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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

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Chapter 11 - Student Council President Sakura / Graduation Chapter

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Youtube playlist for your reading accompaniment

They held a run-through of the graduation ceremony on the last day of class and technically the last day of the trio’s high school life. Unlike their first general assembly, Uchiha Sasuke was to deliver the graduation speech but not without great sulking from Haruno Sakura who landed a close second despite ranking first in their final exams.

And obviously, not without Sasuke trying to give up his speech privileges by campaigning instead for Sakura.

In the end, all three of them were granted speech slots – one for Sasuke as valedictorian, Sakura as student representative, and Naruto as the school’s first national MVP. It was this debacle that led the three of them to brainstorm in an empty AVR after the dry run.

“Done!” Sakura yelled like the diligent student she was. “Let me look at yours!”

Sasuke presented her a blank paper while saying, “It’s all prepared in my head”, and Naruto showed her his baseball doodles.

“Oh God, you’re all so hopeless.”

Then the electricity suddenly got cut off in the AVR. Sakura expected the boys to screech in surprise and cling to each other, but she only heard silence in the dark. She jumped in her seat when the doors opened with a loud bang, a confetti splash, and the lights coming back to life.

Sasuke and Naruto were still in front of her, holding two bouquets of irises and yellow roses. Behind them were the old and new student council members with other students holding a large banner saying Thank you, Student Council President Sakura!

She started to leave her seat to come to them, but they gestured for her to stay on her seat. In front of the room, the large monitor beeped and showed a compilation of videos.

Sukehiro Aoi, an alumni and currently an intern in an animation studio. “Hello, Ms. Pres. You once asked the body to submit a publication material for an event of the student council, and I sent mine through a dummy email with no expectations of winning. I wasn’t comfortable with the public seeing my art. I was afraid of the unsolicited remarks so sending it anonymously gave me some relief. You chose it however, and you knew how big a credit was to an artist. I was really scared when you were able to hunt me down just by my watermark, but my name in the info blast caught the attention of a school board member and referred me to this animation studio. It was the littlest thing, but you handed me my dream.”

Watanabe Kota was a year below them. He has a small frame, round thick glasses, and battled with face acne. “Ms. Pres! People never had much confidence in my physical appearance, so I don’t know what you saw in me when you asked me to take over the school radio. But here we are – we’re airing daily and we even produce documentaries and radio programs. Thank you for seeing what I didn’t.”

Ito Amanaya, a typical jock in the football team, muscular and came across as intimidating, but he had the gentlest cadence. “I was bullied by the same group that bullied your dynamic duo. When you ran them off, you also saved my life. Thank you, Haruno.”

Kimura Shinze, a classmate in third year, beautiful, popular, and the captain of the cheering squad. “Hope you’re having a great day, Ms. Pres. Remember that time when the class was guessing who were our crushes and I blurted out that it was a girl, you told me thank you for telling us. That was…a big deal to me. Thank you for that gesture.”

Himurata Aoi, president of the koto club. “Sakura, I know you had many people come up and confessed to you so when I did try, I was glad that you didn’t give me a bullshit reason like you’re not into girls. You turned me down because you have someone you already love. I am thankful for your honesty.”

The biology teacher, Takahashi Kande. “Student council, thank you for your mental health program. As a single father to twins, I don’t have the luxury of time to sit in a couch and sort out my issues. To be able to do that in my workplace during breaks is a heaven-sent gift. You saved me and my family. Thank you.”

Many more messages came on, from a classmate she lent spare change to, from a staff she helped clean, from countless students who she wasn’t aware she gave kindness to.

“Why….” She asked breathlessly.

“You’ve been beating yourself lately. We thought you needed some reminding,” Sasuke muttered, under his breath, the bouquet still in his hands. “You left some pretty big footprints, Ms. Pres.

“You might not have noticed,” Naruto jested. “But this is always innate and natural to you, isn’t it?”

“Why did you bother so much?” She was reduced to tears.

“It was Naruto’s idea.”

“Huh? You did all the compiling though!”

“Shut up, it was me,” yelled the current president.

“Thank you, everyone.”

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

It was a weekend, but Sasuke requested Sakura and Naruto to meet him at the school gates. He only gave the time and place, and he knew well enough that they would be there – no questions asked.

They stood there, minutes earlier than planned, a first but nothing more unusual than homebody Sasuke asking them to go out on a weekend. Sakura wore an oversized rust shirt over a pair of muted cotton blue trousers tied with a brown leather belt and tan fisherman sandals, her long hair kept in one single braid at the back. Naruto probably expected a fancy lunch with his outfit – black silky long sleeves over gray pants and black loafers.

Sasuke, high on impulsive decisions, wore bright colors, a complete departure from his usual neutrals; mustard vest over a deep violet polo, baggy pants, off white converse, and a white fanny pack. “Well, we’re mostly dressed for comfort, except for that idiot beside you.”

“What do you mean dressed for comfort? I borrowed these loafers from my vice-captain and my feet aren’t used to them,” Naruto whined. “Besides, aren’t you taking us out to a five-star meal, Mr. Valedictorian?”

“Wow, what a way to show off.” Sakura pursed her lips in annoyance. “Don’t worry Naruto, I got your next café order.”

“Ah no. It was just something we heard from the grape vine.” Naruto scratched his head and carefully glanced at Sasuke. “Grumpy got his trust fund today.”

In bated breaths, they waited for him to respond with a scowl or a retort, but he just nodded. “Come on, we’ll miss the train.”

They traveled for three stations and disembarked on the fourth, Sasuke sandwiched in between the two, his shoulders pillows again to their heads and yet such burdens were light as cotton. The surfacing emotions since last week were taking hold of him, but he needed to pull through somehow because breaking down while commuting was one thing he did not really see doing.

“Word just got in. The house was turned over this morning,” Itachi told him over the phone.

“Impeccable timing when I’m also moving abroad next week.” Sasuke pulled out his Bleachers vinyl and anticipated another lonesome lull for the night.

“Do you miss the cream puffs?”

“Nothing comes close.”

“Hmm. I’ll pay for the rental fee of your car.”

In Itachi’s defense, while he was an afficionado of escapism, he also knew how to read between the lines. “Watch me get a Mercedes-Benz.”

“I have a good driving playlist.” This only meant math rock, and Sasuke wanted something to scream his lungs too.

“Don’t need one.”

“Treat your friends to dinner, okay? Gotta go.”

“We’re walking?!” Naruto almost limped out of the train. Sasuke took one look at his heels and saw that they were bruised red. He took off his converse and socks and gave them to him.

Sakura whipped out a small first-aid kit and covered the rash on Naruto’s heels. “Hey don’t look at me like that. Brought it just in case we’re going on a day survival tour. A camping would be nice too.”

“Did you scrub your feet, idiot?”

“You think so low of me grumpy. Of course – last week!”

With Naruto now comfortable, the three resumed walking on the unfamiliar residential area. Sasuke gestured for them to enter a bamboo forest on the far side of the main road. Hidden in the shadows of the clumped stalks were a small opening, the growth hampered and ground rid of grasses and weeds; many people have also chosen this shortcut, walked through the forest, did a little nature bathing, and emerged behind the bakery, still there, still standing, still operating.

Sasuke tapped on the large glass window cum counter on the front and bought three sets of cream puffs.

“Oh, it’s you,” the old baker greeted. “You brought your friends over? You always buy one set.”

Sasuke offered her a smile, briefly glancing to his periphery where Sakura was fussing with Naruto’s feet, and nodded as he accepted the paper bag. “It’s on the house, kid.”

“You brought us to stalk someone’s house?” Sakura dug in one paper bag, bit the puff in one bite, and with full mouth, she sighed. “This is heaven.”

“It’s our old family house, before the accident that is.” Sasuke also took out one puff and munched on it, ruminating on the sight before him, a two-story house with an imposing façade, his mom’s climbing hydrangea gone and cut by the new owners, beds of roses and daisies already withered, but the wisteria tree on the vacant lot beside continued to grow and shade what he supposed were the children’s rooms. It was in his third bite that he saw the tomato fruits he planted, alive and full with harvest. “Do you think my parents know?”

Naruto slid an arm across his shoulder and grinned sheepishly. “Then they would be happy ghosts or maybe they would voluntarily move away to give the new owners the opportunity to make it a happy a home like yours.

“What part are you gonna miss?” Sakura asked, halfway through her set of puffs.

“The sight of the wisteria before I sleep and after I wake up, and the sunlight in my parents’ room. My dad liked to make these suncatchers for my mom. The play of light was a good morning greeting, she said.”

“What’s your funniest memory?” Naruto sat on the grass, uncaring for the stains that would taint his good pair of pants.

“It was probably Christmas when I was seven, and Itachi had this big idea to bake a cake, but he swapped the sugar for the salt and we were wondering why it wouldn’t make a custard. Our parents still ate it, saying it was a very salty version of dark chocolate cake.”

“It was a good home,” Sakura patted the space between her and Naruto and Sasuke sat down cross-legged too, dipping his hand on the paper bag with the last cream puff.

“It was a good home,” Sasuke agreed as he bit into the last vestige of his family memory. He was suckling the powdered sugar off his fingers when he realized he was already crying, and the two were downright sobbing on his either side.

Such an embarrassing sight to see; he wondered what would the new owners feel if they looked out their windows this instant and saw three teenagers breaking down on the road across. It was honestly stupid and laughable to a point, considering how funny it was for grief to become lighter when someone else cried with him.

Naruto was sniffling so much that he had to offer his handkerchief to him. “I forgot to tell you guys. Hinata confessed to me during the cultural festival.”

“Oh my god. What did you say?” Sakura took a tissue out of her bag and dabbed her eyes. She flashed an apologetic look to Sasuke who already offered his hanky to Naruto’s fluids.

“Ah, what else? I had to reject her.” Naruto sneezed on Sasuke’s handkerchief again. “I told her I was in love with someone else.” He slyly glanced at his raven-haired friend and pursed his lips which Sakura quickly caught.

“Who is it?”

“Sasuke also likes someone.”

“Shut your mouth, blondie. Point is already moot. Besides, we’ve already been rejected.”

“Who are these people and why don’t I know them?” Sakura genuinely looked offended. “I could have vetted them!”

“Exactly why it was fortunate you didn’t meet them,” Sasuke said as an excuse though he pegged Sakura for not being that naïve. She, thankfully, let it go and gathered their trash. She dropped the bomb as she was brushing the grass blades from her trousers. “My parents are divorcing. Such a travesty not to have them show up on graduation day, and I thought I did a great job.”

The two, ever so sure, held onto her hands in case she was trembling again.

“Let’s get that five-star dinner,” Sasuke suggested, “and we need to rent a Mercedes-Benz.”

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

Graduation Day

“Let’s welcome to the stage, class valedictorian, Uchiha Sasuke.” Kakashi was the officiating faculty today so she expected difficulty going through the event, but for some reason, he slipped into her mental back burner, no longer taking up room in her active consciousness. That was a good step, she smiled to herself. Her smile became wider as Sasuke got up the stage.

His fans club’s cheers were heard outside the auditorium, and the graduating class chuckled at the quick interruption. He cleared his throat and started his piece.

“Please get it on record that I was coerced to do this speech. Then again, I also had a hand on the turn of events that led me here today, in front of you. And it’s a little too on the nose, but I came to high school with a clear set of goals – have high grades and lead an uninteresting life. I accomplished the first one rather easily, and it’s a good metric for the future that’s upon us right now. Good grades land us good colleges. Good colleges land us good jobs. Good jobs land us good life.

But it’s not the sole benchmark as I have learned lately. You see, my second goal really missed the mark. Good life can also mean good friends, fun experiences, a caring environment, a complete family. If you ticked off each one, then that’s very notable. You have the four-leaf clover, and it’s a rare blessing. I only ticked off three, but that goes without any regret. If you only have one silver lining in your high school memory, then that makes us all the more human. And if there’s none, there is still is still a whole stretch of possibilities we can discover to find one. Thank you for your kind attention.”

Sakura was pretty sure she heard several sniffles across the student body. “The bastard delivered a good speech,” she muttered to herself.

“We would like to welcome our first national MVP, Uzumaki Naruto.”

Outside, the school band played the cheering anthem for his last national games. The cheerleaders also did a routine in tribute to him. That made him well up when he got to the podium.

“Wait oh my god, I’m tearing up so much.”

Sasuke grunted loudly and went back the stage to hand him a handkerchief which Naruto quickly used to wipe his snot.

“Thanks Sasuke. How can Kakashi-sensei let me follow after that rousing speech, and before Sakura too. It’s kinda evil.”

Laughter broke out.

“Well, this one’s a bare minimum. I didn’t have any goals or expectations, unlike genius grumpy over there. I just wanted to live my life like an ordinary boy. Someone said that how you spend your day is how you live your life so I did just that – ate ramen, slept in class because I am a growing kid, and played each arcade game until I won them. I also believe in serendipitous – thanks Sakura for this word, for the spelling and meaning – serendipitous coincidences. I just pitched and batted for former captain Haru one afternoon and now we landed in the national finals. I had loneliness for a friend, but now I’ve got all of you. And you know what else, the magic of working together. We wouldn’t have stepped foot in the nationals if it weren’t for your collective help. When we work towards a common goal, that also gives us common happiness, right? It’s infectious, a bouncing energy that gets thrown around and still makes it one piece. So wherever you will be after this, believe it!”

When Kakashi called her name next, she thought she was deaf, the noise around her collapsed in muted decibels. It took a minute before her fellow classmates shook her and motioned for her to quickly come up the stairs. Her silver-haired teacher looked so concerned in the shadows, but for what it was worth, she was civil and calm enough (at least in the matters concerning him) to nod at him in quiet exchange of assurance.

It was because she saw both of her parents at the side with a bouquet of roses. She struggled with the paper she brought with her although she had it memorized in her head; she even went through it flawlessly for three times last night. Tears blurred the words and the mere shock of the sight of their togetherness disabled her mental function to string coherent thoughts. She also started hyperventilating, her breaths coming faster than what her lungs could pump.

Then she felt Kakashi’s hand on her shoulder, a steady presence, and it reeled her back to reality. He tapped the mic and the feedback echoed. “Ah, Ms. Haruno had some technical issues. Again, let’s welcome former student council president, Sakura.”

Sasuke and Naruto in the front were almost standing, but she flashed them a smile as if to say she was okay now. “Hello, good day to our honorable guests and graduates. I think it’s safe to say that Sasuke and Naruto provided really good words of advice. So I have nothing more to offer, but to share my gratitude. Everyone was saying the student council did a good job in its programs, but it was actually the lot of you who made this possible – from your activity suggestions to participation and feedback. After all, you were the makers of your memories.

Earlier last week, my councilmates and friends reminded me how small actions go a long way – a smile, a wave across the hallway, a short exchange of good morning and see you soon, and I thought, aren’t we all just an accumulation of these small, little things? As such, it was what you think your insignificant moments were that pushed us to deliver you the best. It was the passing comment, the top-of-your-head tips, the interlude stories we hear during lunch breaks that allowed us to give you grand gestures and memories we hoped were worth keeping. And if we could start to use that perspective as well in our lives then maybe the uncertainties of a future wouldn’t be so heavy on us. We will face tomorrow with a lightness in being.

In behalf of the student council, thank you for allowing us to serve you.”

She bowed at a level where her torso was almost aligned at her hips, and she was confused with the lack of reaction. Sakura sighed, mulling over the deficiencies in her speech, but she straightened her back to a sight of a standing ovation and a thundering applause.

Then, she let her tears fall.

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

“Why would you let Kakashi-sensei take the pic?” Sakura hissed at them.

“Just this one time, Sakura!” Naruto grinned.

“Sakura, you’re out of the frame,” Kakashi remarked. “Okay good. Say cheese.”

In spite of her recent heartbreak with him, she permitted herself to bask in fleeting cordiality. “Cheese.”

“Grumpyyyyyy.”

“Idiot blondie.”

Kakashi took three more shots and handed the camera to the trio. He almost turned away when Sakura caught his sleeve.

“Just one more,” she said. “With you.”

Sakura shifted to the front, almost kneeling with the camera angled for a selfie, her two friends beside her looking equally annoyed as the other, and Kakashi behind them, his hands on either head, smiling with his deceptively charming beauty mark.

It was the last picture of their high school life.

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

The three were rushing through the airport crowd fifteen minutes before the immigration closes gates.

“Here!” Sakura slid a folder on the large pocket on Sasuke’s bag. “It includes your passport, your flight details, your valid IDs, your itinerary, and letters from us! Don’t forget our Friday video calls!”

“I can’t see. These tears are bullies,” Naruto said through tears. He was continuously wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“And If I don’t get on my flight because you made us eat ramen for one last time and the orders took too long, I’m gonna have you cursed by a witch and a shaman!” Sasuke growled. The guards were starting to close the gates when a sobbing Naruto sprinted and basically tackled the guards on the floor.

“Sasuke come on, hurry up!”

“Drink your vitamins! And if you miss cream puffs, I’ll teach you how to make them.” Sakura was trying hard to keep pace with Sasuke’s brisk walking, but she ended up breathless anyway.

The three of them finally reached the immigration entrance, and Naruto was profusely apologizing to the guards for the interruption. Sasuke showed his documents, wheezing as they looked at it. They gave him a thumbs up and opened the gates.

The two were already slumped at the floor, waving without words, and exhausted from the clock race. Sasuke was almost through when he remembered something he forgot. He muttered a quick sorry, ran through the opening, and hugged his two friends.

“I’ll miss you.”

#SCPS #student council president sakura #haruno sakura #uchiha sasuke #uzumaki naruto #hatake kakashi #team 7 #sasusaku #kakasaku #narusaku #fic!pseudolily #fic!pinkhairedlily

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mordcore · 2 years

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ID: five images with AI-generated art, of the following phrases:

1. chronic fatigue at home

2. it's snowing outside but i am not going

3. it is safer in here

4. it is safer in here

5. i cant win

the first image has a maybe sickly vibe, with green and pink dotted blankets surrounding things that could be either houses or monitors such as found in hospitals. basically they have yellow glowing squares in the middle.

the second image has a dreamy kinda vibe, with teal blue and light blue and some orange like at sunset. it looks like a snowscape with leafless trees and a penguin, some vague landscape in the background that might imply a city or mountains. there is also a dark blue unicorn shape.

the third image has fantasy vibes, it looks like the inside of an old building, with a high roof and a mosaic window that light shines through. there are cracks on the wall and the ground is wavy in a solid way that reminds of stone or fabric. there seems to be a robed figure standing under the window non-threateningly. the colors are blue, purple, red and orange and the image has an opalescent quality.

the fourth image has an ukiyoe style, depicting a complex house as seen from the outside. in the middle of it it seemingly depicts people who are resting, folded into the picture in such a way that it feels like they are metaphorically inside the house.

the fifth seems to be a scene in a cave, with fantasy vibes. the ceiling and walls are various shades of blue, but stained with red blood. in the middle there are two figures, one robed and one horse-shaped. they seem to be fighting, a flash of light in the form of a slashing sword between them.

end ID.

(please let me know how i could improve on my image descriptions!)

#short poem about my uhhh illness #i dont actually have a diagnosis yet so keep that i mind as i tag for:#cfs #chronically ill #disability #undiagnosed #and 👀..#my art #😌#wombo dream #wombo app #wombo.art #i love this app sm

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Not Like In The Fairy Tales (But Just As Beautiful) (Crygi/Jankie) - Chaoticnachokitten

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419959

A/N: Heyy:)) I wrote this a few months ago and completely forgot to post it lol. Thanks to @cryshillz for giving me the idea for it and @aqtanawrites for beta-ing<3

Summary: Crystal is just your average high school student, (well, maybe except her makeup and outfit choices), friendly, dreamy and fairly popular. All she wants are her friends, One Direction songs, and maybe a fairy tale esque relationship. Everything would be perfect if it wasn't for that one girl that keeps staring at her with an expression that could kill...

Literally just your typical enemies to lovers high school au:)

It was 6am on a rainy Monday morning. Crystal woke up to the sweet tunes of 'What Makes You Beautiful' by One Direction. She had the habit of using a different One Direction song as her alarm clock every day.

Especially on Mondays she just needed a bit of extra motivation to get up and get ready for school, and that particular song never failed to make her smile, including today.

She slowly got out of bed, and walked up to her closet. It was a beautiful mess of almost offensively bright, colorful clothes. Crystal firmly believed that wearing as many colors as possible was helpful to stay positive all the time. 'Plain' or 'simple' clothing was something she liked to pretend didn't even exist.

Once she was done with picking out her outfit for the day, she went into her bathroom, preparing for her favorite part of her morning routine: her makeup. Firstly, she washed her face, and then applied some products that would hopefully protect her skin from what she was about to do to it. Then, she tried to find all of her needed makeup products. Unfortunately, she had a habit of trying out new looks constantly, and for some reason her products ended up being scattered in the entire bathroom. Her parents had given up on trying to keep the bathroom organized at this point.

After finding everything she needed, which were approximately 50 products, including tons of her beloved glitter, she started with her time consuming but fun painting, blasting her OD playlist to stay in a good mood. Her thoughts drifted around for a bit, eventually settling on the memories of how her high school had tried to get her to dress 'appropriately' and to stop her 'clown like' makeup. At first the teachers had assumed that she would get teased because of her looks, but they had been very wrong. Crystal had such a fun and loveable personality that no one really said anything negative about her, in fact, the only people who teased her about her makeup were her best friends, who obviously didn't mean it. Crystal was friends with just about everyone, except one person.

Crystal quickly tried to think of something else, she didn't want to ruin her morning by thinking about the only person she didn't like.

So, after the teachers had realized that no other student would tell her to stop with her makeup, they tried to threaten her by sending her to the principal's office multiple times. But, since she kept arguing about how she needed to express herself, and because her grades were good, the teachers gave up and her style was tolerated eventually. At least her art teacher loved her creativity.

Crystal checked herself out in the mirror one last time. Her long, curly hair was brushed nicely, it looked all shiny and soft like usual, she was wearing a full face of makeup, around three times the amount of what an average student would wear, and her outfit complemented her makeup nicely. Afterwards she went on her way to her high school, which happened to be just a few minutes away from her home. As always, she had her earphones in so she could continue to listen to her playlist, which she had named 'positive vibes'.

Before entering the big, old, dull building, she removed her earphones as electronic devices were strictly forbidden and had to be stored in the school bags, otherwise a teacher had the right to take them away. It was a stupid and annoying rule, but other than about her personal style, Crystal didn't like getting in trouble, so she just accepted it.

Crystal's morning had been pretty good so far, but of course, the first person she saw in the hallway was the one she didn't like. Her name was Gigi Goode, and, Crystal usually didn't like to swear, the only word that could be used to describe her was a complete bitch. Now, sadly, Gigi was gorgeous, everyone was jealous of her looks. Even after a long P.E lesson she still managed to look perfect, not even a single makeup particle out of place. Gigi exclusively wore expensive makeup and clothes, always looking like she was about to be on the cover of Vogue or something. Not only that, but she was smart too, a straight A student, nothing less ever. She regularly engaged in class, the teachers often used her as a good example. But beyond that, Gigi was also the most conceited person Crystal knew. She seemed to lack any kind of empathy or friendliness. The only thing she seemed to care about was herself and her reputation.

She wasn't really friends with anyone, everyone was intimidated by her. She didn't seem to care for friendships anyway. But Gigi just seemed to hate Crystal for no reason. Everytime Crystal was near Gigi she looked at the ground to avoid the look. Gigi liked to glare at Crystal like she was something unsightly, like a stain on her clothes or a disgusting bug or something along those lines. Nothing out of the ordinary, except today, if anything, Gigi looked at her with an even meaner expression than usual.

"Maybe her favorite brand of lipstick got discontinued," Crystal thought to herself as she searched for her friends, all she had to do was follow the sound. And sure enough, just a few meters away she spotted Jan and Jackie, who were talking about something. Jan seemed to be even more enthusiastic than usual, and Jackie looked slightly concerned.

"...it's a genius plan, I promise! And very easy to execute. We have to show them that they just belong together."

Jan was nearly screaming the last sentence, loud enough to hear clearly for Crystal who was just waiting for their conversation to end as she didn't want to interrupt them. But then, Jan saw Crystal and monitored for her to come.

"Genius plan? Jan, look, I love you very much, but the last time you said that, and canceled our movie night for it-"

"You're still mad about that?" Jan asked with a hint of amusement.

"Let me finish. Last time you had one of your 'genius ideas' you broke into the school with Nicky to save the frogs we were meant to dissect in biology."

"Well, obviously my plan worked because the frogs are now free, and we didn't have to dissect anything!"

Jackie sighed, fighting the smile caused by the adorableness of her girlfriend, and shook her head fondly.

"And I'm very happy about that. However, you and Nicky got detention for a whole month and only very narrowly avoided legal consequences. And you were grounded forever!"

Jan looked at Jackie with huge eyes.

"But..the frogs..they were worth all of that."

Jackie looked at Crystal who had just been listening to the fairly weird conversation. Though that kind of stuff wasn't uncommon for Jan and Jackie at all.

"Crystal, I'm dating an idiot."

Crystal just laughed and then shyly looked at Jan. The girl looked back at her with mock anger. Then she turned her attention back to Jackie.

"Oh, so I'm the idiot now? I would like to remind you of the time when I was still grounded, and you decided to do it like they do it in the movies and attempted to climb up my house to get into my room through the window, just because you wanted to see me..it's not like you see me at school literally every day."

"It was Saturday. And we spent some..quality time that day."

"That was after I quite literally had to pull you up myself after you almost fell down."

Jackie was about to respond when the bell rang as annoyingly as ever, announcing that the first class was about to start. Jan, Jackie, Crystal and, unfortunately for Crystal, Gigi were all in the same class. Jan attempted to leave, but she was pulled back by Jackie.

"No girl, no skipping classes anymore. You'll just get into trouble again."

"But..." Jan started.

"No buts. You're coming with us. Do you need a bit of..extra motivation?"

Jan smirked, getting the hint, and then nodding excitedly.

Jackie hugged her, and then placed a kiss on Jan's soft lips. A few seconds later they were full on making out.

Around a minute later the bell rang again, and the two of them broke apart. Jackie looked at Crystal, who was now staring at the ground, blushing, apologetically.

"Crys, oh my God, I'm so sorry you had to witness that."

"You're not sorry," Jan disagreed.

"It's fine, I'm used to it by now, I know how gross you guys are," Crystal smiled.

"Anyway, let's go, otherwise we'll be late for class," Jackie said in a slightly nervous tone. She hated being late.

Jan sighed.

"And I'm dating the teacher's pet."

Before Jan could try to run away again, Jackie grabbed the girl's hand and dragged her along.

On the way to class, Crystal couldn't help but feel jealous of her friends. Jan and Jackie were just such a cute couple. It wasn't like she was attracted to either of them, it was more that she had the desire to experience the same kind of love they had for each other. She wanted that kind of fairytale fantasy cute relationship, with the occasional playful teasing.

The three of them finally reached the classroom, just in time. Crystal sat down in her usual spot, and got out her needed school supplies. Since the teacher surprisingly wasn't there yet, she checked her phone, scrolling through her social media. Since there wasn't anything too interesting, she switched it off soon again and looked around for a bit. To her horror, she noticed that Gigi was looking at her. But something was weird about it. Crystal could have sworn that Gigi had looked at her with an almost friendly expression...probably as friendly as Gigi was able to, before using the look again. A few seconds later Gigi looked away again. Crystal missed that Gigi was blushing.

Crystal suddenly felt like she had invaded Gigi's personal space. It was stupid, but she felt her face heat up. To try and calm down, she ran a hand through her hair to fix it, even though nothing was wrong with it in the first place before opening her notepad, and started doodling tiny flowers and animals in it so she had something to focus on.

Just when she had calmed down enough to feel as comfortable as she could while being at school, the English teacher entered the room, greeting the students. Crystal looked up for a minute, listening to what the teacher was talking about, before going back to doodling. She was almost always more focused in class while drawing. It was accepted by most teachers, and a real blessing in art class.

Today was different. For some reason, she kept thinking about Gigi, and the way she had seen the unusual behavior of her today. It honestly wouldn't have been a big deal at all, but she had never seen Gigi without that I-accidentally-bit-into-a-lemon glance, and instead looked at Crystal like she was an actual person. Thinking about it caused Crystal to feel an odd, but definitely not unpleasant sensation spreading from her heart. Could it be..?

"No. No, definitely not, not her," she told herself before forcefully turning her attention back to the teacher.

"Okay, so today we'll start with a new topic: presentations. They are very important, you will have to do one in pretty regardless of where you want to work in your later life. Now, we'll work on your confidence first, therefore the topic of the presentation will be up to you. And because teamwork is very important as well, you'll work in groups of two."

The teacher noticed that Jan had raised her hand.

"Yes, Jan?"

"How about we get paired up randomly? Later on in our life we don't get to choose either who we'll have to work with, so this might be some good practice."

The teacher nodded, impressed by Jan's level of maturity, and surprised because the girl usually didn't participate that much.

The rest of the class seemed okay with that idea as all of them got along quite well. Jackie looked at Jan with a surprised look, Jan smiled at her before mouthing "all part of my plan, don't worry."

The teacher resumed.

"Great idea, actually, thanks Jan. Okay, everyone, please take out a piece of paper and write down your names. Then fold it and bring it to my desk."

Jan raised her hand again.

"Yes?"

"Can I please read out the teams?"

"Yeah, sure."

The next few minutes were spent by people asking for paper and pens and then writing down all of the names. Jan hastily scribbled the three letters of her own name before turning her attention to Crystal. She was writing down her name on that obnoxious rainbow colored paper she adored, making the next step of Jan's plan easier.

Then she looked at Gigi. She was using some expensive art paper she usually used to draw gorgeous pictures on. It even felt expensive, so spotting it later on shouldn't be too hard either. Jan couldn't quite believe that her plan was going so smoothly.

Jackie was ready to bring her paper to the teacher's desk, but Jan stopped her before she could do so.

"Wait, I want to be paired up with you. Mark it with a smiley or something," Jan whispered.

Jackie smirked before doing so.

"Fine, miss we-should-work-with-different-people-to-gain-new-experience."

"You'll understand later."

After every piece of paper was on the desk, Jan mixed all of them up to keep up the illusion that every pair would be selected in a fair and completely random way..

Crystal felt someone looking at her. When she looked around, it was Gigi once again. This time she was sure she had seen Gigi's initial expression which had looked almost dreamy before she was back to looking mean again. When Crystal didn't look right away again, Gigi even looked insecure for a split second before hissing "what the hell are you looking at?" before looking away herself.

Crystal was shocked. Had she just seen the usually overly confident Gigi Goode looking...insecure?

She didn't even have time to process everything that had just happened as Jan, who had already paired up quite a few people, called her name.

"Okay so Crystal and.."

Jan tried to make it seem like she was just randomly picking out a piece of paper.

"Gigi."

Crystal's jaw dropped. She didn't dare to look at Gigi. That was the worst team she had ever been in. She was shocked to the point of shivering. She felt her blood running both hot and cold at the same time. And just when she had tried to reason that she could just do her part of the assignment alone, and would just have to do the presentation with Gigi, the teacher spoke up again.

"To ensure you'll actually work together, you will get a grade as a team instead of individual ones. Before you can go, please note that you now have one week to prepare. Since I already wrote down the teams, please don't change them up again. Okay, that's it. Goodbye, see you all tomorrow."

Everyone except Crystal packed up and got ready to leave. Gigi, for once, looked unsettled and left as soon as she could in order to keep up her usual act and not show any emotions. Crystal, on the other hand, was too shocked to do anything other than staring off into space. This was officially the worst day in her life. There was no way she would survive working together with someone who looked like she was about to stab Crystal as soon as they were alone.

Jan pulled her out of her almost trance like state by waving her arms in front of Crystal.

"Hey, are you okay? You don't look good, you're so pale out of the sudden."

Crystal looked at Jan desperately.

"Okay?? No, I'm not 'okay' at all. In case you missed it, I have to work with Gigi out of all people and I can't switch partners...what am I going to do?"

Jan decided to act like she was sorry. In her opinion that drastic measure was necessary to make Crystal and Gigi talk for once, and hopefully that would be enough to make them see that they like each other. Jan had seen the way Gigi looked at Crystal when the latter wasn't aware of it, and she knew that Crystal had a hard time noticing and admitting that she liked someone, due to the fact that she once had her heart broken badly before, and it had taken lots of time and support from her friends to get over it. So, complaining about someone more often than usual was Crystal's way to try and suppress her feelings.

"I'm so sorry Crys, but I'm sure it's going to be fine. And if she's mean to you, I'll make her pay for it, I promise. In fact, I still have that weird hair dye that's supposed to dye your hair purple, but it turned mine green and it took an eternity to get it out again, remember that?"

Crystal forced herself to giggle. She did feel a bit better knowing that Jan would help her if things didn't go smoothly.

"Thanks, Janice, I appreciate it. And honestly, the green didn't look that bad. Besides, you obviously care about green frogs enough to risk legal consequences, so dyeing your hair to match them is just the natural next step."

"I probably shouldn't have told anyone that story, but I would have never thought that saving countless innocent lives would ever be used against me, at least not that frequently. But anyway, ready to leave now?"

Crystal sighed. She really didn't want to see Gigi anymore, at least today.

"What are the chances of Jackie killing you for skipping class one more time with me?"

Jan laughed.

"Unfortunately too high to risk it. Besides, you won't be able to avoid her all week, and if you don't want a bad grade you will have to work with her. Once again, I'm very sorry."

"Okay, fine. And don't apologize Jan, it's not your fault."

Jan had to suppress a smirk. If only she knew..

The rest of the school day surprisingly wasn't that terrible. Gigi didn't look at Crystal at all, not even once, instead she was fully concentrated on engaging as much as usual in each class. Crystal on the other hand didn't care about anything else that moment, she was trying and failing to come up with a way that would make working with Gigi okay. And she sure as hell wouldn't be the one to start the conversation. Since Gigi wasn't satisfied with anything less than an A, she probably would be the one to approach Crystal anyway. Hopefully.

When the school bell rang again, this time to indicate that the day was over, Crystal couldn't wait to get home, she carelessly stuffed her school supplies into her rainbow colored bag and nearly stormed out of the school without even saying goodbye to any of her friends. For once she didn't care about being nice and polite, she just wanted to go home, crawl into her bed, cry, listen to music, and ignore the world around her until she would feel better.

But today some higher force seemed to have something against her. Once she was back home, laying in her bed comfortably, surrounded by her plushies, she decided to check her phone before listening to music. It turned out to be a big mistake. She saw that she had received a message by an unknown number. Usually she would have just ignored and blocked it, but she couldn't. The number had a profile picture, and Crystal immediately recognized it. A pretty girl with perfect skin and shiny brunette hair. Gigi.

She decided that she deserved a break from everything that had happened today, so she turned on airplane mode so she wouldn't be disturbed by anyone anymore, put in her earphones once again, and then clicked on her playlist. She proceeded to close her eyes, trying not to think about anything, just listen to the music instead. She wasn't able to calm down though, even after 30 minutes of trying. The message she had refused to read out of fear earlier seemed to be haunting her. She decided to finally read it.

'Hey, it's Gigi.

It seems like we'll have to work together. I'm sure you're just as interested in a good grade as I am, so I think we should talk things out. Hating each other while trying to give a good presentation will probably not work out, plus we haven't even decided on a topic. So come to my place at 6pm, here is the address.'

Crystal checked the time. She had about an hour left. According to Google, getting to the location would take 45 minutes. She didn't want to make Gigi mad now that it seemed like they would maybe be able to finally work their problems out. She hastily jumped out of her bed, and ran into the bathroom to touch up her makeup as soon as possible.

Thankfully it wasn't terribly smudged or anything, so she was able to go on her way just a few minutes later. That way she would even have a bit of extra time in case she didn't find Gigi's house or if she needed some time to prepare herself mentally for actually ringing the doorbell, which was very likely going to be the case. Crystal had a pretty bad sense of orientation.

Meanwhile, Gigi was anxiously pacing around in her room, checking her makeup and outfit every time she passed a mirror. She had a lot of them in her room. Gigi knew that she was a mess on the inside right now, so it was even more important for her not to show it on the inside. She hoped that her facade that she had built up over the years was enough to hide her emotions from Crystal. The truth was, she wasn't as confident as she pretended to be. In fact, Gigi was a very insecure girl, afraid that someone would see right through her, able to tell just how weak she actually was on the inside. She was scared that people would make fun of her, so she just pushed everyone who tried to befriend her away. Being friends with people had never worked out in the past, instead she had been used and then she had been left with low self esteem and trust issues. Eventually she decided she wouldn't get hurt by people ever again, and that was when she started wearing expensive clothes to intimidate people and flawless makeup as it made her feel like a completely different person, beautiful and confident. Her makeup was like a mask for her as well, a constant reminder that she needed to keep up her facade to remain safe.

Gigi's thoughts were interrupted by the piercing sound of the doorbell. She checked her makeup for what seemed like the 100th time that day, and then went to open the door.

"Hey," Crystal greeted her, looking as nervous and anxious as Gigi felt. For some reason it made her feel better.

"Hey. Thanks for coming. Come in." Gigi managed to keep her usual cool tone despite the fact that she was extremely nervous.

Crystal did as she was told. Unexpectedly, Gigi's house was both huge, almost as big as a mansion, and the furniture looked extremely expensive and beautiful. But since Crystal was also a nervous mess, she wasn't able to focus on anything properly.

Gigi led her into her room (a gigantic one, beautiful and organized, girly but not at all kitschy) and monitored for Crystal to sit down on her bed. Crystal, again, did as she was told, it was her only option as she couldn't even think straight. Gigi carefully sat down next to her. She didn't look at Crystal because she felt like she would break if she did, and instead stared at her ceiling.

"Okay so, I guess I'll explain why I behave the way I do around you. The truth is, I don't hate you. I know you think I do, but I don't. In fact, I'm jealous of you."

Crystal couldn't believe her ears. First of all, Gigi talking about her feelings? And most importantly: How could Gigi Perfect Goode be jealous of her? Crystal bit her tongue to remain silent, the question was burning on her tongue, but she felt like talking wasn't a good idea right now.

"You're so lucky. You get to be yourself. You can wear and act however you want because you're so cute and loveable and everyone wants to be your friend."

Did Gigi just call me cute?

"You don't know what it means to constantly act like a bitch to keep people away from me. And all of that because I'm scared. I'm so scared of being judged. Of being used, of being hurt. I can't handle another person lowering my self esteem to the point where I can't leave the house anymore. It took me months to get where I am today. Why do you think I check my hair and makeup every few minutes? Why do you think I keep staring at you?"

Gigi was getting so emotional that she had to stop talking as her eyes were starting to get as glossy as her perfectly applied lip gloss. She tried taking deep breaths to calm down, but that just made everything worse.

"This is so stupid, I'm sorry…"

"Gigi, please don't call your emotions stupid. It's okay to express your feelings,you've been ignoring them for far too long already. I promise I won't tell anyone. And I know what being hurt feels like, believe me, and being able to talk about my feelings helped me a lot."

Perhaps it were Crystal's words, perhaps Gigi's feelings were too much for her to bottle up anymore, but just a minute later she found herself bawling her eyes out while Crystal had her arms wrapped around her in a protective and comforting way that Gigi actually felt like it was okay for her to cry and let out everything. It was weird, they didn't even really know each other, and surely she wouldn't have expected the meeting with Crystal to go like that at all, but strangely enough it felt so right.

After a solid ten minutes of crying, Gigi was finally starting to calm down. She decided that now, since she had told Crystal her secret already and she had also cried in Crystal's arms, which had probably ruined her pretty makeup/ facade, she had nothing to lose anymore. She freed herself from Crystal's grip, cupped the girl's face, and proceeded to kiss her like she had been wanting to for months. She was fast and aggressive, all of her emotions went into it.

Crystal didn't even think, the kiss felt more than right, so she kissed back just a second later with the same intensity to match Gigi's energy.

It wasn't like the start of her dream fairy tale beginning of a relationship, quite the opposite, actually. Gigi was still crying, Crystal's face was getting wet from the tears, but in that moment she could have cared less about the 'perfect' start of a relationship. What she had right here was just as perfect to her, if not more.

After what could have been seconds, minutes, or even days, both of them were blown away by the intensity of the moment that time didn't matter anymore, they slowly broke apart.

"Crystal I'm so sorry. I didn't know what came over me," Gigi started all of the sudden. She was breathing way too fast.

"Shh, calm down. My only question is, did you mean the kiss? Be honest."

Gigi nodded, looking away.

"I meant it too when I kissed you back."

Gigi looked like a weight had been lifted off of her. Then, she seemed to have an idea.

"I know this is incredibly early, but uhm..I'm alone and my parents won't come back until in a few days, do you maybe want to stay with me for the night? I just want to find out more about the girl I've been secretly admiring for the past few months."

Crystal smiled softly.

"Of course. I would love to know more about the girl that has been hiding every emotion for..I don't even know how long. Tell me what you're feeling, every single one, I want to know all about them. And please don't ever be afraid again to show people your vulnerable side. The world may be terrible, but not every single person is, I promise."

"You're the prime example of that," Gigi said quietly.

"You're still treating me like this even though I was such a terrible person to you...thank you so much Crystal."

With that, they intertwined their fingers, slowly getting closer until their lips touched again. This time it felt different, but just as amazing. It was all slow and tender, and neither of them wanted the moment to end. Maybe it was like in the kitschy fairy tales after all.

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #jan sport #jackie cox #crygi #jankie #high school au #angst #hurt/comfort #chaoticnachokitten #concrit welcome #s12

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anxious-logic · 4 years

Text

A Burden Shared

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 6: When your soulmate is injured you will experience pain in that area.

Ship: Analogicality (Patton x Virgil x Logan)

Warnings: Mentions of unsafe binding, self-harm, periods

Word Count: 2,351 (it’s a long one!)

Patton – Age 3

“Ow!”

Patton gasped as he pulled his hand towards his chest. It felt like he’d gotten a boo-boo on his finger from the coloring book, but he couldn’t see anything.

“Mommy?” he called, looking up to find his mom. “Mommy!”

His mom poked his head out from her office.

“What is it, sweetie?”

Patton held out his finger, sniffling. “My finger has a boo-boo but I can’t find it.”

His mom’s face made a weird look. She didn’t say anything for a minute.

She walked over to where Patton was and picked him up, propping him up on her hip.

“Okay, Patton. Do you know anything about soulmates?”

***

Lisa – Age 6

Lisa was frustrated.

Now, this wasn’t exactly rare for her. She experienced frustration on a quite regular basis; usually caused by something to do with her classmates or teachers. But this particular brand of frustration was quite new to her.

“Lisa, just put on the dress!” Her father said, exasperated at having to repeat himself yet again.

“No!” she insisted. “I don’t want to wear a dress, I want to wear pants.”

“I told you, you have to wear a dress to visit your grandmother. We’ve been over this. Put on the dress.”

“No.”

Lisa sat down where she was, refusing to move. If her father wanted her to wear a dress, he would have to manhandle her into it.

Then she had an idea.

“It’s because my soulmate,” she said quietly.

Her father froze.

“What about him?”

“They hurt their shoulder yesterday. It still hurts today. The dress wouldn’t feel good on it.”

Lisa only felt a little guilty manipulating her father; he had no way to prove whether her soulmate had hurt their shoulder or not, he just had to trust her on it. But she felt so bad about wearing a dress that she would go as far as lying so as to avoid wearing it.

“I- fine. But you have to wear a dress next time, okay?”

Lisa didn’t respond.

***

Virgil – Age 9

Virgil had been playing on the playground when he screamed in pain, clutching his left leg.

“Ow ow ow ow ow-“ he cried, tears running down his face. The playground monitor came running, pushing the children who had mobbed around Virgil out of the way.

“What happened?” she asked, seeing that there wasn’t any visible injury.

“I- My soulmate did something, it hurts, it hurts so bad,” Virgil said, barely able to get the words out over the pain.

The monitor sighed. “Probably a broken leg,” she said. “C’mon, let’s get you to the office. They can figure out what you need from there.” She scooped him up into his arms, shooing the other children back to their play.

***

Patton – Age 12

When Patton had fallen out of a tree and broken and dislocated various parts of his leg at age nine, he’d had to accept with the idea that he wasn’t the only one having to deal with so much pain. It had hurt so much, and even once he got the painkillers it still hurt a little – he couldn’t imagine what it would be like without doctors there at every moment to help him manage it. Even now, he still got leftover pain occasionally, slipping up on him like the elementary school bullies: familiar but unwelcome.

Now, he was maybe beginning to understand what it might have been like.

His ribs hurt, all the time. Regardless of what he did, it hurt to breathe too hard or too fast. When he pressed on them, it felt like he was being stabbed with a blunt object. He was also getting really bad cramps in his stomach every month.

It really wasn’t fun.

His mom said he probably had a girl for a soulmate, which would explain the cramps. If that was the case, Patton thought it was probably a platonic bond; he couldn’t really see himself kissing a girl.

He winced as his stomach hurt more, and wondered what was happening to his soulmate, that he hurt so much through their bond.

He hoped they were okay.

***

Logan – Age 15

Logan hissed as he felt a stinging feeling on his wrists.

Dammit, he thought as he looked down. There wasn’t any reason for the pain on his wrists; it was one of his soulmates.

When he was twelve, and was just beginning to grow breasts, he had begun to bind them with bandages. He knew how dangerous that was – he’d researched what was going on in his mind, and how to make it feel better, before resorting to them – but he just hadn’t been able to handle it. He’d had to do something. Then he started getting his period, getting cramps along with the dysphoric blood. It was horrendous. He’d hoped that he was the only one going through mental pain affecting their everyday life.

But now his soulmate was cutting. Evidently, they were going through something incredibly unpleasant too.

He genuinely hoped that their bond was only two-way – he couldn’t imagine having his binding and his soulmates’ cutting to deal with, while probably having minimal personal problems with pain. There was the broken leg a few years ago, but that didn’t really count.

He determinedly flipped his math textbook open, ready to work his way through his homework and ignore his soulmate’s pain, as well as his own cramps.

There was nothing he could do about it right now, anyway.

***

Virgil – Age 18

Virgil glanced down at the old scars on his wrist, rubbing them slightly. When he was fifteen, it had been a dark time for him – the only way he had known that anyone could feel positive things for him was through the soulmate bond, and even that was only shown through pain. He’d gotten a lot better since then – amazing what therapy and meds could do – but he still couldn’t help but be reminded of the feeling, sometimes.

He thought of his ribs, how they had hurt every day for a solid eighteen months. He thought of his leg, which still lanced with pain every so often. He thought of his wrists, how he’d hurt himself purposely for months before stopping.

He knew he’d be okay.

He stepped into his dorm room on the college campus, ready to start the next part of his life.

***

Patton – Age 21

“Virge, love, I’m going out for coffee with a friend, okay? Do you want anything?”

He and Virgil had met each other during their first day of freshman orientation. Patton had stood up wrong on his leg and collapsed, bruising his arms on the way down. When he looked up, it was to see another boy leaning on a desk to favor his leg and holding his arm close to his chest. They’d figured out pretty quickly that they were soulmates.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Virgil called out from where he was working on an art assignment. “Have fun,” he tacked on as he frowned at his screen.

They had gone for a walk that evening, after their orientation events were done for the day. They’d talked about the major pains they’d been through – Patton’s leg, Virgil’s wrist, and someone else’s chest and stomach.

Apparently, despite Virgil’s wishes to the contrary, they had another soulmate.

“Okay. Be back soon!”

Patton hummed lightly to himself as he made his way to the coffeeshop on campus. He was planning on meeting Logan there so that they could work on their philosophy project together.

As he opened the door to the shop, he scanned the tables to see if the other boy was around yet. It didn’t look like he was, so Patton stepped up to the counter and ordered for himself – hot chocolate and a cookie.

He sat down at an open table, getting out his computer and a notebook. He looked up when Logan sat down across from him, an iced coffee in hand.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi!” Patton said back cheerfully. Logan looked tired today – Patton hoped he’d slept okay the night before-

“Ouch,” Patton said suddenly, his thoughts distracted, as a lance of pain shot through the fingers of his left hand. “Virgil, what did you do,” he muttered, shaking his hand out. He looked up, to see Logan staring at him, his face white as a sheet. He was cradling his left hand to his chest.

“Sorry about that, my soulmate must’ve smooshed his fingers in a cupboard or something,” Patton said cheerfully. Logan shook his head slowly.

“I… that certainly is an interesting coincidence, is it not?” he said. “Because I believe mine just did the same thing as well.”

Patton gasped, his thoughts scattering every which way. “I can’t believe it! You’re our other soulmate!” he squealed, reaching across the table to grab Logan’s uninjured hand. “You’ll have to meet Virgil, he’ll love you, I know it. You two can get into so many interesting discussions-!”

Logan smiled slightly. “Uh- sure,” he said. “Show me?”

***

Virgil – Age 21

Virgil sucked in a breath at the sudden pain that came with slamming his fingers into the doorframe.

“Fuck,” he hissed, shaking his fingers out. He’d have to apologize to Patton for that one; it’d hurt to write for the next few hours, and he knew Patton was supposed to be out working on an assignment for quite a while.

His phone buzzed, a notification coming through.

Stay at home, a text from Patton read. Another one lit his phone up just seconds later. Found other soulmate. Bringing him over to meet you.

Virgil’s jaw dropped. He’d known that they had another soulmate – where else could the pain in his chest and stomach come from – but it hadn’t really, truly registered before now that the universe thought that there were two people that he could spend the rest of his life with.

He quickly moved to start cleaning the tiny living room, clearing off the papers and books from the couch and finding places to put the junk that had accumulated on the coffee table. He was interrupted by the sound of Patton’s laughing while he had a stack of textbooks in his arms, ready to bring them to the bedroom.

“Virgil’s here somewhere,” Patton said. “Virge? I’m home!”

Virgil came out of the bedroom, nervously wiping his hands on his pants. “Uh, hi,” he mumbled. “I’m Virgil-“

He looked up, and his jaw dropped. “Logan!” He felt his cheeks go red.

“Virgil?” the other boy asked, surprised. Patton looked between the two.

“Oh, you know each other already? Great!”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “We were in astronomy together last semester.”

Patton eyes went wide. “Oh, I see.”

Logan looked between the two of them. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that?” he said hesitantly. Virgil’s cheeks only got warmer.

“Uh- I just- Patton and I had quite a few conversations about opening our relationship so that I could maybe date you. Um. That didn’t happen because I kept chickening out, but- yeah.”

Logan smiled. “Then it works out for the better that we were told we belong together, yes?”

Virgil nodded frantically. “Uh. Yeah. I guess. Yep.”

Logan gently put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, slipping his other hand into Patton’s palm.

“Can we sit down to talk?”

***

Logan – Age 21

Patton led the three of them to the living room, sitting himself down on the loveseat and tucking his legs up underneath him. Virgil chose to sprawl on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, leaving Logan free to choose between the couch or the single armchair. Patton patted next to him, so Logan hesitantly sat down on the other cushion, crossing his legs uncomfortably.

“So, just to clear the air,” Virgil started. “I cut when I was fifteen, six years ago – that’s what the wrist pain was, for months there. Patton fucked up his leg at age nine – twelve years ago – and it never healed right. We have a mystery soulmate who had really bad chest pains for about eighteen months, starting almost ten years ago now – it hurt to breathe too quickly or hard. There’s really bad lower abdomen cramps about once a month, for the last ten-ish years too. I can’t think of anything else major. Does that line up with your soulpains too?”

Logan took a deep breath. “I… yes. The cramps and chest pain… that was – is – me. I, um. You were blunter than I expected. But, uh – I’m trans. So… yeah. I did… unsafe binding for a long time. That’s- that’s what the chest pain was about. And… periods suck. That’s what that’s about.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Fuck, that must be hard. I- sorry for being so blunt. That… probably wasn’t how you wanted to come out.”

Logan laughed slightly. “No, I- you’re fine.”

Patton suddenly nodded hard. “So we’re all soulmates, we think?”

Virgil and Logan looked at each other uncertainly and nodded.

“Great,” Patton said. Then he paused. “If we… feel anything… can we text each other? I kind of have a weird fear that we’ll all be super happy and everything, and we have another person who hasn’t had anything super big? And that we’ll miss them? And they have to deal with all of this pain and never meet us and get to know why and feel the good parts of a soulbond?”

“That makes sense,” Logan said. He pulled out his phone to make a group chat. He paused, and looked up over the top of the phone, blushing.

“I- I really enjoy spending time with both of you,” he said. “I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

Patton grinned at him. “Maybe it’ll make the pain better too, all the time. Sharing is caring, right?”

Virgil smiled slightly. “Hopefully, it’ll help with all sorts of things. Meeting Patton made me feel a lot better mentally. I- Maybe we can do the same for you?”

Logan reached over to hold both of their hands. “I look forward to it.”

#ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #analogicality #ts fanfic #soulmate september #tsshipmonth2020 #i can write sometimes

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g0dspeeed · 3 years

Text

Unconditional Positive Regard, 4

To finally meet her, Adam Smasher feels relieved.

Well, kinda.

=====================

Intake

Towering over her with enough girth to block out the sunlight from the street windows was Adam and his dwindling patience. He could feel the hot coals of his temper start to heat up as the terrified receptionist tried desperately to avoid eye contact.

It would be simple, he thought. The only thing that separated his frame from her own was a large desk counter. With one hand he could flip it on her, break some bones and crush her skull if she kept stammering as stupidly as she was.

“Um, do you, do you have the extension number-”

So simple.

“If I don’t know her fucking name, then why would I know the extension number?” he snapped.

“R-Right, um. One, one moment, please, Mr. Smasher, sir.”

Red eyes rolled at her incompetence. Been in the building for less than five minutes and his composure was already diminishing. The receptionist worked quickly on the screen in front of her, her blue optics lighting up intermittently. His glare settled on the frozen form of the other receptionist. She, too, deterred her gaze away from his own and busied herself at her side of the counter.

Pitiful, he thought.

No spine.

“The, the only thing I can see in our calendar is a note about scheduling a future appointment, sir.”

“I know,” he breathed. “Make me an appointment with Services. Now.”

“Oh, we, um, we don’t typically do walk-in appointments-”

“Today you do.”

Adam’s cold stare ended any argument that the receptionist prepared to make.

She pressed a button on a switch board.

“Hi, I have a Mr. Adam Smasher here for a walk-in appoint-Yes, I know that, but he insists to be seen. Well, can you check? He’s at my desk…”

At the receptionist’s rising panic Adam couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Didn’t take much for that fear to kick in. Just a little physical presence and she was malleable to his whim.

A moment later, she ended her conversation and looked up at him with a weak smile.

“They said to wait in their lobby on the Services floor,” she stated.

Without so much as a thank you, Adam turned from the poor woman and headed towards the elevators. He smirked to himself as she exhaled behind him.

Even though the Arasaka Netrunner lacked proper access to the information he sought, Adam wasn’t planning to relent any time soon. For one, the job depended on it. Second, Adam knew that he simply would have to gain intel the more direct way, in an approach that was familiar, easy, and frankly more enjoyable.

Deep, deep, deep in the dark depths of his mind there lied a third reason. A reason that Adam would deny ‘til his dying breath if someone were bold enough to ask. A reason that sounded like curiosity, but actually teetered more so on the line between obsessive and slightly enamored.

But he would never admit that.

Not to a single soul.

The elevator doors opened on the Services floor, allowing the soothing fragrance of flowers to fill his senses. The lobby was empty like before, void of any witnesses as Adam stepped out of the elevator and approached the double doors. There was that same sense of determination in him, one that was resolute on getting this meeting over with and finally answering some of those damned questions that kept him up at night.

However, before he could grab the handle, the doors swung open. Out stepped the same doctor from before, Dr. Estrada, greeting him with that million-eddie smile.

Adam grimaced immediately at feeling the man’s positive attitude rolling off him like radiation.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Smasher,” said the doctor warmly. “May I call you Adam?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m glad you decided to reschedule. Some of us were worried that you wouldn’t.”

Though annoyed, the doctor’s greeting also brought on a wave of confusion. The words as well as the man’s smile seemed oddly sincere. The doctor’s eyes held a friendliness in them with no hint of any fear or resentment from what occurred in the lobby during their first encounter. Another new kind of interaction, a change that was unsettling to the hardened merc. Those who were on the receiving end of Adam’s wrath seldom stuck around for a round two, let alone approached him with such confidence and genuineness that the man before him showed. Never broke eye contact. Never spoke in a small or mumbling voice laced with anxiety. There was a strong reminder of that initial meeting, however, one that the doctor would have a difficult time hiding. Ugly, purple bruises colored his neck in a pattern that matched the length of Adam’s fingers. His head moved stiffly.

“Have you deposited your weapons into our reservoir?” Dr. Estrada asked. When Adam didn’t respond, his hand gestured towards the reservoir unit and he added, “After they’re deposited, please also turn off your combat cyberware.”

A pause.

Adam squared his shoulders.

“And if I refuse to listen to this bullshit request?” Adam grumbled.

The doctor appeared to contemplate, as if truly mulling over Adam’s question.

“If you choose to refuse, that’s fine. We would have to reschedule for a different date.”

Another pause.

“To be honest,” continued Dr. Estrada, “You could walk in there completely ignoring our request without much issue. Our staff only has defensive cyberware programmed, and not even everyone has the full modifications so there wouldn’t be a lot of resistance. Not really anyone back there has any experience with combat, much less any violence other than that from who we work with, but…”

The man shrugged.

“She still wouldn’t see you,” Dr. Estrada concluded. “She keeps her word, keeps her promises, and when she sets an expectation, she won’t back down. Ever. And that’s just something you’re going to have to get used to, my friend.”

When it became clear that the doctor wasn’t going to offer anything more or elaborate, Adam found himself in disbelief. Again he felt unsettled. The words shocked him in their sincerity and his response, Adam’s own lack of anger or bitterness, was so foreign.

“Who the fuck is she-”

A loud scream cut through Adam’s words, upsetting the peaceful atmosphere of the floor. The doctor’s body stiffened and his hazel eyes lit up as he received new data.

Before the doctor could explain anything, another shriek ripped through the air, this time drawing out longer and with an even higher pitch.

Dr. Estrada’s smile vanished as he quickly exited through the double doors.

The whine of scraping metal echoed beyond the doorway, followed by the floor shaking as if something large and heavy was suddenly dropped.

From his place in the lobby, Adam could hear chaos build and build along the chatter of nervous voices that muttered and called out to one another in hushed tones.

Seeing that it was clear that the doctor wasn’t going to return anytime soon, Adam chose to cross the threshold.

The other side of the doors consisted of a large open space that was attached to several hallways and lined with tall windows. The space itself held many desks with computer screens and office supplies. Adam recognized some of the women from his first visit. Already appearing alarmed by whatever was happening, the sight of Adam Smasher stalking through their office certainly did not alleviate any of their fears. Before he could interrogate them, another scream rang out with enough volume to make him wince. He headed down the closest hall, towards the source of the dreadful noise.

At the hall’s end there was a group of concerned women, Dr. Estrada, and a couple in civilian clothes. The couple was holding hands, both looking more terrified than the others. All stood by an open door. Their postures were rigid.

Dr. Estrada acknowledged Adam as he approached the scene.

Again, before Adam could ask what the hell was happening, another scream cried out followed by a deep, shaky sob.

It was only then did Adam realize that the pained voice was that of a child.

Dr. Estrada motioned for the merc to come closer, though he pressed a finger to his lips as he did so. Adam complied, his eyes peeking into the open doorway to see what the commotion was about.

The room was destroyed. Absolutely torn apart. Books, papers, and other office supplies littered the floor, along with broken glass, a shattered computer monitor, and a large couch completely flipped over and on its side. One piece of framed art hung crookedly above a large dent in the wall, the metal bent and scuffed.

Small whimpers could be heard with breaks of short sobs in between. It was there amongst the wreckage and debris of the office did Adam see two forms huddled behind the flipped furniture. A small child, a girl, stood hiccupping in a pink, frilly dress. Her shoes were gone, but that wasn’t what made her so striking. All of her limbs were artificial, all new and polished chrome.

The girl couldn’t have been any more than five years old.

Her modified hands were gripped into tight fists at her side as she stood before the crouched body of the woman.

Her.

The woman with the golden eyes.

Adam swallowed at seeing her again.

How poorly his memory served in recalling their vibrancy.

Dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans and a graphic t-shirt, the woman spoke calmly to the child.

“You’re very sad that our time is over,” she said. “I see your tears.”

Once more, the girl cried out. Adam winced at the painful noise, but his attention never turned from the woman’s face. The woman did not react at all.

“I hear you,” she stated. “You don’t want to leave, but it is time to go home-”

“No!” yelled the girl. “I-I don’t wanna go home-”

“I know. I hear you, but our special time is over for today. I will see you next week-”

“No!”

The girl’s metal hands then reached out and grabbed the woman’s face. Those in the hallway gasped.

But Adam, without a second thought, stepped forward and completely entered the room.

Both the woman and the child quickly looked up and stared at the large merc as he stood before them.

The child’s anger disappeared, twisting into pure fear at the sight of Adam’s glowering presence. Her small hands detached from the woman’s face as she drew closer to the woman’s body for comfort.

“You’re okay,” chided the woman softly into the child’s hair. “He won’t hurt you.”

“He looks mean,” argued the girl, her wide eyes never turning from Adam’s scowl.

“He does,” agreed the woman, a hint of amusement in her own voice. “But know what else I see?”

With a raised finger, the woman pointed to Adam’s exposed arms.

“This man has a body like yours,” shared the woman tenderly. “See his arms? See his head? See his face? Some of his body is different, too, and that’s okay.”

She winked at Adam playfully. His scowl, though still very much present, weakened slightly at the unexpected act.

“Its time to go home,” the woman repeated, this time a firm tenor to her words. “You can choose to walk with me to the elevator or your parents can help you. You have a choice.”

Stare never leaving Adam, the child nodded her head and took the woman by the hand. As if leading her away from danger, the child pulled at the woman’s hand with a new urgency. The woman mouthed for Adam to wait in the room as she rejoined the others in the hall. The door closed behind them.

Mentally, Adam was already kicking himself over how easy it was for his focus to be deterred, let alone how he reacted to seeing her in person again. Why he decided to insert himself in the chaos with the child, he had no clue. Didn’t give a fuck about children. So long as they stayed the hell away from him, there would be no issue. But something disturbed him in seeing how the child grabbed her, how the woman contained the pain she felt in the child’s sudden hold on her face.

The woman’s words and how they were said weren’t lost on Adam either. Not one bit. How this woman was able to deescalate tense situations and how similar her dialogue with the child was to their own exchange in the lobby infuriated him.

Is that how she perceived him?

Like that of a child?

“Sorry about that.”

Angry red eyes fell upon the woman as she closed the door behind her and began tip-toeing through the mess in the office. A small smile touched her full lips as she went to stand behind a metal desk.

“Sometimes its hard to go,” she continued with a shrug. “And although I appreciate your desire to help, please don’t interfere next time.”

Adam scoffed.

“I’ll do what I want.”

Sensing his attitude, the woman’s smile flattened into a pressed line.

“Yeah, I know, Adam,” she returned. “I know that you’ll do whatever you want. Which is why I’m glad you decided to come back so we can go over how exactly this all will work out.”

“’Bout fucking time,” he groused.

To his surprise, the woman scoffed and shook her head.

Adam immediately crossed the room to stand over her. He savored how far she had to crane her head up to meet his eyes.

“Something I say amuse you?” he challenged darkly.

What he expected was her instant submission.

What he expected was her to avert her eyes like everyone else, to deny she did anything or apologize altogether, and to wait for his next command.

What he didn’t expect was what came next.

“Yes, actually,” she stated, not even hesitating to pay back his hard stare with one of her own. “Yes, I find it amusing that you’re so inconvenienced by your own stubbornness and are trying to blame me for it. You had the choice to cooperate with our policy and chose to strangle my colleague because we held up our expectation, then you have the nerve to come into my workplace, my office, demand for an appointment, and then proceed to complain because of the stalling that you yourself created. Does this normally work for you? This whole standing-over-me-tough-guy routine? Because I can do this all damn day. I really can. Know why? Because I do do this all damn day, but last I checked we both are pretty busy adults and I’d like to not have my time wasted by your outdated ways of handling things. Or is this some kind of foreplay to you?”

Oh.

Oh, where was he to begin with that?

It took every ounce of patience and self-control to not pick her up and shove her against a wall. No one spoke to him like that. No one questioned him the way she did, whether there was some truth to her words or not. Fortunately for her, she was named as a person of importance to Arasaka. Fortunately for her, there were still many questions that she held the answers to, her value in that light being the only reason she still breathed and was alive to argue with him.

“Who,” he began, his voice low and tightly controlled. “The fuck are you?”

A smile, one that hinted at some little victory, he figured, one that somehow made Adam even angrier, pulled at her lips.

“Bothered you, didn’t it?” she said. “Thought it would. You’re not used to waiting-”

“Answer me-”

“I’m Lumen,” she answered. “Dr. Lumen Furi.”

Not bothering to wait for his reply, the woman stepped away from the desk and began tidying up the office. Adam watched as she began making small piles of all the trash and debris, his anger still very much pulsing through his body. Anger from how she was talking to him, how she dared to tease him and make smartass comments in response to his voiced frustration. That anger was there, true, but more so was Adam upset with himself for how he allowed it and how learning her actual name brought some relief.

“The contract,” began Lumen. “Is one that I don’t really like.”

“What is it?”

A sigh.

Her face wore a look of disdain as she turned to speak to the merc.

“I’m conducting research on cyberpsychosis and crisis intervention,” she said. “I want to know if mental health crises are related to cyberpsychosis and even though I think it is, its 2070 and people still think that it’s just a hardware problem. They’re not looking at it seriously, at least not from a mental health standpoint, so I need hard data to prove my theory. And that’s where you come in.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Myself, Dr. Estrada, and some of the other researchers will be working with law enforcement and a Trauma Team convoy to provide crisis support to different neighborhoods in Night City. As you can imagine, it can be pretty risky work and we’re sorta ‘ride alongs’. Trauma Team has enough on their plate and covering our asses isn’t something they need to be concerned about. Arasaka is already backing our research, so-”

“Why?”

She shrugged.

“I guess they want in on the medical market? Not entirely sure. Don’t really care. What I do know is that they offered your services to aid in our groundwork.”

“In security.”

“Yep.”

“For how long?”

“Three months, once or twice a week, depending on the city region and time of day. Starting next week now that you decided to show up.”

His tempter bristled at the snarkiness in that last comment, but he decidedly shifted his focus to the contract instead. The jobs that he detested the most were that of security or protective services. He’d prefer that the only ass he cover was his own, and often the target was too slow, dumb, or fragile to make his job any easier. Although the woman appeared to be in good shape and proved her intelligence in their limited interactions, her ability to defend herself wasn’t clear, not yet. If anything, all she proved to him was that she enjoyed throwing herself in the middle of dangerous situations, a trait that wasn’t valuable to her new bodyguard.

“Fine.”

The word caused the woman to perk up. The sight entertained him.

“But I have limits,” he added. “Hard ones. And if you refuse to abide by them, you’ll either die or this contract is null.”

Her arms crossed, but she looked at him with expectation.

“Going to teach you some basic self-defense so you don’t get yourself killed. Until you do that with me then I won’t allow you to go into the field. Period. Next, I want to know what cyberware you do have and outfit you with defensive cyberware should anyone get too close.”

“Isn’t that your job?” she quipped. “To make sure no one gets ‘too close’?”

“Something tells me that you’ll fuck it all up and I’m not about to let you ruin this for me.”

He caught it. Small, but he saw that flash of rebellion, that grain of resistance, before she checked herself and pursed those lips shut.

“Last,” continued Adam. “You get a tracker.”

“Why-”

“Because I fucking said so. That’s why.”

The two stared at one another with enough intensity to start a fire. She didn’t balk at his stature, nor at how harshly his eyes took her in.

“Might I suggest a compromise?” she questioned.

“I don’t do compromises-”

“Humor me.”

When he didn’t argue, she resumed.

“If I have to have a babysitter, then I also would like a tracker for you.”

“What good-”

“Because I fucking said so.”

At that, Adam couldn’t help himself. He stomped towards her with enough force that she stepped back, pressing herself against the desk. His frame enveloped hers, all black camouflage and large arms caging her in on either side of her hips. Sitting on top of the desk, she gaped with wide eyes up at the furious mercenary, his face inches from hers as he towered over her body in muted rage.

“This is my job, my fucking ass on the line, and I’m not letting anyone, anybody, fuck up all the shit I had to do to get where I am,” he declared, voice shaking. “I don’t give a shit about who you think you are, I’m the one who says how this contract will go. Me!”

That’s it, he thought, his eyes unashamedly studying every curve and how that primal fear shattered that confident front of hers.

That’s what he liked to see.

The fear.

The uncertainty.

He got drunk on it, finally, the sight of her weakness, the proof that she was like everyone else.

Standing so close to her body, Adam picked up on the deep notes of her perfume.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, a new lowness coating his voice. His body shifted to stand more directly between her knees, causing her legs to spread. “Is this that ‘foreplay’ you were bitching about, Lumen?”

No response came from her at first.

Nothing.

Nothing new for him to be challenged with.

Nothing special.

But just as he felt that familiar burst of empowerment swell in his chest, the woman did something to instantly snuff it out.

Gently.

Kindly.

With a soft hand, the woman reached up and cupped Adam’s face. His own hand shot up to grip her wrist, a hard warning. It was ignored. Completely ignored as her thumb lightly stroked his cheekbone with an easy slowness. He swallowed.

As his smirk fell as did the look of uncertainty from her own face. Golden eyes glittered with something warm, something that Adam couldn’t quite define. A raw energy hummed between them as she held him there, held him in a paradoxical space of peace and a primal urgency to do something more.

A small smile.

“I love your eyes,” her voice said in a near whisper. “Red. They fit you.”

Just as his mouth parted to reply, an incoming call crossed his HUD. Adam moved away from her and the desk as if her hand burned. Her smile remained as he answered the call, the client on the other end simply informing him that he was running behind and would be late to their scheduled appointment.

“I’ll see you next Wednesday,” stated that woman above the sound of the client’s words. “You can go.”

And that he did. Adam held his composure, but never has he left a client as quickly as he did that that day.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #adam smasher

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irisadielsart · 3 years

Photo

As anyone can attest, 2020 has been a rough year. A punctuated rough year in a string of rough years. My experience has been no different, but as for my personal artistic growth, 2020 has actually been exceptionally good to me. I went from thinking that doing a picture a month was asking way too much, to doing basically a drawing everyday. It’s a bit funny, I’ve been on tumblr since 2012, and i’ve posted some art here and there, but this year is when people finally noticed. I’ve had a couple of people say to me “I didn’t know you did art.” I don’t know how I feel about that, but I’m happy that my art is finally getting notes at least.

January - This is when i’m still in my dark phase. Drawing hurts, but I’m still trying my best to put something, ANYTHING on paper. i’ve spent 2019 drawing lines and squares on paper to just get used to drawing again. I’m trying to do people again. I had an idea that i was going to do a drawing a month for birth month flowers. January was carnation, and i had a sketch for February, but it never made it to completion. I’m still using traditional markers, pen and pencil.

February - This is where I found out that using a reference for art made things %100 percent easier. This is my very old OC Zora, made when i was in middle school. Using references cut out a lot of the initiation process i had when starting a drawing, all I had to do was trace, i didn’t have to think at all and the product was still good. Honestly pretty revelatory.

March - this is when i bought some really neat artists models that i could pose in any number of ways. They have proved their worth over and over again. Still doing traditional, but i did enhance this picture on the computer.

April - My markers were running really dry and I couldn’t afford to buy a new set, so I dragged out my laptop and drawing tablet to see if i could start drawing digitally. I was never really good at drawing digitally, though I got a little better in my animation classes. Colors aren’t true on the monitor and doing lineart feels odd and hollow. i can’t put it into words. but I downloaded Krita because i also couldn’t afford Photoshop. so on top of learning digital art again, i was learning a whole new program. So this picture was a culmination of a lot of things, and a really good first step for the rest of the year.

May - Here, this is when quarantine was in full swing, but drawing is no longer painful and i’m actually looking forward to it. Still learning digital again, so I decided to go with my tried and true love of fashion and clothes because that’s what i know best. Backgrounds suck

June - This month i was doing a lot of sketches and little doodle drawings. i decided that i wanted to try something more realistic, just to see how it would turn out. i think it is a bit of a mixed success.

July- July was busy, so i didn’t do a whole lot. This drawing was based off the designs of another artist that i loved a lot. I’m really big into character design, and I go crazy over a really good design.

August - My busiest month! I did so much in August! i wanted to take a break from all the Zelda art I was doing and decided to try doing an Alucard. Yoshitaka Amano is a big inspiration for me, and the way they do Alucard absolutely melts me. Someday i’ll draw Alucard as pretty as Amano does.

September - I dragged another OC out of the grave and thought to myself “How can i improve on my art?”. It’s amazing that in January i didn’t know if i would still be drawing, but here I am trying to not only draw as much as i can, but also trying to improve. I loved the way this picture came out, but the process that i used to color it took 3 days! I don’t have that kind of time to spend on my art, but maybe someday i’ll do that technique again.

October - This month was a bit of a low point for me. I was getting depressed again and was struggling to draw. I didn’t do a whole lot. But i didn’t want to go back to the way things were at the start of the year, so i just took a break for myself and reminded myself that low points were going to happen, but it didn’t mean that my progress was erased. i went back to trying a more realistic approach because with LOTR characters, i can use actual human models which is great for getting the subtleties of shading.

November - Busy month that i didn’t have a lot of time to draw for. but i did a series that I am very fond of, the picture shown being my favorite of the series.

December - the end of the year! and i’m still drawing. I’m drawing so much! December isn’t over yet, and I’ll have more drawings to show later, but i can’t show them here yet because a lot of them are presents. so, this picture is the one that everyone liked the best, or at least it got the most notes. instead of using my usual ultra saturated color, i went with greys and sad colors. but people liked it a lot, and i don’t know how to feel about that.

#artist year in review #irisadiels posts

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sierraraeck · 4 years

Text

How to Make Friends (Pt.2)

Spencer x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Spencer’s had a problem with Aundreya since the start. How is she going to earn his respect? Story four.

Category: Some angst, some fluff.

Warnings: Cussing. Quick mention of normal CM stuff and the quick retelling of two rough childhoods. Mentions of bullying.

Word Count: 3.0k

I slept until noon the next day. That wasn’t typical behavior for me, because I always enjoyed being up around seven in the morning so I could feel like I was doing something more productive than sleeping. However, I didn’t get back to my apartment until around three am and figured that I was going to need more that four hours of sleep if I was going to make it through an entire dinner with Doctor Grumpy.

The government finally trusted me enough to have a work phone after four weeks, especially because a case of ours almost ended in a dead ten year old because I didn’t have a phone to call the team on when I had new information. I’d already gotten myself a personal phone that the government didn’t know about, and neither did Dalton. It’s not like I actually used it for anything, except for personal texts from the team and occasional calls, but as you can imagine those didn’t happen frequently. Aaron turned a blind eye as long as I gave Garcia full monitoring permissions. Not like she actually needed my permission to hack into my phone and get my records or anything. He did make me agree not to have anyone ‘firewall’ it and I made the convincing case that it has a GPS, so as Dalton was slowly removed from his duties, the team would always have a way of tracking me. Plus, he didn’t think it was a terrible idea to have a secondary contact for me in case something happened.

However, today was one of those days that I used it.

It’s Reid. How’s Fabi’s?

He’d sent the text at 5:30 in the morning. Why was he up?

Good. How’s 6?

I quickly replied and put my phone down. I didn’t bother eating because I didn’t care enough. I threw on some workout stuff and went down to the clubhouse gym. I worked out practically every day. When I was younger, I always wanted to play college volleyball. I had just started training when my life went awry, and one of the things that kept me sane, that kept me connected to my humanity, was continuing that training. I did high intensity workouts everyday on the streets. I was then roped in to a mixed martial arts gym that I would visit regularly, which is where I met Sydney for the first time. It’s how I got involved with the Cloaks. Once I was thrown in prison, working out was one of the only things we could do. We had limited reading material, limited social time, limited gym time. But the nice thing about working out is that you don’t necessarily need a gym.

I was about to start my final set of squats when Dalton blasted into the gym.

“Have you been here this whole time!” His face had a slight pink color to it, like he’d been holding his breath for far too long.

“Yes.”

“Jesus Christ! Did you forget that today was a check in day?”

Yes. “No. I just thought that I’d be finished by two and was counting on you being late.”

��When have I ever been late?” he asked me, dumbfounded. It was a valid question considering it only happened once and it was only by about five minutes. I didn’t call him on it then, but I figured I would now.

“Uh, let’s see. How about that one time that you were late to the airport picking me up because you were having a good time with your lady friend.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

He sighed. “Dammit. When you didn’t say anything I thought that you were too tired to notice and hopefully too tired to remember. I should have known better.”

“Yes you should have.”

“Wait, how’d you know I was with someone? I’ve never even told you anything about me.” He didn’t sound irritated, which I figured he might be, but all I heard was curiosity.

“Come on. I’m working as a profiler for the BAU and before that my life depended on my ability to pick up on the slightest details,” I reminded him. He nodded. Then just for fun, I added, “Plus, I’m also a really good spy and private investigator.”

“What’re you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Have you been watching me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” I always found a bit of extra pleasure from messing with my trusty watch-dog. “Have you actually been following me?”

“Definitely not. That would be weird and completely inappropriate,” I said with a wink. I walked past him, deciding to cut myself one set short.

“Seriously?”

“Bye, Dalton,” I said in a sultry tone, halfway out the door.

“Don’t forget, I’ll be back Sunday!” he called after me.

“I’m counting on it. Tell Renee hi for me!” I said, letting the door slowly close behind me.

“Aundreya!” I turned and waved to him through the glass doors, a big grin spreading across my face.

When I returned to my apartment, I checked my phone for a response from Reid.

Good.

That was all I got. At least we were keeping it simple.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I got to the restaurant about five minutes early, refusing to be late to my own dinner. I walked in and looked around to see if Spencer was there yet. He wasn’t. I thought about waiting for him, but instead I just got us a table. I slicked my dress down under my legs as I sat. I’d picked out a cute, black, pencil dress with an arrowhead necklace and combat boots. Someone kill me if I ever voluntarily wear heels for longer than a few minutes. I had never gotten my ears pierced, so I didn’t have any other jewelry. I also didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard.

He came in wearing a dress shirt and a tie, but no jacket. He looked nice. He spotted me quickly and came to sit down.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi.” We sat there in awkward silence while the waitress came and put water glasses down in front of us. We both immediately took a sip.

He decided to break the silence first. “I just want to apologize for-”

“Don’t even worry about it,” I cut him off. I had a good idea as to where that sentence was going and it was unnecessary.

“No, I am going to worry about it. I want to apologize for how I’ve treated you. I immediately judged you for your label without actually getting to know you. That was wrong of me and I’m hoping we can start over.” His voice was steady and his eyes were calm. I gave him a small smile and a nod.

“I can definitely work with that. What do you want to know first?”

“You just want me to ask you questions?”

“Yeah. I’ve found that that works the best. I want to start where you’re the most interested.”

“Um, okay,” he swallowed. “You said you ended up on the streets when you were fourteen?”

“Yep.”

“So tell me what happened before that.” I smiled at him. It was a great starting point.

“Okay. I grew up with divorced parents. They got divorced when I was six. My father was abusive, mostly verbally-”

“Mostly?” he asked.

“Yeah. Mostly,” I replied. I wasn’t ready yet to talk about what happened on the other end of the ‘mostly’. He saw it too. “I stopped living with him when I was nine or ten. My sister decided to stay in contact with him over the phone and occasionally in person after that, but I completely cut him out. I haven’t seen or talked to him since, except for the times that he showed up at my school or sporting events unannounced and unwanted.”

Spencer was shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate that. From ten to fourteen, I lived happily. I was solely with my mom and I was going to school, planning my future. At the start of the year, I walked into the right place at the wrong time. I witnessed one of the biggest serial slaughters ever committed, by one of the FBI’s most wanted.”

“The Storefront Slaughterer,” Reid said.

I nodded. “I don’t know how, but he didn’t realize he left a survivor. Somehow my face got leaked to the press so my family and I had to go into witness protection. Long story short, by the end of that year, he’d found us before the FBI found him. He burned our house down and I was the only one who got out.”

“So then you decided to live on the streets?” his voice was soft, not a hint of judgement like I’d imagined in my head before having this conversation.

“Yeah. My options were to go back and live with my father or fend for myself on the streets. I was willing to take my chances and I wanted to help catch the man that took everything from me.”

“That was very brave of you.”

“Thanks.”

“Didn’t the FBI catch him the following year with the help of an-”

“Anonymous tipper? Yeah, they did.”

“That was you?” his eyes got bigger as realization set in.

“Sure was. I’d spend my first year on the streets making connections and setting a trap for the Storefront Slaughterer. Everyday I got up and I did more digging. That’s how I got good at private investigating and spying. Once the final pieces of my plan came together, I tipped off the FBI and they were able to catch him.”

“Once they caught him, didn’t that mean you could get off the streets and go back to normal?”

I smiled at how intrigued he seemed to be. “Not really. Nothing was normal for me anymore. I’d spent a year in witness protection and another on the streets trying to catch this guy. Plus, I still would have had to go back and live with my father, and at that point, I had just gotten comfortable out on the streets. People babied me at first because of my age. I realized that, but I also realized I looked older than I was, so I started lying to people about my age and I earned massive respect for my talents and catching the Slaughterer. I made the decision that things might end up better for me on the streets then going back to how things were. The streets became my new normal.”

“Wow, that’s…” he trailed off.

“Crazy?” I offered.

“No. Well, kind of. But I was going to say incredible. I mean, you were already one of the smartest and most skilled informants on the streets at the age of fourteen.”

I laughed. “Well I hear you weren't doing too bad yourself at age fourteen.”

“That’s true,” he smiled, “but I wasn’t having to learn street survival skills.”

“No, you were doing something much harder.” There was that sweet sound of laughter again. He told me all about his childhood, which honestly seemed non-existent, and I realized how much we actually had in common. His dad left him when he was young, his mother has schizophrenia, he practically raised himself, was constantly bullied, and despite all that he was still able to be successful. It amazed me and I told him that.

“Thank you. That means a lot,” he said, humbly. I could tell he didn’t fully believe the words himself, which made me sad.

“You know I mean that, right?”

“Yes.”

“So why don’t you believe it?”

He looked up at me. “No one’s asked me that before.”

“If you don’t want to answer me that’s fine. I’m just wondering because despite being one of the coolest people I’ve met, and I’ve met a lot of people, you still don’t seem to resonate with my praises.”

He let out a huge sigh. “My dad had told me many times that I was smart and important and deserving of a good life. But he then turned around and told me that I was too hard to care for and he left. Ever since then, it’s hard for me to believe anyone when they compliment me because I never know if they mean it. On top of that, being constantly bullied didn’t help my self-confidence,” he met my eyes, his own glistening. It hurt me to think that someone who overcame so much and is probably one of the smartest people on the planet didn’t think he was all that. I had already respected him, but that feeling continued to grow the more I got to know him.

“Let me tell you something. If you get nothing else out of this dinner, get this. You and I were in very similar situations when we were younger. You were strong enough to overcome all of the obstacles put in your way and came out the other side as a caring genius who saves lives. Someone else in your situation, someone like myself, wasn’t as mentally strong as you and chose the wrong path. Sure, I’m here now, but you stayed the course and made it here yourself. No one had to come and save you, you saved yourself. And I’d say that’s something to be pretty damn proud of.” I was dead serious and I needed him to know that. An unfamiliar feeling surged through me that I wasn’t able to immediately put my finger on.

Admiration. I admired him. He was who I wanted to be before my life got flipped upside down and I was forced to change my ideals.

I barely heard him when he whispered, “Thank you.”

I nodded and our waitress came over to place the bill on the table. Spencer started to reach for it before I quickly put my hand down on it, sliding it my way. “Nuh, uh. I’m taking you to dinner, remember?”

“But you’ve paid for everyone else-”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said with a wink.

“Oh you two make such a nice couple,” the waitress said. She was a woman in her late fifties and appeared to be swooning over what she thought was young love.

I gave a single nervous laugh, slipping my dollar bills in the fold, before replying, “No, ma’am, we’re not a couple.”

“Sure you’re not. Just keep telling yourselves that,” she said, taking the bill and cash from me, strutting away. Spencer and I made confused eye contact and we both started laughing.

“That was bold,” he said.

“You’re telling me. I think we should inform her that we’re the profilers here,” I said, and we both laughed again.

“Hey, I have one more question for you,” he said, attitude quickly shifting back to serious.

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you step in the other day?”

I was confused for a moment before remembering what he was most likely referencing. “Oh you mean with Kristy? It wasn’t a big deal, she seemed like a bitch anyways.”

“Anyway,” he corrected with a smirk.

“Okay. Fine. You got me on that one, Doctor Genius,” I said, playfully rolling my eyes.

“But seriously, why did you? And how could you tell before everyone else that I was uncomfortable?”

“I guess I’ve been able to pick up on a tell that no one else has learned to pay attention to. And I stepped in because I saw you were uncomfortable and figured you had enough of that going on with me around,” I replied. I made a small joke out of it, hoping he wouldn’t press me farther, because I honestly didn’t know why I stepped in. Sure, I was curious as to who she was, why she was making him uneasy, and it was a means of extending an olive branch, but there was something else. I respected him, and I wanted him to respect me (I don’t know why it actually mattered that much to me) but I didn’t think that was it either. Plus, I would have done that for any of the team members.

Probably.

I sighed, not willing to dig further into my psyche, at least not today and definitely not now.

The waitress returned with my change, giving Spencer and I a longing look. I smiled to myself, wondering what happened to this poor woman that she felt the desire to watch us exit the restaurant together. We walked toward the parking lot in silence.

“Thank you again,” Reid said to me. There was an undertone that implied he was thanking me for more than just the food.

I gave him a half smile. “Of course. Thank you for agreeing to go out with me.”

He nodded, but before he turned away, I caught him with one last question.

“Just out of curiosity, how much of that did you already know?”

He looked at me, confusion apparent on his face. “None of it.”

“Really? The team didn’t tell you anything?” It was my turn to be confused.

“Well they tried, but it didn’t feel right. I figured whatever it was, you’d tell me on your own terms. I wouldn’t have wanted them sharing things with you that I wasn’t ready to have you know about me yet. I owed you the same courtesy.” With that, he turned around and continued on to his car. I was bewildered by his gentlemanly manners, especially since they held up in a situation regarding a criminal he loathed. Or at least he used to loathe.

That thought made me smile.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” I called over as he was getting into his vehicle.

“Goodnight, Aundreya.”

I returned home, able to fall asleep feeling better about my life than I had in awhile.

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cxmetery-gates · 4 years

Text

SURREPTITIOUS - DRACO MALFOY

CHAPTER TWO: ON THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS

SUMMARY: Leslie catches up with friends on the Hogwarts Express, however a simple reminder ruins everything. WORD COUNT: 2.9k NOTES: I should be studying for midterms, yet here we are. Thank you for reading, lovelies! WARNINGS: mentions of death, panic attack

MASTERLIST

"YOU HEAR ABOUT OLLIVANDER?" AHEAD of Leslie, a boy who still has not grown through his teenage hormones asks, holding a potted plant against his hip. "It's mad. If Gran and I had waited one more day to get a new wand, who knows if I'd still be here."

Neville Longbottom met Leslie last year when Hogwarts fell under the rule of the ghastly Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. When rumors that Lord Voldemort was back began stirring, the Minister of Magic sent her to "monitor" the school's Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. It was bollocks, really, as the old wizard was hardly around at all, which ultimately led to the formation of Dumbledore's Army, a group of students who would meet up in secret to learn real defenses against dark magic. Through lessons and teamwork, Leslie and Neville eventually became friends, the two becoming close over the course of the summer.

While secret teenage rebellion is a fun activity to bring people close, death, on the other hand, brings people close in a different way.

Leslie shifts uncomfortably as they continue to search for a compartment. At the mention of a lost soul, the girl quickly looks through what Neville was thinking, not necessarily needing to but the compelling need was always there. "Yeah. It's terrible. I couldn't stomach going to Diagon Alley. Luckily, my father was already paranoid, decided he would take care of my school materials." Pausing, the girl remembers how scared her father had been for the safety of Leslie, even paying Madam Malkin to come to their home to size Leslie for new school robes. "It's mad out there."

The boy's head slightly shakes, eyes now peeking around behind Leslie to a blonde girl with almost white hair and odd spectacles resting on her nose. "The Quibbler had a good piece, you know."

The blonde looks over the edge of her newspaper, blue eyes meeting two other pairs. Despite being a year younger, Luna Lovegood's quirky and flat-out weird mannerisms paved a way for friendship between two other oddballs. "I'll tell Dad," she responds, her voice is airy and soft, reminding Leslie of a cloud. "Did you see what he wrote about Vidya?" Luna asks Leslie, her voice quieter.

From ahead, Leslie nearly jumps from Neville's thoughts, pictures of him spinning and telling Luna to "shut up about it" flowing through her mind. Of course, Neville would never be the aggressive type so there was no fear of a scene, but the reminder of a friend tagged to the concept that no one should talk to Leslie about "it" created a pit in the witch's stomach.

"Y-Yeah, I did." Leslie remembers when her father mentioned Xenophilius Lovegood wrote a heartfelt piece on the death of Vidya Amin, the awkwardness of the conversation still fresh in Leslie's mind. She ended up reading the column and meant to write to both Lovegoods, but unfortunately never had the effort. "I meant to write, but I was a bit busy this summer. It was great, really. I think she would have liked it."

A silence fell upon the trio, something Leslie was thankful for.

After passing several compartments full of obnoxious boys and hyperactive girls, Neville, Luna, and Leslie are close to giving up on finding an empty one, such being surprising now that the train is beginning to leave the city.

Luckily, Leslie decided to only carry around her knapsack, the small pack only containing her wand, a couple candies, and her robe that would simply be slipped on upon the end of the train ride, the green color standing out against the blue of Luna's and the maroon of Neville's.

The green once meant something foul in the minds of her friends.

At Hogwarts, students are sorted into four separate houses upon their very first arrival: Gryffindor, the house of the brave and chivalrous; Hufflepuff, the house with students who value loyalty and honesty; Ravenclaw, a house full of wizards who admire intelligence and individuality; and finally Slytherin, those who value the arts of cunningness and ambition. Luna was sorted into Ravenclaw and a year before her, Neville was placed in Gryffindor and Leslie in Slytherin. Despite the Houses being pieces of a whole, rivalries exist among students, particularly those in opposing Houses.

Based on stereotypes, the Gryffindor lions and Slytherin serpents always had it bad, their nagging and lack of understanding on both parts feeding into a strong disdain for the other. They are vastly different on basic levels, but they are very alike in other ways. Therefore, Leslie never had friends in the house of lions until her third year, the next batch rolling in two years later, after joining Dumbledore's Army.

"Do you know if D.A. will be back this year?" Neville asks while plucking a Bertie's jellybean from a box in his front pocket. He offers one to Leslie before his face contorts into pure disgust. Giggling, Leslie takes a few. The first one was soap flavored.

With her nose scrunched up, she replies, "I don't think so. Harry wrote me that with Dumbledore back, classes would return to normal. And—"

"Hi, Harry!"

Leslie looks over Neville's shoulder to find a lanky boy. The boy of sixteen with messy midnight black hair, bright green eyes, and a lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead looked terribly uncomfortable while standing in the corridor, his circle-rimmed glasses crooked and held together with adhesive tape. "Neville!" Fortunately, the sight of his friends eases his tension, becoming relaxed.

Harry Potter is waved to by his friends and he takes a few steps to meet them in the train car corridor. Leslie senses Harry would rather be with his two best friends but is happy nonetheless with the group he has stumbled upon. Luckily, Leslie was able to cut her mind-reading before it began to dig deeper into Harry's thoughts: she did not want to intrude on the important information he had for Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

"Hello, Harry," Both Luna and Leslie spoke, only Leslie offering a kind wave.

"Les, Luna! It's good to see you. How are you, and your summers?" Harry asks. Leslie could tell he was trying to refrain from mentioning the parted. He, too, understands Leslie's pain.

Leslie nods her head. "It was alright."

Clutching the magazines to her chest, Luna also mentioning her nice summer off. "Very well, thank you. The Quibbler is doing well, too. Circulation's well up." The soft-spoken blonde smiles to herself.

"Let's find seats, yeah?"

Neville, Luna, and Leslie unanimously nod. As they moved through the train, Leslie could not help but notice the stares they were getting. Each compartment they passed meant more pairs of eyes watching their every move. No one spoke to the group, it was simply admiration, but not for her.

Last year, when Harry and his friends realized where Voldemort was keeping his defenseless godfather, they escaped Hogwarts and made it to the Ministry of Magic. Leslie, however, stayed behind to keep a group of mean, terrible students from leaving and ensuring they stayed asleep with the magic treats given to them. Thankfully, the group was fine with this, not realizing that Leslie intended to stay far away from Voldemort and Death Eaters alike. She wouldn't willingly put herself in immediate danger, danger which includes going off to fight dark wizards. Preserving herself was an act she had grown to adapt, the art second nature next to saying "please" and "thank you."

Sliding inside an empty compartment that Harry had mentioned seeing, Leslie watches as he tucks something into the shelves above the seat. He sits on one side while Luna and Neville perch themselves next to each other, resorting Leslie to plant herself next to The Chosen One.

"Leslie said you weren't thinking about starting D.A. up again this year— oi, Trevor!" Neville says, placing his plant beside him before diving under the compartment booths where his toad plots another escape. Luna, now wearing odd multicolor spectacles, opens a copy of The Quibbler and begins to read.

"No point now that we've got rid of Umbridge, is there?" Harry remarks.

Neville looks disappointed when he comes out from under the seat. "But still! I liked D.A.! I learned so much from you. You agree with me, right, Leslie?"

Her shoulders awkwardly move upwards. On one hand, she didn't want to stress Harry out more than he already was, no doubt. After all, he has to worry about Voldemort coming for him at all times. But on the other, she didn't want to upset Neville, worried that she may unintentionally imply she did not want to be around them, which could not be farther from the truth. "I mean, Harry's got a point, Neville: with Umbridge gone, there isn't an immediate need. I'm sure Defense Against the Dark Arts will be like D.A. this year."

"I liked the meetings," Luna says, piping into the conversation. "It was like having friends."

Harry, Neville, and Leslie all share a similar look, suddenly remembering how awkward and pitiful some of things Luna says can be. Leslie might have been somewhat awkward herself and a bit of a loner up until last year, but she never had the sense of freedom that Luna has when it comes to speaking what is on her mind. It was sometimes uncomfortable being with Luna, even with other friends present.

Before anyone could respond to the odd statement, there was a rustle and disturbance from outside the door. Craning her neck, Leslie spotted a few girls, all fourth years, whispering and giggling among each other. Leslie turned back to Harry who shared the same look of confusion.

"You ask him!"

"No, you!"

Leslie could have easily chosen to read what these girls were wanting to ask— if she was even given the option— but seeing how it could have been funny in some way, the mind-reader chose to let her gift go dormant. Legilimency is great and all, but sometimes a surprise is welcomed.

A girl with large dark eyes and long black hair began pushing her way through the posse, her prominent chin pointed high in confidence. "I'll do it," she says.

"This ought to be good," Harry murmurs, causing Leslie to hide a smile. She reaches over and takes a copy of the Quibbler, seeing how Luna has nearly twenty in a stack.

Pushing her hair from her face, the girl begins to speak. "Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane," she said loudly. "Why don't you join us in our compartment? You don't have to sit with them," she adds in a whisper.

There was no surprise here. Everyone knows how much of an oddball all three students are, no doubt the first years are already aware. Unlike Neville and Luna, Leslie had been fortunate to have never felt the brunt end of bullying. She managed to dodge those who might have had her in their sights, and she is painfully aware of who to aim her thanks towards, whether she liked it or not. While everyone would occasionally think of Leslie, no one in years had the nerve to bombarded her in insults, threats, anything.

So, the bluntness of Vane's words hit Leslie hard, her throat clenching. Is she offended? No, not particularly. The absolute reason why her jaw grew slack and eyes wide was shock due to the pure audacity Romilda Vane had.

"They're friends of mine," Harry replies coldly.

The large eyes of Romilda Vane widen more. "Oh," she mutters. "Oh, okay." And like that, she withdrew, closing the door behind her.

The compartment is engulfed in a silence, before Luna took it upon herself to end it. "People expect you to have cooler friends than us." Leslie stifles a giggle, while partly believing her.

"You are cool," Harry retorts quickly. "None of them was at the Ministry. They didn't fight with me or hold down the fort at Hogwarts."

Leslie would not give herself as much credit as Harry gives her, but the compliment is genuine. She appreciates his kind words, despite her head stinging with the memory of how, when, and why her Legilimency began showing signs of going amok. A solemn look plasters itself on her face momentarily.

"PETRIFICUS TO—"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A single scream, a single thought, and millions only to follow.

The nightmares were quick to follow. Every night, Leslie would stay up as late as she could just to avoid sleep, forcing herself to the brink of insanity. Terrors crossed her dreams more often than not, so much so that she would rather never give up dreaming entirely than face the piercing cries and screams of agony from Vidya Mehar Nisha Amin.

Would they ever stop? They must, she tells herself, but that thought dwindles more and more with each morning she wakes. There had to be a reason for the haunting. At first, Leslie was convinced the terrors were the offspring of mourning and how she knew Vidya was gone. But months have passed, and nothing was changing. It was torture, a pain so unimaginable that it must be some kind of revenge. What if her friend was not meant to die, rather taking Leslie's place due to an unpredictable change in the universe? As astronomical and unknowing as it may be, Leslie cannot help but question the unknown, begging for a rational reason as to why her friend has terrorized her.

Why her dead best friend won't leave.

A hand touches her shoulder. At first, the feeling is both as hot as coals and chill as frost, her fears running wild. Leslie, half expecting Vidya to appear to haunt her in the real world, is relieved to find Harry. She does not miss the sorrow in his bright emerald eyes, nor does she miss the tear escaping down her pallid cheeks and on to her shirt.

"Les..." he says, a hand still on her shoulder.

The Slytherin girl quickly rubs away at the tears, sniffling back a sad exhale. Luna and Neville both watch as Harry attempts to comfort Leslie, their thoughts penetrating her deteriorating defense. They burst through all at once and Leslie finds herself overwhelmed with not only her intense emotions but the others as well.

Her father might have had the better idea.

Leslie stands, three pairs of eyes following her face. "I-I-I," she stutters. "I was just..."

Luna holds out her hand, her thumb rubbing the back of Leslie's. "You don't have to suffer alone. We're here."

The blonde is right. Leslie doesn't have to suffer alone. She has her friends, three of them together at a moment she needs them most. But she had been alone for so long, until a Ravenclaw befriended her in the library at age eleven. Her first real friend, her best friend, the person she needs above the rest, is gone.

"I need some air," Leslie gasps, lurching herself out of the compartment and down the aisle before anyone could make a comment.

Her head is cast down, not wanting to draw any attention to herself but also to keep her mind from inadvertently reading anyone around her, despite all the voices echoing in her mind already. Leslie has to choke back a sob of discomfort with each carriage she passes, the thoughts of students filtering through her crumbling wall.

Everything is heavy around Leslie. Her heart swells in a panicked pain, air entering her lungs as quickly as it leaves. Her blood pounds through her head. Leslie needs to get away, desperately. But where can she go on a crammed train? The bathroom, perhaps, but how long would she have to wait before the occupant exits? Exposure is the last thing she wants, especially to those who she accidentally headed towards.

Forget it.

There was no option but to keep moving, to keep pushing her feet straight ahead, regardless of the degradation she may face because of her vulnerability. At least it would not matter now, not while her mind is focused so intently on the past. Leslie's hands grow clammy, her forehead now bearing a thin sheer sheet of perspiration, and nausea was un-welcomed in its entrance. And the thoughts did not stop. They never do, and Leslie internally curses and screams as the thoughts, memories, and stories of strangers seep into her skull, the variant echoes reverberating off the walls of her head, the noise only growing louder and louder, drawing close to ear-piercing screams—

Leslie bumps into someone.

And the voices stop entirely.

There is no blood rushing to her head, no laughter from compartments, no steel on tracks. There is nothing.

Peaceful nothingness.

It takes Leslie a good moment to come back down from her enervated state, the dumbfound feeling of the world going quiet putting her in a stunned state of mind. The brown-eyed girl blinks, the remnants of her tears melting away into the void that took her thoughts away.

"Watch where you're going, Greyscale," a voice sneers.

The cold voice is one she has known for far longer than she will care to admit. Despite their long and complicated history, Leslie attempts to glare at the platinum blonde boy, but only a frown meets her request. Her eyes are still soft, fresh with evidence of tears. The boy's attention is grabbed, whether or not he intended to care.

A comment is not uttered, but Leslie pushes by Draco Malfoy, dodging insults from students like him, and not realizing his grey eyes follow her figure until she is out of sight.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

TAGLIST:

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#surreptitious #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #draco x oc #draco x reader #draco malfoy x oc #tom felton #harry potter #hogwarts #chapter 2

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agentmarymargaretskitz · 4 years

Text

What We Do in the Resistance

Happy birthday @hanorganaas!!! I’m so happy to have you in my life and talk about all kinds of crazy stuff that somehow becomes reality. Also thank you for always putting up with my nonsense during betaing. It’s not Chickenverse, but I hope this WWDITS AU still is entertaining and fun!

AO3

There was a stack of mail on the table when Rey came back from the weapons room. She must have missed it when she went to go and polish her collection of staves after waking up. Yesterday, their familiar had forgotten the mail so there was much more of it today. Mostly boring old human junk that they never had any use for, or that their familiar just took care of.

Rey glided into the sitting room where her compatriots were. Finn’s coffin had been empty when she awoke this evening, so it made sense for him to be there. Poe was also in the room with him. Both of them were hunched on the table, working on building another model aircraft. In his vampiric life, Poe had become quite fond of building planes and such. He had a whole room upstairs full of the models he had been constructing since they first moved into this house.

“Hux remembered the mail today,” Rey said, flopping onto the couch. “There’s a lot of it.”

“Has another package come for me?” Poe asked, an eager glint in his eyes. “I’ve almost finished this one.”

“You ordered it yesterday,” Finn reminded him. “It’s going to arrive in three days.”

“I thought we had the two-day shipping?”

“No, we were running out of money,” Rey sighed and leaned against Finn, flipping through the mail. “Bill, bill, coupons for the store, bill, bill- oh, there’s a mattress store opening.”

“Unless they customize for coffins, not interested,” Poe muttered. “Can we have Hux go in the daylight and ask them then?”

“Ask him. There’s another bill, and…oh.”

Finn turned to her. “Oh?”

Rey held up an ivory colored envelope. It was addressed to their residence in blood red ink with the sender’s address located in California. She didn’t even have to turn it over to see the seal to know who it was from. The Vampire Resistance wanted to notify them about something.

Finn’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Do they have an assignment for us?” Poe leaned forward in his chair. “But that means we’re going to have to get Ben up here.”

“Not doing that,” Finn shook his head.

Poe rose to his feet. “I’ll go wake Hux and have him do it. Ben seems to actually like him.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Rey leaned a little more into Finn. “We’ll wait for you.”

~~~

“I became a vampire almost one hundred years ago. During my mortal life, I was alone for almost all of it. Living off scraps, selling junk I could find for money. I never really had any sort of home. It sounds worse than it was. Still it was pretty bad.”

“Then, one day, I was hunting in a scrapyard for something to sell and found an old brooch. I planned to sell it the following day, but I was followed home and bitten. It was a vampire, who turned me as punishment for stealing. I had to pay off my crime by working for him, collecting stolen items. Then Finn came along, newly turned. He said he was with the Vampire Resistance, where there were others like us. I went along with him in search of it. Finn was my first friend…and my first love.”

~~~

Finn was pacing around as they waited for the fourth member of the house to arrive. “Should it be taking this long for Hux to get Ben out of the basement?”

Rey shrugged. “Could he be trying to drain him again?”

“I’ve been hearing a lot of thumping down there at times,” Poe muttered under his breath.

Rey shuddered.

“Oh, come on, I’ve heard you and Finn-”

“Do NOT finish that sentence!”

“Rey and Finn have been what?”

All three vampires startled and hissed in reaction to the sudden arrival. Ben had an unfortunate habit of sneaking up on them in the house. He’d started it in the last few years and it was really starting to get on everybody’s nerves. Hopefully, this letter from the Resistance could kick him out of that. At least Poe hoped it would.

“Ben-”

“It’s Kylo Ren,” the dark-haired vampire corrected as he glided across the floor in his black robes. “Why have I been summoned from my lair?”

“We summoned you from your room because the Vampire Resistance has sent us a letter,” Finn held up the letter that Rey had given him. “And we should all be present to hear it.”

“Including me?” Hux, their familiar, asked from where he was standing by the doorway.

Rey was about to say something, but Ben just nodded. “Yes, please stay, Armitage.”

Hux smiled to himself and scooted in the room a little further.

Finn handed to the envelope over to Poe. “You do the honors.”

“I still don’t understand why this has to exist,” Ben muttered from his seat. “Why do we need a system of rules about our containment? As soon as the humans die off, so do we.”

“Because some vampires need to be kept in check from draining or turning whole cities,” Poe reminded him as he cracked the seal on the envelope. “Ah, here we are.”

“Who’s it from?” Finn asked at the same time Rey asked. “What does it say?”

“Give me a second, it’s parchment!” Poe fussed as he unfolded the letter. “To the vampiric residents in Albany. We hope you are all in good health. This letter is being sent to inform you that despite no contact for three decades, we are still monitoring your situation on the East Coast. Within a week of sending this, the General will be arriving in New York by train to come and see how you are all doing with your monitoring of the vampire population. Please make the proper preparations for her arrival. She is looking forward to seeing you. Signed, the Council of the Vampire Resistance.”

Finn looked happy. “The General’s coming? That should be fun. It’ll be nice to have another vampire out here.”

Ben stood up. “I’m going back to my lair. No one disturb me.”

The trio and Hux watched as Ben glided out of the room, heading towards the weapons room first. They watched him glide down the stairs to the basement with a broadsword. A few moments later, there was screaming and shouting. The noise of something breaking followed after that. Rey, Finn, and Poe waited for more, but nothing more came.

“He’s taking the news well,” Rey remarked sarcastically.

Finn glanced at her. “You think?”

“Why would he be taking things so-”

Hux trailed off as Ben came up from the basement, broadsword in hand.

“Armitage,” he panted. “I am going to need a new coffin.”

~~~

“The General is Ben’s mother. Biologically. It’s a little strange with his family. They were descended from a lineage of vampire hunters. His parents, his uncle, himself. They all stumbled upon a nest one day and it was too much. Every single one of them was turned.”

“They could have all become bloodthirsty killers. Instead, they formed the Vampire Resistance to keep vampires in check. Protect the balance between the human world and the one of the vampires. Leia, Ben’s mother, found me not long after I turned and gave me a new purpose with this eternal life. And then I found Finn and tried to bring him to her. But that got complicated. He still found her in the end. With Rey.”

“Ben has a difficult time with his family. He’s struggled most with the code and butted heads with both of his parents about it. Also, he seems to be going through a weird phase the last few years. He’s calling it his…Elmo phase. That’s what the humans call it, right?”

~~~

They only had one more day to prepare for the General’s arrival. Ben had been playing loud music in the basement for most of it, still moody about the letter. Hux had gone to the mattress store yesterday at Rey’s request to see if they could get a specialized order. Fortunately, they could, so that was some good news. Poe had been rearranging the art a little to freshen up their house and Rey had taken to polishing all the weapons.

It was Finn’s turn to go shopping this week and had taken the familiar with them. They needed more cleaning products and some detergent. There was also a list of things to get for the General. Everyone wanted things to be perfect for her arrival. It had been years since they had last seen her.

“So you’ve met the General before?” Hux asked as they headed up the cleaning supply aisle. “What’s she like?”

“The greatest woman ever if she became a vampire,” Finn told him. “She’s the one brought us all together.”

“And she’s Ren’s mother.”

“You have got to stop calling him that,” he groaned, tossing in some bleach wipes and Tide pens into the basket. “It’s really getting to his head. What’s next on the list?”

Hux looked down at the scrap of paper. “Glitter. Is that right?”

“Yep. Have you contacted the blood bank yet?”

“Blood bank?”

Finn frowned as they headed towards the craft supplies. “Where else do you think we’re going to get our blood?”

“Ren- er, Ben told us to get virgins for this. I set up a thing on the Internet-”

“NO!” Finn hissed at the human. “Take it down immediately! We don’t do that!”

“But-”

“No buts. The virgin thing is garbage. We protect the balance not just by keeping vampires in check, but by taking as few lives as possible. So, take. It. Down.”

The familiar didn’t look pleased, but nodded. “I’ll do it when we get back. So how much glitter are we getting?”

Finn looked at the selection and its colors. “All of it.”

~~~

“No, no, I was not turned by the General. Or Poe. I was actually trained as a sort of soldier for a vampire. He wanted an army and I fell for a scheme. But then there was a revolt- Poe started it, he was a plant. He got me out of there and was going to get me to the Resistance. Then we got separated and I was on my own for a while before I met Rey.”

“You know when you meet someone and just feel a spark, like an instant connection. That’s what I felt with Rey. She’s incredible and brave and strong, even when she’s scared. When we were trying to find the Resistance, she was the strong one, not me. We got there together, and had a few years working for the General before she sent us out here with Poe and Ben. I’m lucky to spend every minute of this life with her.”

“No, Hux is not my familiar. Ben is technically his master, but he does stuff for us too. We treat him a lot better than most vampires usually treat their familiars. Between you and me though, I don’t trust the guy. He was trying to get virgins online for us. Ben won’t let him go though.”

~~~

Thankfully, the train the General was arriving on arrived at nightfall. Hux had rented a truck that they all piled into. The familiar was driving with Ben in the front seat. Finn was in the back, between Rey and Poe. It was a quiet ride to the train station since Finn had stolen the aux cord that Ben could have used to play his terrible music. They were really going to have to do something to snap him out of this funk sooner opposed to later.

Once they arrived at the station, Ben and Poe went to collect the crate containing the General as Hux, Finn, and Rey worked together to sign for it. Not having a heartbeat made it difficult for them to sign on the tablet, so Hux took care of it. They loaded the crate and headed back to the house, once again in total silence. There was still enough time to visit with her before the sun came up with the time they were making.

“Everything’s ready inside, right?” Rey asked as they got back to the house and were transporting the crate inside. “Hold that door, Poe.”

“The crate is holding it,” he called back. “And yes, Finn got everything ready. You did, didn’t you?”

“It’s all there,” Finn confirmed as they moved forward, bumping a table along the way and causing a vase to fall. “Oh, no!”

“It’s fine, it was a fake!” Rey assured him. “Ben, will you please lift your end!”

“I am lifting! And that was not a fake!”

“I used to collect junk, I know a fake from the real deal! Lift more!”

“Augh!” Ben yelled as Hux shut the door on his cape. “Armitage, open the damn door! And what is that smell?”

“I ordered candles online.”

Finn looked betrayed. “Rey, I was at the store last night!”

“But these are better! I haven’t even lit them yet and they already smell good.”

“Hey!” Poe shouted, shutting them all up. “We still have to get the General to her room. We can’t do that if we’re standing around and bickering about who’s lifting and buying candles!”

~~~

“So maybe I am little rebellious. Maybe I do want to eat a virgin to two. Maybe I am sleeping with my familiar. Does that make me a bad person? I don’t think so.”

……..

“Can you edit out that part about Armitage?”

~~~

The casket opened slowly as the members of the household watched. Once the occupant inside was visible to everyone, she opened her eyes and smiled. She looked out at all of them before stepping out onto the glitter covered floorboards. Her eyes took in the quarters they had put her coffin in. The walls had been painted purple with a few bits of glitter that must have gotten caught in the paint job.

Ahead of her were the vampires she had come to visit. Finn was still wearing that old bomber jacket that Poe had given to him ages ago. Rey looked happier and more at ease that she had ever seen her. Poe hadn’t changed a bit, so something stayed the same. Standing in the corner was a scrawny looking redhead who couldn’t stop making eyes at her son. And speaking of Ben, what the hell was the deal with those black robes?

“Welcome, General,” Poe greeted. “It’s good to see you again.

“It’s good to see you too. And I’ve told you to call me Leia. None of that General nonsense the Resistance has.”

Rey stepped forward; arms held out from her side hesitantly. Leia knew the girl had been through a lot even before becoming a vampire. and walked the rest of the way, holding her for a moment in a hug.

“Hi again,” Finn waved as Rey stepped back. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Leia agreed, turning to her son. “Ben?”

“Mother.”

“Why the black robes? You can wear whatever you want, it’s the twenty-first century.”

“I happen to like them. And so does Armitage.”

He must have been referring to the redhead who was smiling to himself. Leia gave him a nod. “So he’s the familiar?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Leia turned to him and gave him her most polite smile. She wasn’t sure she liked him yet. There was something about him that gave her a bad feeling. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You too, General.”

“I trust they’re all treating you well?”

“They are.”

Leia gave a nod of approval. “If they aren’t, I’ll make sure of it while I’m here. And I’ll be here quite a while.”

Poe’s eyes lit up. “You will?”

“I will. I haven’t seen much of the East Coast. Besides, my brother is up here in Pennsylvania coaching volleyball for some reason. I figured now would be a good time to visit.”

~~~

“I probably should have said that in the letter. But I thought it would be a nice surprise. Besides, they’re all good. I’d like to find out what my brother’s gotten up to. He went to go collect a debt and now he’s in Pennsylvania!”

~~~

“I can’t believe my mother is moving in with us.”

~~~

“Leia is living above her son’s room.”

“She’s going to find out he’s screwing his familiar.”

“Basically, he’s fucked.”

“Fucked.”

#star wars #what we do in the shadows #au #fanfiction #rey #finn #poe dameron #kylo ren #ben solo #leia organa #armitage hux #hanorganaas #happy birthday

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velvetinewitch · 4 years

Text

wips list

this functions as a key to all of my wips, including ones i don’t actively write but still work on occasionally. in case you didn’t know, all of my wips include: poc, LGBT+ characters, disabled and non-neurotypical characters, found families, usually fantasy elements because i love magic, and often a little romance (which is usually accompanied by found families or tragedy, but for my romance-repulsed friends, there are still stories with no romance!)

key: *: heavily connected stories >: stories taking place after the events of Faye and Fate (a very distant future)

Closest to Complete (in order... ish)

Painted Cards: a group of teenagers end up criminals after a magical goddess chooses them for greatness. instead of embarking on some epic adventure, they decide to save the world another way: through kindness and coffee. a story about a found family made up of unintentional criminals with trauma that they’ll learn to cope with. mostly written for myself, but also written for the people in my life who needed to see characters like them have a happy ending. a very hopeful, fantasy slice-of-life story.

*Faye and Fate: almost everything i write is exposition or a result of this 5 book series. Aralion Faye resets the timeline so often it all just blurs together. with each new on she creates, she watches the ones she loves die over and over again, as if it’s all a video game culminating up to that game over screen. things always start out so innocently, too; her memories never return until later, so for a while, she enjoys attending a magic school, falling in love, playing pranks, befriending her peers. by the end of the year, the world comes back to remind her that her happy ending is unachievable. between traitors, corruption, fires, and cliffs... this time has to be different. this time she’ll save everyone she loves. is overall a story about heroes of all types. love this series so much abhddvk. magic is based on skills/interests: art, writing, engineering, astronomy, directing, zoology, architecture, makeup art, etc

*Mortals Versus Morals: (this isn’t actually the title but it makes me laugh so it’s being used as the placeholder) Glen is 17, rich, sheltered, and possibly the most lawful good person ever. plot twist- there’s a prophecy predicting his (as well as 6 others’) involvement in the end of the world, and they aren’t on the good side. Glen struggles to balance saving the world from villains while trying not to become a villain himself. includes: road trips and bonding, scenes like the one where the aro-ace friend gets seduced by a nine-tailed fox who runs a Burger King, everyone educating Glen on cultures and respecting pronouns :) as well as the occasional choking angst that comes with a bunch of almost adults getting dragged into the business of gods. did i mention there are gods? there are gods. i do kill a love interest of a protag but then give them TWO romantic partners because i’m not a coward (i feel like the characters who lose a love interest end up in a poly relationship most often in my stories... as a sort of apology to them lmao). also Utah? basically stops existing at some point. magic is based off a deity someone worships, with worship comes borrowed magic. the characters themselves are basically just omnists?

Beneath Our Skin: Sam and Ana don’t know each other. it’s by chance that they’re separated from their class during a field trip, and end of wandering straight into a portal to another world, one with magic. while searching for a way home, they accidentally make their own- in the meantime, they’re gonna find a magician who can give Sam a shapeshifting spell because Sam would really like to transition, even if it’s through magical means, please. written for me and my fake-brother, so lots of being platonically domestic and also sarcastic... this is in a really poetic writing style too.

House of Crabs: this is not the name it just makes me giggle so placeholder time! contemporary, no romance or fantasy or anything (although like one crime is committed but life is life that). here’s the old summary: Siera lives in the mansion of thirty year old Janelle, a woman who has the tendency to take in stray children, granting them shelter despite their tragic backstories or strange personalities. When one of the outcasts, Roy, is confronted by his biological brother, Roy is absolutely horrified by the concept of being dragged back to his transphobic family. The outcasts are dead set on protecting him, even if it requires breaking laws. But Roy's brother doesn't seem that content on harming Roy or bringing him home against his will. Instead, the boy seems more interested in coming out of the closet, hoping that his little brother and his new family can help him learn how to be his true flamboyant self.

>Obligatory Superhero Stories (3 stories): ----Lei is supposedly a civilian, until she arrests the man who ruined her life and accidentally ends up adopting his daughter, Hera. Hera coerces her into adopting her classmate Jason. the two get kidnapped. Lei gets annoyed by how useless she is in saving them, and becomes the first non-mutant superhero. in the meanwhile, the US Secretary of Powers, Victoria, is forced to monitor her progress for a court case deciding whether this is legal, and accidentally falls in love. Hera fucks with journalists and enjoys being politically smarter, Jason attempts to create a ground-breaking technology and blows up hundreds of phones, and Victoria never sleeps. literally. her superpower is just,,, no sleeping. ----Vessa becomes a superhero by accident. it involves art galleries, snow, and unlicensed doctors. now, she operates under an alias, the hero Froze (very creative, yes), alongside her trusted sidekicks. unbeknownst to Vessa, she has a history with the villain she’s fighting, and their teams may be more entangled outside of their aliases than first believed. basically, an enemies to family (and some lovers) story, involving a lot of morally grey shenanigans thanks to a corrupt society. ----there’s a villain on the lose, know as Heart-twist, with the ability to take someone’s darker emotions and intensify them. in reality, Sora is just a teenage girl, with four dear and near friends. it’s been a year since her sister’s boyfriend, a hero, prioritized glorious battle over rescue, and her sister died alone and afraid. Sora is just waiting to make him fall in love with her, so she can repay the favor.

>Paint Me a Picture: dystopian future! roughly 78% of the population is monochromatic, and can only see in shades of grey. it seems petty in plain sight, but jealousy has left the other 22% segregated, separated by a boundary and sinking in poverty. Pristaline is apart of the majority, privileged without even realizing it- her biggest concern is making herself a future in law. a car accident leaves her in a recover home near the boundary, where she accidentally meets Jackson, a color-seeing boy, who calls her eyes ‘blue.’ the encounter sparks a revolution. this is a sadder story- it ends with a girl, watercolor swatches, and a grave.

*Run From Wolves: Elayna is unfortunate enough to be a magic-born in the one kingdom that still prosecutes female magic-borns (to which she says, fuck their religion for saying women shouldn’t have magic). when she and her half-brother Shage are discovered, instead of being executed, Elayna is offered a position beside her brother in the kingdoms prestigious Goddess Guard. the offer comes with a price: they must swear allegiance to the king, and can do him no harm. luckily, a pretty spy from a neighboring kingdom offers Elayna a loophole. includes spirit animals, political intrigue, lesbians, murdering an asshole king, and a secret mystery involving immortality and wolves.

*Twin Kingdoms: there’s an island floating in the sky- two, now, split in half down the center. Melony and Serena have known about the conflict between their kingdoms, but they never really realized it’s intensity until Melony’s older brother close friend betrayed her and seized the throne for himself, pitting her kingdom against Serena’s and searching for war. Melony and Serena are able to escape together, living in disguise and biding their time before they can retake what belongs to them. has a really fun character who’s a villain (she’s the traitor brother’s little sister), gets stuck with an injury, is healed by a girl in an enemy village, and struggles to reaffirm her beliefs while vaguely falling in love. sighhhhhh i miss this series

*Where Shadows Bloom: written during the time of my life where i loved badass assassins becoming queens or princess... despite the trope being looked down upon, i hold this dear to my heart. basically, there’s a period of turmoil throughout the entire planet. on one end of the world, the queen is assassinated by a girl aiming to use her throne to destroy her noble parents, an underground group seeks to end slavery through magical battles and underhanded deals, and an orphan boy is made king. on the other side of the world, a second world war rages, pitting the Gold Alliance (good guys) against the Silver Alliance (bad guys). a princess goes undercover, venturing into a captured kingdom to spy on opposing forces. she’s taken in by an engineer/pilot who helps her stay in disguise as she uncovers the nefarious plot that involves the prosecution of an entire people. it all ties in together.

*Fateless: i really can’t get enough of magic and princesses, huh. ever wonder what Arthurian mythology would be like if it was in my world? Raine’s family has known tragedy after tragedy, from the death of her uncle, then aunt, her brother, and finally, her parents. fate has left her alive to inherit their throne when she comes of age. still, even she is cursed, wearing a ring that burns her with the pain of her people. she doesn’t wince anymore, not even when she watches another witch burn at the stake, and feels the flames crawl up her body, phantom but so, so real. when her kingdom falls, Raine and her most trusted knights are forced to flee into the woods. there, they find a tavern alongside a their road, run by a mysterious woman named Lancelin. there’s something familiar about the woman, something from Raine’s past, and something strange about the way that each of her customers leaves with healed minds and bodies. secretly-enemies to secretly-lovers! as common with me...

#my wips #navigation #long post #faf #faye and fate #painted cards

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quillsareswords · 5 years

Text

Robin, Meet Robin.

Damian Wayne

Requested (anonymous [4]; @annielimajackson ; @crissy1603)

Prompt List // Masterlist (both in bio)

"My name's Robin," you answered politely.

The first time he had heard your name, he hadn't thought too much of it, beside the automatic twitch at hearing his moniker.

It was admittedly a bit difficult for the first few months when you had first started attending Gotham Academy. You were in quite a few of his classes, and for the first few weeks, it took an exhausting amount of awareness and control not to react every time someone addressed you.

When you ended up becoming friends? That was far more difficult. Especially given your similarities in personality. You were often just as bitter and biting as he was, which, coincidentally, is how you bonded: you hated all the same people.

Calling you by your first name always bother him. Not only was it strange addressing someone with the name he thought of ad his own, but to add the fact that it was an entirely secret name made it all the more uncomfortable. This is why he often refers to you by your last name.

[L/N] didn't make it sound as if he was talking about himself in third person.

When he realized he had somehow, accidentally, uncontrollably fallen for you? Oh, it was ironic and painful.

He didn't plan on telling you. He never planned on telling you anything about the mask or his feelings. Maybe it wasn't fair to you. You'd subtly expressed interest before, when you were younger, but now you both stood evenly at seventeen, and you'd gone on dates with other men.

In any case, he refused to tell you anything. He had a plan. A plan that meant you stayed friends until you were utterly sick of him, and you'd never know a thing.

And yet, it all came crashing down in a blazing ball of fire one stormy night in May.

You had been in the sitting room of Wayne Manor with him. Papers and projects scattered around the floor you sat on and the couch beside you, carnage of the joint effort of trying to finish as many papers and projects as you could before the school year was up. You'd been here since noon, and now it was nearing eleven. You had decided hours ago to take up the guest room adjacent to his balcony tonight.

Presently, you were sitting beside him on the couch, papers shoved to the side for the time being, eyes glued to the plasma flat screen mounted to the wall.

The wreckage of the Joker's latest attack was displayed on the news channel, the reported speaking rapidly as words of warning scrolled across the screen, all screaming to stay out of the mile surrounding the harbor.

You were still on the phone with your mother, making sure she made it out of the bowling alley safely.

"Okay. Tell Dad I said goodnight," he hears you say. "Love you too. Bye."

You withdraw the device from your ear, a low breath parting your lips. You click the big red button on your screen, leaning your head on Damian's shoulder.

It's an action that sets his skin on fire, makes his heart beat just a little harder. Oh, how badly he wishes to comfort you properly, with an arm around you and a kiss on your forehead.

"Mom made it home," you report quietly, eyes jumping back up to the television, phone dropping in to your lap. "She said the streets are as empty as she's ever seen them." Your tone is grave.

"Good. People should be staying inside."

You don't reply. For a few long moments, you sat in silence together.

Then, the double doors to the kitchen burst open, and Tim races into the room. "Robin!" You both whip around to face him.

"What?"

He realizes his mistake a beat too late. He can feel the confusion in your stare, but Tim continues with an apologetic expression and a hard tone. "Bruce wants us downstairs A.S.A.P."

"Tell him I'm on my way."

You look between the two of them as they move, Tim bolting back through the kitchen, and Damian standing from the couch.

He's aiming to get out of the room before you can put it together, but he should have known better than to think it would take you that long.

You reach out, catching him but the hem of his tee shirt. "Damian?"

He turns to face you, green-blue eyes locking with yours. He finds confusion and a hint of fear. It's understandable: you are sitting in a seemingly easy target during a ruthless Joke attack, and he's leaving you here alone.

He moves closer, dropping to his knee in front of you. He trades your grip on his shirt for a grip on his hand. "I will be back. I'll explain then, alright?"

"But Damian-"

"Please," he beg, "trust me."

You hesitate. Eyes dart toward the television. The wreckage is ready beyond measure, and the body count is only going to get higher. Your eyes move back to meet his. You nod twice. "Okay."

You could say that plan of his was a phoenix. Sure, it burnt up in flames, but, a sunrise later, it was revised incredibly.

For starters, no longer were you clueless. Now you knew damn near everything.

For another, you were no longer just friends. The moment a confession of love rolled off his tongue, you'd had half a mind to slap him silly. You the went on to explain that, yes, you'd gone on dates, and you had called one or two of them a boyfriend for a short amount of time, but you'd only been trying to move on from him.

It was a moment he had wanted to simultaneously sing with joy and scream with frustration.

Months passed comfortably now, without the strife of secrets and names tripping off tongues.

He had taken to calling you any bird name he could think of, besides Robin. You'd heard too many to remember; bluejay, parrot, mockingbird, cardinal, finch, sparrow -- if you'd seen it, you'd heard it. Though finally, he did settle on one he seemed to like the best.

"Hummingbird," he groans, "please turn that dreadful nonsense off."

You crossed your arms, leaning back against his headboard. "Nonsense?" You freign offence. "The Marvolus Misadventures of Flapjack is art, you uncultured acorn."

He turns to look at you over his shoulder, combined the glow of two computer monitors alluminating his features unevenly. "What did you call me?"

To any sane person, his tone was an obvious threat. A warning, if you will. To you, it was a challenge of power. A question of weather or not you had the balls to call him anything other than royalty.

"An uncultured acorn," you repeat.

He sighs heavily, turning back to face the left screen, skimming the panel of images, stills from security cameras. "I've been to more countries than you could name," he reminds. "Most women in this city would kill to sit in your place."

You uncross your arms, repositioning yourself so you lay on your stomach, your head propped up on your hands at the foot of his kind size bed. "Sure, but you can't wash my sink out of your sheets, so you haven't got a choice, do you, Feathers?"

You can hear him chuckle adoringly, followed by the low, loving mutter of, "No, but I can burn them."

With the nicknames practically set in stone, the two of you were set apart easily. However, it wasn't quite as simple for most of his family.

Alfred, ever formal and polite, addresses you as he always has: Miss [L/N].

Bruce calls you by your first name, though there isn't any confusion as to who he's talking to, as he uses a much firmer tone when addressing Damian with is moniker.

Dick doesn't find any difficulty in keeping g your original nickname. Birdy, he calls you. He says it reminds him of a younger you (likely because that's when he first gave you the title, much to a 10 year old Damian's dismay).

Jason, however, struggles greatly. You weren't introduced before you and Damian we're dating (he was officially dead, and because you didn't know about the masks, you couldn't know about him), so he didn't feel he had any place to give you a nickname. He also calls Damian by his hero name fairly often, using the same tone as he does for you. It was months before he finally gave up, forever referring to you as "the demon's sidekick" or "she-bird". Including when he speaks directly to you.

Tim nearly never calls Damian by his mantle, so he doesn't particularly see any reason to call you anything other than your name, despite Damian twitching every single time. It was only recently he's started calling you by your middle name instead, after figuring out that Damian was slowly becoming desensitized to anyone calling for him on patrol.

His sisters, though you don't see them quite as often, have cycled through too many nicknames and random words that you gave up keeping track.

Outside of his family, Jon is one of the only one you see on a regular basis. He's always thought the whole thing is hilarious. He's taken to calling you "moroon", an inside joke the three of you share that relates to an ever present memory involving an eggplant, a purple shirt, and an entire pack of Crayola colored markers.

Had he known what he knows now, this would have been a much different story. Had he known just how much the name of a common bird would ever hope to impact his life, maybe -- just maybe -- he would have paid a little more mind when he first heard you say it so long ago.

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #robin

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nationallark · 5 years

Text

Blood From the Stone, an adaptation of Onision’s Stones to Abbigale, Chapter One [EDIT: now complete] 3k words

(AN: hi friends! I decided to go ahead and align chapter one of my rework with chapter one of STA, so here it is for you guys! from now on, I’ll be posting the full chapters on Tumblr and I’ll put links to my Wattpad and Ao3 in my About page!!)

I hope you enjoy :)

The moment I opened my eyes, I was blinded by my freshly wallpapered room. Several days into my latest drastic redecoration, even the cast iron bed frame was now painted white. Light peeking through a narrow opening in the curtains bounced off the walls, making me clamp my eyes shut. Clearly, changing my room back to wall-to-wall white was another in a long line of self-inflicted psychological tortures.

My family could tell that the black had depressed me. I found comfort in the darkness, but neither extreme was without fault. I didn’t mind waffling between light and dark bedrooms, as I had ample spray paint and plenty of time to kill, but for a moment the intense light show pouring through the bay window felt like it was burning clear through to my brain.

Mom, having switched to the overnight shift by mid June, didn’t wake me up like she used to. Then again, neither did my alarm clock. I rolled away from the window and squinted into its plastic face only to see a cheaply backlit 8:17 AM staring back at me.

Great, I was going to be late again.

Not taking the time to grab my usual handful of cereal, I scribbled an excuse note and pulled a sweater over my sleep shirt before hopping on my scooter and pointing it in the direction of the school. As soon as the cold wind began to sting my cheeks, I realized that I in my haste had forgotten a scarf. Oh well.

I narrowly missed crashing into a giggly Lauren and Raymond who, hand in hand, were heading away from the school and towards the old church, no doubt to smoke or make out or any number of activities Lakewood students tended to use the place for.

Mr. Hanson, my heavyset history teacher, gave me a withering look as I ducked into his room with only fifteen minutes left in first period.

“James, talk to me after class,” he said mildly from his perch in the back of the room. I dropped my note on his desk on my way over to one of the few empty seats, electing to try and absorb some of the day’s lesson from the ongoing group activity rather than sit outside and count ceiling tiles.

It didn’t take long, however, for my mind to wander from British colonialism to the fascinating small scale history being made around me. I watched as Calvin, one of the honor students who was gunning for valedictorian, explained the reasoning behind his answers while Jaime nodded along and Miranda half paid attention to him while also monitoring Mr. Hanson to know when it was safe to chew her gum. It was too early in the school year for anyone to be too stressed out over grades, so there was only a sense of resigned monotony among the students.

That is, until the bell rang.

Over the ensuing bustle, Mr. Hanson glanced up from his work and looked at me expectantly, but I could only smile and shrug as I allowed myself to be pushed into the hallway with everyone else. Sorry, Mr. Hanson; I had a more important class to get to.

My second period was all the way across campus, relegated to one of the ancient trailers that also held the ESL students, sign language class, and music appreciation. Sculpture I, being one of the easier options for making the required fine arts credit, was naturally full of slackers and people who, like me, weren’t talented enough in music or theater to take anything else.

My cross-campus trek was interrupted by dozens of students circled around what I could only assume to be a fight. Unfortunately, the fight just happened to be in the center of the hallway that was my only path to art class. I hunched my shoulders and slipped through the growing crowd, breaking into a jog as the minute bell rang. I normally wouldn’t bother with getting to class on time, but I made an exception for sculpture; sculpture was the class I had with Abbi.

Ever since I’d seen Abbi in second period on the first day of senior year, she was all I could think about. Every day she would sit at the left side of a shared desk, drop her bag on the left side of her chair, and, resting her elbows on the tabletop, pick at the fake wood grain desk cover with her pencil.

As I ascended the creaking steps into the trailer, there were more seats open than I expected, probably because their usual occupants were still observing the fight I’d managed to squeeze past. There Abbi was, however, in the same getup as usual: her dark, wavy hair bunching on top of the desk as she bent over it, her deep purple eyeshadow and tinted brows still visible through the fringe. She had on the army jacket I’d never seen her without, even during messier art projects that showed in the cuffs of its sleeves. Even in the harsh light of the trailer’s fluorescent bulbs, she looked fantastic.

I tried not to make it too obvious that I was rushing to sit next to her, so I forced myself to slow down and take a casual approach to the desk. Step. Wave to Mrs. Stanley. Step. Check out the newest student-made hangings above her seat. Three steps. Gently drop my bag onto the desk.

Finally, I pulled the metal desk chair out and plopped into it with a grin ready for Abbi to turn and look at me...which happened to be at the exact same moment my thighs registered how ungodly cold the A/C had made the chair. I hissed in shock and stood up to save myself from mild frostbite, pushing the chair away from me and tipping it backwards and onto the floor with a metallic crash. Having looked up from her handiwork in time to see everything go down, Abbi glanced mildly at the chair, then at me, and went back to work without even laughing at me. Freaking smooth, James.

I picked up the chair amid the laughter of the other sculpture students and the quiet concern of Mrs. Stanley and sat down once again, this time being careful to pull the stretchy fabric of my shorts down long enough to cover the metal seat. I aimed my smile back at Abbi, who, this time, didn’t look up.

I barely had time to be disappointed before the stragglers arrived clearly invigorated by the hallway fight, whooping and hollering before Mrs. Stanley told them to quiet down or she’d mark them as tardy. Once again I looked at Abbi, whose attention was held steadfast by the desk cover. Well, at least it wasn’t just me that couldn’t get her attention. At this, I felt a wave of relief.

The relief was cut short, however, when one of the stragglers named Jason joined us at the shared desk, taking the seat directly across from Abbi. His arrival and unceremonious dumping of his bag on the desktop earned him a brief look and a practiced readjustment of Abbi’s position so that he wouldn’t accidentally bump into her, and once again the relief flooded my system.

Now that everyone was in their seats, Mrs. Stanley, looking for all the world like a walking retirement party, officially began class by going over the previous day’s finished assignment, which itself was the culmination of our unit on color and texture. I myself had modeled my project after my then-black room with soft black silk and smooth painted wood and was given an A for my trouble.

The main topic of discussion, however, wasn’t our grades. It was the introductory project for the next unit: symbolism and storytelling. Mrs. Stanley began to hand out the rubrics for the project while she gave us the bad news: we were going to be working with partners.

No, no, no. Not okay, because with my luck, I’d be paired with bonehead Jason or asshole Alex who’d just gotten back from a stint in alternative school for exposing himself in the cafeteria last year. I struggled to pay attention as she continued to outline the project.

“To simplify things,” she said, still handing out papers, “you’re going to be paired with the person across from you.”

That rule meant I was paired with….oh, God. While I wasn’t looking, Alex had apparently drifted into class and sat in the one remaining seat, which just so happened to be next to Jason and across from me. This wasn’t happening.

I’d been there in the cafeteria last year when Alex exposed himself. I’d even seen it. I can’t say I was particularly impressed, but I guess I didn’t have very much data with which to compare. Regardless, I was uninterested in being stuck with this kid for God knows how long while trying to work with whatever drivel he’d come up with and pass of as ideas.

My musing was interrupted by a voice that said “Can I be paired with James?”

Hearing the rare appearance of Abbi’s somber voice made me smile despite myself, and I took a moment to apprecia--wait. That was my name that had come out of her mouth. She’d asked to be paired with me. I couldn’t blame her, really, as her other option was Jason, who was barely a notch above Alex in terms of competence.

Despite her annoyance at Abbi’s resistance of her rules, Mrs. Stanley appeared to take pity on the both of us and rearranged our partnerships to put Abbi and I together and sic Jason and Alex upon each other. Looking only a little hurt, Jason huffed and looked Alex up and down before shrugging and choosing not to make a stink about the arrangement.

As Mrs. Stanley continued, I tried to remind myself that Abbi was only working with me to avoid the more offensive option that was Jason. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at the thought that Abbi would be talking directly to me and nobody else in second period for the next several days.

“For this project, you will each take something you own, and together, you will create something that brings new meaning to your possessions. In case you can’t tell, this is a project that’s going to render the items you bring useless for the future, so I wouldn’t suggest bringing a favorite shirt or expensive electronic. Today, you’ll work on deciding what you’ll bring and sketching out the final product.”

My mind was racing with ideas about what I could bring when I stopped to consider what Abbi might have to offer. What would she consider useful but okay to part with? Surely she had a spare makeup brush or two, with all the work she clearly put into doing her face day after day.

“What are you going to bring?”

I wished she’d say my name again. I’d always thought my name was so boring, but coming from Abbi, it was beautiful. Shit, gotta answer before I look like a weirdo.

“Uh, I don’t know…” Great.

“You could bring something to go in my hamster cage,” said Abbi.

“Did he die or something?” I winced, mentally berating myself. Great, just great. Bring up her dead hamster. That’ll make her have the hots for you.

“Never had one. Dad got the cage and forgot the hamster.”

“How do you forget a hamster? Was he high?” Abbi shrugged and looked away, and I took the opportunity to feel like a complete ass, first for bringing up her nonexistent dead hamster and then for asking about her maybe-stoned father. I wondered, briefly, how the species ever managed to repopulate if there were men like me walking around and completely turning women off.

Instead of shutting my mouth, I decided to try one more time to lift her spirits.

“Maybe I could, uh, bring that weird thing my mom keeps in her bedside table?”

Abbi snorted and, for a fleeting moment, gave me the most perfectly little crooked smile I’d ever seen on those plum-painted lips. And, by God, I was the one who put it there. I let slip an eye-crinklingly wide smile before composing myself into what I hoped was a sly grin. Abbi got ahold of herself too and opened her mouth, hopefully not to be too grossed out with me.

“Tell me you didn’t actually touch your mom’s--”

“Of course not!” I interrupted her. I didn’t know if I could stand to hear that combination of words aimed at me and not die from the resulting embarrassment. I laced my fingers together and stared down at my desk, willing my reddening cheeks to calm down.

Soon, the bell rang and dismissed us to third period, and I quickly stood up, grabbing my things and getting ready to run away from the social situation my big mouth had put me in. I was in such a hurry, in fact, that I almost missed Abbi calling my name from our desk.

I stopped short of the door and sidestepped the other students rushing back to the main school building. Having successfully grabbed my attention, Abbi reached into the scrap paper box and pulled out a white and gold speckled scrap of tissue paper.

“Here,” she said, scribbling something down on it. “gotta run; gym class.”

I felt for her; to get to the stadium for girls’ gym, she was going to have to cross the whole campus and wait for the crosswalk. But more importantly, she gave me a note! I scrambled to open it as I walked to class and discovered she’d written down a phone number. Her phone number? My eyes snapped upwards to the hallway, but Abbi was long gone.

For the rest of the school day, I was floating on air. Abbi had never once given me a second look, but now that we’d spoken some she wanted me to have her phone number! Did she want me to call her? I decided to play it safe and wait until I was home to do anything. I moved my phone case and gently pushed the note inside for safekeeping.

The final bell couldn’t have come soon enough. I picked up my scooter and ran to the bus in hopes of getting home as soon as possible, and Davis waved me over from a seat near the back. I joined him.

“Blow me off again this morning? I’m starting to get lonely,” Davis said with a theatrical sigh. I gave him my best eye roll in return while artfully cramming my scooter in one of the overhead storage areas. I sat down next to Davis and held my backpack in my lap.

“Alarm didn’t go off,” I said, gazing out the window at all the people milling around in the bus circle. Why wouldn’t they get out of the way? Didn’t they know I had something important to do?

“Whatcha’ looking at?” said Davis.

“Oh, nothing. Just wish these assholes would mo--”

And suddenly through the throng of students and teachers I saw Abbi perched on the hood of an old Sedan in the parking lot, looking bored out of her mind and utterly, utterly perfect. Without looking away I grabbed Davis’ sleeve and pulled him towards the window.

“See that girl? That’s Abbi.” I said.

Davis squinted at the parking lot. “The emo chick with the crappy car? That’s your dream girl?”

I smacked him on the shoulder and spoke, still unable to look away.

“She’s amazing. She’s artistic and good at carving, she always does her eyebrows perfectly, and she matches her makeup to the paint stains on her jacket cuffs.”

“Uh, okay. Why not wash the jacket?”

I was getting ready to reply when an unwelcome figure entered my field of vision. Seth, one of the assholes in my history class who liked to talk back to Mr. Hanson, walked up to Abbi and hugged her while she sat on the hood. And sure enough, those paint speckled cuffs wrapped around his waist and hugged right back.

I sat back in my seat and tried not to look as devastated I felt. Of course she had a boyfriend. How could a girl like that not have a boyfriend already? Besides, I didn’t have any right to be upset. Before today, I’d barely said ten words to her altogether. I opened my phone case and pulled out Abbi’s note. Why had she given me this, then?

When my stop came I rode my scooter the rest of the way home and dumped my backpack on the floor before flopping onto my bed. So, Abbi wasn’t trying to get me to ask her out. And she wasn’t asking me out, either. So...what gives? I sent her a text, trying my best to seem casual. Abbi? It’s James.

She replied a few minutes later, Cool. Was wondering when you’d text. So, what are you bringing? And don’t say your mom’s vibrator.

Oh, so that’s why she gave me her number. Of course. We hadn’t started on the sketch for our project, and we hadn’t even figured out what we were bringing. Scanning the room, I came up with the first thing I saw and texted her back. A stuffed animal?

This time, her response was almost instantaneous. What if I bring one of mine and we do like a zombie animal?

I couldn’t help sighing dreamily at her idea. I did tell Davis she was artistic, after all. Sounds cool! :)

Sweet.

As much as I wanted to keep talking to Abbi, I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I set my phone down and picked a stuffed animal I was willing to part with--a brown bear with a red ribbon--and put it in my backpack for tomorrow before hopping in the shower. I lowered myself to the floor of the tub and distantly felt the warm water hitting my chest.

#onision #anti o #stones to abbigale #blood from the stone #bfts #anti onion boy

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sorcerusdragonbionics · 5 years

Text

Reading list 6/22-6/29

So I got this from a few places, such as the FanFic Summer Reading Challenge as well as one of the profiles I’m following mentioning that they wanted to do a reading list of every fanfic they’ve read. I read A LOT, hence why wanted to do the Summer Reading Challenge, but I also wanted to share fics with people, so I’ve decided that every Sunday I’ll post the fics I’ve read in a Reading List for the week.

Fic ratings range from G to E, but all of them are labeled so if something isn’t your cup of tea, don’t read it. Since this is my first list and I want to see how it turns out I’ll keep them all together for now, but depending on how it turns out I might start dividing them up by fandom and possibly by Rating.

For Now: Tell me if this Sharable Link works for you Google Drive Folks, or Read More if you feel so inclined.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/19Py4njs7UTYOijl3TkGAB2MouJ4uiTa4e3uB6ThpMjs/edit?usp=sharing

Revenge of White Rabbit

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: TiBun, UnknownPaws

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4832390/chapters/11067851

Status: Complete

Series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/329461

Complete

Three works

Chapters: 14/14

Summary: They say that bad things happen in threes, but they never specify just how Nightmarish "bad things" can get.

Rating: E

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Major Character Death

Words: 45091

You’re All I Need

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: towokuwusatsuwu

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565637/chapters/19636612

Status: Incomplete

Last Updated 2016/11/17

Chapters: 2/?

Summary: In a world where you only see in shades of gray until you meet your soulmate, Barnaby has his literally fall into his arms.

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 2891

Of Tigers and Bunnies Series

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: MarchWindsAprilShowers

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1332236

Status: OnGoing

Last Updated 2019/6/25

Works: 7

Home Sweet Home Summary: Barnaby wasn’t sure exactly what it was that made his partner’s home feel like...home. At least, he feels more at home there than anywhere else, including his own apartment.

The Group’s Couple Summary: Every large friend group has at least one honorary couple and this one is pretty annoying. (A short and completed drabble series of how the other heroes deal and interact with TaiBani.)

Already Perfect Summary: If there’s one thing Barnaby actively avoids in interviews, it's the subject of children in his future besides Kaede.

Fried Rice and Promise Summary: In which Barnaby decides to return the favor and kick down Kotetsu's door unannounced with some fried rice to cheer up the old man.

My Hero! Summary: Okay, alright. Social media has even pointed it out at this point. Barnaby will admit it. // He can be a little protective of Kotetsu. // Maybe even unreasonably.

For the Last Time, Go to Bed! Summary: Keith is sick with a cold and keeps bothering Ivan who is currently making him some soup.

Betrayed by the Heart Monitor Summary: Barnaby is injured on the job and is in the hospital. Kotetsu is with him and refuses to go home. It's 1AM, so that's the perfect time for confessions (obviously)!

Rating G - T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 7424

The Prophecy

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Author: VikingSong

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10463682/1

Status: OnGoing

Last Updated 2019/6/22

Chapters: 79/?

Summary: Uther learns Arthur is the Once-and-Future-King of prophecy and declares him a traitor, forcing him to flee with Merlin. The catch? Arthur has no idea who Emrys is and no desire to fulfill the prophecy. Reveal!fic. T for action sequences/some deaths; no slash, no smut, no language. Cover art by AlexandarCho on deviantART (used with permission).

Rating: T

Different Tagging System so not marked for whole work, but Author is vigilant to point out moments of violence that will be coming up in the chapter.

Words: 110584

The Only One

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: Rinienne

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7085107/chapters/16103044

Status: Complete

Chapters: 8/8

Summary: There was nothing funny about a NEXT ability which made some people lose their minds to lust, especially while it had such deadly consequences. Others were not affected by it the same way, but what was the difference between the two groups was a question yet unanswered.

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Warnings

Words: 46668

Zero to Hero

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: ryrybread

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323073/chapters/45963673

Status: OnGoing

Last Updated 2019/6/24

Chapters: 2/?

Summary: Midoriya Izuku has had a hard time getting through life as long as he could remember. Not only was he quirkless, but he was born in the wrong body, gender-wise. // If it wasn't for his childhood friend standing up for him, he wouldn't even been here, let alone being face to face with his ultimate role model, All Might. // Follow Izuku through his high school experience, dealing with feelings, villains, and transitioning to become the boy he always was meant to me.

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 2057

Something To Look Forward To

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: jooniebears14

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206946/chapters/45661945

Status: OnGoing

Last Update Approx 2019/6/25

Chapters: 2/?

Summary: After leaving his horrible middle school Izuku Midoriya starts fresh at a new one. Making plenty of friends and experiences along the way, everything was perfect until… // “Izuku were getting married” // “ Oh that’s great I’m so happy for you guys” // “ Yeah and were moving back to Musutafu” // “Wait what”

Rating: T+

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Words: 3293

Zero: the World’s Best Hero Duo

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: Toboe1087

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548689/chapters/43963657

Summary: There was a next to zero percent chance that it would happen. That two infants would meet each other in the park and have a soulmate connection. That they would grow up together and change the world forever. But that's the thing, the chances were next to zero, but not quite zero.

Status: OnGoing

Last Updated Approx 2019/6/25

Chapters: 24/?

Rating: G

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 40125

Three’s a Crowd

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: ScatteredSounds

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960185/chapters/37223450

Summary: Izuku wasn't sure if he was ready to find his soulmate, then he found two. He swears upon All Might's abs that he is not ready to handle this shit. Todoroki has had a rough past and finds it difficult to show emotion. Bakugou only know how to show 50 shades of anger. And Izuku is just so happy to have both of them in his life he doesn't really know what to do with himself.

Status: OnGoing

Last Update Approx 20169/6/17

Chapters: 13/?

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings

Words: 43949

A Suitable Nickname

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: Fujiwara_no_Seimei

https://archiveofourown.org/works/216812

Status: Complete

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Kotetsu and Barnaby have been living together for years with Kaede, and now a teenager, she's pushing her boundries. Barnaby learns what his real role is in this dysfunctional family.

Rating: T+

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 797

Win Some, Lose Some Series

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: Lirillith

https://archiveofourown.org/series/12623

Status: Incomplete

Last Update 2012/2/13

Works: 3

Win Some, Lose Some Summary: Barnaby visits Kotetsu in the hospital after the final confrontation.

Better Late Than Never Summary: Set during the episode 25 timeskip. Kotetsu and Barnaby get their chance to talk before Kotetsu leaves Stern Bild.

Keep Your Chin Up Summary: Barnaby navigates Christmas solo.

Rating: G-T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 7096

Potential Happy Endings for Tiger & Bunny

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: wickedorin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/308846/chapters/494248

Status: Complete

Chapters: 5/5

Summary: While I was waiting for the final episode, I had a little fun writing the possible endings that were in my head. Many spoilers, but not really for the final episode.

Rating: M

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death

Words: 5326

Seasons Will Change

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: Tru

https://archiveofourown.org/works/253126

Status: Complete

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: A "what if?" post episode 24.

Rating: T

Warnings: Major Character Death

Words: 1807

Me in You, You in Me

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Author: fromstarlighttodust

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19338721

Status: Complete

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: When an experiment goes wrong, Levi and Eren end up in swapped bodies. Unfortunately, existing as each other until they can figure out how to reverse it turns out to be more difficult than they had anticipated. Ultimately, it leads to a journey of hard truths, mutual discovery and a greater understanding of one another--not to mention an appreciation for being themselves.

Rating: M

Warnings: Underage

Words: 9732

Hero Name

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: miarinnes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364635/chapters/46072966

Status: OnGoing

Last Updated 2016/6/26

Chapters:1/?

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki was visited by a "ghost" girl named Katsumi. The bubbly 5-year-old instantly got immuned by Katsuki's angry outbursts and a wide range of curses. Who was this girl, this -- Katsumi who had curly blonde hair, round ruby eyes, and freckles across her cheeks? Bakugou does not seem to care until she had talked about her Papa that reminded her of spring and the color green.

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 3957

I’m Only Yours (Forever and Ever)

Fandom: Attack On Titan

Author:Siamesepolyporegoat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778020/chapters/36707862

Status: Complete

Series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1164533

Incomplete

Last Update 209/6/20

Chapters: 26/26

Summary: Eren was the second son. He was supposed to be free to love and marry whoever he wanted. So why was he being sent to marry some stranger?

Rating: M

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage

Words: 67781

On the Shoulder of a Giant

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Author: Written By: Emamel

Read By: Opalsong

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791343

Status: Complete

Chapters: 11/11

Summary: The Scouting Legion receives word of a rogue titan in the battle of Trost. // They didn't know what to expect - it certainly wasn't Jaeger.

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Podfic- 0 words read

Savior

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: jaegerackereri

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18077612/chapters/42727589

Status: OnGoing

Last Update 2019/6/29

Chapters: 6/?

Summary: When Izuku's brother Kota becomes gravely ill, the only person that is able to save him is the cruel Dragon King Katsuki Bakugou, but how far is Izuku willing to go to save his brother...

Rating: M

Warnings: Author Chose Not Use Warnings, Rape/Non-Con

Words: 10232

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chordstrvck-blog · 5 years

Text

sharp gray eyes size up their unwanted companion through a lung-staled waft of smoke. “ ‘ey. ” a tip of the chin. cigarette ash darts to pavement. crunch. eddie grinds that shit in, real good. nothin’ like a pair of trusty docs to do the trick. “ what the fuck’s your damage ? ”

or alternatively : yo, yo, whassgood ? the name’s liana ( she/her/hers ) and i am so friggin’ hyped to bring you my spoopy lil’ music man, eddie williams !! below the cut you’ll find a big hodge-podged mess of facts, potential connects, and other delicious chips of info. his favorites are hoppin’ jalapeno crunch tators, thanks for fuckin’ askin’. ( imagine how heartbroken he’ll be when frito lay discontinues them in the 90′s... rest in spaghetti never forgetti. )

— ❝ wait is that THOMAS HAYES ? or is that KEITH EDISON “EDDIE” WILLIAMS who arrived in las vegas TWENTY-THREE years ago? HE is TWENTY-THREE years old. last time i checked they were a GUITARIST IN CRIMSON & CLOVER / ARTIST AT ATOMIC TATTOOS . rumour has it they’re very BEGUILING and very HARUM-SCARUM. the CISMALE reminds me of SAY WHAT YOU WILL BY FASTWAY.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEATH, DOMESTIC ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DRUG USE/ABUSE, MENTIONS OF ADDICTION.

eddie is the lovely ivy williams [ @poiseonxivy ] ’s older brother ! they grew up in a contentious household here in vegas, with an abusive alcoholic for a father and a complacent/despondent mother. fed up with the abuse and chaos, their mother walked out on them when eddie was 13. he and ivy caught her in the act, and this savage kid called her out for being a coward and opened the fuckin’ door for her. “ die in a ditch, ” is the last thing he ever said to that sorry waste of a woman.

naturally, things with their father only got worse. he was quick to provoke and impossible to please. the williams siblings had to step up to upkeep their home, make sure bills got paid, etc., all while receiving the worst of it from their father. ivy, as the youngest, was blamed for the family’s downfall. eddie got berated and slurred at for his tendency to peruse his sister’s things, paint his middle fingers interesting colors, ask her to do his makeup on halloween. his father was the first person to ever look eddie in the eye and call him a faggot, and, well... that shit dug deep.

it’s not that he’s overly concerned about it. hell, labels are fuckin’ dumb, alright? he’d sooner be gagged with a spoon than told he has to live his life all boxed up. he doesn’t care that the lady at the bar’s stunning and so is the guy pourin’ her drink, alright? what he does care about is... what if he is that thing his dad said? what if he... what if he is the man his dipshit dad saw in him ?

guitarist in el’s band, crimson & clover ! the band formed several years ago and has been playing gigs ever since. it’s definitely made him grow as a guitarist : you can frequently find eddie chilling on fire escapes experimenting with new riffs and the like. he’s absolutely got that band aesthetic –– distressed tees, tight pants, leather, leather, leather. doc martens. beat up sneaks. jaw-length hair, wavy. usually teased on stage and left to its own devices off-stage. music has always been an escape for him, especially from the hellscape that was his childhood home. catch him chillin in el’s record shop, cig in hand, blissed out to the latest rock releases blasting in his headphones.

jake wheeler’s next-door neighbor / best friend ! we have yet to plot about this, but that’s a wc eddie fills & we could do something with that, too!

tw: drugs, abusive tendencies, mild violence. eddie’s genetics do predispose him to addiction. and, unfortunately, this bitch way more than dabbles in a haphazard lifestyle. he’s BIG into psychedelics, stimulants. alcohol. acid. he’ll pulverize the occasional bar asshole’s face. make fights out of nothing. but s’not a problem, alright ? he’s cool. he’s cool. ( this guy’s a sinkin’ ship in heavy ass denial. )

art. tattooing. art has also played a pivotal role in eddie’s life. from a very young age, he created edgy doodles: skeletons in their sunday best, ghost cartoons carrying guns. the late 60′s/early 70′s saw his school notebooks filling with vietnam-inspired strips, doodles, and sketches. he used to draw “tattoos” on his fellow delinquents during detention in sharpie ink. gave himself his first poke tattoo on his ankle ( a scrawled so what ? ) in eighth grade. now, he works as a tattooist at atomic tattoos. always flirts with the clientele. and they always leave happy.

tw: death. wears a dharma wheel pendant at all times, tucked beneath his shirt or, if he’s shirtless, just out in the open. he’ll say he found it in the street, but it actually belonged to a guy he started seeing his senior year of high school, in secret. glenn farley. he was older, around 27, but he offered up the first safe place eddie’d ever known. dude disappeared close to eddie’s graduation. eddie stayed angry for a long time, until his photo turned up in the obits : glenn was killed in a hit-and-run outside a dive bar.

on the topic of sexuality & gender expression : eddie honestly couldn’t give a flyin’ shit. he’s of the belief that existence shouldn’t be coded or explained. so, yeah, he’s male. and yeah, he’ll be attracted to whomever he pleases. but in a time where that shit’s not too common? not too accepted? he does feel like he’s playing hide-and-seek. it’s exhausting. and... there’s still something that nags him, at the back of his mind, when he decides to hook up with a guy. it’s all tied up with his family history ( see the stuff about his dad above ) .

eddie is very outspoken & unfiltered. he won’t mince his words; he’ll speak bullets without considering the exit wound.

he’d much rather have coffee and cigarettes than a meal. but if he’s gotta have food? and you’re forcing him? cinnamon waffles with ten gallons of syrup. delicious.

wears rings because hell, if he’s gonna punch you, he wants that shit to hurt.

smells like tobacco and amber and fresh-fallen rain.

likes makeup. tends to get away with some eyeliner/eyeshadow on stage, but typically doesn’t wear any day-to-day. maybe some eyeliner on his waterline, but... he’s learned how to get by.

cross his sister and he’ll eat your face for breakfast.

default greeting: blinking at you like you’re offending him by taking in the same air.

honestly he’s never thought to leave vegas. he likes it here. his crew? they’re good people. as in reckless. fun.

has almost a full sleeve on his left arm, and two bands curling around his right bicep. one ear pierced, but doesn’t always wear an earring there.

can he offer you a winter green lifesaver in this trying time ??

goes by eddie or williams. call him keith and he can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. the only person who’s got keith privileges is his kid sister.

thomas hayes has brown eyes but eddie’s are a staggeringly light blue-gray. they look like ice. he’s 6′1 and that type of lanky that tends to look sleek, enticing, and mildly emaciated. he does have muscle to him, but the guy doesn’t eat very often and he’s on a steady diet of destructive habits, so... he’s got that matty healy circa 2012 vibe going on

potential connects.

chaos crew. they hit the clubs. they try their hand at scheming and tricking the best poker leagues. chug beers, crush the cans, and toss ‘em in front of cars. experiment with drug cocktails and haunt the town. all laughs and dilated pupils and forgetting, forgetting, forgetting the cracks in their ribs, the scabs on their knuckles. nothin’ hurts when your blood pumps this quick.

diner pal. eddie rolls up to his favorite diner in the wee hours of the morning. 2am, 3am. when he can’t sleep or he’s comin’ down from a heckish night, he’s there, whole pitcher of coffee and a stack of waffles. mussed hair. an entire encyclopedia of wild stories. one night, he stumbled into this person’s booth high as all shit, and they’ve been inviting themselves to one another’s tables ever since. could be a romantic connection. could be platonic.

ex on bad terms. kid’s got commitment issues. i’d love to give them a source.

fuckbuddies. they could just be friends who get fucked and do the deed. maybe there’s feelings. maybe it’s a you service me, i’ll service you situation. either way, they’re indulgent. they’re reckless. and they’ve got no regard for any damage they’ll cause.

people he’s tattooed.

sworn enemies. acerbic words, gnashing teeth, icy glares. they’ll cross the fuckin’ street just to avoid being within a ten-foot radius of one another.

caretaker. a friend ( or even stranger ) who’s taken it on themselves to monitor this maelstrom. all i can say is... good friggin’ luck, kid.

obviously there are so many more but this is just a list to get some juices flowing !

if you want to plot, please feel free to message me !! i’m headed to the gym now but after that i’ll hit up the starter tags !! so flipping excited to write with you goons !!

#eightyintro #❖ – if i don't think i'll blow my mind ! psyche.#death tw #drugs tw

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fics-for-my-heart · 6 years

Text

Art and Drama

Summary: Everyone can see it but the two of you.

Word count: 4512

Warning: Swearing, awful writing

A/N: This kinda sicks. Half way through I had some awful writers block but I still wanted to post it. This was for the Teacher prompt/idea thing I posted (here). Hope your guys enjoy.

Masterlist

“Class, don’t forget that we have the field trip to Road Art tomorrow. Please remember to bring a lunch. I’ll send reminder messages tonight. Does anyone have any questions?” You scanned the faces of the class in front of you waiting for a hand. “Alright. Well, work on your projects till class is over. We will meet out front at first bell tomorrow.”

All the Arts and Humanities teachers had decided on a field trip to a traveling art exhibit that was stopping at the local University. There would be different art pieces, instruments, and even plays. It tackled all the subjects of the arts so it was perfect.

Before you could walk away a hand went up, it was Ginger, one of the sophomores in your class . “Ms. Y/L/N. I have a question, but it’s not about the field trip.”

“What’s up?” You asked, walking over and sitting beside her while everyone else started on their projects.

She looked at Niki, another sophomore in the class before looking at you and giggling. “Have you seen Mr. Holland?”

“Ginge, I work with the man, of course I’ve seen him.” You rolled your eyes, you knew where this was going, all the girls loved him, mostly for the fact that he was cute and from England.

Mr. Tom Holland was the drama teacher. Being from the same department, the two of you saw a lot of each other, plus you both joined the staff three years ago. The two of you shared a few late nights here and there setting up different events or going over test and assessments. He alway wrote the best plays, and you always helped with the set design. He was cute, but that wasn’t something you were going to share with a group of gossiping teens.

“Is he single?” The girl snickered, her eyes wide waiting for your answer.

“I’m not sure.” That was a lie, he had expressed many times before that he was single, but again, not something they needed to know.

Ginger sighed. “Ya know, Ms. Y/LN, the two of you would be cute together.”

“Alright. That’s the end of this conversation. Get to work on your projects.” You shook your head laughing at the girls. They weren’t the first ones to say that. Some of the staff were worse. Like Addy Russell, your best friend, and choir director. The first time you and Tom had stayed late together you didn’t think you would hear the end of it.

The rest of the day was quiet. It was almost the end of the quarter so you let the kids work on their projects or other work. At the end of the day, you stood in your doorway to monitor the halls. Some students would come in and use the art class for an hour or so, or run up and ask you questions so the door was the prime spot for everything.

“Good afternoon Ms. Y/LN.” A familiar voice spoke behind you, causing your mouth to spread into a smile against your will.

“Good afternoon Mr. Holland.” You turned, facing the brown eyes man.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and a smile matching yours on his face. “How was your day?”

“Oh, ya know. Lots of paint, oil pastels, makers. Same old same old. How was your day?” You rested your head on the doorframe looking at him as he watched the kids laugh and chatter down the hall.

“Dramatic.” He laughed at his joke while you rolled your eyes. “Actually, I’m working on a new play.” His eyes locked with yours, that same brightness to them he always got when he was excited about a new project. “Want to read over it? You’re the only one I trust to work on the set and backdrop.”

Just as you smiled, a giggling group of girls walked by, Ginger in the middle very unsubtly winking at you. “I’d love too.”

“Sick. Well, I’m going to go make you a copy of it. I’ll stick it in your mailbox.” He pushed himself off the wall, walking backwards towards his door a few down from yours. “See you tomorrow Ms. Y/LN.”

“Have a good evening Mr. Holland.” You waved, watching the last of the kids empty out the hall before turning into your room.

“Alright guys, when we get there the coordinator is going to talk to us and answer some questions, then you are free to roam around the building and visit the exhibits. Anyone seen in an area they aren’t supposed to be in will receive a write up. Am I clear?”

“Yes Mrs. Russell.”

“Good. Now go line up with your teachers for roll and we will be on our way.” She hopped off the bench she was on as the kids started walking around.

After ensuring everyone from your class was present you lead them to the bus and counted them again and found a seat.

The seat beside you dipped. “Good morning Y/N.” It was Harrison, the Gym teacher and Tom’s best friend since they were in schools.

“Good morning, Haz.” He wasn’t big on having the kids call him by his last name so they all called him Mr. H. “How are you?”

“I’m swell. I’m glad you guys asked me to chaperone because Tom hasn't stopped talking about this and I really wanted to go.”

As of on cue, Tom bounced onto the bus. He instantly found the two of you but narrowed his eyes at Harrison as he made his way down the aisle. “I thought we would sit together?” His question was directed at you, his bottom lip out a bit.

Harrison draped his arm over you. “Sorry mate. I was here first.”

“You guys suck.” He whispered before making his way to the back of the bus. Moments later both your phones buzzed.

Tommy Boiii in Work Hoes: Haz u suk m8

Hazzy Boiii: slow feet loose ya seat

You: now now, are we in middle school?

Tommy Boiii: High school actually

You: l8r h8r

When the buses arrived at the Universities Art Center, you and Abby lead the group to the theater where the coordinator would be speaking. Once all the kids were seated, you scanned the rows for an empty seat only to be met with Tom standing in the back row looking right at you. He nodded his head and pointed at the seat beside him.

“I was going to yell your name if you didn’t look at me.” He laughed when you sat down.

“Oh shut it.” He opened his mouth to speak at the same time the coordinator started and you stuck a head up. “No. Really. Shh. I want to hear what he says.”

He introduced himself as Mel Robertson. He gave a short introduction on himself, and about each of the exhibits set up throughout the building. The painting and music exhibits held pieces from from different time periods and two different plays would be performed on the two stages with a chance for everyone to see them. After the short intro, he opened the floor up for questions.

“How long did it take to set this up?”

“About two years. There was a lot of rehearsals for the plays, and having to contact the right people in order to obtain permission to show the art pieces. Collecting the instruments was probably the most difficult part. But, it was well worth it because it’s been three years now and we always have amazing turn out.”

“Are any of the art pieces originals?”

“Sadly, no. It was too expensive insurance wise to be able to get originals. But, it was also safer to present copies because of the risks of damage while traveling. However, the copies we have are all professionally done and are almost indistinguishable from the originals.”

The questions rolled in for a few more minutes till Mr. Robertson looked at his watch. “Well, I believe it’s time to get started. I’ll let your teacher take it from here. If any of you have any questions feel free to ask.” He waved as he and Abby traded places.

“You guys are free to roam. All I ask is that you please be respectful and that you stay in the building. There’s a cafe in the basement if you guys want to eat, and we will make an announcement over the intercom when it's time to leave. Now, off you go, have fun.” All at once, everyone was up and making their way to the exits.

“So.” Tom started, taking a map from one of the people by the door. “Thanks. Where to first?”

You looked over his shoulder, pointing at the area for the paintings. “Obviously.”

——

In all honestly, you were surprised in the best way at the variety of artists and art they had displayed. Everything from pencil sketches to textiles, from Van Gogh to Raphael. The coordinator was serious about the pieces looking authentic.

“Wow.” The moment you walked in you were drawn to a Van Gogh piece. “This is incredible.”

“This is Van Gogh, right?” Tom asked, stepping beside you and examining the piece.

You pointed at the small label at the bottom. “Yeah. It’s “The garden of the asylum at Saint-Rémy”. It’s one of my favorite pieces he did.”

“Tell me about it.”

Your eyes scanned the colors as you spoke. “He painted it in 1889 while he was receiving treatment at the asylum. He did a lot of paintings there, all centered around the grounds of the building. The colors are my favorite part.” You point at the top of the tree. “The way he captures the different shadows from the light. This attention to the colors and the amount of detail takes my breath away.”

“It is beautiful.” Tom was almost whispering and in the room full of chatty teens it was almost inaudible. He moved, brushing his elbow against your arm as he looked at another painting. “Woah. Can you tell me about this one?”

You pulled your eyes away and followed his finger to another painting that was just as amazing as the first. “Oh my. That’s a Frida Kahlo piece called “The Broken Column”. She painted it in 1944 after she had surgery on her back. The white around her is said to represent the metallic corset she had to wear, and the column that’s broken is her back.” You were silent a moment, just taking in the painting. “The way you can almost feel the pain just by looking at her eyes. It's incredible how much emotion she can have someone feeling. A lot of her art was self-portrait. Another piece she did called “The Nurse and I” depicted her as a infant being breastfed by a wet nurse. It’s a very interesting piece, I’ll have to show it to you sometime.” You glanced over at him, he was already looking at you, a smile on his face. “What?”

He blinked, shaking his head while laughing to himself. “Nothing. I just enjoy hearing about art from you.” He extended his elbow. “Tell me more.”

He escorted you through all the exhibit. There was a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he asked you about different pieces, and it was clear that he really was interested in knowing about them. It was nice to be able to talk as much as you wanted about the difference between the brush strokes, or the way the colors were mixed a certain way to achieve the color.

Tom loved hearing you talk about the art. He loved your voice if he was being honest with himself, and he loved how excited you were when you’d talk about your favorite painting or sketch. The way your eyes would light up, and how you would squeeze his arm slightly when you would get super excited about a fact. He wanted to keep you talking about art as long as he could, so he was a bit sad when you reached the last painting.

The two of you joined Harrison and Abby lunch in the cafe, then toured around the musical instruments before heading to watch the plays. This was what Tom was excited about. He loved everything about theater.

“It’s the way you get transported into the story of a well written play. And how you can be another person if you’re performing in one.” His eyes were bright in the shadows from the lights on stage. Excitement filling him much as it had filled you earlier.

Watching his face change throughout the plays was almost as entertaining as the plays themselves. Much like when he was watching on of his own plays come to life, his face was a mixture of emotions. Brows knitted together or up in his hair. Lips either between his teeth or stretched into a smile. His foot tapped along to the beat of musical numbers while his fingers tapped across his leg. Watching him was like watching a one man play.

“What?” He asked when he glanced over at you. It was much like earlier when he was watching you.

“Nothing, I just enjoy watching you watch plays.” You shrugged, poking him with your elbow and watching a slight pink cross his cheeks.

When the second play was over. Abby’s voice filled the building announcing it was time to go. You and Tom walked together and he had his class meet beside yours, determined to sit beside you this time. But the time the busses arrived back at the school it was time for last class so everyone went their separate ways. For you, that meant a planning period so you stopped by your mailbox and headed to your room, planning to enjoy the next hour alone.

Your mail was mostly announcements and flyers for different school events, but there was something in a Manila envelope marked “-T”. When you opened it you remembered Tom had given you a copy of his script. Sitting back in your chair you started reading. It was the story of a struggling artist who was constantly being belittled by the people around him. But, he never stopped, even while being broke, he never stopped painting. You were instantly pulled into the story, so into it that you missed the sound of the bell for the end of the day. It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat at your door that you looked up.

“Alright there, love?” Tom asked, his smile widening when he noticed his scripted in your hands.

You held it up as he made his way to your desk. “Tom, this is amazing.”

“I knew you’d like it. I’m thinking of trying to get it going soon, have it be the final play of the year.”

“I’ve already got tons of ideas for backdrops. I’ll sketch some up this weekend and we can meet up Monday after school?” You face was bright, ideas buzzing around your mind of different ways to set the scenes.

“I’d love that.” He tapped his knuckles on your desk before turning on his toes. “Have a lovely weekend Y/N”

“You too, Tom!”

—-

When you returned to school Monday, you were almost too excited. You had spent the entire weekend designing different ideas for buildings, different paintings for the main character to do, and different odds and ends to help set the mood. Tom knew you well, he had scribbled some of his own ideas and visions in the margins which is always a nice help.

The final bell rang and you were literally bouncing around you room. You grabbed your art binder, scribbled out a quick sorry note for the door, and weaved your way through the crowd of kids to Tom’s room. He was still at his desk when you entered, shutting the door behind you. He looked up at the sound of the hall muffling, a smile taking over his face as he saw it was you, with an equally big smile.

“Well good afternoon Y/N. How are you?” He set his pen down and watched you walk to his desk.

“I’m fantastic. I finished the script and went right to work and I think you’ll like some of these ideas.” You handed him the binder, suddenly a bit nervous.

He stood, making his way to the long table in the front of the room. Slowly he opened the binder and spread out the papers. He brought his hand up to play with his bottom lip as he examined them individually, eyes scanning every detail. Brows pinched in concentration. Your heart fluttered at how beautiful he was.

“Y/N.” His voice snapped you out of your trance. “These are incredible. You always manage to get things how they were in my head.” You slowly joined him at the table, watching as he looked back at the sketches. “Seriously, these are amazing. When do you want to start working on them?” Excitement laced his voice as his bright boyish face looked at you.

“Well, this week is finals and next week is the start of break. I don’t have any plans of you want to start then?” Seeing how excited he was brought the excitement back for you too.

“You got yourself a date.”

The week blew by. Grading finished projects and submitting final grades. Between class visits with Tom to talk about a tweak here or there on a design. Before you could blink, you were walking into the empty building to start prep. The only sound in the hall was your shoes squeaking as you made your way to Tom’s room only to find he was there.

You: Where are you?

You: I swear if you forgot about our plans.

Just as you were about to call him music started from the auditorium. As if the school wasn’t already spooky, muffled music made it worse. Slowly, you made your way to the end of the hall, stepping quietly inside. Your breath caught. Tom was on stage, a rather tight tank and sweats on. He was dancing. Spinning and leaping to the rise and fall of the music. It was beautiful and hypnotic. When the music ended, he landed the final leap, chest heaving and forehead shiny with sweat.

“Bravo!” You clapped, causing him to nearly fall over.

“Shit. Oh my god you scare me.” He bent with his hands on his knees as you made your way to the stage.

Looking up at him, you smiled. “That really was amazing.”

His cheeks were flushed as he smiled. “Thanks. Now, get up here and let's get to work.”

The two of you spent the day going over the script and setting up placement for people, props, and set pieces. It was the most important first step and Tom set each scene on its own paper. Every move was planned first, then as the set pieces were introduced he would make adjustments. It was fun. You represent each character, letting Tom move you where he wanted you to go. His hands were nice, but there was work to do so you pushed the thought out of your head.

As the week went on, the two of you made your way through the script, getting a rough idea for placement. There were also lots of trips to hardware stores and local restore stores to get things to help with preparing the set. Spending so much time together was nice. Neither of you really knew just how much you liked each other.

When school started back up Tom got to work setting up auditions while you recruited students to help with set. Most work was limited to after school, but where were a few times Tom would be so excited about an idea that he would bust into your classroom to tell you. Of course, by this time everyone knew you were helping with the play more than before. Tom was coming directly to you with ideas. The two of you sat close in the cafeteria running through things.

Set building began, and so did play practice. By this time, you and Tom were with each other every day. Your feelings were growing and growing. Tom would wipe some paint off your face and your knees would go weak. He wasn’t much better, the paint on your face made you even cuter. You were both so blinded by nerves that you couldn’t see that you liked each other. But everyone else could tell.

“Ms. Y/LN.” Gingers hand was in the air, fingers wiggling. “Are you and Mr. Holland dating yet?”

“Ginger.” Your face warmed as the class giggled. “Why would you ask that?”

“Please. He clearly likes you! My brother is in his class and apparently you’re all he talks about!”

You shook your head. “I’m not discussing this. We aren’t dating.” You kept your face stern, ending the conversation, even though your insides had turned to mush.

It was true though. Tom had started mentioning you a lot more in class. Especially when a new idea would pop into his head. His first words would be “I need to tell Y/N!” And out the door he would go. The class didn’t mind, they enjoyed watching everything play out. But, with you both unknowing of the other feelings, it was making things go agonizingly slow.

“You know, you and Tom are the talk of the school.” Abby mentioned one weekend while setting up a movie. “All the kids have a ship name for you. And pretty sure I’ve heard something about a running poll on when you guys will finally kiss.”

“Oh please.” You body warmed at the thought of kissing him, but Abby didn’t need to know that.

Abby made a tisk sound while joining you on the couch. “Y/N. Come on, you’re telling me you can’t see it?”

“See what?”

“Tom likes you.”

“Bullshit.” You laughed, taking a handful of popcorn. “You’re worse than the kids.”

“I’m being serious. I happen to know from a very reliable source that it’s true. Also, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him. Y/N he comes to you first with ideas, and don’t think I didn’t see you guys walking arm in arm at Road Art. He was literally beaming at you the entire time.”

“Whos this ‘reliable source’? Also, duh we are working on the play together.”

“Who do you think told me? Who, beside you, does Tom spend most of his time with?” She gave you her teacher look. Eyebrows raised and lips pursed.

��Harrison? How do I know you’re being forreal?”

She groaned. “Stop being so stubborn. Whatever. I told you what I know, what you do now is up to you.” She rolled her eyes and played the movie.

After the talk with Abby, you started to notice the little things more. Tom sat a little closer, stayed later to help you clean up. His text were more frequent and not always about the play. Without fail he was by your door between classes and at the end of everyday. You still couldn’t bring yourself to believe that it was because he liked you. No matter how many times you imagined grabbing his face and kissing him, there was still a bit of doubt.

Soon it was time for the first show. You were probably just as nervous as the kids.

“Everything looks wonderful Y/N.” Tom said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You’d been double checking everything, making sure things did what they were suppose to, and that everything was in its place. “Thanks.” You rested your head on his shoulder. You’ve been a lot of help getting this stuff done.”

“I should be thanking you. This would have all still been in my head had you not helped. This is mostly possible because of you.” He squeezed you closer, kissing the top of your head causing the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy.

All three days went off perfectly. So well in fact, there was another day added, as well as one last performance for the school. The show for the school was the best one of them all. All the kids were excited to put on a good show for their friends, and the rest of the students were excited to see finally see the play. By the end, you had tears in your eyes both from how proud you were of the kids and how sad you were that it was over.

“Guys! I have a few things to say!” Nick, the lead roll, said while waving his arms to get everyone's attention. “Firstly, this was probably my favorite play to have done, and the group of people I was able to do it with made it even better. Secondly, as a Senior, I’m so glad that I was able to have this play be my last one of my high school career. Thirdly, can Mr. Holland and Ms. Y/LN come out please?” The two of you shared a look before joining the cast on stage. “This play wouldn’t have been if it wasn’t for the two of you. You have both been such an inspiration to all of us, so we wanted to do something special for you.” Nick turned and motioned for someone backstage. Tom’s hand reached for yours and you intertwine your fingers.

“All of your classes got together and we secretly sold goodies and other things to help raise money for next years play.” Two other seniors had joined the front of the stage, a huge check in their hands. Tom’s hand squeezed yours, a huge smile was planted across both of your faces. Excitement flowed through you both as Nick took a moment before he continued. “Together, we raised $4,391.”

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth dropped. Tears were freely flowing down your face now. The fact that these kids cared enough about the plays absolutely warmed your heart. Tom wore a matching expression to yours. The auditorium was full of cheers, your body was so warm and fuzzy that you almost thought you were dreaming. Tom tugged on your hand, pulling you into a hug, and meeting your lips with his. What?

Everyone cheered even louder. Whoops and hollers and shouts of finally. But for you, everything stopped. When he pulled away, his face was full of shock

“Oh my. Oh no. I’m so sorry.” He frantically scanned your face trying to gauge your reaction. “I’ve been want omg to do that for so long. And there was just so much happening just now that I kinda lost myself. Oh man. I hope I di-” You put your finger over his mouth to silence him.

All the kids on the stage had circled around you, laughing and full of excitement that the two of you finally made a move.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Mr. Holland.”

#tom #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #teacher tom

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