#Corkboard Chatter

[askatriangleandastar]

There are lots of reasons why the ghosts that make up the recurring cast of rogues Amity Park keep fighting Danny. But one I'd like to pose is he makes them stronger.

We see how it helps Danny grow his powers, to get an outlet for them and build skill with experience. But the show takes place only within the span of when he's in highschool. It takes long to affect the dead than 3 years, at least when it comes to visible signs.

Ghosts that were once human are distinct for having a strong image of themselves- enough of who they were in life to become anchored against moving. Over time, becoming more powerful for them can mean changes in appearance, but more so in losing features that mark their claim to having come from outside the Realms. It's why the stronger forms of power expression by full ghosts can't be utilized when they try to pass for human.

And so we come to Danny. Someone both alive and dead and able to express incredible power without losing features he had in life like the warmth of his skin. The only exception being when power overwhelms him, like with the development of his ice core and the ghostly wail, which have feedback that reacts to his human half. Being half alive is likely why his ghost for can maintain such consistency, it has a template to match rather than the details of what he is when breathing blurring and letting nee features develop as the powers grow and feel as much a part as a heart.

[I know the reason in the show is Budget and Branding but in-universe reasoning is fun to speculate hee hoo]

All this to say, when the ghosts fight Danny for long enough, his own unique state of being so alive even in his ghost form could impact the enemies who were once from his side of the Realms. It takes longer than 3 years, but for someone like, say, Ember, being able to see herself get to ages she never knew when alive would take power to shape her form outside of what's so ingrained and established. And it would be neat if a reason the Amity Ghosts don't just come through the portal and shoo off to ANYWHERE ELSE ON THE PLANET all the time, away from one of the rare few who can throw hands with them and consistently win, is that Danny makes them feel alive again.

#danny phantom #danny phantom theory #Corkboard Chatter #Morning thoughts to sam and max music #Side note- Clockwork #In this context his constant shifting between ages is a silent statement of Power. It is so effortless he is doing it while talking #MID-WORD #Like scary amounts of power. Something Danny would have not social context for and thus didn't get nearly as intimidated on first meeting #Which was certainly expected by Clockwork but probably amusing. #Whether he was once human or not. Keep of Time or not. It's still likely impressive and unnerving for those in stagnation

[opaleyedprince]

that dorian crest lore post WOAHG

ornrös sounds so cool! and the life steal/healing mechanic is so good....!

i've a few questions if you want to elaborate hee hee 👉🏻👈🏻

1) so the servant went on the mole quest, then the war started where they got their crest but then they defected? (i'm not 100% on the war/crests lore) (i'm interested in when the crest was given to them)

2) were they part of any of the "known" group of ppl who are the original crest bearers (just didn't make it into the official listing bc of their defection)? (the elites/apostles/saints)

3) the konstantinovs are not highly regarded, is that because of the history of the defecting servant and their bloodline basically still repenting for it?

AND 4) when dorian doesn't want to touch skin-to-skin anymore after accidentally activating the crest clinging to his mother, did he accidentally like...steal life from her or? (i feel like that was implied bc the crest is activated through touch but i wanted to make sure i don't misunderstand)

ok done for now 🐾 pitter patters out of here

OOOAAAAUGH thank yooooou thank you thankyou sososo much for this i've been looking forward to answering it since i woke up!!

i'll put my answers under a cut so i can go ham w/them >:3

1) yeah! constantine acquired the crest along with the ten elites and was basically treated as an honorary noble (but still not quite on par with the rest of them!) for a lot of the war. just the act of betrayal weighed so heavily on them that i think they probably begged seiros to kill them and end their suffering after they defected - as if she would let them off that easy after what they did lol. i do think there was something they did that makes their crest a bit different, probably to do with blood. maybe a transfusion or something like that.

2) yes! they were in fact a stablehand that served under blaiddyd, that's the kernel of truth in the story that has been passed down through the family (after the church rewrote history) and rather than be named among the others as heroes, one of constantine's final requests was that the family not be included; thus they are known only as faithful servants of the church and the goddess who were elevated after the war.

3) and yeah! you hit the nail on the head lol - they're more like noble/holy knights than royalty. in fact i think the family ties to the church are so close that members have often served as soldiers at the monastery, and it is customary for the archbishop to meet every new member, be they child or spouse.

4) that is what i was going for yes! i'm leaving it ambiguous whether or not dorian's use of his crest led to her dying; i don't think dorian himself knows the truth. after being rescued, they were both taken to house konstantinov to recover. dorian had a terrible fever, and by the time it broke he was informed that his birth mother had returned to the alliance - without him. whether or not that is a lie, dorian chooses to believe it and has never demanded his father or stepmother reaffirm it; the thought that he drove her away due to his crest is more comforting than the idea that he killed her with it.

#asks #mutual chatter #oc tag: dorian #i hope this is legible i am kind of -always sunny corkboard image- #but tytytyty again for asking me abt him i am always happy to talk djfh

[torao-chan]

my new boi arrived and uwu

he is beautiful

asdlkjglkfdjgkls thank you @bekkomi for producing such a masterpiece aldskjlgkfdg

#i also got two stickers of the art that im using as an icon but shhh #i haven't figured out where to put those yet lmfao #ones going somewhere on the corkboard #the other. who can say asldkjlkgfdsg idk yet #ALSO dont mind my messy desk #i need a desk mat sadlkjlkgfd #this is a second hand wooden DINNER TABLE as a desk and its been through some shit lmfao #the surface. has endured so much lmao #personal #leo chatters

[spottedenchants]

figured out where the uk'otoa fight goes in the TS timeline >:3

#touchsent lore #there's the whole month after the aeor wizard date when essek's getting his affairs in order before he leaves the outpost for good #which exactly covers the six months post-campaign mark >:3 #(because exandria has 11 months and teleport anchor stuff yada yada i have my corkboard if you're curious) ANYWAY #the uk'otoa stuff is what- three days? two sleeps? #that fits easy peasy #i probably will not be writing a fic with the TS version of it. probably #unless i randomly want to try my hand at action writing #i already have fjord and jester drafted to take down the orphanage runner in that window- so that still works out well #but >:3 ehehehehehe #putting the uk'otoa fight after the aeor wizard date like this also means i don't have to take caleb's level up into account for the date #but now the question is do i want to take the level ups into account at all #9th levels are no joke and i didn't want ts!caleb to have theoretical access to Wish and the clerics True Resurrection #for the same reason ts!essek can't die.... #hmmMMMMM much to consider regardless >:3 #chanse chatters

[majickth]

hoppin by to say that the amounts of serotonin your AU gives me are making me feel shrimp emotions, i can almost physically feel my eyes dilating when i see a new post. utterely and eternally obsessed w the vibes, i dont even have anything else to say, just thanks for making this!!

no requests or questions this time however if you feel like dropping an additional detail or loose concept i'm all here for it :D

waussghh ;; that’s so very sweet thank you

as for additional details:

Nestled in the mountains’ arms, tucked away in blankets of pine trees, a radio tower blinks bright red.

“It’s currently 8:23AM here at KHHR…”

As patrons of the Stress-Free Diner settle in for their morning coffee, a radio in the kitchen crackles distantly, a backdrop amidst pleasant chatter.

“…We’ve been receiving reports of scattered showers all throughout the week, so be sure to pack an umbrella…”

A cashier leans against the counter, fingers drumming against the linoleum. He stares off into the distant aisle of chips and candy, the buzzing of lights humming in tandem with a radio that’s been left on in the back room.

“…And make sure to congratulate our local sports team for their amazing win! In more pressing news…”

A man sits in a darkroom. Red lights cast long shadows across his face, reflecting against his glasses as he pins another photograph. It’s of a radio station, nestled in the mountains’ arms, tucked away in a blanket of trees. He sits for a moment, thinking, before moving the picture to a corkboard adjacent, pinning it right next to an older news article.

Local Radio Station Destroyed in Fire.

He freezes as something clicks on behind him: a radio. Songs and words become a jumbled mess as the dial turns, slowly twining together into a slow, monotonous drawl.

“…Two. Three. One. Two. Zero. Three. Eight. Five. One. Eight. Two. Three. One. Two. Zero. Three. Eight. Five. One. Eight. Two. Three. One. Two. Zero. Three. Eight. Five. One. Eight—“

The numbers stops. The radio crackles. Then the voice continues, as easily as if reporting the local news.

“We know you’re listening. And I hope you stay tuned. This week on KHHR…”

#hermits hollow au #hermitcraft recap is canon #also yes ik the call sign is local to the US but I swear the setting is meant to be more ambivalentish #just shhh don’t worry about it creative liberties and all that

[experthiese]

[MENTAL CHATTER]

[MENTAL CHATTER] Does your character have an ongoing inner monologue, or do they more frequently think wordlessly/in abstract?

also asked by @starikune!

Lupin thinks primarily in pictures, or movie-like scenes. He doesn't have a traditional 'inner monologue' with spoken words. I like to imagine his mental space looking like one of those corkboards you always see in detective or crime dramas, with photographs and post-it notes and various bits of evidence linked together with red string.

It's part of why his route-making during heists is so effective, because many of his mental strengths lie in visualisation and the ability to imagine things from different angles / where they are relative to an average person's line of sight. Once he has a single picture, he can expand it outwards and make some educated guesses about what the rest of the scene looks like and how best to get around in it.

#▸ answered #▸ minor headcanon #starfoam #starikune

[mielmoto]

TUMBLR TEXT POST SENTENCE STARTERS | accepting

@dcviated / Eira said:

"What a very... strange way to handle a customer. I apologize for being forward about this- but don't you think yourself a little... off-putting?" This may or may not have to do with hearing some form of chatter about a corkboard before she was served.

"Hmm? Oh! no, no; don't get me wrong, I can see why you'd think it was weird if we were talking about just anyone— but Lulu isn't just 'a customer,' he's the love of my life. it's different." and yet, from the blasé way she gives the title, even a stranger might gather that there's a handful of people Honey would address the same way, (but only two; maybe three that were 'board worthy').

"—but anywho, there's no need to apologize! I love forward women, after all." a point she emphasizes by leaning forward onto her elbows, chin suddenly held in both palms, smiling brightly at the silver-haired lady. "clearly I'm not, like, so off-putting if pretty girls like you will still strike up a conversation with me, right?"

#dcviated / eira. #she's undeterrable. like a force of nature. #starters. #♥ 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 (ic) #inbox memes.

[gaenarirp]

WELCOME HOME, SEO HAEDAM.

our town hall archives show he is a local and a YELLOW CREEK resident, living on YELLOW STREET NO. 4, and he is currently a STABLEHAND AT EVERGREEN HORSE FARM.

🡒 ready to access his files? read on below ...

they sit down and expect him to speak. before the food reaches their mouths, and before any other idle chatter befalls the dinner table, it is up to him to speak. and it is not to the ones who sit on either side of the table, to his mother or father or whatever else lingers there in the space they cannot see, it is to the place that they sit. it is to the mountain, and to the town, for what graces their table, it is to the ancestors that saw them here, for them to settle. 

he thanks them. it is shallow in his mouth, these words, because he has spoken them every night since he was young, ingrained in him, say thank you, say thank you, and he will. he tends to the house and he tends to his parents. there has never been looking forward to anywhere other than here, and here is his prophecy, his legacy, this house is what was built for him, what his grandparents and those before him fought so hard and so long for, he is here. he stays here. 

there are places it is rotting beneath his hands. he replaces floorboards and mends over cracks in the walls, tries to tell himself the foundation isn’t where all of it starts, that it’s on the inside, that as long as he stays here, he’ll watch it start to rot with him, too, growing into the chairs and the floor like roots. 

school was necessary but it couldn’t teach him the right things, his father insists, like digging your hands into the earth and feeling it between your nails, the mountain not an afterthought, but a forefront, this is where they’re blessed to stay, will stay, will always stay. work gets him out of the house for the day but that scent still lingers with him, that weight, the fact that he has to return and he will return, that if he wasn’t there, his house would crumble underneath his fingertips. 

if he wasn’t there to change the lightbulbs and to test the furniture and to tend to the garden outside, what would they eat, what would they cook, would they let themselves sit in the dark, because all they need to hear is the sounds of the nature outside, the trees and the creek and the mountain, telling them that it has all they need? they would let themselves rot if the mountain asked for it, they would let everything fall back to the earth, because at least it’s a return, a renewal, he could watch it happen right in front of his eyes. it’s his duty, then, to never close them.

it had always been this way, and so it would be, and he wonders why, sometimes, takes a moment to ask, is this it? is this all they ever wanted for him? is this all they ever wanted for themselves, no curiosity for the world beyond, for anything, beyond, and wonders just what it was that put all of that faith into them, to stay here, to not think otherwise. 

he’d never say it out loud, never- he knows what that’ll earn him, and it’s nothing like forgiveness, not the one he wants, anyways. so he stays quiet, and he works, and he tends, and he tells himself it’s enough. it’s enough, he says, late at night, cicadas and the wind. it’s enough, he says, pen to paper, to napkin, to the back of a newspaper, an envelope, a lost flier, words of quiet rendition and curious wonder, of ache and love and the truest carves of his heart, scattered to the wind, the rickety table, fence line and corkboard, scattered across town. 

he is quiet, and gentle, and easy to the earth. he repairs the things that break, and tries to tell himself that rot can be replaced. that he’s the cleanse to the dirt that rises and sits, the dust on the tablecloths, the creaky stairs. some things he’s learned to live with, that spider in the corner, spinning a web, making a place here. he’s already had a place here, a path he’s expected to take, that he should be grateful he gets to be here in the first place, somewhere that could grant them everything he could have ever wanted if only he ever knew the sacrifice of what it was not to have it. 

here’s his secret, though, the one he keeps tucked away into his heart. at night, he runs. sometimes, he runs and pretends he won’t know where he’ll end up, in the woods or down a trail or at the creek, the water running not even as loud as the heartbeat in his ears. he wants to ask anyone, someone, how you could start at a place and end at a place and never see any of the rest of it and be content, he wants to ask if anyone else is like this, if the constant and unrelenting loyalty of his parents to the house and the home and the town is actually something worth the reverence. 

it feels wrong, sick in his stomach to even question it, but why has he had to pretend, his whole life, that he understood what it all meant? to believe and to be told to, to be told to have faith and yet have no evidence other than word- it makes him feel like a bad son, to question his parents, whose word should be above all else. 

he returns, washes the mud off his boots like it never happened. every time he eases that window open and climbs out, he holds his breath in the hope that it doesn’t creak. every night is a whisper, a haunting of what could happen but doesn’t, a sweet, delicious moment of reprieve that he only lets the moon see- that he’s sure he’ll only ever let the night know it to be true. 

the next evening, he sits at the dinner table, and reminds the earth, the house, the town, his parents, that he’s grateful to be here. that he doesn’t want for more, and might as well be holding a hand behind his back. his fingers crossed, a secret, moonspun and translucent, an echo held in his mouth, with the other hand bared, in falsehoods, to the earth he thanks. 

a little tldr to sum things up! 

he was born in gaenari, and his parents are the ones who moved into this house. his grandparents still reside in one of the older houses of the town, where several generations of his family also grew up in. they mostly moved into this house for the ability of his mother to continue her small business of selling jams and pickles, because of the greenhouse they were able to build with the space out back

he graduates high school but doesn’t go much further than that. his father works for one of the farms and his mother stays at home, and he took up the job at the horse farm only because his father believes in true, physical work as the only thing that could be worth being proud of, nothing to do with anything technical or of the more current times 

no one really asked him what he wanted, but he’s always been with his parents, and feels a responsibility to stay and take care of them, and knows that if he ever did try to leave, he isn’t sure he would be welcomed back. never having really been alone, either, he is fearful of taking the leap, and he loves them, so of course he stays

he stills wants, though, to know more of what is the world beyond. his parents have always been obsessed with the sacrifice of their ancestors and their families that came before them for them to live here, that he should be grateful he gets to begin here and doesnt even have to work that hard to maintain it, that his family belongs here, and that means that he does, too 

he usually only hears stories of what he craves from the people he tends to meet to teach horse riding to, or when he accompanies them on the trails and asks them where they’ve been, what they’ve done. it seems closer than anything he could read online, and his parents only have a very outdated computer at home, anyways, and his phone is something he’s mostly kept to himself since his parents don’t believe in them past something basic to call each other when his father goes to work, to tell his mother he’s coming home 

so he grew up nice, quiet, kindhearted and usually inclined to nature and animals, since it’s what he grew up around. tends to the greenhouse they have and has grown quite attached to the horses he takes care of at the farm. usually avoids conflict and tries to always smooth things over, and he tends to keep a lot of his feelings and thoughts to himself to achieve the most peace 

when he was younger, he had a best friend in which they were almost inseparable. even their parents were friends, and they used to write back and forth in a small journal that contained thoughts, and writing, and pressed flowers between the pages. upon the best friend leaving the town, his own parents condemned them for the choice, because anyone who decided to leave was a traitor to this place

now, it’s one of the reasons why he leaves little post-it notes and napkins of prose and words across the town. when he goes on walks, it’s usually to clear his head, and he finds himself scribbling on anything and leaving it behind because he can’t take it with him, not back home. if he ever wonders if they’ll ever come back and see it, see his writing and come to him, it’s a secret he keeps to himself 

its his own anonymous way of speaking to the town, too, to the mountain and the people who live here, always carries around a red ink pen that he writes them with and it’s his only calling card. it’s everything he doesn’t say around his parents, and everything he wishes he could say from his heart 

#gn:accepted #seo haedam #tumblr ate this one but we shall post it again!

[atelehale]

your house is a monster, and you are its prey.

main is @typemoth!

asks: open!

mostly here to dump thoughts and work on characters! but please drop an ask if you’d like!

draw a number 1-289 to talk to/about the corresponding character! 290 to discuss wynette, 291 for connor, or 292 for a random background/living character! these asks have a random chance of being in- or out-of character! (or even just ask a general question!)

this project discusses themes of death in multiple forms.

tag system

planchetting - general talking tag

speaking comedically of the dead - working on the maidens!

girl next realm - working on wynette/other living characters!

cantrips - ask tag!

corkboard cord - relevant reblogs, usually followed by chatter!

faq

i dont have frequently asked questions. help me make some?

#pinned post #planchetting #speaking comedically of the dead #girl next realm #cantrips #corkboard cord

[storiesofsvu]

A Redemption Earned Ch 4

Heather Dunbar x reader Warnings: language, slight mentions of death/issues from heather's past.

It had been just over a month since you had met Heather Dunbar, and you were beginning to wonder what exactly was going on. You hadn’t heard from her or received any kind of paperwork summoning you to a court room, and you were the most surprised when Amber turned back up in your classroom a week ago. She had a new set of foster parents, these ones always accompanied by a children’s services worker, and sometimes a cop, which honestly, you felt like it drew negative attention to everything. You made sure to not treat her any different than normal but keep a bit of a watchful eye on her otherwise, knowing that you were a known and trustworthy adult in her life, there was always a chance of her attempting to reach out to you instead of a new parental figure. You’d tried to ask her caseworker about things, but naturally, they couldn’t say too much, if anything at all, but assured you Amber was already doing leaps and bounds better with her new placement.

The other thing on your mind was that it had been so long since you’d heard from Heather, although you knew just how long court cases could take to get to trial. As long as you were on her potential witness list, even a budding friendship was probably a bad idea if you wanted things to come out on the right side of the case. You had begun to wonder if you’d completely misread the subtext in the room, the small glances and comments between the two of you had you thinking she was interested, but then again, you weren’t even sure if she batted for the same team or not. An ex and kid had been mentioned, and while that was easier with a specific gender of partner, it was still very possible with either.

Today, your mind wasn’t really anywhere as you sat at your desk, the school empty, giving you time to clean and reorganize. You made sure none of the cubbies or kids desks had food waiting to rot in them, dumping the garbage in the larger ones in the hallway and redoing the theme from winter to spring. You took the time to clean out your desk, making sure you had all the appropriate curriculum things when you came across a folder in the bottom drawer, letting out a quiet swear when you flipped it open. It wasn’t labelled, and that was simply because you hadn’t wanted anyone else seeing it, inside, a copy of an art assignment of Amber’s from a few days prior. You knew exactly where Heather’s business card was, pinned to the corkboard in your kitchen, exactly where you didn’t need it right now. Letting out a low sigh you packed up your things and glanced around the room, making sure you’d completed everything on your do to list for the day before locking your classroom door behind you.

**

The coffee shop wasn’t crowded, but busier than she had expected for just past noon on a Thursday, although, that didn’t bother Heather too much, she was only halfway through a phone call. Attempting to keep her voice muted to not disturb patrons as she filed into the line, though most people seemed to be coming and going, and there was a corner of the café filled with a small group of teenagers. That didn’t make sense to her, but she refocussed on the chattering in her ear, giving her two cents when she could get them in. She glanced around while she wrapped the call, glad to see that the current crowd seemed to be grabbing a drink and leaving or packing up their tables and making their way out. It had been her plan to work here for at least a little bit, a little change or environment from the office for the day. Right as she turned her attention back to the call, she glanced toward the menu board, stepping forward as the customer in front of her did the same, only to falter, stepping back double the space as a rowdy teenager plowed past her. She let out a near scoff, hanging up the phone right as something, or rather someone, crashed into her from the other side.

“I am so sorry!” Your voice broke through her distraction as she nearly whipped around, “I wasn’t paying attention” you gestured to the phone in your hand that you were halfway through reading an email on before you suddenly glanced up at her, your worry fading as your head tilted, “Heather?”

“Y/N…” she greeted, a small smile breaking open on her lips, “shouldn’t you be…” she gestured toward the direction of the school and you laughed, glancing around.

“It’s spring break.” You shrugged, gesturing towards the number of pre teens and teenagers scattered through the shop and Heather let out a huff of a laugh.

“I guess that makes sense.” She got distracted as the barista called for the next order, pausing your conversation to order, barely noticing as you manage to slip up to the till beside her,

“I’ve got hers.” You waved it off, “add on a medium latte please?”

“Are you sure?” Heather hesitated in putting her wallet away and you laughed again, a sound that was nearly music to her ears.

“It’s like three bucks Heather, I think I can afford that, even on my lowly teacher salary.” You teased with a grin as the worker processed your card.

“Thank you.” She smiled softly as the two of you moved off to the side to wait for your orders.

“Course.” You smiled back as you tucked your phone and wallet back into your bag. There was a moment of silence before you both began to speak at the same time, a laugh echoing between you as Heather prayed her cheeks weren’t turning pink before you paused once again, your gaze on your orders being made, leaving her the opportunity to speak.

“I heard Amber was back in class?”

“Yeah.” Your head shot up to catch her gaze, “I uh…I was actually going to call you once I got home from here, one of her art projects seemed… circumstantial? Is that even the right word?”

“Important to the case?” Heather’s voice quieted as you turned to grab the two drinks from the distribution station.

“Could be?” You shrugged as you passed off the mug, Heather thanking you quickly, gesturing for you to follow her to a table. If she had been planning on working already she may as well get your input while you were here. As you settled, you spoke again, “I tried talking to the caseworker, she couldn’t tell me anything, but it’s been a while…”

“They took a plea deal.” Heather let out a hefty sigh, it wasn’t exactly the win she had been hoping for, her first case back, but a successful plea was always better than a loss of a trial, “but whatever you have may help a judge decide on sentencing.”

“Of course.” You dug the page out of your bag, sliding it across the table to her, “we were going over dreams in class, good versus bad versus nightmare and having them do a little art project on it. All things considered; this did raise a flag…. It’s just a photocopy, but I can get you the original if you need?”

“No, no…” Heather tossed you a small smile, “this is…I want to say great, but also the complete opposite at the same time.”

“I get it.” You let out a little sigh into your coffee as she slipped it into her purse, “can I ask how things are going? Like, I know, confidentiality, I get that as a teacher enough, but I just wanna know if Amber’s gonna come out on the other side of this or not?”

You felt the weight hit you as Heather let out a deep sigh, her shoulders nearly drooping as she took a large sip of coffee. Though, to you she was working out what slightly positive thing she could tell you. To her, she was trying to sort her personal experience with working through a major life event from what Amber would be going through.

“It’ll take a lot of work, that’s for sure. But if she’s already back at school, I know she’s set up with a good therapist, and you say she doesn’t seem too traumatized, then I’ve got high hopes.” She spared you a small smile, “I don’t have much experience with family law yet, this is all still relatively new to me. But knowing she won’t have to go through a trial will help beyond measures, those kind of things always retraumatize people, especially the victim.”

“God I can only imagine.” You murmured, distracting yourself with your coffee as you silently thanked whatever higher power had kept you from jury duty your entire life. “What made you want to go into law in the first place?” you asked, raising a gentle brow to Heather, “you said you’re kinda new to family law, what drew you to it? Where’d you start?”

“Ah,” Heather let out a small chuckle as she ducked her gaze, “I knew I wanted to fight for what was right, for the rights of people, for the constitution. I guess I always wanted to actually have a voice, to help those who didn’t really have one gain one, and make the world known on issues that they might not have. I ended up drawn to political law to try and make sure that the people who were running the show weren’t corrupt.” You let out a near snort at that and she chuckled softly, quickly glancing your way, catching the way you had your cheek propped in your hand, elbow on the table as you watched her talk. “Clearly there was only so much I could do on that end.” She paused for a sip of coffee, surprised when you didn’t speak up and she began to wonder if you lived under a fucking rock six years ago, “even then, I fought for what I thought was right. It doesn’t matter how high up the people you’re going up against are, as long as you’re doing the best, I mean….”

She began to trail off, lost on one of her legal and political rambles. It had been so long since she’d been able to go off on one, had someone who would actually listen to her. Even back in the day of her marriage, it was her rambling off to Rob while he worked on some new medical research, or him talking out loud through a surgery or procedure while she nodded, focussed on her own legal argument. Instead, you were intently paying attention, even when your phone pinged, your eyes didn’t move from her face, watching the way it changed as she talked about something she was clearly so passionate about. The small smile on your lips caught her eye and she finally paused a few moments later.

“What?” She questioned, finally taking a sip of her drink and you giggled.

“Nothing. Sorry.” You chuckled again, “maybe it’s because I’m surrounded by seven to nine year old’s on a regular basis for like, ninety eight percent of the time, but…you are fucking brilliant.”

“Oh—I…” she felt her cheeks blush at the statement, ducking her gaze. She’d never been too open with anyone about it, but praise of her IQ and vast knowledge of the law was something that meant far more than any kind of praise over beauty or grace in a heart beat.

“Heather, I mean it!” You let out a small laugh, a wicked smile on your lips as your hand shot across the small table to squeeze at her arm, “like, holy shit. Obviously I knew anyone who was a lawyer would be smart but like, you’re also incredibly passionate about it, it’s amazing. If it wasn’t such dark subject matter I’d say I’d love to come watch you in a courtroom.”

“Ohoho… it is not that entertaining, I can assure you,” Heather laughed, “don’t let TV fool you.” A small chuckle broke through your lips as you took another sip of your coffee, a warm gaze drifting over to the woman across from you, “besides, you’re the one out her molding the brains of our future generations.”

“Oh please!” You barked out a laugh, “as if I’m that important.  I mean, do you remember what your kid was like at this age?”

Heather paused, reflecting in on herself, first on how much of her children’s lives at that age she was actually involved in, and then flicked over to you. For a moment she searched your face, the way your eyes softened as you noticed her drinking you in, reminding herself this wasn’t some kind of reporter baiting her about her past, it truly did appear that you knew nothing. You were genuinely making conversation, she was still lost in her thoughts when you spoke again,

“You said he loved SpongeBob, right? Was that just a kid thing? One of my cousins…it stayed with him through everything, now it’s one of his favourites to watch with his kids on the weekends.”

“Jordan…” she let out a light sigh, the name escaping her lips even now still felt like a painful memory, but maybe… this was the proper way to help cope with it, “he adored that stupid sponge.” She laughed this time, pulling one from you as well, “he had the entire playset, pyjamas, just had to meet him every time we went to Universal for vacation.”

“You can meet SpongeBob?” You interjected with a laugh and she smiled at the memory, despite the beating hot Florida sun, it was one of the best highlights of Jordan’s childhood.

“Along with so many more.” She paused for some more coffee, “Becca was obsessed with Wonder Woman, she liked the princesses over at Disney, but none as much as Wonder Woman.”

“Well, with a mom like you, that shouldn’t be that big of a surprise.” You complimented and Heather laughed, “I take it she’s off doing wonderful things now?”

“About to graduate from her master’s degree.” Heather smiled, “I’m incredibly proud of her, I only hope she knows just how much.”

“What did she take?”

“Her main degree was in sociology. I did always hope she’d follow in my footsteps to law school or something political, but we never really did see eye to eye. I’m not actually sure what she ended up in for her masters.”

“Shit happens.” You murmured with a small smile, “what about Jordan?” You glanced up just in time to catch the way Heather’s body tensed, the way her gaze ducked from yours, suddenly very distracted with her coffee.

“He, uh… we lost him…. About six years back.”

“Oh Heather…” hesitantly your hand slid across the table, giving her time to pull away if she needed before you squeezed gently, “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.” She huffed out a small sigh, doing her best to hold back the emotion at bay, “it was…one of the hardest times of all our lives. It was kind of the breaking point for everything. There was no way our marriage was going to make it through that, even my relationship with Becca was tarnished.”

“Is that why you left?” You questioned softly, your hand barely leaving her arm as she looked up with a curious expression on her face, “you… said you were still getting set up in town on our first meeting. I assumed you’d been gone for a while?”

“Uh, yes.” Heather nodded, “things were pretty distant for a few years there but we’re getting back on track now that I’m back in Washington.” She summoned her best smile that you returned.

“I’m glad.”

There was a brief pause where you instantly started to wonder about Heather’s previous life, there were multiple suspicions you had, and you wondered how much you should trust and how much was just an over the top intuition taking over your brain. On the other hand, you were more than enjoying your time together and getting to know her on a more personal base than before. Heather was nearly as conflicted as you, so far it had been all about her, something that she never would have done in the past. Hell, anyone she had met outside of DC knew absolutely nothing about her son unless they knew it from the media prior to meeting her.

“So, you said you were relatively new in town?” Heather pulled you from your thoughts and you hummed in response, nodding at her question, “Why Washington if you’re not involved in politics?” You laughed.

“I inherited a house from an aunt. It’s a nice place in a good neighbourhood and not far from the school, everything kinda fell into place.” You shrugged, “my parents both passed a few years back and left me basically nothing, I figured why not try out DC for a bit.”

“Where were you before?”

“Japan.” You replied and Heather’s brow furrowed, much to your amusement as you let out a small laugh, “I was teaching English overseas.” You explained, “when I graduated from school, I spent a couple of years TA-ing around, trying to figure out where I wanted to settle. My ex was big on New York, but it’s hard enough to live there as is much less on a teacher’s salary, and I wanted to travel, I mean, there’s so much of the world to see. So, we broke up, I traveled through Europe for a while before a friend sent me a link about teaching overseas, and I simply adored it.”

“How long were you there?” Heather leant forward, both very intrigued in just how much you maybe didn’t know about her, and in your story, the ability and freedom to run off around the globe wherever your heart desired, slightly jealous of your experience.

“Uh…including some of the travel, I think like…ten years?” Your brow furrowed as you ticked the years off on your fingers, “maybe only eight? I know for sure I didn’t vote in the last two federal elections.” You let out a laugh and Heather let out a sigh, if you’d been gone that long, and hadn’t voted, there was a chance you literally didn’t have a clue who she was, “which one of my friends lost her shit at.”

“What’d’you mean by that?” She questioned softly, busying herself with her drink.

“She said the 2016 one was a disaster.” You laughed and Heather internally cringed, trying not to blush, “but like, it ended with us having a queer female VP so I think that it’s pretty cool to have some good representation in the white house for once.” You shrugged, “but honestly I don’t really care about politics, which I know is weird for someone living here…” you laughed. “Are you super into it?” You glanced up at her and she let out a scoff, busying herself in her drink.

“I’ve been trying to distance myself the past few years.”

“What, you against the queer female VP or something?” You teased with a smirk and she quickly tsk’d.

“No, not at all! I’m in full support of that, I’m beyond happy to see it and I know she’s made some great changes over her term, I just….” She struggled for a second and you laughed, grabbing at her arm as you laughed.

“Relax Heather. I’m just teasing.” You smirked before draining your coffee.

“Sometimes I just forget what that’s like.”

“So do I.” you sighed, “unless it comes from eight year old’s and they’re savage.”

“I can only imagine.” She laughed, her attention suddenly pulled when her phone went off, multiple times, nearly buzzing its way off the side of the table. You watched for a moment as she picked it up, scrolling through the notifications before she let out a soft sigh, “I should get going.”

“Well, it was great while it lasted.” You nearly teased with a grin.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

“Next time it’s on you.”

Heather laughed as she stood, then suddenly reached back into her purse, digging around for a moment before she pulled out a pen and a business card she was able to write on the back of.

“You wanted recommendations, Dumplings and Beyond has the best chive pockets, and treasure delight dumplings you’ll ever have. Honestly, their entire menu is to die for, but those, with some shrimp lo mein are without a doubt the absolute best in the city.”

“Oh…” you took the card with a smile on your face, “well, I will remember that.”

“I’ve gotta”—

“Yeah, go.” You waved her off with a smile, “hope to run into you again soon.” You flashed her a more devilish grin this time that you could’ve sworn her cheeks flushed at as she vanished from the coffee shop.

Heather slipped into the back of the SUV easily, giving directions back to her apartment. It was only as she rounded the corner and saw Dumplings and Beyond that she realized she how close she was to somewhere else. And more importantly, how confused she was as to the last few hours of conversation. She knew you were being professional and nice but part of her was praying that you were being more than that, that you were being flirtatious. Your first encounter had certainly been flirtier, but you’d also exposed more of yourselves this time, and unexpectedly.

After redirecting her driver he pulled up in front of the building, and she found the apartment easily, knocking quickly on the door, hoping that someone was home, letting out a breath when the door swung open only a moment later.”

“I need your help.”

______ @ms-calhoun @naturalxselection @yesterdaysgone @hbkpop @giftedchildturns40 @anya-casablanca @svulife-rl  @swimmingstudentchaos891 @alexusonfire @jamiethetrans @natasha-danvers @oliviaswifey @mysticfalls01 @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @svushots @yourtaletotell @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @addictedtodinosaurs @imaginaryoperagloves @multifandomlesbianic @annegilletteslostwh0r3 @bookpillows @drduckthief @whimsicallymad @mmmmokdok @ladysc @momlifebehard @mmemalwa @holycrapraewth @poisonedcrowns @wannabe-fic-reader @when-wolves-howl @dead-of-niight @fighterkimburgess @lannister-slings-and-arrows @borg-queer

#heather dunbar #heather dunbar x reader #house of cards #a redemption earned

[watercolorfreckles]

Thanks for the Ride - Part 2

Part 1 Here

TW: asthma attack, slight angst, mention of blood and sc*rs

((Civilian’s name is now Kaira. Villain doesn’t have one yet.))

Kaira pushed open her apartment door and stepped inside. A flurry of snowflakes gusted in after her, dusting the welcome mat in her entryway as she shoved the door shut. She shivered and slid her boots off, shrugging off her coat next and hanging it up. She leaned heavily against the door to catch her breath, digging her inhaler out of her pocket and taking two puffs.

It had been a month since the incident, and she was left without a vehicle right as the weather turned frigid and biting. Just her luck, as well, that cold air triggers asthma. Kaira coughed and wheezed her way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on to make herself some eucalyptus tea. Her doctor had recently told her that it might help alleviate some of her symptoms. Still struggling to breathe, she dropped herself into a chair at the kitchen table, squeezing her eyes shut. She tucked the inhaler back into her pocket without opening her eyes.

Kaira stayed there until the kettle squealed, forcing her lead-heavy limbs to get up and finish making her tea. She took a few sips though they scalded on the way down, and bent down to scoop some of her cat’s food into her bowl. She coughed and took another sip of tea, shaking the bowl a bit as she ventured further into the apartment. “Missy! Here, kitty.”

No response. That’s odd… Her stomach sank as she realized the tv was on in her bedroom. The muffled chatter and buzz were unmistakable. Had she forgotten to turn it off before going to work? 

She padded across the space, inching closer to the bedroom--though it was barely any use trying to be quiet. The ragged wheezing noises probably gave her away rather unceremoniously. Finally approaching the door and just about to cross the threshold, her cat hopped down in front of her, startling a yelp out of Kaira. The mug and food bowl in her hands crashed to the floor.

Kaira slapped a hand over her face, heart pounding all over again. “Missy. What did I do to deserve that?” she mused between strained breaths. 

She picked the remote up off of the dresser, lifting it to turn the screen off when she noticed what was playing on the news, and listened. More about the villain. The media coverage was constant, barely wavering since the villain’s “death” a month prior. The city clung to the hero’s victory, celebrating with parties and rallies and parades and barbeques. “Superhero finally managed to inject Supervillain with a revolutionary new toxic serum that drained his powers away and rendered him helpless. Superhero triumphed over the monster and fulfilled his duty in keeping our city safe! The crime rate perpetrated by powered individuals has decreased significantly as they all now live in fear of the hero’s new bioweapon. Let’s hope they stay underground where they belong.”

“The thing about Hero’s little serum,” a second voice cut through the silence, making Kaira jump and whirl around, “is that its effects are temporary. Poison a villain, take his powers, incapacitate him, kill him while he’s down. It’s quite the cowardly approach, don’t you agree, Kaira?”

Kaira froze in place like prey, staring at the villain sprawled out casually on her bed. He lifted a hand and lightning crackled over his palm like a second skin. Her mouth had gone unbearably dry and all she could do was stare and try to squash down the harsh rasps of her wheezing.

Villain flashed a smile, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he sat up, leisurely. “Your firstborn and I have gotten acquainted.” He wiggled his fingers and made kissy sounds, drawing the orange tabby closer to him.

Kaira inhaled sharply and took a step closer, freezing again at the look Villain cut her as he scooped Missy into his lap. “Do you truly think I would harm your cat?” He tsked. “You must truly think me a monster.”

She swallowed again but it did nothing to aid the dryness scratching her throat. “How-How do you know where I live?” she whispered.

Villain stroked Missy’s back, who purred and curled up on his lap. “You had some bills in your glove compartment--your insurance is overdue, by the way. You might want to pay that.” His lip curled in a teasing smile though his gaze rested intent and unwavering upon her.

Panicked, she fished her inhaler out of her pocket without taking her eyes off of him, inhaling a third puff. “I...I haven’t told anyone about you. I swear I haven’t. I-I didn’t even want to raise questions about where you left me, so...I didn’t call a cab until I, um, walked back to the main road. No-Nobody knows what happened, or that you’re alive, I promise.”

The villain hummed, straightening all the way. 

Kaira’s gaze flicked down to his torso where she could see a deep red seeping through his shirt. “You’re...bleeding.”

“And you’re the only one who knows I’m alive, so. Do be a dear and bring me a first aid kit?” His smile widened, all amusement for now.

Kaira blanched and stepped toward the door when Villain lifted a finger to halt her. “Ah-ah, better have you toss your phone over to me first. The best relationships are built on trust, you know?” he purred, blatantly relishing in the glow of pink that spread over Kaira’s freckled cheeks.

She pulled her cellphone out of her other pocket and tossed it onto the bed, waiting for his nod of approval before staggering wide-eyed into the kitchen to fetch her first aid kit.

Oh my gods, oh my gods, the villain is in my house, oh my gods…

Kaira’s hands shook as she returned, easing herself lightly onto the edge of the bed beside him. She gingerly lifted her cat off of him and set her back onto the floor. “You’re bleeding on my bed,” she murmured. She carefully reached for his shirt and flushed red. “Um...can I?”

The villain grinned, wolfish. “Wishing to undress me so soon? By all means.”

Kaira spluttered, floundering briefly before reaching forward again, unbuttoning the bottom half of his shirt. No need to expose more of his chest than necessary, especially after that comment. Wow, he has a lot of scars…

She traced a finger featherlight over one of the pale slices of skin. When she realized what she was doing, her gaze snapped up to meet his. His laser focus made her feel like a bug splayed on a corkboard. “S-Sorry....” She looked away and opened up the first aid kit and gently examined his bloody wounds. “It...looks like you need stitches...is that okay?”

“Ah, what’s a couple more scars. Just clean them and bandage me up.” Kaira could feel the sudden electricity sparking the air as the hair on her neck stood on end. He smiled prettily, though his eyes were sharper, edging on dangerous. “Please.”

Kaira nodded quickly. “O-Okay, yes. Sure. No need to get, um...zappy.” She smoothed down a few pieces of hair that had been suspended by the static thick in the air like smoke. The energy released suddenly once she agreed, expelling like a popped balloon.

She released a breath through her teeth and got to work with trembling hands. “If nobody knows you’re alive, then who hurt you?”

Kaira jumped as the villain brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Sorry, dear, I don’t kiss and tell.”

Her face burned all over again and she avoided his gaze, focusing on the task at hand. When she was done, the villain abruptly stood and crowded close, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Villain bracketed her in place with an arm against the bed on each side of her. “Thanks for the patch job.” He flashed another predatory smile, eyes twinkling, and dangled her car keys in front of her face. “Care to give me another ride, dear?”

Part 3

Thank you for reading!

Tiny taglist:  @writing-on-the-wahl , @ vlerlove , @valiantlytransparentwhispers. If anyone wants to be added, let me know :) 

#writing #creative writing #civillian x villain #hero x villain #writing snippet #flash fiction #my writing #supervillain

[words-for-holland]

Christmas Admirers Teaser |T.H.

Pairing: Fratboy!Tom x Reader

Summary:  Tom Holland and Y/N have never crossed each other’s paths in the 3 years of their college career. but can a silly letter change all that? 

Loosely Inspired by Dash & Lily and every other cheesy Hallmark Christmas Rom-Com Movie out there. 

A/N: This wont be a series but this story is going to be really long when it’s done but tbh not sure if Im really like how its coming...Ha...ha.. But I’ll still do a taglist for this when it’s completed so feel free to add yourself if you’d like.

Taglist

Wanna Play a Game?

All it took was one bright red letter and four words to intrigue the most beloved, foreign exchange student of New York University, Tom Holland. If his name sounds familiar to you, then you already know the answer to the question that just popped in your head. Yes, not only was Tom Holland a well renowned actor, he was also a student exploring the wonders of college along with his best friend Harrison. Some say he was only attending to prepare for a role, others say he did it to have his fun with sorority girls, and a very small percentage believed he was actually trying to get his degree in theater. Whatever the reason, college life suited him well, being the head of the Beta Gamma Sigma Fraternity, living the bachelors life with a new girl around his arm every week, but it was all the same...until he found that red letter sticking out of an abandoned shelf in the Potter’s Library.

He remembered it clearly, the day he found it. Tom had reluctantly arrived at the Library assuming his mates would be there to actually study for an exam they had this upcoming week. Lord knows if they didn’t pass this final with at least a C this semester, they would surely relive the nightmares with Professor Gonpu in the next. Yet to no surprise, none of them came and ditched last minute as the pool of messages started to flood his phone.

“Great.” Tom muttered to himself as he took a seat at the far right corner of the library. The area was empty, and as he slouched on the wooden chair and pushed it back, the boy hadn’t realize how close to the empty shelf he was. With a single thud, came a small red letter floating above and gently making its way down to his lap. The inviting words peaked his interest, and while he checked both front and back for a name, the letter should have been addressed to...there was none. He unfolded it and read it to himself.

Do you want a play a game?

You seem like the type of person that has nothing better to do, so let’s make it a little more interesting. I wont tell you who I am, but if I deem you worthy...I just might.

Still with me?

I’ll give you five clues to figure out this location. Everything you need is here in the Library. And...if you even think about using that phone, you might as well put this letter back where you found it. After all.. you’re in a library and it’s got all the information you need. Ready?

Tom looked at it puzzled by the words. “Do people actually do this shit?”, he thought to himself. He continued to read on, examining each clue and the 5 lines next to them.

1. You’ll find your first clue, deals with a tragic romance. He had all the money in the world but never ends up with the one he loves.

“Too easy.” Tom smiled to himself as he quickly looked for The Great Gatsby. He referenced the red letter seeing only 3 spaces for the first clue. “Jay” he whispered to himself, as he triumphantly wrote out the words.

2. Know what else is more shitty than dying and not having the love your life? Writing a depressing poem about the love your life dying. Or as Poe would imagine, a beautiful maiden by the sea.

He smirked at the line, knowing fully well the poem that the mysterious letter was referencing, and quickly headed to the poetry section. Tom scanned the row of books, until the black book with white lettering caught his eye. Flipping through the broken pages, he found exactly what he was looking for. “In this kingdom by the sea, but we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee.” he muttered the lines, a smile slowly creeping up. Tom writes out the word “Lee” in the 3 lettered blank. “Tragic Romance, how typical.” he says to himself. Though his voice was laced with disinterest, it was Tom’s favorite poem, but he’d never tell anyone that.

It continued on this rhythm of deciphering clues and running around the Library like a chicken without a head to figure out what the letter wanted from Tom. He had been so focused that his plan to study for Gonpu’s final and meeting with the fraternity has completely flown out the window. As of now, Tom’s main priority was to find the answers to the letter’s puzzling challenge. Maybe, if he answered it, he would know who the mysterious writer was.

Then it happened. The last clue was solved, as Tom quickly wrote out the final word, examining his work and trying to make sense of what he found. There were no other instructions left on the letter which only made Tom more puzzled. It wasn’t a name. It wasn’t a thing. It was a place on campus. Jay Lee’s Coffee Lounge, the most serene coffee spot you’ll ever find in NYU. It offered all the essentials needed to focus and complete your work all with a side of great cold brew made in house. People say it’s NYU’s best kept secret, but really it’s because students will rarely go since it’s so out of the way.

He made it to the shop after thirty minutes, and stepped into the calm atmosphere. The smell of gingerbread lattes hit him once he opened the doors, and soft chatter between students filled the air. He looked around the area in hopes to find the person who wrote the letter. Perhaps they were waiting for him, but it was unlikely since Tom wasn’t even sure if the letter was written that same day. For all he knew, he could be wasting his time, and yet....it didnt feel like it. Almost as if he felt he was meant to be here.

“Mate, what are you doing here?!” Tom followed the robust British voice as he whipped his head to the counter. His best friend Harrison, dressed in a Jay Lee’s short sleeved shirt.

“Harrison? You...work here?” He asked voice filled with confusion. Not once did Harrison tell Tom about his side job. In fact it was almost offensive to think the blonde hair bloke would even it hide it from him.

“Yeah...I didn’t really tell anyone because well you know, it’s the last place people would expect a frat to be working in. Reputations and all...What about you? I didn’t think this place was your type of thing.” he asked.

“It’s not...” he paused for a moment, debating on whether to tell Harrison what he found. If it led Tom here, Harrison might know who wrote the letter. He hoped it was girl...God he really hoped it was. “Actually, I was at the library today waiting for you divs --”

“Oh yeah sorry mate.” Harrison looked at Tom apologetically.

“No, its fine really. But I found something interesting, and --”

“Tom, if it’s another blonde wannabe model, I --”

“Bloody hell, Harrison just listen to me. I..” Tom paused for a moment to quickly check his surroundings before pulling up the red paper. “I found this red letter. Made me go on bloody goose chase and led me here. You dont happen to know anything about this do you?”

Harrison took the letter and examined it thoroughly reading the lines word for word and the notes Tom made next to them. He was just as intrigued, but unfortunately shook his head, unsure of the answer to Tom’s question as well. “Sorry, Mate. I have no clue. Never seen anyone here writing out a red letter before.”

Tom held the letter, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Was this it? Did he really just waste a whole 3 hours in the library and 30 minutes worth of gas for nothing? “I just dont understand.” he muttered.

“Look if you really think the person that wrote this letter wanted you to be here, why don’t you just write a message in it and post it on the corkboard? Im working the entire week, so I’ll keep an eye on who grabs it and let you know.“

It didnt seem like a half bad plan, Tom nodded in agreement and grabbed a pen from his bag, writing his reply in the empty space, the mysterious writer was so kind enough to leave. He posted it on the corkboard, and turned back to his friend.

“Dont forget.” Tom pleaded.

“I wont mate.”

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine

[swimyghost]

Uniforms

This is a Lupin III High School AU that no one asked for but me and some friends made anyway. This AU will include OCs they haven’t made an appearance just yet. Also this high school is a blend of American and Japanese high schools since I’m, unfortunately, more familiar with an American setting. I hope you enjoy.

---

The ICPO Academy’s name was a joke. Not to say the academy itself was a disgrace to the name of education seeing as the school produced several graduates that went on to become lawyers or doctors or more artistic jobs such as famous actors or architects. ICPO Academy was well known for its reputation as the hub for international learning and cultural acceptance, having the school built in Japan but accepting students from everywhere. Many would question why someone would call the academy’s name a joke with high test scores, amazingly well-funded athletic and arts programs, and a spotless background all being well-known facts.

ICPO: International Criminal Police Organization. The name was outdated and, as mentioned before, a joke, especially to the students who attended the school. The once militaristic educational institution was originally assembled by the Japanese government as a way to train the most elite future members of the police force; the international part only added later once other countries noticed how well the Alta maters excelled in their field. Time, however, was an ever-flowing river and soon more programs such as the arts were added to the school. The need for highly trained police officers was in little demand and the school’s talents for training the best were need elsewhere. The name never changed due to stubborn tradition, also due to the idea of the students needing to “remember their roots”.

Horrible naming aside, the school was strict with everything, from grades to clubs to sports, including school uniforms. That was how three students ended up in the principal’s office one early morning.

“Arsène Lupin, Daisuke Jigen, and Goemon Ishikawa,” the principal, a heavily balding middle-aged man, sighed. He looked like he hadn’t received any proper sleep in weeks. “You three realize the school year only started a month ago and yet you consistently end up here.”

“Sir, I think you are missing the point!” a tall dark-haired man shouted. He stepped forward, shoving aside the three students. The red armband on his left arm was labeled “Head Hall Monitor”. “These three have broken one of the school’s rules, one which is mentioned on the first page of the school handbook so they clearly know what they are doing!”

One of the students, a sophomore with a cocky grin and an even cockier look in his dark brown eyes, laughed. “Pops, you should know I never read any of those dumb manuals!”

“It’s paramount that you read the handbook! And quit referring to me by that ridiculous nickname!”

“Whatever you say, Pops.”

“Mr. Lupin, Mr. Zenigata, I order you to stop this nonsense!” the principal shouted over the arguing pair. “Mr. Lupin, despite you lacking in understanding the school’s policies, you are a sophomore, you should already know that wearing the school’s uniform is a requirement, that goes for you too Mr. Goemon, and especially you Mr. Daisuke, you’re a junior, for Pete’s sake!”

“Jigen.” a gruff-sounding teen muttered. Shaggy black hair covered the teen’s eyes. Unlike the well-dressed (although still against the rules) Lupin, Jigen chose to wear baggy clothes such as a worn hoodie and ripped jeans instead of his uniform. 

“Fine, Jigen,” the man said with an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase since you already know what’s going to happen. I’m going to have the front desk call your parents so they can drop off your uniforms. Mr. Lupin, Mr. Jigen, you’ll be sent to detention for today and tomorrow and will have to use half of your lunch period cleaning the school along with the regular cleaning hours. Mr. Ishikawa, you will have the same punishment except you won’t have detention.”

“What!?” Zenigata cried.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Zenigata?”

“Sir, forgive me for my insolence, but I think this is highly unfair,” Zenigata turned his gaze to the last of the trio, a blue hakama-wearing boy with long but slightly uneven cut hair. “Goemon here is equally as guilty as the rest of them! Therefore, he deserves the same punishment!”

The principal let out a long groan. “I wish I could, Mr. Zenigata. Unfortunately, Mr. Ishikawa is a part of our Judo Team and we’re about to have a match against Cagliostro Academy so-”

“So it’s favoritism!” Zenigata bellowed, slamming his hands on the principal’s desk.

“It’s not favoritism, it’s about securing our school’s reputation! Besides, Mr. Ishikawa isn’t a criminal for refusing to wear the proper garb.” the principal nonchalantly waved his hand.

“We will become one if you don’t punish him accordingly!”

“Do not insult the Ishikawa name like you, you bumbling gorilla.” Goemon spat, keeping a cold expression on his face.

“What did you say!?”

“ENOUGH!”

The room went deathly quiet. The principal, who was suddenly standing tall with an enraged expression on his face. He glared at the four students with a newfound fire in his dark eyes. 

“Mr. Zenigata, this is not up for discussion. If you have a problem, take it up with someone else!”

Zenigata looked like he was going to blow up due to how red his face was. Lupin was frightened, but he kept a small grin on his face. The other two were suddenly extremely interested in the wall.

“Now, all of you, out of my office. I have important work to do.”

Zenigata took several deep breaths before replying. “Alright, sir. I shall take these troublemakers to the front desk to make sure they don’t try to run away.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr-”

It was too late as Zenigata swiftly herded the group outside of the office, slamming the door behind him. 

The trio shuffled down the hall with only Zenigata walking with a powerful stride. The halls were silent with only the muffled chatter of teacher’s going over their lessons breaking that silence. Posters advertising out of school and in school were taped on walls or pinned to one of the many corkboards that lined the walls. Freshly cleaned windows allowed light to enter in. Jigen grunted as a line of sunlight pierced through his thick locks and entered his eyes. Lupin leaned over Zenigata’s shoulder and smiled.

“The head really chewed you out, huh?”

“Quiet, you scum!” Zenigata snarled, glaring back at the shorter man.

“Wooooooow, is that how all upperclassmen speak to their juniors? I thought we were starting to become friends.”

Zenigata scoffed. “You are not one of my equals, neither as a student or a member of society.”

“Really?” Lupin said with fake surprise dripping from his words.

The senior stopped, leading the rest of the group to follow suit. “I know who you are, Lupin, and I know what your family is.”

“You do?” Lupin glanced over at his companions, who kept measured expressions on their faces, then back at the older student. “What is my family, Koichi Zenigata?”

“A bunch of liars and thieves,” Zenigata said with an icy chill.

The stillness held nothing but tension. Jigen and Goemon silently moved to Lupin’s side. One a slight glimmer of Jigen’s eyes could be seen through the curtain known as his hair; meanwhile, Goemon’s eyes were studying the situation, ready to strike if necessary. Zenigata stood tall with his dark blue and white suit barely hiding the muscles bulging through the cloth. Time ticked away until Lupin broke out into laughter.

“Never knew you hated me that much, Pops!” Lupin patted his shoulder, causing Zenigata to flinch. “C’mon, let’s not fight. Especially since it won’t be a fair fight since your little buddy isn’t here and your reputation would be hurt more than mine.”

“Little… Buddy?” Zenigata looked confused, both due to Lupin’s actions and at the nickname he gave to this unknown person.

“What was his name… Goro! Goro Yatagarasu! That poor boy follows you are like a puppy.” Lupin said.

“Do not insult him like that! Yata is a good student and a better person than you’ll ever be.”

“You’re starting to sound like his boyfriend, Pops,” Jigen spoke up, enunciating the word ‘Pops’.

“Wha- Yata is a freshman and a minor!” 

“That hasn’t stopped seniors before,” Jigen muttered.

Goemon stepped between them with his hands raised. “You wanna get in more trouble?”

Jigen grunted and turned his head away. Zenigata just glared at the trio before starting back on his quest to the front desk. Lupin just pretended to wipe the dust off his crisp white dress shirt and followed the upperclassman with his friends following close behind.

The rest of the walk was uneventful since Lupin stopped trying to press his senior’s buttons. Jigen was more interested in his old sneakers than a conversation with Goemon adopting a similar attitude. Once they reached the open front lobby, Zenigata turned his gaze to the lady who sat behind the circular front desk. Her hair was tied up in a lazy bun with her glasses hanging close to the end of her nose. She looked as interested in her computer work as the principal had looked. She lifted her gaze when Zenigata cleared his throat.

“Can I help you?” her tone was low and bored.

“Yes, these three have broken school rules by deciding to not wear their uniform! I assume the principal has alerted you about the situation?”

“He has.” the receptionist said.

“Then I believe you need to-”

“I’ve already contacted their parents, Mr. Zenigata.” the lady cut off Zenigata with a pointed stare.

“Um, uh, yes,” Zenigata cleared his throat, more awkwardly this time. “W-Well I assume you have the situation handled then?”

“I do.”

“Great! I need to return to class! Please make sure they don’t try anything suspicious.”

“I will, Mr. Zenigata.”

Zenigata bowed before turning to look back at the trio. Lupin stuck out his tongue with a goofy smile plastered on his face. The senior frowned deeply then took off towards an adjacent hallway. The group looked at the front desk lady who already went back to typing away at her computer.

“Wait by the benches over there.” she pointed at the set of benches that were poised by the front doors made entirely of glass. 

“Thank you, ma’am!” Lupin replied in a cheery tone with a wink. The woman just made a noncommittal hum of acknowledgment. Lupin, Jigen, and Goemon all sauntered over to the benches and sat with Lupin in the middle and Jigen and Goemon sitting at the far left and right respectfully. Goemon closed his eyes and lowered his head in mediation with Jigen scratched at his kangaroo pocket. Lupin noticed his not-so-subtle scratching.

“You need to smoke already?” the sophomore whispered.

“Nah,” Jigen replied in a matching soft voice. “Just need to know they’re there. Get anxious if they’re not.”

“That’s a sign of addiction, my scruffy friend.”

Jigen scowled. “Like you’re any better.”

“I can handle being away from cigarettes for a few days, you cannot,” Lupin pointed out. “I’ve even seen you smoke bent ones!”

“A smoke is a smoke.” the junior shrugged.

“Both of you have bad habits.” Goemon chipped in at the same time side-eyeing the pair.

“Like you’re any better. You even said that cigarette you had felt nice!” Lupin countered.

Goemon looked down. He enjoyed the feeling that one cigarette gave him but he’d never admit it, especially since it would most likely lead to his athletic career being cut short. 

Lupin turned his attention back to the older of the three. “Is your mom or dad gonna drop off your outfit.”

“Doubt it,” Jigen snorted. “Ma started taking double shifts to make up for all the new books I had to buy.”

The leader of the group stared at Jigen for a few moments before pulling out his cellphone. He tapped away before raising the phone to his ear.

“Hey, dad? Yeah, it’s me, did you leave already? No? Good!” Lupin said. “Listen, along with my uniform, can you get the bigger one that’s in the drawer next to all my other ones? Thank you!”

“No using any electronic distractions during class periods.” the front desk lady said, still not looking up from her computer. 

“Got it, ma’am!” Lupin replied, saying a quick goodbye to his father before preceding to smile at Jigen. Jigen knew something was up.

“What did you do?”

“Called my old man, of course,” Lupin said.

“No duh, but I know what your family… Does. I need to know if you didn’t just secretly hire a hit or something.” 

“Do you really think that lowly of me, Jigen?” Lupin pretended to look hurt.

“I think you can do some nasty shit if you felt like it,”

“He’s got you there, Lupin,” Goemon added.

“You both are so cruel!” Lupin dramatically placed a hand on his chest. “All I did was ask my father to bring a junior uniform and you’re accusing me of murder!”

“Junior uniform, why would you-” realization hit Jigen. “You bought one… For me?”

“You’re my best friend, you wheezy chimney,” Lupin let out his signature grin. “Someone’s gotta pick you up when you’re down.”

Jigen stared deeply at Lupin before making a tsk sound and whipping his head towards the window. Lupin just chuckled and leaned backward.

Suddenly, the bell rang throughout the school. Students immediately started to flood both the hallway and the front of the school. Couples were walking with their arms linked while others congregated in large groups, laughing about the latest episodes of their favorite shows or lamenting failing a test. Lupin watched them walk by as if he were looking for-

“Hey, Fujicakes!”

Jigen and Goemon both groaned as a long-haired brunette with highlights sashayed over towards them. She wore the standard dark blue, gray, and white uniform but it was clearly altered in some minor but still noticeable ways. The shirt was smaller than it needed to be and the skirt was shorter. Black tights completed the outfit. The freshman carried books and a binder in one hand and a phone with a fake diamond keychain in the other. She stopped only a foot away from the trio before glancing up and down.

“Was dressing like clowns really necessary?”

Jigen and Goemon’s preexisting frown deepened but Lupin gave her a hurt puppy-dog look. “That hurt Fujiko. The real clown outfits are those gaudy uniforms they make us wear. Not you, though. You look fantastic in anything you wear.”

Fujiko giggled, causing Jigen and Goemon to roll their eyes. Fujiko stopped with a sigh. “In any case, I’m guessing you three are in detention.”

“I actually got-”

“And I’m hoping you’ll be there with me,” Lupin said, interrupting Goemon.

“Are you kidding me?” Fujiko said with a snort. “I have cheer practice. I don’t have time to waste with someone like you.”

“Fujicakes,” Lupin said with false hurt.

“I gotta go, Lupin, maybe I’ll see you later when you’re done making a fool of yourself.”

Fujiko walked away with a purposeful stride, leaving Lupin wanting more of her and the other two wanting less. As the crowd began to grow smaller, Jigen glared at his friend.

“How can you stand that girl?”

“Perhaps Fujiko is right about one thing,” Goemon looked down at the still swooning Lupin, “you are a fool.”

“She may be made of ice, but like all ice, it can be melted.” Lupin poetically answered.

“Oh, please,” Jigen grumbled.

Just as all the people left for their class, two men entered the building. One was a wealthy-looking businessman with well-kept hair and a faint beard. He wore a freshly ironed suit that almost gleamed as much as his well-polished shoes. The other was an equally well-dressed man but this time in more traditional Japanese garbs and sandals. His hair was much longer and had a clean-shaven face. Goemon stood up and made his way to the more traditionally dressed man, bowing once he reached him.

“Father.”

“Goemon,” he replied, thrusting the pile of neatly folded clothes he had been carrying into his son’s arms. “Do not repeat this act.”

“I won’t, Father.”

While that exchange went down, the first man eagerly went over and hugged Lupin. He held a smile that was eerily similar to the boy’s. 

“Arsène! You causing micheaf again?”

“Of course, dad, why else would be here?” his son wheezed, trying to escape his bear hug.

He laughed and clasped Lupin on the back. “Aw, I don’t know, maybe you missed me that much you had the principal call me down.”

“Dad!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Lupin’s dad chuckled. He looked at the front desk lady, who was watching the whole scene and shrugged. “Kids these days, am I right?”

The lady blinked slowly. “You need to give them their uniforms, sir.”

“Right, right, right,” the man reached into his suit and handed two bags to Lupin and Jigen. “I believe these are for you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Thanks, Mr. Lupin.”

“Now, I need to leave. Business never gives you a break, I swear.” Lupin’s dad winked at the receptionist before following Goemon’s dad out of the building. Lupin let out a long sigh once he left the building.

“Your dad is certainly a character, Lupin,” Goemon commented.

“Not a word, Goemon,”

“You three go change in the bathroom. I write you a pass to your next class.” the woman at the front desk called over to them. 

Lupin gave the group a smirk. “There’s still a full day ahead of us, gentlemen. Let’s not waste it.”

#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin the 3rd #arsene lupin iii #goemon ishikawa xiii #goemon ishikawa #ishikawa goemon xiii #jigen daisuke #daisuke jigen #fujiko mine #mine fujiko #koichi zenigata #zenigata koichi #inspector zenigata #high school au #lupin iii high school au #ficlet #fanfic #fanficition

[wordsbynathan]

WIP INTRO

title: Peel

genre: queer fantasy/sci-fi

category: young adult

setting: Wisteria, NY; present day

POV: dual 1st person present

status: drafting

themes+tropes: family, identity, mental health, generational trauma, found family and friendship, autonomy, queer relationships

vibes: a plane blinks out of existence; the spiral of a blood orange peel; paint swatches tacked to a corkboard; scoops of ice cream piled so high they should topple; dusty basements with old tomes and articles that expose horrendous truths; trashcans full of chewing gum wrappers; interlocked fingers tugged apart by cosmic forces

one-line pitch: angsty gays accidentally discover inter-dimensional travel

epigraph:

"Someone said the sky is falling, tell me, is it true? Everything's alright when I'm with you Let's just stay asleep 'Cause when I sleep, I still can hear you Let's just stay asleep" —Ingrid Michaelson, "Mother"

(synopsis, characters, and excerpts under the read more)

synopsis:

Fletcher Kaplan's life isn't perfect, but until the final semester of high school, at least it's normal. He works hard for his grades, has a boyfriend who loves him and a great relationship with his single father. But when he wakes up exactly eighteen years after their move from Pakistan to the United States with the echoes of a nightmare ringing in his ears, he starts to question his reality. He wonders if the story he's been told about his mother's death is all true, but more pressing is the fact that Fletcher starts to see things, think things, and he's too afraid to tell Ellison for fear of scaring him away. When the eccentric and intimidating Corinne approaches him and validates what he's been experiencing, Fletcher decides to put his trust in her. As soon as they start to get answers, everything seems to come crashing down around them.

Ellison Moon has it all. His family may fight and his sister Astrid may be challenging to get along with, but they're ultimately a tight-knit unit. He's the captain of the Wisteria High basketball team and it looks like he may be leading the team to their first championship win in years. Most importantly, he has Fletcher, who he loves. In fact, Fletcher has no idea how much Ellison loves him because he's terrified of how deeply he feels. When Fletcher starts to act mysterious and even lie to Ellison, he attempts at first to ignore it but finds this impossible. He wants to be with Fletcher forever, but more and more it feels like Fletcher is going where Ellison can't follow. In the wake of an earth-shaking trauma, Ellison's internal world collapses and he uses up all of his emotions; with newfound clarity he realizes he can follow Fletcher forever, but in doing so he opens the door to chaotic impossibility.

main characters:

Fletcher Kaplan—POV • 18 • Intelligent • Dreamer • Nostalgic • Anchor

Fletcher is used to moving around due to the fact that his father is almost always in the market for a new job, but he's been blessed with the opportunity to finish all four years at the same high school. Despite this being the first time he feels like he can actually plant roots, he only really has two friends: his father and Ellison, Fletcher's boyfriend. Not until existence begins to crumble does Fletcher realize the importance of reaching out and grabbing tight to other hands. Until then, he fights off stray thoughts that feel like they're coming from an external source and hopes he can prevent his tiny family from slipping through the cracks of this reality. And the next.

Ellison Moon—POV • 18 • Loyal • Restless • Cunning • Stubborn

Ellison is one of four members of the iconic Moon clan—a family to end all families in Wisteria. Though he's well-mannered, he has a rebellious streak; Ellison's always chewing on something to soothe his fidgety nerves, and he does all he can to find loopholes in his parents' rules. As an openly gay athlete, he has influence in multiple worlds and commands respect with the combination of his athletic talent and goofy but warm demeanor. When Ellison feels, he feels deeply (often to a fault), and he does all he can to hide his weak spots.

Corinne Stetson—17 • Wise • Savvy • Eccentric • Analytical

Corinne is the class weirdo, but nobody would dare make fun of her. She's bizarre but insanely intelligent, and it's a wonder why she hasn't skipped a grade or two. Her deep red hair is littered with streaks of bleach blonde and there are rumors that she hides sharp objects in her fiery mane. She becomes an unexpected spiritual guide for Fletcher, as she has a useful brand of otherworldly knowledge that he lacks. As their paths converge, she comes to realize that Fletcher has plenty to offer himself, if she can just get herself to open up and let somebody in.

Astrid Moon—16 • Witty • Headstrong • Artistic • Persuasive

Despite the fact that he's a complete idiot, Ellison is still the perfect son, a standard Astrid feels she can't live up to. So she'll let Ellison be the favorite and follow her own path, piercing her ears with safety pins and cutting her hair in the mirror, dressing in all black some days and in pink the next. There's nothing Astrid values more than bodily autonomy and a girl's right to make her own choices. This is what draws her to Corinne like a moth to a crimson flame; she helps Astrid see her potential, and it becomes clear that Astrid has a bigger role to play in their lives than she could have imagined.

~*~*~*~*~

excerpts:

It’s as if the plane never existed.

Then, there’s some kind of hiccup and it’s back. I force my eyes shut and open them wide, repeat this, try to make sense of what I just saw.

Far away, the birds dip below my line of sight.

Goldenreed is only ten minutes away, but it almost feels like you could pack a whole live into that time if you just figure out how to measure it correctly.

The cafeteria chatter drones on around us, the excited buzzing of teenagers who have no idea that they’re hurtling through existence on an infinite orange peel that’s blighted at the end.

taglist (tagging general; if you’d like to be on the taglist for Peel please let me know!!! <3): @my-liminal-spaces​ @ahowlinwolf​ @sugarcoatedglass​ @chloeswords​ @rainbowcoloreddays​ @alicewestwater​ @ryns-ramblings​

#wip: peel #wip intro #writeblr #writeblr wip intro #writeblr wip #wtw #wtwcommunity #SO EXCITED #NANO HERE WE COME!!! #nanowrimo #why not slap that tag on there #also more in-depth characters intros will be a thing eventually #probably halfway through the month when i start dragging my feet with writing sdlkfjsdklfj

[akillysheel]

TENUOUS.  ( 1 )

Summary:  Cthugha explains a little more about who he is and why he’s there--  besides the obvious, of course. Warnings:  N/A. Notes:  Yes, nouns like ‘Balance’ and ‘Universe’ are capitalised on purpose.

    THE  STRANGER  NAVIGATED  the precinct as if he’d been there before.  He wound his way through tables like a snake, ignoring the curious glances that officers shot him as he passed.  As he reached Kuro's office, the Sheriff was almost convinced that he was the one who didn't know his way around the station.

    "Oh,"   the boy mused, head tilted upwards in the direction of his corkboard.  It was littered with different coloured post-it notes and twine, Kuro’s neat block letters bold against their garish backdrop.   "An upgrade for sure."

    "Who are you?"   Kuro asked slowly, enunciating every word as he stared at him intensely.  Part of him felt that he should recognise him.  Perhaps it was the familiarity that he'd been approached with.

    "My name is Cthugha.  I came from the future,"   he replied nonchalantly, arms tucked behind his back as he looked over the board.  He winced slightly upon seeing one of the names on one of the many sticky tabs.   "You never find that one, by the way."

    "Excuse me?"    Now he felt irked.   "That's a real case, y'know.  This girl's really missing.  That's somebody's daughter."

    "Unfortunate,"   Cthugha said, his tone a fraction softer.

    "She ain't fodder fer yer li'l sideshow.  She's a real person 'n' she's Raku-knows-where.  Y'don't have the right to t'be involvin' her in yer stunt."

    The look that Cthugha shot over his shoulder was cold.  After a beat of silence:   "Her name is Olivia Brannon.  She went missing a week ago.  You found her things in a field directly adjacent to the subway tunnel--  her dorm keys, student ID and textbooks--  but you have no further leads.  You think that she's playing hooky with a boyfriend she's keeping a secret from her overbearing parents--  that she threw her belongings as a student away to pursue a life with him in private--  but he's still in town and hasn't seen her either.  You’ve pursued him for questioning but he’s come back clean as a whistle.  He even has an iron-clad alibi under his belt!  You don't know where else to look, so you trawl through town like a dog sniffing for blood, only to find nothing.  The case eventually goes cold."   A thin smile shaped his lips as he took in Kuro's stupefied expression, impatient and derisive.   "How's that for a stunt, Sheriff Braav?"

    "H-How did you--"

    "What part of 'the future' do you not understand?"

    A thick blanket of silence befell them, and Kuro found himself leaning against the wall for balance.  Just five minutes ago, it had been a typical Tuesday morning.  Now, it felt as if his world was teetering to one side, his pulse an electrical current that thrummed in each temple.  It wasn't easy to bewilder him after all that he'd seen, but this curious stranger had achieved it in a matter of minutes.  How else was he supposed to react to being told airtight details about a case that hadn’t been made public knowledge yet?

    How is any of this happening?  What is happening?  None of this is right.     Who is this guy?

     "I won't waste any time,"   Cthugha said soberly, moving away from the board.  He circled Kuro's desk like a vulture, blue eyes scanning the tabletop with apparent interest.  A finger grazed a half-solved rubix cube curiously.   "I've come for one very important thing:  the Balance is at stake.  I need to fix it.  You can help me."

     "What…?"   Kuro blurted stupidly, mind reeling.   "What're y'talkin' about?"

     "Alright."   Cthugha paused to pinch the bridge of his nose.   "I'm gonna need ya to sharpen up, detective.  I came to you because I know you're smart."

    “Surely y’realise how insane this is!”   Kuro bit back, finding a foothold in the conversation.   “This kid materialises out of nowhere--”

    “Not a kid.”

    “-- ‘n’ tells me that he’s from the future, ‘n’ that he’s here t’restore the Universe’s Balance--”

    “In layman's terms.”

    “--’n’ that he needs my help t’do it.  Ten minutes ago, I was enjoyin’ a cup’a coffee ‘n’ finishin’ the paperwork fer an open-’n’-shut robbery!  This shit is  WAY  outta my professional league.”

    There was a lilt in the conversation--  one in which was stolen by the subtle tilt of Cthugha’s head.  There was a strange metaphysical gravity that surrounded him, one that drew in attention like he was sucking it through a straw.

    In a small, hopeful voice:   “... you have coffee?”  

    “That’s what y’take away from everythin’ I just said?!”

    “I haven’t had a good cup of coffee in months,”   murmured Cthugha, scratching his chin pensively.  Whatever peril the world was in, it seemed to be irrelevant to him now.   “I had some at a diner in a pocket dimension a couple weeks ago.  The waitress was lovely but the coffee was…”   His teeth came together in the form of a fierce grimace.   “... sweet.”

    Kuro blinked owlishly, his mind racing.  Everything was happening so quickly.  He'd had no time to process the other's abrasive introduction, nor the deeper meaning of the things he was saying.  The most he knew of the 'Balance' was that it was a cosmic force that even God's wrestled with.  On the handful of occasions that it had come up in conversation, Raku was either struggling to maintain it or finding loopholes to avoid doing unsavoury things to appease it. Hardly an educational display.

    "How about…"   It was a sheepish start, no doubt, the town-hero more than a little out of sorts.  He paused to stand up straight again, trying to strengthen his resolve.  Get it together.  He's scrawny.  But so is Raku.  He owns the very ground that you stand on.   "... I put on a pot of coffee, and we talk more?"

     "See, now it feels like you’re meeting me in the middle."

                                                                ________

    A sense of normalcy returned to him as he took a sip of his coffee.  The Regular Tuesday vibes are back.

    "What's the verdict?"   he asked as he watched Cthugha peer into his cup.  He found it incredibly odd that somebody who looked so… on-the-cusp-of-adulthood-and-no-older had asked for it black, all but turning his nose up at the offer of sugar and milk.

    "Hm..."   He hummed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing at the dark abyss before him.  Then, he took a sip.  Kuro watched as he paused mid-drink, eyes widening slightly.  After a moment, he began to gulp it down, continuing until his mug was empty.  

     After a relieved little exhale:   "Refill?"

    "Sure…?"   the Sheriff said hesitantly, reaching for the pot and filling his mug again.  He seemed to slow down for his second helping, really taking in the taste of it.

    "Ah…  this district gets it.  So much flavour,"   Cthugha praised, looking comfortable in his cross-legged position in Kuro's chair.  It's frame dwarfed him, the black leather suiting his businesslike approach.   “I’ve found that’s a common trend here.   Huros make good food too;  organic produce, and lots of spices and herbs.”

    "Uh, yeah…"   He couldn't focus on the idle chatter.  He had too many questions--  too many burning queries-- to ask for anything other than answers to them.   "So about why you're here--"

    "Well, as you observed, I can tell the future, because I've seen it.  I--"

    "But how?"   Kuro interrupted, unfolding a rickety metal chair and sitting on it.  It creaked angrily beneath his weight, his six-and-a-half-foot frame not built for its meagre services.   "Who are y'?  What are y’?  I-- I've met Raku several times over and not even he can mess with time--"

    "I'm sort of his foil,"   Cthugha answered impatiently, his foot tapping against the arm of the chair.   "Look, do we have to play Guess Who right now?  There're more important things--"

    "I need t'know how y'knew about Olivia.  I ain’t gonna help y’at all ‘til I know that.  How do I know yer trustworthy?  How can I be sure my own officers ain’t leakin’ things t’outside sources?   I don’t know y’.  How could y’know?"

    There was a tense pause between them, one that seemed to reverberate throughout the office.  Suddenly, Kuro felt incredibly claustrophobic--  as if the sound bouncing off of the walls was drawing closer and closer.  He watched as Cthugha sighed, drawing his mug to his lips for a final time before setting it down in his lap.

    "Fine.  I'll tell you.  Once.  So you’d better listen good.  You just remember--  you asked for this,"   he warned, tone anything but ceremonious as he wagged a finger at him.   "God's can't touch time because that's what we rifters are for, dummy.  We govern the fabric of reality. Time's separate to a God's responsibilities, see.  Gods maintain districts and concepts; we maintain things relating to the Universe itself.  Time and space, namely.  Those things're outside of a God's scope."

    "So yer…  above Raku?"

    "I'd argue yes,"   the rifter said pridefully.   "That little chump's only got a district to look after.  I've got this entire timeline, and parallel timelines that're born from this timeline."   He retrieved his coffee, brought it to his mouth.  With his lips against the rim:   "... but it doesn't matter.  We work together.  In tandem.  We help each other.  The basic idea is that Gods keep their people happy;  those happy people are way more likely to stick to their destined paths, which means less problems for rifters.  If there is a threat to the peace of the district, the God quells it;  if it is a threat to the Balance, I do.  We ultimately both serve the same function--  to keep the Universe happy--  but we're at opposite ends of the spectrum."

    "We're…  pre-determined?"

    "Heh.  I forgot you're the existential type,"   Cthugha tittered numbly.   "No.  Not in the way you're thinking anyway.  People live in more of a probability map than they do a script;  they have a list of things they could do in any given situation and can select from most of them without any real consequence to the Balance.  People have free will because the Universe isn’t overly fragile, get it?  The continuum isn’t going to shit itself if you take a detour from your usual lunch order.  Every choice births a parallel universe in which the other was made.  Most of these parallel universes are benign and don't need to be touched.  So basically, you could make any choice and each of them would be as inconsequential to me."   At least, if we’re talking about your average choices.   “No more about this, okay?  It isn’t gonna do you any good.  I’m not really supposed to talk about it, but since you were so stubborn...”

    He wasn't going to get into the ins and outs of his job, especially not with a simple huro.  It wasn’t productive.  It wasted time.  It could have catastrophic consequences for his mortal mind.  And the Balance, above all, was a picky sonuvabitch that Cthugha didn’t understand.  Sometimes a store being out of a person's favourite sandwich led to them becoming an angry, tyrannical politician that eventually ended the world.  Other times, a person could murder seventeen children in cold blood and the Balance remained unchanged, seeing those seventeen lives as pre-determined losses.  He’d stopped asking questions a long time ago--  had learned to accept that, in most instances, what was meant to be was meant to be.

    Not when it concerned the end of all life in the Aphanta Region, though.

    Kuro looked dizzy.  He sank a little further into his seat, his tanky frame looking all but comical in the small fold-up chair.   "... 'n' what can I do about any'a this, huh?  I'm just a police officer.  A damn good one, sure, but I’m no cosmic cop."

     "Mm,"   agreed the time-keeper, a solitary nod offered.   "Sure.  But you're a police officer in a district that contains a Universal Hazard."

    "Universal Hazard…?"

    "Sheriff."   It was the first time that Cthugha had paused to find the correct words during their conversation.  He seemed brazen, largely unconcerned with hurting peoples' feelings, but this appeared to be an exception.  Kuro steeled himself, spine turning rigid.   "... I've seen the death of this district, then its neighbours, then beyond.  It all circles back to one very particular problem:  a case you never solve."

    “Brannon…?”   he asked, feeling his heart leap into his throat.

    “Not her.  Someone whose case’s gotten so cold it’s practically subzero,”   Cthugha murmured, polishing off the last of his coffee with a well-timed swallow.   “Remember Mia Vanton?”

    “... oh shit.”

    Cthugha nodded solemnly.     “Yeah.  Her.”

#writeblr #fandomless oc story #writing #original story #novel drafts #tenuous ;

[kitkats-mikrokosmos]

you who led me through that maze, you are my light - chapter 1: such stuff as dreams are made

crossposted on ao3

genre: fluff, slowish burn, romance pairing: ot7 x reader summary: ❝ this rain, too, is coming to an end i won’t let go of your hand anymore i wish that you would love me ❞

(or the one in which bighit holds a raffle for army to spend 4 months with bts in a remote lakehouse, and you win)

word count: 1390 warnings: cursing

see author notes at the end

Words could not begin to describe the cocktail of emotions that shot straight through your veins as you stared down at your phone.

"Dear (L/N) (F/N),     Congratulations! You've won the raffle!     Please contact us by January 31st, 2021 to claim your prize.     We look forward to hearing from you. -BigHit Entertainment"

This had to be a joke, right? There was no way that this was real. Spam or a cruel joke from your family or maybe this was a dream.

You reached over and pinched your forearm. Hard.

The only thing that resulted was an explosion of stinging pain across your nerves and involuntary tears springing to your eyes.

So this wasn't a dream. But that still left spam or a joke.

It was totally in character for either of your brothers to pull something like this. But you didn't know if they knew how to spoof an email address, and, as you peered at the screen, you realized that address looked very official.

Quickly, you opened an incognito browser and did a Google search for BigHit's email address (addresses?). There was no guarantee of credibility, but still, it was better than operating under the assumption of goodwill. That was the sort of thing that got you hacked and all of your data sold on the dark web, and that was something you'd rather avoid. Once you'd found emails that looked like they might be correct, you opened the email again to compare them. The result had your heart hammering in your chest and your pulse fluttering in your throat like hummingbird wings.

They were almost identical.

This was probably the real deal.

This was probably the real deal.

You leaned back in your chair, a bark of disbelieving laughter leaving your lips.

Well shit.

You had some plans to make, you guess.

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"Dear (L/N) (F/N),     We discussed what you mentioned in your last email, and, in the effort of making you more comfortable, we thought that we might send the boys out one at a time to join you in the as-of-yet undisclosed location. You would have a week to get to know each other individually before another member would join you both.     Is this sufficient? -BigHit Entertainment"

"Dear BigHit Entertainment,     That sounds great! Thank you so much for being so understanding. I really appreciate it. -(F/N) (L/N)"

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"Your plane will leave tomorrow at 6:00 AM. Sorry, but that ended up being the most convenient time."

"It's fine, I understand," you said, smiling even though you wanted to cry at the thought of waking up at 4 in the morning so that you could make the plane ride. You'd have to make an emergency order from Target for a couple of those Starbucks frappucinos. You absently scrawled a reminder to yourself down onto a sticky note that you stuck to your corkboard, phone balanced between your shoulder and your ear.

Oh, how you missed the days when you could just drive to the store down the road and pick up whatever junk food you happened to be craving at the moment.

Still, life goes on.

"All precautions will be taken, of course. Still, when you arrive in Seoul, you'll be required to quarantine for two weeks. I know you've already been informed, but I just wanted to double-check one more time: you are okay with this, correct?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

You'd expected it, in fact. They couldn't have known for certain that the ARMY that won the raffle would be from Korea, and there were all sorts of travel restrictions, worsened by winter - that they could fly you in at all was nothing short of a miracle. Quarantine seemed obvious.

You'd rather not spend time holed up in some hotel or someplace for fourteen days, waiting to see if you'll start displaying symptoms, but you'd also rather not get other people sick by accident - especially not the boys. The only way those two things could coincide was if the pandemic was over, and, unfortunately, things weren't there yet. You were still praying for a vaccine, but in the meantime.

"All right, I believe that's everything. We look forward to meeting you, (L/N)-ssi."

"I look forward to meeting you, too. Thank you. I really appreciate this opportunity."

It sounded like the person on the other end was smiling when they replied, "Of course. Have a good day."

"You, too."

"Bye."

You hung up and turned in your chair. Your suitcases were packed and waiting by the front door, and butterflies swooped in your stomach. In less than 24 hours, you'd be hopping on a plane to Korea, and in a little more than 2 weeks, you'd be meeting BTS.

Already, you were nervous. You couldn't imagine how much of a wreck you'd become as the day approached. Still, that was something for future-you to deal with. Present-you had enough on your plate.

First order of business: ordering coffee.

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You blinked blearily up at the airport.

Where to now? you wondered as you stepped through the automatic doors. Multiple signs blinked at you to please wear a mask, and you adjusted yours a little, fixing it on the bridge of your nose. You glanced around. There weren't any obvious directions or anything.

"Uh, are you (Y/N) (L/N)?" an unfamiliar voice spoke.

You turned.

A woman in a pressed blue uniform and a matching mask stood there. She stopped the mandatory six feet away, and, judging from the crinkles of her eyes, she was smiling at you.

"That's me," you said, reshouldering your carry-on bag.

"Excellent!" she chirped, in true customer service fashion.

You felt bad for her, having to be this upbeat at ass o'clock in the morning. Maybe she could recommend you her coffee brand. Or maybe she was just fueled by spite like you'd been when you worked at the coffee shop downtown. Opening was always a fucking nightmare.

"Please follow me." She gestured onwards, then began walking.

You trailed behind.

"I'll take you to security," she continued as she walked, her heels clicking against the linoleum. "You'll be flying on a private plane today. Whoever's flying you out must really want to be sure you're safe." She paused. "And have a lot of money." She gave a tottering laugh.

You probably would've found the joke funnier if you were actually awake, but alas. You'd had two of your three coffees already, but there was only so much caffeine could do when it was up against the existential nightmare of an early morning.

Luckily, she didn't seem particularly daunted by her less-than-enthusiastic audience. Instead, she kept chattering on - about what, you weren't sure; you were having an incredibly hard time focusing your foggy brain to focus on anything for longer than 0.2 seconds.

You were flying to Korea. Jesus Christ. The reality was finally sinking in - as much as it could, given your current state. What country had you saved in a past life to be this lucky?

You likewise went through security in a daze, still reeling. You were only slightly more coherent when you were boarding the plane.

The flight attendant gave you a sympathetic smile and advised that you try to get some sleep - it was going to be a long flight.

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14 hours later, give or take, the plane had touched down in Seoul. You disembarked and were immediately swept away, rushed through customs before being deposited into the care of BigHit employees. One notable employee being Kim Hyun-Woo, whom had been the one you communicated with primarily as this whole thing was being set up.

He greeted you with a wide grin. "It's so great to finally be able to meet you in person, (L/N)-ssi."

You tried to return his smile as best you could. "You as well." You yawned. "Sorry, that was a really long flight."

"I understand." He nodded and gestured to the car. "If you'll climb inside, we'll take you to the hotel you'll be staying at for the duration of your quarantine."

You did so, and you were soon on your way.

You watched Seoul's cityscape slide by, the brilliant lights offset by the dark of the night, and you wondered why it was that you felt like your life was about to change. Forever.

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Short first chapter I know, but the next chapter will be longer - and juicier. You’ll be joined by the first member next chapter, so be sure to vote to decide who that’ll be.

#bts x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #interactive fanfiction