly, Crowley," Aziraphale replied huffily. Crowley managed to find space amidst his confusion to feel the little thrill he always did whenever Aziraphale dropped the honorific when referring to him by name. "The massage? That we discussed not twenty minutes ago, were you even listening?"

 "Massage?" Crowley couldn't help but parrot. Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose.

 "Yes. Massage. For your back. That I offered to you. Because you've been overworking yourself in the garden all week and can barely stand upright."

 "Oh. Right," Crowley managed, nodding like a dashboard bobblehead on an unpaved country road. "That massage. 'Course."

 "Honestly," Aziraphale huffed again, but far fonder in tone this time. "So. Out here, or on the bed?" "Bed," Crowley said before he could stop himself.

 Aziraphale nodded, standing. "Shall we, then?"

 Crowley nodded mutely, and when Aziraphale began to lead them both upstairs, he followed.

Between pages

TITLE: Between pages

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki always carries a book. Not because he’s reading 24/7, but because he likes tucking flowers from the bouquets you make and leave in the shared kitchen in between the pages. 

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: There is fluff in my soul and I will not apologize for it. Language, extreme awkwardness, and unlikely friendships ahead. Let Loki be soft 2020.

=

Loki, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard, Rightful King of Jotunheim, Odinson was a master sorcerer. His talent was unmatched in the Universe, and he was capable of feats that were previously unheard of in all the Nine Realms. He could defy the laws of physics, of imagination. He could bend the very fabric of the Universe and arrive at a different planet with merely a step in any direction. He was awe-inspiring and nightmare-inducing in equal measure.

So, how in the fucking hell did some silly flowers become his ruin?

Groaning pathetically against the plumpness of his down-filled pillow, he contemplated escaping the Tower. He had run away from more dangerous places before. Surely, walking out of Stark’s prized building would be little more than child’s play to a sorcerer of his caliber. However, any time he reminded himself that he was, indeed, a sorcerer the wound on his ego would split and bleed fresh, once more.

It would have been so easy to explain away. There was a reason they called him the Silvertongue, but he just stood there. Like a moron. He just… he just handed it over, and now…

He groaned again, teeth bared in a half-snarl as the memories flooded his mind.

There were few things in this little, mortal trash heap of a world that intrigued Loki. The supersoldiers held his interest for a moment or two, until he had all but uncovered the secrets of their endurance and had promptly become bored. The spies were fun to watch, if only to watch Barton squirm under his intense gaze, thinking he had another plot to put him under mind control. Banner was… well, he didn’t mess with Banner. Or Stark, for that matter. They were on an unspoken truce upon which his very survival was pinned. After all, Loki was nothing if not self-serving in his quest for continued breathing.

Then, there was the mutant; the plant witch.

The five-foot-nothing little imp who he could not seem to put the fear of god in, no matter how much he tried. The mortal had talked back, disobeyed direct orders on the field, sassed, hugged, and blackmailed him over a hobby in the course of less than a year. Loki would be impressed at her ruthlessness of character if he wasn’t utterly annoyed at her existence.

Well, that, and the fact that he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out how her powers worked.

And that was the source of his current anguish.

Lily, the little mutant, had a predictable daily routine. She would wake up with the sun, make breakfast for the whole team, go to the gym and be back in time for the meal. Once she set the table, she would always conjure a handful of flowers in the vase in the middle of the table. It was never the same arrangement, twice, and it was never the type of arrangement the mortals would overpay for at the local flower shops. Wild variations of popular flowers, bits of flowering tree branches, weeds–wildflowers of all types that brought in butterflies from the open balcony windows and delighted all.

At first, he thought she simply picked them outside and coaxed them into bloom. It wasn’t until one morning, when he had been up uncharacteristically early that he had been proven wrong. He watched her kneel on a chair at the table, hands held aloft around the vase before every vein visible pumped a fluorescently-bright green. Like seedlings, the flowers grew from tiny roots until they overflowed from the jug. Loki had walked over, almost reflexively, watching how the petals bent under his fingers and how the cool stems still felt like they were thrumming with life as if freshly picked.

Fascinating.

Loki, while talented in his own right, had never been able to conjure a flower that looked so much like a flower. They usually looked too perfect, almost artificial–like a painting of a flower brought to life. He plucked a bud and tucked it between the pages of the book he had been reading (ironically, it had been Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman). He decided that he would study this specific specimen and figure out her secret. Surely, it would be easy to conquer the skill that a mortal wielded.

He had been horrendously wrong.

That first failed attempt at replicating her craftsmanship prompted him to grab a few more samples, the next day. And the next. And the one after that, too. After a while, he had all but given up on learning how to conjure these life-like flowers, with their slightly irregular patterns and charming blemishes. But the habit had stuck and he still collected them.

Every morning, like clockwork, he would go to the kitchen for a glass of water, pull a bloom and press it between Whitman’s promises to return to his beloved dirt. The team had started making jokes about his current inability to put down the poems book, everywhere he went. They wrongly assumed that he was simply enamored by the mortal’s views of humanity or that he was learning what being human really meant. In reality, all Loki was doing was carrying the vessel for his preservation and lying in wait for the opportunity to be all on his own to snatch another souvenir.

He’d be loathe to admit that his theft was now out of pure admiration. Flowers were always his mother’s thing and he never really cared much for gardening, but he could appreciate the intricacies of every subtly veined petal and rough leaf. His fingers often ran the length of the stems and leaves, gathering the light coat of dew that glistened on the greenery, smiling to himself all the while. He supposed he had never found the need to conjure a flower or anything of the sort meant to be a soft gift–it wasn’t really his style–but the fact only made him all the more awestruck.

“You like today’s bouquet, Lokes?”

He nodded, a little distracted, having just pressed the most perfect daisy, with a little notch in one of the petals into the book. The small, leather-bound tome rested beside him on the table, golden lettering catching Lily’s eye.

“Oh my gosh, I love Leaves of Grass,” she exclaimed, and Loki had mindlessly handed her the book for her to peruse before he even had the good sense to panic. “I know. Surprise, surprise, plant babe likes plant-themed title of book, but I truly loved it when I read it in high school. It’s sad, but a good type of sad, if that… makes… sense…”

It was her trailing voice that had made Loki blink away from the flowers. Green eyes trailed from the vase, to his empty floating hand, to the table. His book was no longer there… and he was the reason for that. When his shocked gaze flickered up to hers, he found her dainty fingers trailing over a perfectly dried dandelion that Loki had chosen because it had a singular freckle amidst a canvas of soft yellow.

Loki had disappeared before she even looked away from the keepsake.

“Maybe I should just take my chances in the dungeons. I’m sure Father dearest would rather see me in a cell,” he moaned petulantly before he stiffened.

There was energy crackling in the air, making it smell like ozone and magic. Loki sat up in bed, retrieving a dagger from under his pillow and noiselessly stepping onto the carpeted floor. Beneath his feet, the carpet felt odd. With a frown, he glanced down, finding the floor covered in green and yellow–a blanket of buttercups. By the door, Lily smiled shyly, her body slumping slightly against the wall as the green faded away from her veins.

“You’ve overtired yourself,” he remarked, drily, ignoring the fact that his cheeks burned in a way that told him that he was flushed crimson. His feet shuffled beneath him, grounding him to reality and allowing him to resist the urge to bend down and run his fingers through the blooms.

She shrugged. “I’ll feel better after breakfast.” There was a tense silence between them for several more seconds. Lily held the book out in her hand, but Loki hesitated crossing the landscape to retrieve it. “You always pick the iffy ones.”

His brow pinched in with confusion. “What?”

“The flowers. You always pick the ones that aren’t perfect. Spots, notches, missing petals or stamens–”

“It makes them real,” he interrupted. “The flaws make them real. Machines can make flawless flowers.”

“I agree. I just… didn’t peg you for the type who could appreciate that, y'know?” Lily sighed, trying to suppress a grin. “Then again, I didn’t peg you for the type who pressed flowers, either.”

Loki glanced at his feet with a frown. “Everyone likes flowers,” he muttered under his breath, just shy of defensive. He managed to will his feet forward, relieving her still reaching hand of the book without glancing at her.

He swore that he hadn’t been this pathetic before he moved to Midgard.

Lily cleared her throat awkwardly, tipping a golden flower back with the toe of her trainer. “Would it be OK if I brought some flowers for your room, every once in while?” She gave him a hesitant smile before adding, “I-I need the practice,” in a rush.

“Don’t you think the others would be more deserving of them?” Loki hated the fact that he sounded somewhat bitter.

She giggled under her breath. “The others won’t really appreciate them, will they?” Before he could offer a witty retort to try and dispel the awkwardness he felt, Lily had grasped his wrist and tugged him along out the door. “Come on, we’re late for breakfast,” she remarked, conversation already forgotten.

Well... this is complicated?

Alice x Skylar Jasper x Violet Edward x Bella

"Hey! Hey! Careful with the- HEY!"

Skylar yelled frustratingly. She really did not like how this dude just shamelessly shoved her down.

"Violet? Skylar?"

"Bella?"

Violet asked, eyes widely open.

"He got you too?!"

Skylar tilted her head.

"We should totally make a club about this! Welcome to the kidnapped club, Belly Bells."

Skylar proudly declared. Bella smacked her head.

"I was here first, you idiot, plus-"

"Did that dude really just show his weird tingly tongue to us?"

Skylar suddenly asked, nose crutching up in pure disgust while Violet and Bella blinked.

"I believe he wants to eat us, dear sister."

Skylar’s mouth formed an "o"

"If that wasn't the case, he wouldn't have kidnapped us!"

Bella cried out startling the twins.

"Y'know, I actually thought we were getting free food."

Skylar mumbled, clearly upset.

Violet and Bella knew right there and then, they'd die while being stuck with an idiot.

──────────────── ────────────────

I walked into my sister's room, looking up from my phone to see her staring out the window. "Is she here?" I asked with a slight interest.

"Yeah. She looks really awkward." I walked over next to her to watch the police chief's daughter talking to one of the boys from downtown. She looked like she was in pain, like a lot of pain. Her and Jasper would get along. I sat down in the beanbag placed in the corner of the room before pulling out my phone, snapping a picture of an unexpected Skylar.

"I swear to GOD if you send that to Alice I will kill you myself. Delete that now I will not allow a photo of my hair like that to exist."

"Dude, you have long wavy hair, it looks the same everyday." I said as I sent the photo to Alice.

"If you're telling me my hair looks like this every day, I'm jumping off a cliff," Skylar replied, starting to get bored of the view outside the window. “Can you imagine what the police chief is going to do if she brings a boy home? And I thought having a parent as a teacher was bad. At least we won't come home to a Spanish teacher loading a gun," I snickered.

"Yeah, and can you imagine starting a new school in the middle of the year? That's gotta suck." Skylar added.

"It's going to be an interesting one that's for sure."Getting out of the Cullens car the next day, Skylar and I made our way to the new beat up pickup truck in the parking lot. Edward rolled his eyes, already annoyed about the new girl's presence taking up everyone's thoughts for the day.

"Hey Bella!" I said as I got closer to her truck. "Sorry to ambush you like this, we were going to introduce ourselves yesterday but didn't have the time. We're your neighbors, I'm Violet and this is my sister, Skylar." Skylar waved.

"Nice to meet you guys. Are you twins?" Bella asked, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, but you wouldn't be able to tell if Violet didn't act like she was glued to me all the time." Skylar explained. "Fraternal, not identical. You know the drill baby."

"Yeah." Bella chuckled. She didn't elaborate, and an awkward silence followed.The bell rang, and Skylar cleared her throat. "Well, you'll find the office building to your left. If you need anything else don't hesitate to ask one of us! Neighbors gotta look out for each other." We turned to walk into the school as Bella nodded to us, heading in the opposite direction. Alice and Jasper quickly caught up to us, walking us to our shared first class.

Throughout the day, I probably learned more about Bella from the student body gossip than I did in our actual conversation with the girl; Mike Newton definitely took a special interest.

By the time lunch rolled around, Bella seemed to have made some friends. She sat among Jessica and her friends. Skylar and I figured we could leave her to it, so we joined our usual table with the Cullen’s. Sitting down with our food we noticed Edward in some sort of daze.

"Well if you keep that look up, you'll look just like Jasper!" I exclaimed, stealing an apple from Jasper’s tray. Not like he was going to eat it anyway. "And what's that supposed to mean?" The normally-in-pain vampire asked beside me. I shrugged my shoulders in response.

"The new girl is in everyone's heads today--well, everyone's excluding her own," Edward noted, covering his face with his hands.

"He can't read Bella’s thoughts," Alice elaborated.

“Maybe she just doesn't have any," Skylar deadpanned, causing Violet to choke on her water."Don't be stupid," Rosalie chirped into the conversation. "So you can't hear her thoughts? Big deal, I thought you didn't like hearing them anyway."

"I'm not too sure," Skylar started, "There doesn't look like there's a lot going on in that girl's head."

“So, give us the tea. What's Jessica blabbing on about?" I asked, bored of the current "situation". Edward glanced over to the others, listening. At some point Bella made eye contact with him, but quickly looked away.

"Mainly Rosalie and Emmett’s weird incest relationship." Edward chuckled, earning a harsh glare from Rosalie while Emmett laughed and slung his arm around his wife. The group continued eating, well, at least Skylar and I did. We packed a small lunch for ourselves every day, which was mostly gone within the first few classes. When lunch actually rolled around it was spent sneaking food off the Cullen’s trays, trying to make them look as human as the rest of us. Which was quite the job.

Eventually, the bell rang yet again, signaling it was time for Skylar and I's least favorite class, Biology. Edward was in it too and he was passing with flying colors, obviously. However, he chose to sit as far away from us as possible so we wouldn't bug him for answers on every assignment. As we walked in we caught up with Mike and Tyler.

"That poor girl, she probably hates the fact that everyone is talking about her," Skylar said. "We should have organized a food fight or something to get the attention taken away."

"Or we can just have Tyler steal Mike’s clothes while he showers after gym," I suggested. "I am right here!" Mike shouted as we chuckled and went to the back of the class to take our seats.

The real shock of the day was when Bella walked into class shortly after, and went to take the one open seat next to Edward. It should've been the perfect meet-cute, awkward meets even more awkward. But no one could have prepared Skylar and I for what we were about to witness.

"Did he just...gag at her?" I mumbled in disbelief, completely shocked.

"He literally looks like he's about to throw up. Can he even do that? Or is it kind of like a rat? Ya know, how they can't gag or anything," Skylar whispered as class started.

"I would have jumped out the window right then and there if I was her," I stated. I watched as Edward scooted his seat as close to the window as much as he could. Bella sat down anyway, looking confused. God, Edward, stop looking like the opposite side of a magnet. I thought, not even getting a reaction out of him despite knowing he could definitely hear me. Bella’s a teenage girl, not a donkey. As class went on, the situation didn't get any better. In fact, the second the bell rang, Edward ran out of the classroom so fast I thought he might have broken some kind of Volturi odd code about not revealing any Vampiric abilities to us lowly peasants. Skylar and I looked at each other before following Edward out of the room, ignoring Bella’s confused expression. As we caught up to Edward in the hall, I started pestering him.

"You didn't have to stay the whole class, you know," I said, walking beside him and Skylar. The look on his face made it clear that wasn't the comment he had expected. "You could have asked to go to the nurse and just left?" Apparently, despite being over 100 years old, this thought never occurred to him. I guess age doesn't always come with good ol' wisdom, I thought, again knowing he could hear me. As Alice rounded the corner, Edward decided it was his time to roll his eyes and make his dramatic left turn towards his next class.

"Wow, this got worse than I thought it would," Alice explained. We looked at her, confused, as she pulled us near a less crowded corridor. "It's not just the fact that he can't hear her thoughts. Her blood is almost irresistible to him." Suddenly, Alice went still, which we'd learned meant she was seeing visions

"Seems like this won't blow over soon either. Edward is planning on going up to Alaska. He’s trying to avoid killing her."

"Jesús, that went dark quickly. I'm almost starting to feel bad about making fun of him gagging at Bella," Skylar whispered, her accent slipping out slightly, "Almost."

"I'm going to be honest, that was not at all what I was expecting to come out of your mouth," I exclaimed. "Also, can't he go anywhere in the world? Why is he choosing to go up to where Tanya is? I thought she annoyed the hell out of him," I wondered, mostly to myself.

Alice drove us to her house, the three of us having the last period off. I smelled fresh brownies as soon as I opened the Cullen’s door. I flung my backpack to the ground as I raced upstairs after Skylar, finding Esme and Carlisle in the kitchen.

"Esme, you won't believe what Edward did to this poor girl today." I started, grabbing a corner piece from the fresh tray of brownies. Carlisle scooped some ice cream into bowls for us. They were always so sweet to us, making us snacks even though none of the family actually ate anything. We mentioned that it wasn't necessary, but they insisted, saying they have to keep up their image by going to the store anyways.

Esme looked at me with a smirk, signalling me to continue. "He gagged at her, Esme! Like looked straight into her eyes and gagged!" I explained while Skylar reenacted the dramatic moment next to me. Carlisle laughed and handed us our ice cream bowls. I mashed my brownie into the vanilla ice cream without hesitation.

"Yes, I have heard that today was quite the show. We've been getting texts from Alice almost hourly." Carlisle noted, then excused himself into his office while we finished talking about our day with Esme.

When the rest of the family got back, the three of us were doing homework. I got up to follow Edward upstairs. He had already started packing. "Don't you think this is a tad bit dramatic? I mean, Alice already said you weren't going to hurt her. She saw it."

"Her visions aren't set in stone, Violet. You know that." He muttered back, zipping up his suitcase. "Yeah, okay. When will you be back?"

Edward ran his hand through his hair and shrugged. I nodded and backed out of the room, opting to join Jasper in his room instead.

Hey!

Ok, so, I don’t know if you read submissions but it felt like this was the only avenue to get all this words in at one go. So! Loved the Omega!Shoto piece, good god, that was in my head for the rest of the day. But then, since you were so descriptive of their sidekick, I imagined a thing.

Hero!Reader’s sidekick is also an Omega. But, since they’re older, they understand their Omega traits even better than the young Todoroki. In fact, they weaponise their pheremones to the point that it’s practically a second Quirk. In fact, they have a Quirk that allows them to manipulate air which they use to fly through the air, conduct mid-air combat, and force pulses of their scent to thoroughly disorient villains.

Outside of that, they’re a typical Omega. Compassionate, sweet, and so on. But they’re onto Todoroki’s bullshit. They’re also quite a high profile figure in Hero!Reader’s life, having known them since middle school and requested to be their sidekick as opposed to breaking out on their own once the two of them became more prominent. So, they have no intention of letting Shoto shoo them away.

The night of the piece you wrote, the sidekick returns halfway through the… mating. They even stop right outside the office, almost suffocated by the intensity of both scents. Todoroki tended to avoid them, and today had been a very busy day, so they hadn’t noticed he’d been off his supressants and was in heat. They’re embarrassed and intend to leave, but they also realise just how problematic Shoto was going to be if he was prepared to abuse his heat like this.

They eventually make an attempt to confront him, after having gathered enough evidence of his attempts to manipulate Hero!Reader into being his Darling. They fight and, once they reach a stalemate, Hero!Reader appears on the scene which distracts Todoroki long enough for Sidekick to overpower him and slap on the pair of Quirk-Canceling handcuffs they’d prepared; having expected the confrontation to go awry.

Even as they have him pinned down, they assure him that they believe he’s a good person in poor circumstances. Whilst they’d been investigating Shoto, they’d found out about Endeavour’s shitty fathering. They had no real intention of doing anything negative to Shoto, they just wanted to get him on the up and up.

In an encounter with Endeavour, however, doesn’t go as pleasantly. Sidekick absolutely blows up at him, but since they’re in public Sidekick can’t punch him or anything. They also don’t want to expose what he did to Shoto without the younger Todoroki’s consent, so their verbal assault only hints at his shitty parentage.

It’s at this point that Todoroki (maybe?) gets the idea to have another Darling? After all, his Alpha is amazing and deserves so much more than one Omega can provide. But this Omega is so sweet and caring that he can’t just let his Alpha have all the fun!

Once he opens up to the sidekick, they immediately welcome his change in demeanour to them. They’d wanted a senpai-kohai bond with him since he had joined the agency! This is wonderful! Just as Hero!Reader treats him basically as a son or other younger family member, the sidekick treats him like a little brother too. It’s their instinct as the oldest out of the two omegas! Plus, he deserves it after the upbringing he had.

They coddle, cuddle and dote on him. Even having a habit of smothering his face, save his lips, with kisses. He’s just so adorable, y'know?

So, yeah. Love your work in general, dear. You’re an amazing writer, and I can just see how hard you work for every syllable. Keep up the good work! That’s all I had to say. Have a nice day!

Honestly, I love the idea of Shoto having to deal with (and subsequently falling for) his Alpha’s “secondary” Omega, who always seems to show up right before he gets what he wants. They always seem to be hanging around you, clinging to his mate and getting in his ways and being so annoying, forcing him to plan and scheme and be far more subtle than anyone should ever expect Shoto to be. By the time he finally snaps, his hormones so pent up, his obsession practically tangible, he’s ready to kill them, to snap their neck and take what he wants. He’s reverted to a primal state, and even when you get him restrained, there’s not much to do except take him home and try to make it seem like the #1 Hero’s Son isn’t an attempted murderer. 

It could be considered kidnapping, sure, but he’s probably enjoying it too much for it to be called that. He’ll never admit it, but he loves the way you come home on your lunch-breaks to check on him, how you put him to bed every night (to make sure he’s properly restrained) and hold him so tightly whenever he’s outside of his room (he won’t run, but you don’t know that). After a while, all he wants to do is be coddled and cuddled and held, whether that comes in the form of sitting on the counter while you cook or playing-brat with your other Omega, who’s practically moved into your guestroom by the time he can stand to look at them. He doesn’t mind them, not really (it’s nice to have someone who’s just as touchy-feely as he is), but he still pouts whenever you talk to them, inserting himself into every conversation and whining if you two come home late, more like a puppy than a proper hostage. 

Not that he would leave, if you gave him the choice. He’s clingy, like that.

I’d still be careful, though. Omegas tend to have synchronized heats under the same Alpha, and since they’ve been spending so much time around you, you’re inevitably going to come home to two desperate, needy little lovers splayed out and begging for their third. It’ll be a little harder to resist claiming them if your ‘voice of reason’ is just as illogical as your new pet.

puppy love | nyt

❧ word count: 5,916

❧ genre: fluff with some floff on the side

❧ notes: this is the first full length oneshot that i’ve written that i’m actually proud of?? i’ve written anime oneshots and stuff but they were always subpar? but this is like my first ever masterpiece so i really hope you guys like it:) also tysm @joynct​ and shira for helping me choose which member to base it on. i think the reason it flows so well is because yuta just fits this storyline so perfectly?? btw there’s a hint of embarrassed!yuta at the end oomf!! also p.s: mary, the messy bun is for you:)) p.p.s: i’m renaming this and idk what to use for initials because like Nakamoto YuTa or Joong YooTae

It was a warm August afternoon and Yuta had just moved into his apartment off campus for his second year of college. He hung up the last of his hoodies in and placed it in his closet before taking a few steps back to admire his handiwork. He released an accomplished grunt before flopping down on his mattress. The feeling of tiredness seeped into Yuta's bones as his eyes slowly closed and his mind drifted closer and closer to sleep. Sunlight streamed in through his windows and cascaded down onto his fair skin, creating a blanket of warmth. The soft chirping of the birds outside was like Yuta's own natural noise machine. Ah, Yuta thought to himself, I'm living the life-

A series of knocks pierced through the tranquil silence, alerting Yuta that someone was at his front door. "I'm coming," he groaned out, even though he knew whoever was on the other side of the door would never hear him. He sauntered over to the entrance and grasped the cool metal of the doorknob, yanking the large oak door open. He was met with the sight of a young lady who seemed to be around the same age as him. You had a fairly large duffel bag looped around each arm and a box in your hands. 

Offering a kind smile, you introduced yourself, "Hey, I'm Y/n! Looks like we'll be roommates." You shuffled forward a bit and Yuta backed up in response, allowing you to get acquainted with the apartment.

"I'll grab some of your stuff," Yuta offered, already moving to pick up some of the boxes that were sitting idly in the hallway. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Your room is the one on the right. Mine is on the left. Maybe once you're done unpacking we can introduce ourselves a bit more." In response, Yuta heard a soft giggle and a 'sure.'

Not long after all of the boxes had been transferred to your room and Yuta settled down on the couch in the living room, he heard a door open. He glanced up in time to see you lethargically walk over and plop yourself down on a chair, releasing a loud sigh.

"Done unpacking?" he asked, mirth swimming in his deep orbs they swept over your tired form. He definitely related.

"Not even close. I'll get to it tomorrow or something. I just have so much stuff. I may or may not have packed way too much stuff," you sheepishly responded.

"Ah, so you must be a freshman."

"Jeez. Is it that obvious?"

"I mean, kinda? All freshmen tend to overestimate how much they need. Plus, all your boxes say 'college stuff' so I knew you weren't some random girl."

The two laughed and the atmosphere settled into a comfortable silence. Yuta grabbed his laptop from its resting place on the coffee table, enjoying the feeling of the cool exterior against the warm pads of his fingertips. Within a minute, the only sounds that filled the room were the dull sound of the TV playing and the soft clicks of a keyboard as he typed up a storm. For a split second, his eyes flickered away from the bright screen in front of him and towards the small chair on the other side of the coffee table. He expected to find his new roommate scrolling through her phone like she had been moments before. However, he saw your legs pulled up into your chest and your head nestled snuggly between your knees. Although your eyelids weren't completely closed, they seemed to drag down, wanting to pull you into the land of dreams. The slight parting of your lips and the consistent rise and fall of your chest indicated that you were not far from it.

Yuta felt for you. Just a year ago, he was in your exact position. He knew you had to be feeling quite nervous being in a new environment alone for the first time. A small smile fell on the young man's lips as he slowly and quietly got up from his position on the couch. He turned off the TV and tiptoed over to his room so he could grab a blanket. Once he returned, he gently draped the fluffy fabric over your shoulders and drew the blinds shut, preventing the harsh rays of the sun from falling onto her face. He picked up his laptop and headed back to his room, shutting the door behind him so that he could play some music without disturbing his new roommate.

Time passed in a flash and before he knew it, Yuta looked out of his window and saw the sun already setting along the horizon. His stomach grumbled sonorously, causing him to look towards the clock resting on his bedside table. His eyebrows shot up as he saw that the small digital clock read 7 o'clock. "Man, I can't believe I got so distracted. I missed dinner time," Yuta grumbled as he swung his legs over the side of his bed and trudged towards the kitchen. In his peripheral vision, he noticed you slowly stretching your limbs, arching your back, and releasing a content sigh before swaddling yourself back into his snuggly blue blanket. You reminded him of a kitten basking in the sun and as someone who could morph into a dog, he thought that thought might turn him off, but Yuta found it somewhat adorable.

It was a shame that he had to wake her from her catnap, but he figured you should get something to eat too. He shook her shoulder a bit, watching as your eyelashes fluttered before they revealed her deep irises. "You should eat something," Yuta suggested. As he walked towards the light switches to illuminate the room, he heard you mumble in a soft voice, "Hmm.. This blanket smells really nice. Smells like home."

At the time, Yuta didn't know why there was a falter in his step. He found that the room had become weirdly warm and even went to the thermostat to check if something was amiss. And as he grabbed a pot from one of the cabinets and saw his distorted reflection in the bottom of the stainless steel vessel, he had no idea why his cheeks were so rosy. It wasn't like Yuta found the girl cute or anything. Nope. Definitely not something as absurd as that.

Ignoring the tingling feeling that passed through his body, Yuta put the pot on the stove along with some water and got out a packet of ramen noodles. "You eat dinner really early, dude," came your voice from the living room.

Letting out a chortle, Yuta didn't hesitate to retort, "It's not healthy to eat late, y'know?"

You walked around the small island in the middle of the kitchen in order to see what was being prepared, a teasing smile appearing on your face when you saw a familiar ramen noodle package and some shredded cheese. Not one to back down, you said, "Cheesy ramen isn't very healthy no matter what time, is it?"

"Touché."

Yuta was becoming increasingly annoyed with himself. He'd only known you for a little more than half a day, and yet everything you did brought a warm feeling to his chest. He mentally berated himself, You can't have a crush on this girl, Yuta! Pull yourself together. It hasn't even been a day.

About two months into the first semester of his sophomore year, Yuta acknowledged that he had just been in denial. It took him a while but he had come to terms with the fact that he liked his roommate. After all, not many girls could have him feeling so happy-go-lucky with just a simple smile. However, much to his dismay, you appeared to have no interest in him at all. Maybe, he figured, I'm just not her type.

Now, any rational guy would probably give up on the girl, fearing the possibility of an awkward atmosphere if their relationship were to go awry. Especially if this girl was living with them for the rest of the school year. However, Yuta was far from normal. He'd always been. He began thinking of what kind of guys you might've liked. He snapped his fingers as a great thought hit him. He'd seen a soccer jersey sitting on the top of her laundry basket. If you were athletic, maybe you liked guys who were athletic too.

Yuta was definitely not what you would consider athletic. He hadn't got real exercise since P.E. in his last year of high school. It'd been more than a year and all he'd done was focus on studying and playing video games. He'd turned into a pile of skinny, lanky limbs. But one thing was for sure. Yuta was determined. Determined to get you to notice him. He started going to the gym regularly. He ate healthier and even joined a Facebook group for guys who wanted to get in shape. There, he met one of his closest friends, Taeil. He learned that Taeil was also a sophomore at the same school and eventually, the two started going to the gym together. He kept up his routine, always making time to study, of course. At the start of the second semester, he'd already developed definition in his biceps and his figure had become much sturdier.

Riding on a wave of confidence from his new and improved self, Yuta ended up trying out for the soccer team (a.k.a the university's pride and joy) along with his new friend. The two ended up making the team, though they were far from being a starting player. It was on the cold, thin benches that the duo of Yuta and Taeil became a trio. They met another bench warmer who was a transfer student from China named Sicheng and the three instantly hit it off.

Eventually, Yuta opened up to his two best friends about his predicament. They talked for hours one day and by the end of the evening, Sicheng had planted a seed of a thought in Yuta's head that you would notice him if he was a starting player. Once again, Yuta began his fitness grind, practicing drills and spending much more time on the field than some of the team's star players. It turned out that Yuta and Sicheng were natural soccer players, Yuta excelling in speed and agility, and Sicheng pulling of crazy trick shots with his insane flexibility and previous martial arts knowledge. They became starters in no time. Taeil, on the other hand, decided that soccer wasn't his thing and decided that next year, he would take up tennis instead.

With the joy of making it to the starting team also came increased popularity. The trio got invited to parties almost every weekend and even hosted a couple of their own. Yuta truly did enjoy this faster paced lifestyle. It felt nice to be finally noticed. It felt nice to be considered a 'prodigy' or a 'genius.' However, when he was at all those rumbustious parties surrounded by girls that he would've considered to be way out of his league just months before, a part of his mind always drifted back to you. He'd started this all to impress you, but what good would it do if he was spending all his time at parties instead of at home with you.

Unfortunately, you still didn't seem to be showing any interest in Yuta and with a battered ego, he was easily swept away into the exuberant life of partying and popularity. Of course, you two were still friends. You never drifted away, but you never got close either. It was as if the two of you were like the same poles of two magnets. Yuta wanted to get closer to you, yet some force seemed to be keeping you two apart.

The rest of the year passed by within a blink of an eye, and before he knew it, Yuta was spending on summer vacation again, basking in the cool air of his air conditioner as the blazing sun heated up the whole town. It was around the middle of June when Yuta got a text from you. Honestly, he hadn't been thinking of you as often and was starting to think that maybe his feelings were dying down. He didn't make as much of an effort to get in touch with you as he used to, so when got a text from you wondering if you two were planning on being roommates again for the next school year, Yuta was genuinely surprised. Just because he was surprised, it didn't mean he would turn down your offer. You two got along well and looked out for each other. Coincidentally, the week before, Taeil and Sicheng had let Yuta know that they would be living on campus together with one of Taeil's friends who was transferring that year. So if living with you meant he could escape the possibility of rooming with someone he didn't get along with, he'd gladly say yes.

And that's exactly what he did. He chose to call you to let you know, but he started to regret his decision when he heard you pick up and your cheerful voice sing into his ear.

"Hi, Yuta! What's up?"

That's weird, Yuta thought. You almost sounded… nervous?

"Hey. I got your text. Just wanted to let you know I'm down to room with you again. Did you want to find a place in the same building?"

"Haha, yeah. That'd be convenient. And this year, my parents are coming with me to help unpack! Isn't that cool? I know you moved out before me last year, but this year, you'll finally get to meet them!"

"Oh yeah, um, that's exciting?"

If anyone asked, Yuta would definitely deny the fact that his voice cracked at the thought of getting to meet your parents. Ok, so maybe he hadn't completely gotten over you. But it was a work in progress, at least.

"You must be Yuta," a man with a familiar jovial tone said to our protagonist as he approached the new apartment that he decided to rent with you. Yuta offered a signature smile and nodded.

"Nice to meet you, Sir. It's been a pleasure living with Y/n and I'm glad you've allowed me to do so again this year."

Your father let out a hearty chuckle in response, "Oh, son, there's no need to be so formal! Y/n has only said good things of you. You can consider yourself part of the family!"

The two men were shaking hands with each other when they were interrupted by your voice shouting in a shrill tone, "Yuta, oh my gosh! Your suitcase!"

Instead of turning to the sound of your voice like his body automatically wanted to do, he forced himself to look back to where he came from. His eyes widened as he saw the elevator closing and descending, taking his suitcase along with it. You ran up to him and placed a hand on his arm, hunched over laughing. Once you managed to regain your breath, you said to him, "Yuta, the way you manage to be such an airhead sometimes while maintaining a perfect GPA and being on the soccer team still amazes me to this day. You have a true gift, I swear!"

Yuta's face burned with embarrassment, but he couldn't help laugh along with you as you ran down the hall and repeatedly hit the button that would bring the elevator back up. This was definitely a great way to make a good impression on the parents of the girl he'd had a crush on for almost all of his sophomore year. He didn't let it get to him, though. He missed it; he missed being around you.

He quickly got all of his things unpacked with the help of you and your family. As the sun set and the stars made themselves apparent, you said waved goodbye to your family and shut the door behind you, releasing a tired and somewhat melancholic sigh. "I miss them already," you muttered dejectedly, "I can't believe I have to wait until Thanksgiving to see them again."

Yuta, wanting to put an end to the sad atmosphere, cheerily assured you, "Well, Y/n, I guess the two of us just have two have a super fun year so that the time flies by!" He finished by flashing his pearly whites and doing a cute little eye smile for extra effect.

"R-Right," you said, as if surprised by his presence. Without warning, you quickly scurried off into your room and shut the door behind you.

It was Yuta's turn to sigh as he pointedly told himself, "Wow, Yuta. You can’t even cheer her up. What kind of roommate and friend are you?"

Luckily, it seemed your mood had turned quickly and by the end of the hour, you had come out of your room and situated yourself on the couch with a book, humming a soft tune as you became enraptured by the story. Yuta felt his shoulders finally relax as he saw that your spirits had brightened. Usually, he'd go sit right next to you and offer to watch a movie, but that night, he decided to give you some space and turned in early, bidding you a fleeting 'goodnight.'

By the time school rolled around, the dynamic between you two had been built back up and you eased into the school year like you'd been doing it your whole life. It was all going so smooth until one afternoon a bit before Yuta's 4 o'clock analytic chemistry class. He and you were sitting on the couch, you flipping through channels while he did some last minute reading. All of a sudden you said something that made Yuta pause.

"I have a date tonight. Don't wait up, okay?"

When Yuta paused, he quite literally paused everything. His hand stopped mid page flip, his brain went blank, and he was pretty sure he stopped breathing for a bit. Clearing his throat and trying to sound as inconspicuous as possible, he said, "Oh, that's cool, I guess."

He thought to himself, Do not get jealous, Yuta. You are NOT jealous of someone you don't even know. Y/n hasn't paid you any attention in the past year. Why would she start now?

But once you jumped up excitedly and started rambling on about the outfit you were going to wear, he slowly felt a green eyed monster growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, that's right! I've got to get some makeup for my date tonight," you informed. "I should be back in about an hour so I guess I'll see you when I see you."

As you grabbed your wallet and shut the door behind you, Yuta's vision went white. The thought of you on a date with someone else made him uncomfortable. The thought of someone else with their arms around you made him absolutely furious. He knew he didn’t own you or anything, but the thought of you with someone else just felt so wrong that he truly believed it to be. He had to do something. He felt his body do something he hadn't done in a very long time. He felt his body shrink in size as he got on all fours, his limbs becoming furry and his nose extending out into a snout. Within a matter of seconds, he had successfully shapeshifted into a medium sized Shiba Inu and was already heading towards your bedroom. Pushing the door open with his head, he immediately spotted the aforementioned date outfit lying on your bed. Without giving it any thought, he grabbed it between his sharp teeth and pulled as hard as he could.

When Yuta finally came to, he realized he had just destroyed a perfectly good dress of yours and you would be livid if you found out. He panicked for a second before getting an idea. Morphing back into his human form, he opened the window in your bedroom and placed a couple pieces of torn fabric on the floor and on the windowsill, creating a trail. That way, it looked like some animal had gotten in and been the one to rip up your clothes.

Looking at the time on his watch, he realized he had to leave right away if he wanted to make it to class, so he grabbed his things and rushed out the door, slamming it behind him with a resonant thud.

Throughout his whole class, he couldn't focus on the teacher at all, his mind drifting toward what your reaction was going to be. He ended up having to ask one of his friends for a summary of the lesson after class and even then, every word he heard was muddled and his brain was fuzzy.

When he got to the front door of your shared apartment, Yuta didn’t know what to expect. Perhaps you ended up going on the date anyway. But when he opened the door, he was greeted with the sight of you sitting crisscross-apple-sauce on the couch shoveling ice cream into your mouth at an alarming rate and pouting all the while.

Trying to be as casual and unassuming as possible, he greeted you, "H-Hey, Y/n. What's up? How come you're not on your date?"

You pouted some more before turning to him with big doe eyes and whining, "Some bird or squirrel or whatever got into the apartment and ripped up my nice outfit. It was my only fancy outfit, too! I had to cancel. I didn't want to show up looking like a hobo. It was so last minute too. He's never gonna want to go out with me again!"

Yuta wanted to assure you that you'd look stunning even if you wore the ugliest, most garish outfit ever, but he forced those words down his throat.

"I'm sorry. How about we order some pizza and sushi and pig out," he said as he situated himself next to you and gave your back a comforting pat.

You let out a huff and leaned yourself on his side. Resting your head on his shoulder, you grumbled, "I guess… But right now I just want to watch a super badass murder mystery. Like Inspector Gadget."

Once again, Yuta wanted to mention that Inspector Gadget was not a homicide investigator, nor was he badass in any way, shape, or form, but he decided it just wasn’t the time. Also, he probably couldn't form proper sentences even if he tried. All he could think about was how soft your hair was as it tickled his cheek and the sensitive skin on his neck.

This little routine continued for quite a while. Whenever you had a date, your clothes or shoes would mysteriously get chewed up. And even when you prepared a backup outfit, that got ruined too. In all honesty, Yuta was pretty content with the way things were. It's not like you ever got mad about it. You were just disappointed that you couldn't get a date. But all good things in Yuta's life eventually came to an end. He knew this would never last.

He was relaxing with Taeil, Sicheng, and the newest addition to the group, Taeyong, in the quad and was lamenting for the thousandth time about how you still didn't notice him and how he was still not over you. Taeil disappointedly shook his head and remarked, "Bro, you're as whipped for her as a stiffened meringue."

Yuta furrowed his brows and said, "I thought you said you'd take up tennis, not cooking or baking or whatever."

Taeil seemed to think about it for a second before responding, "Yeah, I did say that. But Taeyong convinced me that cooking would be fun!"

Yuta's eyes drifted over to Taeyong's slightly guilty visage, letting out an amused chortle. He seemed to have the opposite reaction to Sicheng's. While Yuta's eyes danced with mirth, Sicheng groaned and rested his head in his hands. He pleaded, "Oh my god, Yuta. Please stop him. Please! I thought living with two chefs would be cool and I could leech off of them and their good food, but all Taeil does is make food puns and Taeyong is too nice to tell him to stop."

"Ok, but why can't you tell Taeil to stop-"

"He literally won't listen. It's like I'm invisible or something. I've never been ignored by him before"

"Aww, Sicheng! Are you jealous?"

Taeyong chose that time to cut in to the conversation, "Speaking of jealous, I know you all are gonna be super jealous of me! I have a date tonight with a really cute girl. And she's like super smart too!"

Yuta really didn't care much about where the conversation was headed. Sure, he was happy for Taeyong, but he was really down in the dumps about you. He almost zoned out until Taeyong suddenly sprang up and pointed to somewhere behind him and yelped, "Look! There she is! Her name's Y/n and hopefully you guys will meet her soon when I can introduce her as my girlfriend. Anyway, I'll see you guys later. I'm gonna go see if she'll let me walk her to her next class!"

And with that, Taeyong scurried off into the distance looking happy as could be. Contrastingly, Yuta blanched when he heard your name. He turned around just to check if perhaps Taeyong was talking about a different Y/n, but was greeted by the sight of Taeyong catching up to you and grabbing your free hand that wasn't grasping a backpack strap, sending you a shy smile. Turning back around, Yuta slumped in his lawn chair and let out a dejected moan. Dragging his hands down his face, he sighed, "Of course. It had to be her."

Sicheng and Taeil offered looks of pity, both saying how there was no way Taeyong could've known and that if Yuta talked to Taeyong, he'd surely step down. But he couldn't. "I couldn't ask him to do that," he told his two friends. "She's free to choose whoever she wants and date whoever she wants to date. I don't own her. No one does."

His friends nodded in understanding and offered him a somewhat awkward goodbye as they watched him collect his stuff and head back to your shared apartment that was not too far from campus. As he trudged back, Yuta thought to himself, You're such a hypocrite. It's not like you've been giving her much of a choice lately.

Yuta was sipping on a protein shake and watching another episode of Inspector Gadget (you'd got him hooked onto the show, but he'd never admit it to you) when your bedroom door opened. You stepped out wearing an adorable yellow off the shoulder top and a pair of dark wash jeans that happened to make your butt look better than Yuta thought imaginable. Your hair was neatly parted and although it looked like you hadn't spent much time on it, each curl fell perfectly around your face. Your makeup was very light, but it was definitely there. One look at your lips and he could almost smell the strawberry lip balm that he was almost certain you were wearing. It was his favorite. All in all, it looked like this outfit was made for him. For the first time in his life, he was truly and totally breathless. The way you could be so effortless and make him feel the way he felt? It scared him. It scared him so much.

You walked to the door anxiously, as if waiting for something to happen. Usually, your sneakers would barely create any sound against the hardwood floors. But the whole apartment was silent, so each step you took seemed to echo tauntingly in Yuta's ears. His animalistic side urged him, pleaded him, to do something before it was too late.

So he did. For once, he was willing to take the risk. It took him all of his sophomore year and half of his junior year to realize that he was utterly, wholly in love with you. And the thought of you and Taeyong together was clawing at his heart so violently that he could barely breathe. Within three large strides, he was right behind you, grasping your hand as if you'd disappear if he let go.

"Y/n," he croaked. When you wouldn't look him in the eye, he gently grabbed your chin and tilted it towards him. For a second, he didn't know what to say. The tension between you and him was almost palpable. Your large doe eyes urged him to do something, to say something. But Yuta was frustrated. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to tell say 'I love you' when he knew you felt nothing for him in return. Delicately, he whispered, "Oh my god, how can you be so oblivious?" Your eyebrows pinched together in confusion and  you were about to respond when he dropped your hand, leaving it to grasp at the air where he stood as he stormed off to his bedroom and shut himself in with a loud slam of the door.

"I'm stupid," Yuta said to himself as he laid on his bed in the darkness and stared at his ceiling, "I'm so stupid." He repeated it over and over again, almost like a mantra, for who knows how long when there was a soft knock at his door.

"Yuta," your voice called out with uncertainty. "Are you still in there?" The door cracked open and warm yellow light slowly poured into his room. He squinted a bit, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness as he sat himself up and turned to face you.

He took in your appearance, your baggy sweatpants, your hair tied up in a messy bun, your makeup wiped away but that goddamn strawberry lip balm ever present on your soft petals. "What are you doing here?" he questioned.

She let out a tired chuckle and approached him, sitting in front of him on the edge of his bed. "I'm here for you, dumbass. I don't know if you could tell or not, but I've liked you for a while. Since summer, I think."

"W-What? Are you serious? What about Taeyong?"

"I told him it wouldn't work out because I was already interested in you. It was kinda weird. When I told him I'm your roommate, he just looked super guilty for some reason."

Yuta made a mental note to tell his friend how genuinely kind a person he was and maybe set him up with one of the many people who he knew had a crush on Taeyong. "Wow, bless him, honestly. I don't deserve him." You gave him a puzzled look, but he continued anyway, "What made you change your mind? You haven't really shown much interest in me at all."

"Well, it's kinda a long story. I mean, I've liked you since the beginning of summer. That's why I probably sounded so weird over the phone when I asked you to be my roommate again. But you got super popular and you didn't show me much interest either. So I kinda tried to push my feelings away. And then this guy asked me out on a date and it was like this golden opportunity. But my outfit got ruined. And all my date outfits kept on getting ruined."

Yuta gulped nervously and was about to interrupt, but you were on a roll, "And they just kept on getting ruined. But only the nice ones. I'm not dumb, so I did a little experimenting. I put nuts and treats in my closet to see if the animals would maybe eat those instead, but they only seemed to be interested in the clothes that I laid out. Step two, I laid out clothes on random nights when I didn't have dates too, but those never got chewed up. That was when I knew something was up. So I put a camera in my room and had one of my friends help me set up a live feed. And I caught this dog. This really cute Shiba Inu. I found the culprit. But I kept watching and it turned into you. And if I'm being honest, I was freaked out at first. But now I just think it's cool. Anyway, I knew it was you, but I didn't want to assume, so I waited for a sign. And tonight, you gave me one. So I took it and ran with it, I guess."

Yuta was feeling so many emotions in that moment. He was embarrassed, confused, and scared. But he was also overwhelmingly happy. However, in the midst of all the emotions, he still felt that he had to clear things up. "Hold on a second," he uttered. "I didn't show you any interest?! You really are oblivious, Y/n! I've liked you since you first moved in with me! The only reason I started working out and joined the soccer team was to impress you because I saw that stupid Lionel Messi jersey in your laundry basket one time. The entirety of my sophomore year of college was me trying to impress you. Oh my gosh, how am I in love with someone as dumb as you?"

"Hey! I'm not dumb. I just wasn't interested in dating during my freshman year and I- Wait. Did you say you love me?"

"No?"

"Yes. You totally did! I just heard you. Wow, guess I have blackmail against you now, don't I?"

You let out an obnoxiously loud laugh, your shoulders shaking and your eyes sparkling with joy. In that moment, you looked like an angel. Actually, screw that. You were the most beautiful thing in the whole universe. Better than any angel.

"I love you," Yuta said. "I love you, like a lot. And you don't have to say it back. I just want you to know that I love you and I think you're perfect." With that, he grabbed your shoulders and slowly brought you closer, placing a gentle, fleeting kiss on your forehead and then leaning back. But the reaction he got was not what he expected.

Your face was blank as you articulated, "That's it? That's all I get? You just professed your undying love for me and all I get is a frickin' forehead kiss?" Your voice rose with every word you spoke as you got closer and closer until only a few millimeters separated the two of you. Gathering up some courage, you placed your hands on Yuta's cheeks and pulled him in for a proper kiss.

Your lips fit perfectly into his and you wanted to stay like that forever, but a thought suddenly plagued your brain. You just had to ask, "Hey, Yuta? Will you ever let me see you transform in real life? Wait! Do you like to be pet and stuff! OHMYGOSH WAITWAITWAIT THAT'S LIKE SO CUTE WHAT THE HECK!! Um no wait ignore those questions! Most importantly, do you have like a kink that comes with it? Like do you like doggy style or-"

"Y/N I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE I WILL NEVER TALK TO YOU!"

"Aww, you're embarrassed! That's cute. I really caught myself a cutie!"

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"Ugh, I know."

Well, Supernatural is actually ending and I don't know what I'll do

[ Brevity is not a strong suit of mine since I've included personal details but there's stuff I feel everyone in the SPN family needs to read]

You might be expecting another post about how Supernatural saved someone's life and how devastated they will be when it ends because they've watched it for so long as well as how the actors have impacted their lives. This is probably one of those but please hear me out.

Supernatural premiered in 2005 and I was in preparatory class (aged 5 years and was before I began 1st grade). I heard of it because my aunt would watch it time to time so I'd also tried to get some peeks myself but I wasn't allowed to because it was "too scary".

Then our local cable began to show seasons 1-5 and that was when everyone in class started watching and quoting it. This was in 6th grade and I was frustrated because I knew about it before most of them yet they acted like it was a new show. I had a fair idea about the story but once I began watching it, I fell in love with it and loved it like a part of my soul.

Yes, Jensen Ackles was my first crush but I still thought (and do think) that both he and Jared are super hot. So I was sucked into this vortex, this Neverland which I never thought I would end.

I joined Tumblr for this show in 2013 because I saw the jokes about there being a Supernatural gif everywhere and wanted to be a part of the fandom/community. This was also the year I actually became interested what other fans felt though I never used this site properly until 2016 I would read the IMDb discussion boards because I hated scurrying through Destiel-infested posts.

(Fun fact:I wasn't using any social media of my own but on my mother's Facebook I liked a Supernatural fan page asking people's opinions on Destiel. This is was around the time season 8 was just finishing or had already finished so I read the comments--- people talked about Dean and Castiel being gay and didn't approve of it as there was this one girl who was conservative and didn't believe in homosexuality while others went on how Dean was always a ladies man which I agreed with. Not that I commented but I thought there was something I missed and I thought Castiel used Dean as a vessel, thus Destiel.)

But I digress. I was in deep by the time season 9 premiered and majority of the people I knew stopped watching the show except for this girl who bullied me throughout preschool who put up this update that Dean had become a demon. I doubt she watches the show now but it was hard seeing her put pictures of "I heart Dean Winchester" and pictures of Jensen when my mom asked me why I don't do the same.

Supernatural, I feel, has become that embarrassing thing you are into in middle school but suddenly drop when you're older, looking back and thinking, "Yeesh, I can't believe I used to watch this show."

I'll be a grown woman at 30 or 40 and probably eventually in my 70s and 80s but I will still look back fondly, the good, the bad and the ugly because I have like many teenagers have undergone many changes (friends, family, emotions, hobbies etc) but Supernatural has always been this constant in my life.

Because let me tell you, I'm seeing these posts saying stuff like how people are glad that it's finally over with its "bullshit" and that's it's dying. That is extremely disrespectful and insensitive to those people who literally live for it, who have invested time and money into it: gif makers, artists, meta writers (I may not agree with you guys but even you count). They don't know what to do once the show ends because it has helped them in ways others will never ever be able to fathom.

I saw the video put up by the guys. I saw and I could tell that Jared, Jensen and Misha had probably cried their guts out before the announcement because their eyes were red and puffy. Jared was controlling himself by talking less as Jensen was clearly on the verge as well but yes they said that they should save the angst for next year.

I love the guys; I love Jared being a goofball and Jensen being equally goofy as well and I'll say this too, I used to enjoy some of Misha's crass jokes (not the highlight ) as well which was why I looked forward to the gag reel every summer (because of J2) because it was cathartic after a traumatic season finale. I love the witty banter and the pranks the cast would do and I will miss it tremendously.

I have some issues with my aunt but everything would be okay when we would fawn over the guys and bingewatch the entire season the summer after it finished airing. We'd quote quotes back and forth and even spiritually killed ourselves watching short clips of "Sammy, close your eyes", "I'm proud of us" etc. Hell, she even promised me that when we go visit my uncle in the States we'd attend a con together.

If, and whenever we do go, it'll be different because the show won't be on air anymore and I know for a fact that I won't feel the anticipation of an episode.

So don't say disrespectful and callous things like "fucking finally". You can dislike the cast/plotline/show but don't ridicule and mock those who invested in the show,some of you are most probably speculating and have barely seen it.

I'm not some dumb, blind fan. I can see some stupid mistakes and don't always eat up what the writers show. For example, everyone must have figured that I dislike Destiel because it's based on groundless assumptions. I thought the Bloodlines was a crap idea that had nothing to do with the main plot and knew it was destined to fail.

As for Wayward Daughters/Sisters or whatever the fuck it was supposed to be called, I was not looking forward to it at all because it was one of those "forced diversity" shows, y'know gender bent stuff.

I felt that they were bastardising everything that Supernatural has and will (always) stand for because some people had a hair up their backsides. Yeah, I loathed Claire and that Kaia mourning thing was bullshit. Thank goodness I was sick that day and couldn't keep my eyes open for that episode.

If we were told that there would be a Men of Letters(with Henry Winchester) or even a Bobby-Rufus spinoff I would be okay with that but for now since the show will finish next year let's the wounds heal first, shall we?

I hope that Jared and Jensen get some offers once the show is done and I will pay good money to see movies, TV shows of them etc but for now I will keep quiet since I hope we get an ending we (and the boys) deserve.

Yes, the writer situation scares me and I think they should call Eric Kripke for a last hurrah. I mean, it is his baby and he should get to have a say in the series finale as well as J2.

Will one of the brothers die and the other will live (I'm worried we'll get a reverse Swan Song)? Will they both die leaving Cas behind and Jack as some sort legacy who trains future hunters? That would be a possibility since the sheriff in 14.16 asked the Winchesters why they don't tell people about monsters. What happens to Baby?

I seriously doubt the ending will be happy(maybe not 100%) but the best thing would be if they go driving with Baby into the sunset...

Dean at the steering wheel with Sam riding shotgun, where they should be ---- where they will always be, home. Dean plays his "mullet rock" as Sam would playfully mock his brother's musical choices. No chick flick moments. Just the Winchesters.

The boys need to lay their weary heads to rest, so they can cry no more. Because they are the legendary Winchesters, the hunters who saved the world countless times unbeknownst to many. I don't think their work will ever be done but there will be peace when they are done and how they will reach that point we'll never know till 2020.

Everyone will hear "Carry on wayward son" for the last time ever in Supernatural over a painful montage of "Dad's gone on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days" and "Saving people, hunting things, the family business". Now who in this fandom wouldn't be wracked with pain?

This is the show we all joked about that made a deal with the devil to never go off air but I did expect this a long time ago. Only thing was that I didn't know how I'd treat the news. I was that person who would go, "pfft, of course Supernatural would get renewed". Then again, this was the show that an ending was imminent and the whole season 4 debacle about Misha and the angel storyline saving the show blah blah blah.

So next year, everyone will flock to see the finale and epic conclusion to the Winchester saga whether they stopped at season 5,6,7 or 10,12. Diss it all you want for the shit show it may have become but wherever you left off, you may still want to know what happens to Sam and Dean Winchester in the end.

Once Supernatural ends, I'll turn 20 next summer and I would like to think of it being poetic that I end my adolescence with a show I have loved when I brave the cold, ruthless world of adulthood. I'm a picky person and can't say what's my favorite xyz is but you know what I'll say about my favorite TV show.

We will have completed 327 episodes which is the highest for a scifi TV show so I do hope the boys get some sort of recognition. It was us crazy bitches and jerks that gave the show the mileage and it was us that gave Jared and Jensen faith that they could carry on so for the remainder of season 14 and for 15,support these guys. Support these annoyingly sexy and ridiculously hilarious dudes for this show. I'm sure Jared and Jensen love the show like it's their kid practically but I wish everyone would just shut up, tinhatters, bronlies, stans, destihellers because we are all fans of the one show so let's ease the time we have left.

But seriously imagine Sam and Dean on a desert highway, the orange and yellow rays of the setting sun make Baby shine in all her splendor which makes Dean swell with pride. He starts the engine with a low rumble and they're off. They might to California to feel the sand beneath their feet or to Disneyland. They're living the "apple pie life" and this is their personal heaven : with each other.

I wouldn't mind this playing in the background if the ending is the inevitable and unspeakable you know what :

It's wishful thinking, since I wish they'd actually play some Zeppelin instead of song titles being used as episode titles but I wish they could use some Queen or Guns n Roses and stuff before 1979 because everything sucked ass afterwards according to Dean.

I want the classic rock resurgence in the show as well but I know they'll end up using the cash elsewhere. I wouldn't mind a body swap episode but if wishes were horses, right?

Racing for Ghoulies Pt12

Spoilers:obviously

@scarrasco1325 you’re insanely awesome and I love it! Thanks for rebloging and liking!!! You’re seriously amazing!❤️❤️❤️

And don’t think I forgot about all you other guys out there!!! I love the lot of you who read ‘Racing For Ghoulies’! I literally squeal whenever I get a like or reblog! (Which is sometimes awkward if I’m in the middle of class and I try to hold it but I just end up sounding like a dying mouse) but it just really makes me happy❤️❤️❤️ Don’t be shy to leave a reply! I love feedback!❤️

❤️!!You guys are the best!!❤️

Enough sappy stuff 🌧^🌧*sniffle*... onto the story!

Previously

"You alright, Nugget?" Malachai asked his hand landing on my thigh. My eyes flicked to him and I relaxed my body into the seat. I gave him a genuine smile

"Y'know what? Yeah" I nodded "Better than I've felt in a while" I agreed. Malachai pat my leg lightly.

Now

Verne pulled up outside the House of the Dead. I opened the car door and stood up. I giggled as the world spun forcing me to plop back down on the seat. Malachai sent me a grin and went around the car to my side

"Let's get you inside" Malachai suggested. He looped my arm around his neck and helped me sway to my feet. I looked at Malachai with a pout

"How come you're not having any trouble?" I asked him tilting my head. I put most of my weight on Malachai. He sent me a smile

"Lots of practice, sweetheart" Malachai stated. I scoffed, a smile playing at my lips. I rolled my eyes stumbling slightly

"You got her, Malachai?" Verne asked and I could tell he was exhausted. I smiled at my Ghoulie friend. Malachai gave him a nod "great. Now I'm going home" he stated

"Bye, Verne!" I exclaimed waving. Verne sent me a small wave and a smile. Malachai chuckled

"I think we should get you to bed" Malachai stated. I rolled my eyes and stumbled after him. We walked into the house of the dead and Malachai kicked the door closed behind us. He put me on the couch and took off his Ghoulie jacket hanging it up, leaving his torso completely bare. My lips parted as my eyes scanned his back

My common senses tried to kick in but the beer shoved them aside. I stood from the couch and walked towards Malachai. He turned to me with a raised eyebrow. I grabbed his face and pulled him down to me, crashing my lips to his.

Malachai's hand reached up cupping my cheek not hesitating to kiss back. His tongue trailed my bottom lip and any previous hesitation I had was long gone as I allowed him access. Our tongues fought and the taste of beer lingered on his tongue. When he gave a tight squeeze of my hip I got distracted and he won the fight.

I felt my back press against the wall and hummed lightly as his tongue tangled with mine. It felt like... fireworks. He pulled back and a trail of saliva followed him. I sloppily pressed my lips down his jaw and throat. He tilted his head slightly to give me more room and I continued down the side of his neck

"Nugget. Stop" Malachai suddenly groaned shifting away from me "damn if you were anyone else..." he muttered under his breath "you made me promise to stop you from doing anything stupid" Malachai stated grabbing my shoulders and holding me away from him

"This isn't stupid" I argued gently. Malachai sighed shaking his head keeping me away from him "Malachai" I pouted

"Maybe in the morning when you're not drunk" he suggested. I huffed with a nod "for now, you need to get to bed" he told me

"Then you better be ready for morning, lover-boy" I stated flopping onto the couch. Malachai rolled his eyes and scooped me into his arms. He carried me over to a door I didn't know existed and as he opened it, I spotted a large, red bed. He put me down on the blankets and I realised that it was his room "where are you going to sleep" I slurred nuzzling into the bed. Malachai shrugged

"The couch" he stated casually. I grabbed his wrist and Malachai sighed. He tried to get his wrist out of my hand

"No" I whined "couches are uncomfortable" I complained. Malachai raised an eyebrow and I pouted. Malachai chuckled lightly and leaned down pressing a kiss to my temple

"Couches are uncomfortable. Which is why you're staying on the bed and I'm going on the couch" he retorted. I hummed sadly and let go of Malachai's wrist "night, Ice" he said walking to the door

"Night, Mal" I muttered closing my eyes. I felt the weight of the alcohol lull me to sleep but what felt like 5 minutes of sleep later I felt a hand on my shoulder shaking me

"Nugget, you're gonna be late for school" Malachai stated. I hummed turning away from him with a dismissive wave of my hand. My head hurt a lot

"I couldn't be late if I tried" I slurred. Malachai looked to his watch

"Nope, you're definitely going to be late if we don't get going now" Malachai told me simply. All of the events of yesterday flashed through my mind. I groaned sitting up like a vampire in a coffin. I ran a hand through my hair with a grunt "there we go" Malachai said with a grin. He stood up but I caught his Ghoulie jacket in my hand. He looked at me confused. I stayed quiet thinking over what I wanted to say carefully

"Malachai... about yesterday..." I trailed rubbing the nape of my neck with my free hand. Malachai gave me a tight smile

"You want to act like it didn't happen. It's fine" Malachai interrupted going to stand up but I kept my grip on him. My eyes widened and I had to gulp down the saliva in my mouth

"N-No, not at all. Actually kinda the opposite" I told him scratching my cheek with a small smile "yesterday, with you... that was my first kiss, and I don't regret it" I told him genuinely “do you think we could...” I trailed looking to the blanket trying to ignore Malachai’s gaze

"What about the Sepents?” Malachai asked. I tilted my head “if we did... this” he said putting his hand on mine “would you be loyal to them or me?” He asked. I sighed

“Well, I’ll always love my dad, mom and siblings, but the Serpents have never really been a family to me” I shrugged “I only really know ‘Tall Boy’ and the rest just... glare at me. Like it’s a... ‘privilege’ to be ‘FP’s’ daughter” I scoffed “if it comes to gangs, I’ll pick Ghoulies. There isn’t a doubt in my mind I would. But, if it’s family, I can’t turn my back on them but I won’t turn my back on you either” I said giving him a light smile. Malachai nodded lightly

“Last night... that was your first kiss?" He teased. I raised an eyebrow looking at him in disbelief

"What?” I asked in disbelief “that’s what your asking about? Out of everything" I asked crossing my arms. Malachai nodded "alright, it was my first kiss. Is that a bad thing?" I asked a little insecure. Malachai chuckled plopping a hand on my thigh

"of course not. I just think you should be kissed way more often..." Malachai shrugged "and by someone who knows how" he added. I hummed tapping my lip

"I think I know someone up to the task" I teased "Verne. Verne would totally be up for it, unless there are any other takers" I stated. Malachai growled pressing his lips to mine quickly. I put a hand on his chest and he pulled away from the short kiss as my stomach grumbled. I forgot the only thing I had to fill my stomach over the past couple of days was a milkshake, marshmallows, and beer. Malachai smirked

"You hungry? I could grab you something from the kitchen?" Malachai asked. I sent him a raised eyebrow

"you never have to ask me that. My stomach is like a never endingvoid" I told him. Malachai rolled his eyes "no matter how much you put into it, it's never full" I said wiggling my fingers trying to be spooky

"that explains how you were able to drink so much beer yesterday without throwing up" Malachai agreed with a smile. I put my hands on my hips proudly "Alright, you get dressed and I’ll be back" Malachai stated gesturing over his shoulder. I flung the blanket off my legs

“Okay, just knock before you come back in” I said. Malachai raised his hands in mock surrender “and do you have a shirt I could borrow?” I asked. Malachai gestured to a draw

“What’s mine is yours, babe” he said sending me a wink before leaving and closing the door behind him. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head in amusement. I sifted through the pile of clothes that were stuffed in the draw looking for the best option. I picked out a button up shirt that was a darkish grey with white and red swirls that made up skulls. A knock sounded from the door

“Hold on!” I called. I pulled off my old shirt and pulled on the button up one. I smiled looking in the mirror. The top two buttons looked weird so I undid them. It actually looked pretty good. I pulled the door open and Malachai’s eyes flicked over me. He handed me a cookie and I gasped in delight and nibbles on it happily "alright, let’s go" I said as I finished the cookie. I paused "wait, we're a thing right?" I asked awkwardly. Malachai chuckled

"yeah. We're a 'thing'" Malachai agreed. I smiled "if you're alright with being the girlfriend of a Ghoulie" he added a wide smirk on his face. I smiled lightly

"I'm more than ‘okay’ with it, as long as you're okay with dating the serpent leader's daughter" I mocked. Malachai rolled his eyes throwing an arm over my shoulder

"Oh, no, that's a total deal breaker" Malachai said sarcastically. I grinned at him and snapped my fingers in a 'damn' way "though... I suppose I could make an exception for you" he stated holding me to his side tighter. I chuckled lightly

“I’m glad I meet the ‘Ghoulie King’s’ standards” I teased with a large grin. I could only wish that word about Malachai and I didn’t spread too fast. My heart and stomach disagreed with each other.

While a feeling of dread settled in my stomach, a feeling of warmth and hope filled my heart. I prayed to whatever god was out there that the feeling in my stomach wasn’t right. That for once something in my life would go right

—————————

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@savvy7392

Who Said That Every Wish Chapter 14: Mom, Meet Wayzz

The first non-hero is brought in on the secret. We get Nino's perspective on a few past events.

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On the roof of the hospital, Carapace's transformation fell. He waited for Chat, leaning on the roof access door.

"You didn't have to wait," Felix said, detransforming.

"Ah, actually I did," Nino said. "Someone took the crutches I left out here to get me to the wheelchair I left at the bottom of the stairs. Also, if my physical therapist asks, I did none of this and never even looked at a set of stairs without her knowledge and permission."

The two boys found an awkward but fairly stable way to get Nino to his wheelchair and then they made their way back to Nino's room.

"Just so you know, mom's pissed you went missing," Melanie said to her brother, sans greeting, when she saw him in the hall. "Hey, Felix."

"It's like two in the morning," Nino said. "Why are you all here?"

"A nurse checked on you and you were gone and he called mom." Melanie glanced between Nino and Felix for a moment. "I told her it was probably something like this. Go, make your bullshit excuses," she gestured towards Nino's room. "I'll take Chris home so you can be yelled at in privacy."

A few yards from the room, Nino held up a hand to stop Felix.

“What?” Felix asked, glancing at the door and then at Nino.

“What if I told her?”

“Told who what?” Felix asked. There were too many secrets to choose from.

“Y'know,” Nino said, glancing around the deserted hall. He held up his left wrist and miraculous.

“Oh… have you talked to Buggy about it?”

“That's kinda what those team meetings you wouldn't go to were about,” Nino said. “The rest of us think it's time we came out to our loved ones. At least, the ones we think can handle it, like our parents and maybe Mel and Nath, if you want. Even Nathalie's on board, we were just waiting for you. Adrien wanted all of us to present the idea to you together, but oh well. What do you think?"

"Overall, I think it’s time. But she's your mother, so that’s your decision," Felix said. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"I want you here whenever I can have you," Nino said, much too serious for the late hour.

Felix ducked his head, annoyed that he felt bashful. Nino gestured towards the door and he resumed pushing the chair to the room.

"Nino," Mrs. Lahiffe said on a sigh. "I spend all day working with runaways, I don't want to come home to them."

"I didn't run away," Nino said.

"I did," Felix said. Mrs. Lahiffe and Nino both glared at him. The tech who had been helping with the search for Nino helped him from the chair to the bed and left.

"Felix, I need to have a conversation with my son," Mrs. Lahiffe said. "It's also the middle of the night and you should be at home. Why are you out and about in your pajamas?"

"He's staying. Mom, sit," Nino said, patting the side of his bed. Felix came to stand on the other side of the bed, not sure if he was supposed to (allowed to?) hold Nino's hand. Nino solved this by grabbing blindly for Felix until their hands met.

"If this is about you two dating, can it wait until morning?" Mrs. Lahiffe asked.

"It's not about that. I'm just gonna say it, okay?" Nino glanced at Felix for strength, then turned back to his mother. "I'm Carapace, mom. That's how I got hurt."

Mrs. Lahiffe sighed, frustrated. "Felix, maybe you should go so I can explain to my son the difference between appropriate and inappropriate jokes."

"He's serious," Felix said. "I'm Chat Noir. You already know Gabr- my father was Hawkmoth. I told Nino when I found out Hawkmoth’s identity and he went and tried to take him down himself."

"I wasn't going to phrase it like that," Nino muttered.

Mrs. Lahiffe shook her head. "Nino, do you... actually this explains a lot."

"Like what?" Nino asked.

"Why you sneak out. Your secret crush that I always suspected was Chat Noir. That you keep disappearing during akuma battles even though I know you're not with Alya filming them like you claim. And you're exactly the kind of person who would try to fight Hawkmoth alone."

"You suspected my crush was Chat Noir and still insisted I invite him over all the time?"

"Absolutely. I could tell that boy had troubles at home. I was hoping a few home cooked meals and the sight of a healthy family dynamic might give him some stability in his life." She paused, eyes flicking to Felix for a moment before returning to Nino. "My second guess was Felix, with the same hope."

"Both Chat Noirs need it," Nino said.

"Right, there's two of you. Are there secretly two of all of you? Who's the other Chat Noir?"

"Adrien shares with Felix, the rest of us are just us."

She muttered "of course" under her breath.

"So, that's my news," Nino said. "I say we all get a good night's sleep and regroup tomorrow."

"Nice try," Mrs. Lahiffe said, raising an eyebrow. "Where were you tonight, why is Felix in his pajamas, what happened the night Felix 'ran away', and who else knows about all this superhero stuff?"

The boys exchanged a look.

"She's your mother," Felix said. "I'm just here."

"Fine, but that means I'm telling it my way," Nino warned. Felix rolled his eyes but didn't voice any objections. "I went to get Felix back tonight," Nino said. "I'm aware you think that's a stupid thing to do, but when I'm transformed, the suit makes up for any injuries, although it does take a toll on my kwami. So, I flew to-"

"Kwami?"

"Oh, yeah!" Nino said, looking around the room. "Wayzz, come meet my mom, officially."

Wayzz popped up with a deep nod in Mrs. Lahiffe's direction. "Nice to meet you. I am Wayzz, the Turtle Kwami."

"Your turtle talks... and flies," Mrs. Lahiffe whispered, her eyes following Wayzz as the kwami lowered himself to Nino's shoulder.

"Master, if I could have some kale?" Wayzz asked.

"Right," Nino said, looking around the room. "Felix, you mind? The lunch box over there."

There was a pink lunch box with "Marinette Dupain-Cheng" written in wobbly permanent marker on the handle. It contained a couple ice packs, kale, cheese, and cookies. Felix readied a paper towel as a makeshift plate and brought it to Wayzz while Nino took his mom through "Miraculous Magic 101".

"Anyway, Felix was being ridiculous and was sulking so I went to try and get him to forgive me for the whole 'attacking Hawkmoth single-handedly and almost dying' thing. It turned into a fight, which turned into another fight a few minutes later, and then we came back here."

Felix cleared his throat. "That's not how I would-"

"You agreed to let me tell it," Nino said, turning a challenging eye on him. "Unless you have significant parts of the story to add, I'm telling it."

Felix had never loved him more than in that moment.

"Let's see, what else..." Nino muttered. "Oh, yeah, so, Felix running away. He figured out his old man was his sworn enemy because our lives are some weird Shakespearean drama, and found Carapace- me- on his patrol route. He was kinda falling apart and asked to come home with me, and since my mother raised me to take in strays, we went home and revealed our identities. I got the story out of him, fed him hot chocolate and popcorn, and when he fell asleep, I snuck out, tried to fight Hawkmoth, and landed on Marinette's balcony. Thankfully, she's Ladybug and was able to get me to the hospital."

Mrs. Lahiffe sighed. "You snuck your crush into the house, revealed your superhero identity without any planning or forethought, and then, as the newest member of Team Superhero, went by yourself to fight a supervillain that has been around since you were in middle school."

"Am I, like, perma-grounded?"

"I have no idea," Mrs. Lahiffe said, rubbing the heel of her hand into her forehead. "I did, in fact, teach you to take in strays. And I didn't notice that you were sneaking out frequently enough to be a superhero so that one's definitely on me. And facing Hawkmoth alone was idiotic, but brave." She put a hand on the side of his face. "I'm mad, and none of those were the right choice or the wise choice, but they were still good choices. It's something we can work on together."

Felix was starting to feel bits of his brain falling asleep while he stood there. He was following the conversation as best he could, but not everything was processing. As important as he knew this moment was, he really just needed sleep.

"What about the others? Who knows about this stuff? What's going on with the un-retired Paon that took down Hawkmoth?"

Nino explained about Marinette and Nathalie and Fu while Felix concentrated on not falling asleep standing up.

A hand suddenly brushed Felix's arm. "You doing okay?" Mrs. Lahiffe asked.

"Fine," he said, blinking a few times. Had he actually fallen asleep for a second there?

"Nino, scootch over so Felix can sleep while we talk," she said, shifting to a chair so they would have room.

"No, I'm fine," Felix said, taking a step away. Nino tugged on his hand.

"Plagg's not going to let you transform and try to get to Nathalie's at this hour, dude. Stop being weird and get over here."

"Don't argue, we Lahiffes are stubborn," Mrs. Lahiffe said.

Felix considered arguing anyway, but the second he took to consider this was long enough for him to close his eyes again, and this time he jerked awake.

"You don't mind?" he asked Mrs. Lahiffe as he slowly lowered himself to sit on the very edge of the bed.

"I'd mind more if you fell asleep, fell down, and injured yourself."

"Just go to sleep," Nino said, yanking Felix towards himself.

Felix yelped and pulled back. "I'll hurt you."

"No, you won't. Go to sleep."

Despite his protests, Felix fell asleep within seconds of his head hitting Nino's shoulder.

"You really care about him," Mrs. Lahiffe said, smiling at the soft expression on her son's face.

"He loves me," Nino said, grinning at his mother.

"It took me a while to see it, but he does, and I'm glad," she said.

"I think he's a little scared of you," Nino said, looking over as Felix shifted in his sleep.

"Fear is probably all he knows right now," Mrs. Lahiffe said. "We'll fix that."

"Except Mel," Nino said.

"Except Mel," she agreed. "She likes to be feared."

Survey #153

“i may be easy - easy to hate, but you’re so fucking easy, easy to break.”

Do you think age matters in friendship?  Nah.  One of my closest friends is in his 30s.  Now of course I believe a parent should monitor a friendship of a minor and adult, but, I still believe friendship is certainly possible. What was the last essay/assignment you wrote about?  It was only the rough draft, but I helped Colleen with her assessment of "Female" by Keith Urban. When do you usually put your Christmas decorations up?  Usually start in early December. Are you more likely to eat when you’re bored or depressed?  When I'm bored, I'd say.  When I'm depressed, I'm more keen on sleeping.  I've gotten better about not eating when I'm bored, thankfully. Do you have a case/cover for your phone? Describe it.  No, I want one tho. Do you take good care of your skin?  I've been making a decent effort lately.  I HATE the bumps I have on my arms from dry skin, so I've been moisturizing them as well as my face. What was your dream job when you were a kid?  Paleontologist.  I would still pursue it if I wasn't turned off by a career with loads of travel, nor do I think I have the patience to obtain a PhD. Is there any music you listen to that was influenced by your parents?  Oh yeah, Mom especially.  She's all about heavy metal, especially the classics.  Dad too, but I'd say he's more hard rock. Do you use tampons or pads? Or both?  Tampons, pads gross me out afsdjafjw.  I started with them though. Is your internet wireless or do you need a cable?  Wireless. What is something you’re behind the times on?  Ummm idk. Have you ever had a severe allergic reaction?  No. What color are your glasses, if applicable?  Black. List a great $1 store find:  Idk. List a great garage sale find:  *shrugs* Who is one YouTuber you would like to meet?  m a r k Do you have your own website?  I have my own photography one. Do you like candy corn?  Omg demons stay back. Were you happy as a kid?  Yep. What is your favorite Queen song?  If your answer isn't "Bohemian Rhapsody," I don't want you in my life. Who was the last person you blocked on social media? Why?  Colleen, 'cuz I was kicking her out of my life and know that woman too well that she would try sending me a novel of hate, and I wasn't having it.  Turns out she shared our drama over Facebook afterwards to make me the bad guy, and I still have trouble believing I forgave something that petty.  She apologized for it, eh. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital?  The old woman my mom had watched.  I knew enough about her to know she was a super sweet woman, so I barely held it together in there.  She died the very next morning. Could you ever be friends with the person who hurt you most in life?  Ha, no.  He doesn't deserve my friendship. You never know what you have until you’ve lost it, true or false?  Nah. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done?  I dunno, possibly something sexual. When was the last time you spoke to someone in a different language?  Back in high school when I was doing a German test over the phone. Have you ever successfully broken a bad habit? How about conquered a fear of something?  Omg, so I had this habit of when I was thinking deeply or nervous, I would pull my eyebrows out.  It got to the point it would sometimes look like I almost had none.  Super embarrassing, especially because I did this a lot in school.  As for a fear, it was never a big one, but going to see Sara broke my mild fear of flying.  I like it now. Have you ever read a whole series of books?  Yes. Are you going to walk at your graduation or just pick your diploma up?   For when I finish college, I'm probably just picking up my diploma. Have you ever tried to break a Guinness World Record?  No. Do you know how to read music?  I recall some notes. Do you own any shirts that have a year on it?  Ha ha, I got that "I was there" shirt for the Back to the Future date. Do you have any scratches on your cell phone?  No. Is your skin tone lighter or darker than your mom’s?  Lighter. Have you ever done another person’s make-up?  I gave Jason a makeover. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Honestly still hope I have that picture somewhere.  Regardless of what happened, that is damn good memory, he hated it so much. Is anyone saved in your phone under a nickname?  Sara, Ashley, Nicole, and Mom. When, where, and why did a needle last pierce your skin?  'Bout two weeks back to get my tongue pierced. Who is the youngest gay person you know?  Dunno. Have you ever watched an animal being eaten by another animal?  Yeah, our old cats with mice 'n such. Do you get along with people who are especially religious? Why/why not?  If you don't push it on me, certainly.  Respect my theism, I'll respect your whatever. Do you have any interesting pillow cases?  No. Are you more afraid of spiders or bees?  Well, there's too much variety in this question.  I'll fear a wolf spider more than a bumblebee, but a hornet more than daddy long leg. Has your best friend ever seen you naked?  No. Do you get mad when your current bf/gf talks about an ex?  Not at all. Do you know anybody who was abused?  Yes. Would you prefer a baby boy or girl?  If I was to have kids, y'know, I don't know.  Perhaps a girl, but I know boys are generally easier, and feeling the bond between a mother and her son would be amazing.  I'unno. When did you last feel like your privacy was invaded?  I'm not sure. Do your parents volunteer anywhere?  No. If you were a different religion from your current one, what would it be? Why?  Wiccan, because their beliefs (that I know of) are interesting. Have you ever had your phone taken away at school?  No. How old were you the first time you dyed your hair?  Idk.  I think first year of high school; I don't believe dyed hair was allowed in middle. Do you talk the same way you do in person as you do online?  For the most part. How would you react if a doctor told you that you were infertile?  I'd be like, irrationally happy.  I don't want kids, and I have a considerably large fear of being raped and thus get pregnant, so. Do you get along with your best friend’s parents?  Her mom's a bitch, and her dad's... different. Have you ever been in a relationship where you didn’t get along with the person’s parents?  No. How many people of the opposite sex have you said ‘I love you’ to?  One, romantically. Do you put marshmallows in your hot chocolate?  No. What is the best thing you can draw?  Meerkats are like the only thing I can draw decently without a reference. What band did you see for your first concert?  Alice Cooper. Do you think people with legitimate addictions are pathetic, or do you understand them?  Oh fuck off.  I obviously can't "understand" because I've never endured one, but addictions are serious.  Addiction is not a choice, and from meeting so many druggies during my psych hospital visits as well as having a friend who got clean, it's fucking hard. Has anyone you know ever had serious surgery before?  Yeah, Mom had kidney cancer.  The tumor was bigger than the kidney itself. When was the last time you had butterflies?  When Sara was here, we had these few moments where we were just staring at each other smiling and asjdfawjij. Do you think Gatorade tastes refreshing or just gross?  I don't like it. Do you own a pet fish? What kind of fish are they?  No. Do you have a porch swing?  No. How many area codes would you recognize?  My own and childhood town's. Who has the best taste in music in your family?  Besides myself obviously, Mom. What animal did you last pet or hold?  My cat. If you were a different gender, what name would you want to have?  Maybe like.  Dakota.  Probs my favorite unisex name. If you had to have one feature on your body changed to a canine version of said feature, what would you choose?  Gimme dem teefs. What product or service do you find ridiculously overpriced?  Some fast food, QUALITY MAKEUP, gas, uhhhh. How many people, outside of your immediate family, do you know the birthdays of by heart?  Six, or seven if you count my dog.  Maybe forgetting some. Shot of whiskey, or a bottle of Smirnoff?  The latter, I love Smirnoff's. Have you ever been afraid of being underwater?  No. Would you ever scuba dive in shark infested waters if you had the chance? In a cage, sure.  Otherwise, no.  Sharks are very much villainized, but I respect their capabilities, rare as an attack is. Have you ever hit a parked car with your car?  Not yet, boy will I when I learn how to park around others lmao. What band/group have the most lyrics that represent you? Hmmm, not sure. How many times have you been on a plane?  Four times that I remember, but I was on one as a baby, too. What do you wish were different about your hair?  I wish it was eASIER TO DYE- What’s a personality type that you do not like? Overly talkative is draining for me.  I also dislike the kinds of people who aim to make every "conversation" almost exclusively about themselves/leave no room for you to really express your own thoughts.  That's not a convo. What’s a personality type that you do like? Deep thinkers.  Those open to many possibilities, even if wild.  Nature-adoring people and/or ones who feel heavily connected to the earth. Which of your friends is the least like you and in what way? Colleen.  My best friend somehow, ha ha.  She's extremely straightforward and isn't afraid to hurt feelings if she feels it's important for you to see truth, she gets shit done quick/doesn't procrastinate, she can be quite argumentative, she's completely independent, our religious and some political views are different, our music taste is totally inverted, and I'm sure there's more I'm forgetting.  We're a prime example of opposites attract.  Love her to death. How about the most like you and in what way? Sara, and I could write a novel here lmao.  Separated at birth kinda shit. What’s something you do daily and is this a habit of yours? Sit on the computer, and yeeaah it's just about all I do. What was the last thing to frustrate you and is it still frustrating you now?  Hm.  Dunno.  Probably something like Roman being so intent on lying on the keyboard. What helps you fall asleep? Nothing lol. Is there any type of medicine you can’t take? For what reason?  Anti-depressants.  Learned from my current psychiatrist that taking them only amps up bipolarity symptoms if you have that as well, which I do. Do you like designer bags with the logo stamped all over them?  No. Is Russian or Native American history more interesting to you?  Native American. If you had to choose to have a different accent than the one you have now, what accent would you choose and why?  British, 'cuz it's hot. Have you ever missed a flight?  Omg yes.  O'Hare after visiting Sara was absolutely impossible.  It was so.  Busy.  That and I didn't know what I was doing through half of it. If your ex suddenly kissed you right now, what would you do?  "The" ex would lose his balls, the others I'd push back. Are you a virgin?  P sure no but my story is complicated so aojsdfaow. What is one feature that you don’t like?  I'm guessing you mean on myself personally, and that would easily be weight.  I'd be relatively fine with myself if that was where I want it to be. What’s the genre of the current song you’re listening to?  Metal ballad. What would you do if you were stuck on a boat in the middle of the ocean?  I don't really know.  A part of me says I'd be so hopeless and terrified I'd drown myself.  The odds of being found are minuscule. Who is the funniest person you know?  Girt. When sitting on the floor, in what position do you normally sit?  Kinda with my legs turned to the same side. Do you like being kissed spontaneously or asked?  Spontaneously is way less awkward for me.  But only if you're pretty sure through my display of comfort that I'm fine with it. Have you ever tried to break someone up?  I thought about it out of spite.  I considered messaging her over Facebook and telling her what she was in for, and I wished her dead, and I'm not joking.  Turns out he broke up with her for the same reason as me, according to Mom being a FB stalker apparently. Are you a bad influence?  I am in some areas.  Shouldn't be even remotely lazy as me, and you shouldn't illegally download shit. Would you ever get a tattoo?  I already have five, and six is probably coming next year with holiday + birthday money. Do you get nervous before going to doctor appointments?  Not really, no.  The only thing that makes me anxious is having to get weighed lmao. Do you call anyone "baby?"  Sara, but more frequently "babygirl." What is a movie that you thought you would hate but you ended up loving?  Off the top of my head, I think A Raisin in the Sun. Do you have any close friends that were adopted?  No. What time do you usually have a shower?  Night. What do you want to do after high school? I immediately went to a community college but dropped out in like a month.  My depression was so bad and I just couldn't handle the difficulty, responsibility, and independence leap. Do you know anybody that is pregnant right now? Not off the top of my head.  My acquaintance had a baby girl less than a week ago, though.

I’m Your Sword and I’m Your Shield Ch. 14

After the kiss, Ryuji had promptly fled into the guest room with a red face and locked it. You didn't chases after him, you were still stunned after that surprise kiss. You cleaned up everything after you got unstunned and went to bed, yelling a goodnight to Ryuji, who didn't say anything in return. The next day wielded the same results as last night, you got ready for school and texted Ryuji that you were leaving, he didn't text back.It was only until the school was nearly over that you got a response from him.

R: About....about the kiss.... Yes? R: It was a.... A what? R: Spur of the moment thing...

You felt everything freeze as you read his message. Your heart's crushed as he continues texting. R: You were my clutch and you listened to my problems... R: Seein' you so calmly looking at the rain and all... R: Caused me to move without thinking, y'know?

'Like usual...' You think and glance up to make sure the teacher wasn't watching before responding.

...So you don't like me in that way?

It takes a full five minutes before he responds and you can tell from how long it took that he's contemplating his words. R: ....I...I don't know.... R: Maybe.....I just... R: I don't want to ruin this..... R: If I lose you then I have no one left.... R: I'll go back to being a lonely delinquent with no future ahead of him... R: Heh.... R: Maybe I deserved all those words after all....

You clench your phone upon reading that. Ryuji's spoken on this kinda thing before, back when you both were in middle school. It took you a full week to get him to stop thinking like that. Ryuji. You, in no way, deserved any of that, understand? You always put others first and neglect your own safety in tow. The others... they don't TRULY know you like I do. So, of course they have no idea what words NOT to say to you. R: But....I never told them to stop.... Cause you didn't want to appear as weak? R: Yeah... R: ..... Ryuji? R: Thanks, (Y/N) R: You're always there when I need it

You give a soft smile as the bell rings overhead, the students start packing up their bags as you continue texting the blond teen. You're welcome Now go gorge yourself on those terrible chips you love so much. R: Dude, you have no taste R: They're amazin'~ They taste of cardboard R: : P

You laugh to yourself as you pack up your things and leave the classroom. You're halfway down until you hear your name being called. Your hand grips the railing as you turn to face who called you. Akira and Ann are standing at the top of the stairs with Morgana peeking his head over the side of the shaggy haired teen's shoulder. Ann looks off to the side, almost as if she's embarrassed to make eye contact while Akira's meeting your gaze head on. For once, you can see his eyes without the glare of his glasses keeping them hidden, his steely gray eyes have a serious look to them. Any student that's still loitering around stop to watch the confrontation between the boy with the criminal record and the best friend of the school's blond delinquent. You brace yourself for whatever Akira has to say. "Yeah?" "Can we talk to you?" You gesture down to the floor and he shakes his head. "At Leblanc. You know where that is?" "Nothing I can't look up." You turn to leave, "I'll go there a bit later." You descend the stairs. "Now." The new tone in Akira's voice causes you to freeze and the sound of quickly moving footsteps fills the vacant air. 'He's definitely the leader of the Phantom Thieves.' You look back at the teen and cross your arms. "Then I might as well follow you there." You step aside as he descends the stairs with Ann following, the curly pig-tailed blonde has yet to say anything or even look at you. You travel along with them to the train station, the three of you don't say a word as you get off in Yongen-Jaya. You take in the appearance of Leblanc as you approach, it's got a rustic and homey feel to it, but it does nothing to calm your nerves. Akira opens the door and allows you and Ann to go ahead of him, you walk in and are greeted by Yusuke, Makoto, and Futaba. "What's up?" You already have a feeling about how well this talk is going to go. None of them say anything and you can feel a bit of your temper start to flare up. You cross your arms and glare at them. "If no one's going to say anything, then I'm leaving." "We would like to know where Ryuji is." Makoto speaks. "We can't get a hold of him." "That's not my problem." You snap slightly. "Why should I tell you? After everything he's told me about how you guys treat him, I'm surprised you even want him back." Your nails dig into your arms. The team flinch upon hearing your harsh words, but you can't bring yourself to care. "We want to apologize." Ann says. "Did you guys decide this overnight or did Akira say that you have to say your apologies?" "What's the difference?" Futaba asks. "Between a heartfelt apology and one where you're being told to?" Your temper flares up again. "One where you know you were in the wrong and the one where you want to get it done so that person who told you would stop nagging you?" You glare at the red-haired teen. "I don't know Futaba, but I'm pretty sure you're smart enough to tell the difference." Futaba steps back and Makoto comes to her difference. "We didn't know and we apologize." "Why the hell are you apologizing to me for?" You growl slightly. "I'm not the one who took all that shit from you guys for six months." You take a deep breath. "Look, Ryuji's been taking shit his whole life: from his father, from Kamoshida, and now from you guys. Giving him time might not cut it..." The team stares at you with wide eyes and you have to fight down the bitter laugh that threatens to emerge. "Yes, I saw the messages you were sending him...." "...So, what do you suppose we do?" Akira asks. "You said giving him time might not work." "Are you suggesting that we avoid Ryuji?" Yusuke speaks. You shake your head, "No, I'd never say that. He talked a lot about you guys before all this happened." You rub the back of your neck. "Maybe...don't pressure him into accepting whatever your apology is... or whatever it is that you guys have planned." You walk towards the door. "If he accepts and you guys rekindle your lost friendship.... Please think before you say anything that might be harmful to him. Underneath the tough guy exterior, he's someone trying to find his place in the world." With that, you leave and make fast tracks towards the train station. When you get off in Shibuya, your phone goes off. R: Do you know Haru Okumura? No Why? R: She's a third year at our school and we're stopping by your house real fast to say hi. I'm on my way back right now Please don't jump the fence R: On your way back? R: From where?

You contemplate telling him the truth, but decides that it's best to hear it from you before the others. Akira asked me to come to Leblanc The others were there as well R: .... R: What did they say? They asked where you were, but I didn't tell them Then I told them off about how they treated you and left R: ...Oh R: You still had my back even when I wasn't there. Hell yeah I've always got your back

You fish your keys out of your pocket as you hear Ryuji's voice around the corner. You turn to look at him and a girl, you assume is Okumura-senpai, approach. Ryuji loops an arm around you and introduces you to the fluffy haired senior. You invite them both inside and try to push down the bad feeling you have for the future.

This Boy - Chapter 14

A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter has taken so long, I wanted this one to be perfeccccttt!! i used the pet name 'baby' because i know John and Paul used to call each other that- idk worth a shot :) ..enjoy tho

~Paul's~

I hadn't seen John since the day I was released from the hospital. My Aunt Gin had moved into our house, and I had a feeling John may have been intimidated by her. I didn't want nor like this space that John was giving me. Don't get me wrong, he did call me every night before he went to sleep, but that was it. John didn't ask how I was doing or what was going on at all, he just told me about his day, what new records he had knicked from the record shop and then told me goodnight. I wasn't quite well enough to go to school -physically or mentally- so there was no bumping into him in the hallways like before. I did miss that.

It was almost 10PM, and I was sitting on my bedroom floor playing my guitar, trying to write a song. I scratched some lyrics down and my pencil broke. I stretched over to my bag and dragged it in front of me. It hurt to move much. I rummaged through it for a new pencil when I fell upon a folded up piece of paper that said Paul on the front in John's handwriting. This must have been old because I hadn't seen him, and I hadn't used my bag since I was in school, which was also a while ago. I unfolded it.

Love, love me do

You know I love you

I'll always be true

So please

Love me do

I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry, rip it up, or kiss it.

I folded it back up and tucked it under my pillow. I lied down on my bed, slowly but surely, and thought about John. I needed to see him, but Gin wouldn't let me leave the bloody house. I suppose I couldn't blame her though, if I walked for too long it began to feel as though all my ribs were collapsing. It was worth risking to see John. I tip-toed passed Mike's room and slowly made my way down the stairs and to the front door. I was nervous and fragile, but I didn't want to feel that way anymore. John made me feel strong and loved. I sighed as I successfully walked away from my house and toward John's. It was a very nice night, hopefully he would want to come out and walk with me. To a bench maybe, so he didn't end up carrying my broken ass home.

I arrived at John's and immediately smiled when I walked around the side of the house and noticed his bedroom light was on. I threw a rock gently at the window and waited. Nothing. Maybe he had fallen asleep with the light on?

I threw another one a little harder. Nothing.

I threw another one.

"I heard it the first time, m'love." I heard from behind me. I spun around. "John!" I wanted to run into his arms, but for my own pain-sake I walked slowly toward him. "Well well well, look at you my little bluebird, looking like a brand new man." John smiled as he cupped my face with both of his hands. "Bluebird? That's new." I laughed a little bit and smiled, and then remembered that he hadn't come by, causing my smile to fade. "Where have you been?" I asked, pulling his hands down and holding them. "I've been here the whole time, Macca." John raised an eyebrow, questioning my accusation. "I haven't seen you since they let me leave the hospital." I stepped back a little bit. "Paul..." John stepped toward me. I raised my eyebrow. "I'm sorry, baby... I just wanted to give you some space, y'know, to recover and all." John admitted as he leaned in and kissed my cheek. My stomach lit up with what felt like thousands of fireworks just from the touch of his lips. "I need you, though..." I said quietly, almost ashamed to admit it. I still expected things like this to be awkward between us because we were both guys. But it wasn't, because it was John.

"I'm sorry. I should have asked you what you wanted before assuming. Forgive me?" John asked as he flashed me his signature John Lennon grin. "I forgive you." I smiled and kicked his foot lightly and flirtatiously. "C'mon, to Strawberry fields?" I suggested, gesturing toward the sidewalk before flinching and grabbing my side. I tried to play it off as if it didn't happen. "How about you just stay with me here tonight? Don't pretend you're not still in pain. Mike talks to me y'know." John said, obviously content with the fact that he knew me so well. "Me Aunt doesn't know I left." I said, shaking my head. "Bloody hell Paul, she hasn't even met me yet and she's going to think I'm a horrible influence. C'mon, I'll stay at your's then." John said, linking arms with me and guiding the way back toward my house. "You should have called, I would have come to you instead of you draggin' yer broken ass down here." He added.

"I'm glad you're okay. Y'know, I'm glad we're okay." I said, hoping for a little bit more reassurance. "All is well, m'love. But I must admit, I am so glad you're okay. You scared me, I didn't think I was going to get my little bluebird back." John said, as he quietly opened my front door, gesturing for me politely to go ahead of him. I lead the way and we tip-toed back into my bedroom. I lied down, relieved to be off of my feet. John stood and stared at me with a smile so big it took over his entire body. "What?" I asked, feeling my cheeks becoming bright red. "I just didn't think I could love someone so much." John said as he knelt down on the floor, becoming face to face with me. He began to stroke my cheek lightly. "Everything is going to look up from here, right?" I asked quietly. My whole life had been one disappointment after another at this point, but with John there I could almost feel optimistic about the future.

"I promise everything is going to be grand." John said before he leaned in and gently placed a kiss on my nose. "Don't you leave me now, 'er I dunno what I'd do." John said, making eye contact with me. His eyes looked so soft and loving. "I won't." I smiled lightly. "I know we're only young Paul, but I want to be with you until the day I die and I can promise ye I'll be by your side to make it work." John said as he reached down and grabbed my left hand, kissing it a few times. "I love you... so damn much." He didn't stop kissing my hand, and it almost sounded like he was choked up. "John, what's wrong?" I said sympathetically. "I just don't want ye t'leave me. I know I sound soft and pathetic but everyone else... everyone else has left me. Why should you stay? I'll try t'prove t'ya that I deserve you and all that... Y'know..." John mumbled as his voice began to break off. I knew this was hard for him, so I kissed his forehead. "Ye don't have to prove anything. I love you, Lennon." He looked back up at me and smiled.

"This is for you..." John said as he straightened his back, digging in his pockets. I raised an eyebrow, confused as to what he was looking for. John pulled out a small, thin silver band and slowly pushed it onto my middle finger on my left hand. "I'd put it on yer ring finger but y'know, people would ask..." John said, obviously content with himself. "What's this for?" I smiled, examining the band. "'Cause, like I said I wanna be with ye for the rest of me life. Just a promise I s'pose." He said as he lied down beside me, pulling me into his arms. "Ye'v gone soft, Lennon. But I love it.. I'm sorry I don't have one for ye..." I said, sincerely feeling bad that I had nothing to give him.

"I just want you, anyway." I heard him mumble as he nuzzled his nose into my hair.

I didn't know how to form words at this point of the night. John had shocked me to my core with his words and the ring. I hadn't felt this kind of love before and it almost felt like I was flying. My heart was racing, my stomach felt lighter than air, the pain that had previously been coursing through my body had disappeared and though I knew it would only be temporary, it felt amazing knowing John had the ability to make my pain disappear.  There was nothing in the world that could take him away from me at this point, I wouldn't allow it.

"Are you asleep already m'love?" John whispered into my ear. I felt my body shudder because of his hot breath. "No, m'up.." I mumbled as I rolled over and faced him. John cuddled his face up to my chest and I smiled. I began singing the song that I had been working on writing to him.

Close your eyes

And I'll kiss you

Tomorrow I'll miss you

Remember I'll always be true

And then while I'm away

I'll write home everyday

And I'll send all my loving to you

John was soon snoring, clinging to me as though his life depended on it. I smiled to myself and held him tightly until the minute the sun rose. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. I wished I could see what was going on in his head, he must have a lot going on in there. John was probably one of the strongest people I'd ever met considering all he'd been through and the voices he told me about. I hoped that they weren't too serious because I had read about mental illnesses that people suffered from that included voices in their heads, and I hoped John didn't have that.

He began to stir, almost as though my train of thought had disturbed him. John softly opened his eyes and looked at me. "Good morning, handsome." I smiled and kissed his forehead. He grunted and rolled away from me. "Aye!" I laughed and pulled him back into my arms by the waist. "It's too bloody early, baby..." John grumbled as he tried to wriggle away from me. There was a knock on my bedroom door. I tensed up, and remembered the last time there was a knock at my door. I had assumed it was Mike trying to wake me up for school and it ended up being my father, starting my day by putting me in the hospital.

John shot up, wide awake now, and sat down on my love seat. "C'min," I mumbled, sitting up and crossing my legs. Aunt Gin opened the door slowly and peaked in. "G'mornin' James, I have to- oh, hello young man..." She began before she noticed the boy sitting on my bed. "Hi m'am." John smiled and waved. "Auntie, this is me mate John... We're ugh- in a band together." I lied. John smiled wider at me because I guess I had confirmed his request to start a band. "Nice t'meet you." John said in a more posh, polite voice. "You as well." Gin nodded her head and faced me again. "I have to go into Blackpool today, I won't be back until late. Please be careful and take your medication. I'm taking Michael with me, so you needn't worry about 'im." Gin informed me. I nodded and she took the hint to leave.

"I have a few questions." John said as he stuck up his hand like a young child in class. "Yes?" I raised an eyebrow. "Firstly, what is your real first name? Secondly, you're on medication now?" John asked as he tilted his head, still looking like an innocent young child. His hair wasn't it's usual quiff, slicked back like Elvis, it was a bloody mess. But he looked perfect. "My name is James Paul McCartney. I wish Gin wouldn't call me James, it's me Dad's name. Yes I'm on medication now, y'know, for the pain... and some for anxiety. But it's no big deal." I shrugged my shoulders and stood up slowly, one hand on my sore ribs, and began rifling through my drawers for a new outfit. I could feel John getting closer to me. Soon enough, his arms were wrapped around my waist from behind and he was kissing my neck. I closed my eyes and really focused on feeling him, he kept me grounded. I counted the nine times he muttered I love you against my neck.

I began to feel extremely aroused. John and I hadn't done anything, nor talked about doing anything sexual at this point. I knew I was way too nervous to. I think he may have felt the same way because he pulled away from me, and sat back down with his shirt pulled down over his crotch. Very nonchalant, he was.  I was completely unsure about sexual stuff with John. I knew at this point though I was way too fragile, though.

"What shall we do today, m'love?" John asked me after he evidently calmed himself down. "Up to you, just remember your prince charming is broken. That leaves us with limited options." I reminded John as I slowly lifted my shirt off and replaced it with a clean one, quickly grabbing my throbbing side after. "I did want to go to school..." I admitted. It was hard having limited social interaction. "Paul I definitely don't want you to push yourself to the point of being in pain, or y'know, make yerself panic 'n what not. I can only be with you in first period." John said, becoming serious. "I know." I nodded. "I don't think I like the idea, love. You're not well enough yet... Look at ya, yer as white as a bloody ghost and look at yer hands... Shakin' like a bloody leaf, they are." John said as he stood up and grabbed both of my hands, kissing the silver band on my left.

"I'm fine, John. I just want things to be normal, y'know." I tried to argue with him even though I knew there was no way he would put me in a position where I would be in pain. "Let's just lay down for a little longer, ya? It's too early." John suggested as he stretched and pulled me slowly toward the bed. We lied back down, this time John was holding me close as I rested my head on his chest, listening to his steady heart beat. It was calming to listen to. "I'm so glad ye didn't bugger off to Scotland on me." John said as he squeezed me lightly. "Me too. Guess it's a good thing Dad whooped me ass 'n put me in the hospital, y'know." I said quietly, unsure of how John would react. I didn't truly believe that, obviously I wish it had never happened. But I was so happy I wasn't leaving and Jim was gone.

"Don't say that ever again." John said quietly, but sternly. "I honestly thought you were going t'die, Paul. I've lost too much, 'm not letting you go too. Never. You 'n Mimi are all I've got, y'know that?" John was rambling, I could tell that he was hearing someone in his head. His words always kind of wandered and rambled about when he was having trouble thinking straight, and not listening to the voices. "John..." I mumbled as I nuzzled into his neck. "M'sorry, love... Voices, y'know. I'm nothin' but a bloody loony." He sighed and kissed my forehead.

"So, ye wanna start a band eh?"

feelin' good

birds flyin' high, you know how i feel, sun in the sky, you know how i feel, breeze driftin' on by, you know how i feel. it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life, and i'm feelin' good.

some ooshiba character exploration, mainly.

NOTE: as always, i push my emo feelings onto fictional characters.  fic title from the song by nina simone. would recommend.

It's another day.

Ooshiba doesn't open his eyes.

His alarm blares vaguely at him. Everything sounds like it's underwater. He presses his face deeper into his blankets.

There are birds chirping outside.

His morning routine is the same- get up, check his face in the mirror, brush his teeth, pull on his uniform- he's not late for once, today, so he takes his time, moving slowly, like luxury time.

The wind has a bite to it today, so he pulls his green uniform jacket over his pale yellow vest. He stares at himself in the mirror.

When did life get this boring, he wonders.

~~~~~~

Ooshiba slings his bag over his shoulder.

He locks the door behind him, nods a greeting at the maid coming in- she smiles politely at him and shoulders her bag of supplies. When he comes home tonight, he knows the house will be immaculate.

He has a brief thought. What if he doesn't come home, his traitorous mind whispers. What if he stayed at the soccer pitch the entire night, laid on the cool grass, fell asleep in the bleachers...

He shakes his head, as though dislodging cobwebs from his ears. Stupid, he reminds himself. He's had a lot of stupid, weak thoughts lately.

He hums softly to himself on the walk to school.

~~~~~~

The feeling in Ooshiba's stomach won't let up.

He doesn't even eat lunch, for the second day in a row, because he feels so vaguely nauseous. The worst thing about this feeling, he thinks, is that it isn't specific- it spreads from his gut into his chest, slipping through his veins until his entire front feels tight, like he hasn't stretched his pectorals enough. It's awful. A weight that draws his shoulders inwards.

He takes shallow breaths.

~~~~~~

There are small bursts of feeling.

The first one of the day is walking into the classroom. Ooshiba sees the other students chatting amongst themselves, waiting for class to start- he hears them but doesn't say anything, because he feels so tired it's like his head is full of cotton and the backs of his eyelids are coated in thick, sticky honey. The fact that no one looks up when he enters the room would have irritated him before, but now it makes the twisting in his stomach settle a little, and he takes his seat in the back of the room and lays his head on the desk, red hair settling on the faux-wood surface.

~~~~~~

The second one is when the teacher calls on him in the middle of class, obviously catching sight of the way his head has begun to droop. He reads a paragraph of some book he doesn't know aloud, parroting the words back, aching for the feeling of people's eyes on him.

~~~~~~

What bullshit, he thinks, because this isn't how he wants to live. He debates going for a run during lunch, to calm his nerves, but the feeling spread through his chest makes him decide to nap in an empty classroom instead, lying across four desks.

~~~~~~

"Ooshiba!" Someone shouts, and he feels the familiar bump of the ball against his pounding feet. The adrenaline rushes through him, and he shouts before racing forward with all his might.

This is something he enjoys, he remembers.

He scores. His teammates- no bibs this time- clap him on the back. He grins hugely, pats himself on the chest, feeling warm at the sensation of so many people watching him, admiring him, envying him, and the spark in his chest flutters and flares in a way that sends fire through his gasoline veins, setting him alight.

~~~~~~

Kimishita scowls at him, but that's nothing new.

~~~~~~

Ooshiba wonders what he wants.

It's deep thinking, he knows, deeper than he should, because he's not good for anything but the surface stuff, the fire and the electricity and all those nature metaphors, whatever, but he can't help wondering what it is. This sensation that fills him so thoroughly, like a cup of golden liquid, a bubble of glowing liquid quivering above the lip, about to pop, as though it'll burst and flood if even a drop is added to break the skin.

It has something to do with the tightening in his chest, he knows, because whenever that surge of feeling flows through him his limbs feel cold, like ice, like frost, and the joints between his chest and the fronts of his shoulders curl into themselves until it feels like they've been stretched too much.

What is it?

~~~~~~

Ooshiba goes to sleep.

~~~~~~

The feeling is still there when he wakes up.

~~~~~~

"Kiichi." A familiar voice. It pierces his awareness, makes him look around, guard immediately rising. No matter how much it drains him.

"Kimishita." He mutters. "What do you want?"

Kimishita scowls at him. The tightening in Ooshiba's chest worsens. Maybe it's an apprehension reflex.

"Don't give me that." He glares, and it's good that he's not letting up. "You're the one who's been acting funny."

Ooshiba scoffs and looks away.

"Acting funny." He sneers. "You're the one acting weird, asshole. Or have you forgotten which classroom this is?"

Kimishita doesn't flinch. His eyes narrow as he looks Ooshiba over.

"You..." He trails off. "Don't look normal."

Ooshiba snorts.

"Yeah, neither do you." He mutters. "Asshole."

Kimishita's hand twitches, as though he wants to hit Ooshiba. Kiichi half wishes he would. His chest tightens again.

"I-" Kimishita starts to say something, a completely incomprehensible look in his eyes, but the teacher walks into the room and announces the start of class. Kimishita looks up, checks the clock, clicks his tongue when he sees that it is, indeed, time for him to return to his own class.

He leaves. The ache in Ooshiba's chest doesn't go away.

~~~~~~

[You had better come to practice,] a text from Kimishita reads when Ooshiba checks his phone at lunchtime.

He skips practice.

~~~~~~

Ooshiba wakes up.

He doesn't open his eyes.

His phone buzzes, but not with the usual alarm. After three rings, he blearily grabs it off his nightstand and, seeing it's someone calling him, drags the call button to the green section of the screen, almost dropping the phone on the side of his face as he lays back down.

"Hello." He mumbles, almost incoherent.

"Hey."

A familiar voice.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Ooshiba cracks one eye open. The sunlight streaming through his window says well past the time he was supposed to leave for school, but somehow he can't bring himself to care.

"It doesn't matter." Kimishita, on the other end, because of course it's him, sighs. "Come to the shop."

Ooshiba frowns, eyes closed.

"What." He mutters.

Kimishita huffs on the other end.

"Just get over here." He grouses. "I need to talk to you."

He hangs up before Ooshiba can say a word of protest. Ooshiba blinks his eyes open and stares at the phone in his hand.

~~~~~~

He shuffles his feet.

"Oi."

A familiar voice.

"You had better have a really good reason for making me come out here." Ooshiba grumbles, slipping back into a defensive mode, hands in his pockets. He wonders why that awful feeling curdles in his gut again. It makes him want to- well, better to not get into that, he thinks.

"Shut up." Kimishita has the same attitude, scowling at him, but the next moment he reaches up, up, upwards and presses the cool back of his hand to Ooshiba's forehead.

Ooshiba freezes.

"You're pretty warm." Kimishita mutters, shifting his fingers against Ooshiba's skin to check again, and there's something rising, rising, rising in Ooshiba's abdomen up to fill his chest- something terrible, he knows, and he backs away before Kimishita can do anything really risky.

"I-" He croaks.

Kimishita frowns at him.

"You've been acting funny." He accuses him. "These last few practices."

Ooshiba glares.

"Even aces are allowed to have off days." He spits, but he knows that's not true- not that aces aren't allowed to have off days, but that this is only an off day. Somehow, it feels more like an awakening. "I can't be perfect all the time, y'know."

Kimishita's face twists into his usual expression, not the vaguely concerned yet angry one that had graced his features before.

"Ace, my ass." He growls, rubbing the back of the hand he had touched Ooshiba with on his jacket. "If you can't even take care of yourself-"

Ooshiba struggles. This is too, too much. He's going to do something he regrets.

He turns around. His feet move.

"Oi!" Kimishita says before he can get very far, grabbing the back of his shirt with a fist. "Listen to people when they're talking to you! I skipped class today to look for you-"

Ooshiba spins back around with a snarl.

"No one asked you to!" He spits. "I hate you, Kimishita! I wish you'd leave me alone!"

Kimishita snatches his hand back like he's been burned.

Something vaguely like disgust slides over his face, twisting his features. It makes Ooshiba want to throw up, but he keeps it as together as he can, fists trembling, jaw quivering.

The feeling has begun to leech its way into his throat.

"Fine." Kimishita hisses at him, looking angry and upset but also like he's about to start tearing up, like that time they had been first years and everyone had gone to Usui's house to study, and they had been tasked with helping cook the curry. Kimishita had diced onions like a professional chef in the beginning, but five minutes later his eyes were a red, puffy, leaking mess, even behind those glasses. Kiichi had laughed for a straight minute while Kimishita had sputtered and hurled death threats, frantically wiping his face with a washcloth.

Ooshiba feels something like revulsion- at himself, at the happy memory- rise in his stomach.

Kimishita grits his teeth- that's been a habit since they were young- and jerks his head to the side.

"Fine." He repeats, like a cat who's been kicked. "If that's how you want it to be, Kiichi."

Ooshiba sneers wordlessly. He feels vile, vindictive, spiteful.

He turns back to the street and storms off, hands still in his pockets.

Kimishita doesn't watch his back. His head is bowed, shoulders tense in a line of anger.

Fat droplets of water drip onto the concrete by Kimishita's feet, but it's not raining.

~~~~~~

Ooshiba walks.

Walks.

Walks.

He walks until his feet hurt, and his breath feels harsh in his lungs, but he keeps going- it's not until he finds himself in an area that he only vaguely recognizes that he tracks to a stop.

What is this feeling?

It's crept into his neck, so he can almost taste it in the back of his throat- spread all the way down his shoulders, along his collarbone and down into his solar plexus. It drips into his stomach, acid roiling, nausea getting to his head.

He feels sick.

He lies down on a park bench, hands folded across his abdomen.

What a wonderful life, huh, he thinks.