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writingsfromhome · 3 years

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Bad Timing II

A/N: I’m just about finished the whole series and I’m excited for you to read this! <3 Sorry for the late upload, I started a new semester and had zero time to write but I worked on this all weekend. I’m curious to know if your opinions on Harry change after this part, the next part’s going to be packed but this is an in-between. Thanks as always for reading <333

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

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I lay awake in bed, staring at the blank ceiling before my phone’s constant buzzing forces me up. A couple voicemails, and a single text from Harry: GM, call me if you need anything.

I stare at it longer than I should, the audacity to think we were fine enough to text me so casually. But there was some small solace in knowing he took the extra step to let me know. Ugh; my head injury was more serious than the medic diagnosed. I throw my phone on the bed and head downstairs where I’m surprised to see him gone. It was only 8am and I needed a coffee, otherwise I would not make it through the day. When I see the pot of coffee half full, I stop in my tracks. Harry made coffee before he left. I touch the pot and it’s still warm, he couldn’t have left that long ago.

I open the dishwasher that I’d loaded last night only to find it empty. I stand straight, hand on my hips--had he unloaded the dishes too? How did I not wake up to the noise? How did he even know where everything went?!

Maybe he wasn’t such a dense detective after all, the thought makes me smile. I look around the room and notice he’d tidied up from last night, and folded everything away on the couch he slept on. I take my coffee to the couch and without thinking, hug the pillow to my face and inhale. The strong scent of his aftershave sends a sharp and painful jolt to my memories. What the hell was I doing?

I drop the pillow and settle on my kitchen table, responding to some emails while I make a game plan for the day, shaking off the claustrophobic feeling I got thinking about going back to work. I finish the last of the coffee and start moving, shower, dress appropriately, pack my laptop...I just had to keep busy so I wouldn’t have time to think about it.

***

“We’re here for you, whatever you need,” the regional manager lets me know during the meeting. I’d learned post-trauma policies the bank had. I was sorry to know them, I really just wanted to put the whole thing behind me. I tell her that. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. We do require you to go to at least one counseling session, your employees have got to go to a group meet with a licensed therapist so you can all discuss this and get over the awful event.”

“I see,” I chew my lower lip. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about the way I jumped at every little thing and stared down each and every stranger on the tube on my way in today. I felt crazy. Maybe I did need a shrink. “I’ll include that in the memo I guess. Thanks again for all the support and the resources-”

“That’s my job, our job.” She motions to the man sitting beside her who hadn’t actually said much the whole time. We talk for a little while longer, and by the time they leave I’m exhausted. But I make the trek to the hospital to visit Cole like I told him I would.

***

The weekend flies by: I take the train to visit my dad up north and let him take care of me like I was a kid again. It was nice to unwind, I thought, I should visit my dad more often.

But come Monday, I’m back in my pantsuit ready to get on with my life. I try not to think about Thursday too hard but it’s difficult when first thing that morning, a therapist shows up for a group session. Most of my employees look anxious to be here, but I watch their shoulders relax as they discuss what happened. Watching everyone bond brings a lightness to the heaviness that sat in my chest: it was good.

“Ms. Y/L/N? When can we schedule a one-on-one?” The therapist stops me at the end of the session.

“I think this session helped a lot,” I put on a big smile. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

She smiles politely, as if she expected this, “It’s a requirement for back-to-work. I have time right now if you’d like, I’m not seeing another employee until lunch.”

“Um,” I look to where everyone mingles, comforting each other and breaking off into groups. If I had to talk about it in order to work, and work is the only thing to help me get my mind off of it...I guess I had no choice. “Let’s do it now.”

But an hour later and I’ve mostly just talked her ear off about Harry showing up, how awful my luck was that he would be the lead detective on the case, how much damage he’d done to me. How he appeared on one of the worst days of my life again.

“It’s almost a sign,” I ramble. “Like...what are the odds?!”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” She asks, looking like she knew the answer.

“No,” I scoff. “I hate him. He broke my trust!” And my heart.

“Those are feelings,” she says wisely.

“Well sure, yeah, I have negative feelings towards him. Why wouldn’t I?”

She pauses, a very pregnant pause. “It’s been almost 4 years right? Usually, those feelings start to...dissolve into a more neutral ground when you...receive closure. You take time to grieve, to sit in the wound in your heart, but then you pick yourself up and try to heal. It seems like you’ve just told yourself you were healed and got on.”

“I am healed,” I insist.

“Just like you started this sessions by letting me know you were over the trauma that happened to you a few days ago?” She asks. I avoid her gaze. “When I asked about Thursday, you said you were ‘over it’ and you just wanted to focus on work but you’re not giving yourself closure. Likewise, with Harry. You haven’t found closure even after all these years.”

I stare at her, she’d sliced right into a vulnerable part of me--I’d led her there, I realise. It was something I knew all along, I just didn’t want to point at it alone.

“You’re right...I feel like I never got closure.” I confess. “How? I just want to know h-how he could’ve left me for another woman after all those years together--as lovers and as friends? He was there when mum...he was there through hell. And then he put me through hell.”

“I’d like to believe Harry showing up on a...hellish day is a sign like you say. But maybe a sign you need closure. Talk to him, ask him what you need to know in order to close that chapter of your life.”

I exhale, the idea of it making me feel claustrophobic. She wanted me to open myself up to him again and invite him to hurt my feelings? I try to ask her more but she looks at her watch. We’d gone over.

I thank her and walk out with a weight on my back that feels bigger than the one I went in with. I thought therapy was supposed to make me feel lighter.

***

I’m hiding behind my desk as the footsteps get closer and closer to the door. I clutch the knife in my hand and-

“Y/N!”

I jump up out of sleep, and open my eyes to my office. I stare at the table in front of me where the papers I used as a pillow are rumpled.

“Y/N? You have a call on-”

“Adam,” I look at my assistant. He’d been really quiet today and I was worried about him but there was so much to catch up on I hadn’t had the chance to talk to him. “Sorry I...haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I’m sorry Y/N...the detective’s on the line he insisted he talk-”

I roll my eyes and answer the phone, motioning for Adam I’d be okay. He hesitates at the door before closing it tightly behind him.

“Y/N?” Harry’s breathless voice answers irritably on the other line.

“Harry? Why are you calling me at work?” I ask, still sleepy from the nap. Is this about the case?”

“No it’s about your things at the station, it was processed--we couldn’t find anything useful so we’re returning this batch. And I think some of it belongs to your staff? Did you want to pick it up or should I drop it off to yo-”

“I’ll pick it up,” I wanted to make it clear that Harry in my space wasn’t going to be a normal thing. “I’ll head out in a bit, can I just collect it at reception?”

“They’ll buzz you through to me, I’ve gotta go-”

“Just leave it with reception...” I say to dead air. He’d already hung up. Damn.

***

“I’m here for some things, it was taken for evidence?” I say to the woman at reception.

“You’ll have to be more specific love,” she raises an eyebrow. “A lot happens here.”

“The bank rob-”

“Ah, Harry’s case. I’ll buzz you through-”

“No I thought maybe I could collect it here uh-” I look for a nameplate. “Serena, listen, I’m in a rush so is there any way for you to get it-”

The phone ringing cuts me off. She holds up her finger and I stand tapping my foot. She rolls her eyes at whoever was on the other line, motions that they were chatty and points to the glass doors. I sigh, I guess I was seeing Harry. I think about my therapist and cringe, I couldn’t.

When I walk in, I scan the room for Harry but I don’t spot him anywhere. I walk awkwardly until someone asks if they could help but they point to his desk and tell me I could wait there.

“I’m actually here to pick up some evidence, couldn’t you just give it to me?”

“He’s the lead officer, he’s got to sign off--”

“Fine,” I hated the bloody bureaucracy around here. I go to where he points and sit in Harry’s chair, ignoring the looks from people around me. I toy with the pen and doodle on an empty paper. Y/N was here I write and smile, it was juvenile.

“Y/N! Sorry! Nobody told me you were here.” Harry shows up a few minutes later. He opens the bottom drawer and takes out a nondescript cardboard box. If I knew if was down there I would’ve left a long time ago. “Just need you to sign this.”

“Okay,” I sign where he points and reach for the box. “I’ll grab that, thank you.”

“Can I walk you out?” He fiddles with his phone.

“Will you take no for an answer?”

“Nope,” he’s all teeth when he smiles. I sigh and walk in front of him. It’s weirdly silent but I notice he was typing on his phone when I look over.

“Well...g’night then.” I say at the door but he pushes it open and walks out with me.

He finally puts his phone away and asks. “Are you alright? Have you gone back to work?”

“Yeah,” I chew at my bottom lip, nervous. “We’re really sticking together, trying to get through it.”

“That’s good. That’s how it should be.” He waits a beat. “We’ve been trying to catch the robbers, they hit up another bank so it’s hell inside. That’s why I was so busy.”

“Another?” My heart plummets, and my palms feel slick.

“Yeah but we’re working as fast as we can. So...uh, did you need anything from me before you go?”

“I...” I think about the therapist’s words and chew my lower lip. I try to work up the courage. Fuck it, I realise. I had nothing to lose. “I do...actually.”

“Oh,” he looks surprised. “Good, what’s that?”

“I want to talk, about us. I...I need like, closure Harry. I think I deserve an explanation about...” I trail off as I notice him staring at me blankly. “What?”

His blank expression settles into confusion. “What’s more to explain Y/N. I’ve told you everything, I-I dunno. I thought one day we could get together like old friends, but it’s obvious you’re still upset with everything and I don’t know what more I can say? I said everything in that letter but if-”

“The letter?” I ask sharply, cutting off his chatter.

“Yeah, the one I wrote you after we...after you moved out?” When I don’t react he continues: “I dropped it off at your sister’s the week after you cleaned out your things? You didn’t...read it?” He looks hurt, if that was possible all these years later.

“I...did. Obviously I just...had some questions.” My heart races; what letter? He wrote me a letter?

“So what do you want to ask?” He looks at me curiously, concern etched in his brows. “I would like to talk actually-”

“Now’s not a good time,” I cut him off again. I had to know about this letter first. I can’t believe I walked into this blind. “I’ve actually had a long day, this is--we can do this another time, okay? Thanks for...walking me out.”

***

The first thing I do when I get home is call my sister. I can sniff her guilt a whole country away.

“Y/N, you were heartbroken! Y-you didn’t need to have it broken all over again reading his stupid letter! I was looking out for you!”

“That wasn’t your call!” I raise my voice. “I’ve been...I haven’t had closure all this time! I thought he didn’t even care enough to try to explain it to me and you knew he sent a letter this whole time?”

“Well when he showed up to the flat I wasn’t about to-”

“When did he come to the flat?” I wanted to strangle my sisters and her protective instincts.

“After you moved your things out. He wanted to see you and I knew you were a mess, I told him you never wanted to speak to him. I was looking out for you babe I-I didn’t even realise I was keeping you from closure I just...I didn’t want you hurting. Don’t be mad.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, she was right. It was Harry who hurt me, and I shouldn’t take it out on her. “I know. I know. I’m sorry for yelling I just-I wish I could read that letter.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffs. “I should’ve given it to you once you moved out...I still have it though. I think I tucked it into my old yearbook. D’you want me to...”

“Mail it? Yes, as soon as possible please. I need to know what he wrote.”

“What if you just get hurt all over again?” she asks.

“I’ve been hurting, I don’t think his outdated explanation will hurt any more. Just please mail it the first chance you get okay?”

I was so close to it, I think. I had to get that letter. I needed closure. I deserved it. And just knowing I could get it, it’s almost like I was waking up in a dark tunnel I hadn’t realised I was in this whole time. I knew where I was, and I could see light on the horizon.

H POV:

The last time I had a full night’s sleep was on Y/N’s couch, this case was a lot bigger than we thought. It wasn’t just a robbery at one branch, these same people have hit up two other places in the last few days and they were good. The worst part was they weren’t afraid to use a gun.

“Chief,” one of the constables comes up to my desk, where I’d been staring at footage for the last hour. “There’s been um, there’s a problem-”

“Spit it out,” I say, eyes still on the screen.

“The evidence you released on Monday...blokes down in evidence can’t find the SIM from the scene...we think they accidentally left it with that batch.”

I look up from my screen and I can practically see the sweat breaking out on his brow as I stare. If that was important evidence, we’d misplaced it at the height of an investigation. My arse would be on the line too--it was my name on the authorization letter.

“Don’t panic until we’re sure it’s not with the evidence we gave out,” I get up and put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m looking into it right now, don’t let anybody know it’s happened.”

I grab my jacket from my chair and root in the pocket for my phone but Y/N’s number goes to voicemail. I curse. I look at the time, it was 6 already. I had a feeling she might kill me but I would have to drive to her place, I hoped she didn’t leave the evidence at work...after all I did tell her to return it to her employees...I have the brief thought of asking her in the morning but I remember my arse on the line and walk quicker.

“Woah, someone’s in a hurry,” Detective Cole comments as I rush past her. “Not even a hello.”

“Sorry,” I flash her a smile. “Urgent!”

“Need any help?”

I pause long enough to turn around and answer. “Normally I would say yes but I’ve got to do this.”

“Don’t let me keep ya,” she smiles, I notice Serena eyeing the both of us suspiciously as she packs up for the day. She was always trying to convince me to ask her on a date, but I was done with dating coworkers after I made the mistake of marrying one and breaking up quickly thereafter in the past. I’d changed careers quickly after that.

Y/N’s POV:

“Oh my god,” I stop in the middle of my bedroom as my sister reveals her big news over Facetime, an ultrasound held up to the camera. “Oh my god!”

“I know!” She squeals.

“I-I-you’re pregnant!” I was shocked, I didn’t even know my sister was trying for a third kid. “You better give me a bloody niece this time!”

My sister laughs, one hand on her belly. I should’ve known, I realise, she’d been cryptic the last few times we talked, dropping clue, but I’d been so wrapped up in other things I didn’t pick up on them. “It wasn’t even planned but Y/N, it feels right. The boys are stoked--they want a sister too.”

“I am so happy for you and Stu,” I let out a whoop. “I wish I could hug you! I’m going to book some time next month and come see you--this is big! Did you tell dad?”

“Not yet, don’t say anything--oh,” a cry bursts out from somewhere on her end. She rolls her eyes and tells me she would call me back. But I get a text to say there was an accident with a toy truck and a jug of OJ, she would call me back later in the evening when everything was settled.

I throw my phone down on my bed and sit on the edge in my robe, I’d just come out of the shower to my sister’s call. I was over the moon for her, but it was times like these I felt like an awful person. Because as I think about her happy news, I put my hand to my own belly and imagine what it would’ve been like to be the one calling family with good news. The familiar ache in my chest comes back, once upon a time I did have good news for a short period of time.

It was a few months before Harry and I split, I’d skipped a period and went immediately to the pharmacy. I’d decided to wait for a week before I would tell Harry because he was stressed from work. He was always stressed at that job, but I wanted it to be perfect. I’d spent the whole week stopping by nursery stores, browsing baby books, even buying a few onesies and the cutest booties I couldn’t put down. I picture the baby--mine and Harry’s, wearing them.

But the day I’d planned to tell him, I’d woken up and knew instantly something was wrong. I never told him, I fought with him that day instead...I couldn’t even remember over what. I held the awful burden on my own, packed the future I couldn’t have into a little box and shoved it under the bed. A few months later, Harry and I were over. That future was as fragile as the paper-thin wings of a butterfly, one that would never take flight.

I do what I did on my darkest days, I root underneath my bed and pull out the box.

I still had it; it was morbid, holding on to a future that was deader than dead. But I hold it in my lap, and run my hands over each piece of clothing. I imagine just for a moment what I could have had, they would’ve been 3 and I would’ve been a mum. My chest tightens, and I squeeze the items closer.

H’s POV:

By the time I get to Y/N’s, I’d stress-sang so many 90s hits that most of my nervous energy had streamed out the car window. I gather myself, clear my hoarse throat, and knock; ready to be beheaded. When there’s no answer, my nerves return. I knock louder, and try to peer through the frosty window.

“Harry?” Y/N opens the door in a flourish, looking fresh from a shower. I try to block the visuals that spring to mind, my mind blanking as I try to remember what I had to say. “Hello? Harry? Why are you here?”

“Uhm,” I shake my head. “Urgent business--the evidence I gave you on Monday, please tell me you still have it?”

Her eyebrows furrow, “You’re knocking on my door at nearly 7 for evidence you returned to me?”

“It’s urgent,” I look around out of habit. “Y/N, we may have accidentally given you something with the evidence we were meant to keep--please I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. I’m not messing with you, this is my head on the chopping block--I need to know if you have it.”

“For fuck’s sake Harry,” she opens the door wider. “Just...come in.”

“You have it?” I step in eagerly and close the door behind me, basking in the warmth inside. It was a chilly spring evening.

“I haven’t touched it since I brought it home, I threw it somewhere in my room.”

“Didn’t it...have your employees’ personal items in it?” I ask cautiously.

“It’s not like they’re eager to have reminders of that day!” she snaps and I back down. She turns in a flourish of her robes and walks upstairs. She doesn’t say anything so I follow her up, drinking in every detail I can about her new life as we pass through.

She’s headed into her bedroom when her phone buzzes. I recognize her sister from the contact photo that takes up the screen. She glances at me, and back at the phone, making a decision.

“It’s beside the dresser, don’t make a sound or my sister will come here in record time to rip your head off.”

“I take it she doesn’t like me,” I try to joke.

“She’s not the only Y/L/N sister that doesn’t like you,” she puts a finger to her mouth and takes the call into the other room.

Maybe I should stop cracking jokes with Y/N, I think. It was clear she still hadn’t forgiven me. I was surprised she still held on as vehemently all these years later.

I head into her bedroom, a tidy and plain room. Compared to what I’d seen of her main floor, her bedroom looked like it belonged in a hotel. I spot the box almost immediately resting between a laundry hamper and her dresser. I pick it up but on the way back, the box on her bed catches my attention. The lid is half on, and I know I shouldn’t but something almost possesses my hand to nudge the lid aside. I stare and what’s inside the box sends me reeling; like I was seasick, but with both feet firmly on the ground. The feeling punches me directly into a past I’d abandoned. A future I abandoned too.

When Y/N finds me a few minutes later, I’m holding the shoes from the box in my hands. She stops beside me. I look to her and her face is frozen in fear, before it shuts down into anger--no, fury.

“What the fuck are you doing going through that?” she snatches the shoes out of my hand and picks the box up.

“Y/N,” I say gently. “What...what is all this?”

“Did you find your stupid box? Just--” her eyes search the room frantically and settles on the evidence box on the bed. She picks it up and shoves it into my chest. “Take it and go Harry, I don’t want t-to talk. To you. Please just--” her voice breaks.

“Okay I’ll go I just...” my heart feels heavier than lead and I want to say the perfect thing to her but nothing comes out. When she shoves me I scuttle out. I hear the sob that escapes her as soon as I exit into the hallway, I almost turn to go back in and offer comfort. But I couldn’t comfort her, not since the day I gave up on her. I walk to my car, not even relieved to have the evidence. I don’t know how long I sit in the car and think about the contents of that box: folded in neat piles were baby onesies, bibs, and a pair of tiny shoes. Remnants from a broken past, a broken promise.

I wasn’t an idiot, and I wasn’t heartless despite what Y/N thought. I know what my selfish actions did to her, I know how I’d fucked her up without meaning to. But it’s only now that the weight of it settles entirely on my shoulders. How many years has it been, and that small box of new onesies stayed under her bed. Her room might’ve looked sterile and fresh but its corners held heavier burdens than I thought were possible. A new feeling of shame blooms from within me, and it stays like a bad aftertaste.

***Y/N POV:

I was going to read that letter, find my closure, and burn everything from my past ceremonially in a bonfire, I think as I watch the trees in my backyard rustle with the morning wind. It had been a few days but I couldn’t even focus on him finding that box, the humiliation of watching him look up at me with confusion and pity...it was enough he’d broken my heart, but now he felt sorry for me too. I focus back on the greenery while my fingers toy with the letter that’d come in the mail, a few years late.

The envelope looked worse for wear but it was still as sealed as the day Harry had written it. I hesitate, trace my fingers over my name on the front. A memory comes rushing to me, Harry in my dorm writing silly things on my post-its and sticking it in places I wouldn’t find until he’d left. Like under my covers, or inside my closet door. They would be silly like

Y/N smells like farts

or cheesy like

have a terrific day

. I usually tossed them, other I’d tucked between classroom textbooks. I wonder what happened to them.

Finally, I work up the courage to slide my finger under the seal and break it open. Two pages fall out, his distinct writing halfway between cursive and chicken scratch covers both pages. I read:

Y/N

You’re probably wondering why you’re reading this--I don’t think I deserve your consideration for even a moment let alone for enough time it will take for you to read this. Yet I want so badly for you to read this, to just know I didn’t mean for this to happen to us. And I know you think I’m the one who did it to us, but I need to explain.

You always told me I was good with my words, that maybe I was an artist in another life--a poet you liked to say. But every time I try to find the right words to say to you, English may as well not be my first language. I should have tried harder, should have found the right words for months but I kept putting it off until it was too late.

You are and will always be my best friend first, Y/N, I know I’ve broken your trust but I care about you deeply. I just wasn’t happy. And that had to do with the road we were going down together, not you. I’m deeply sorry for the words I said that day, for how I’ve made you feel these last few months. I guess, ultimately, I was being selfish. And I don’t have an excuse for that. I fucked this up but I wasn’t happy and I was taking it out on you, and on us. I used the things we couldn’t have as an excuse, but I’m not happy where I am in my life. And that’s something I need to find; I need to figure out what I really want.

I can only hope we’ll circle back to each other one day, in the future, when we’re in better places. But I don’t think we were right like this, maybe it’s bad timing, or maybe there’s a blanket over us much too heavy for us to find comfort under. I’m sorry for leaving us like this and for breaking your trust but I need to do this.

Know you’re perfect as you are, right now, there’s absolutely nothing about you I would ever change. I, on the other hand, have a lot of changing to do.

I wish you nothing but the best, you deserve the whole bloody world Y/N, but I don’t think I can give that to you. I hope one day, you can find it in your heart to forgive me. For now, know I love you and I’m truly sorry.

Harry, xx

My finger brushes over the last line, I take myself back to the Y/N and Harry four years ago--and it’s not so hard to do. I lived there more often than I’d like to admit. But I picture us, I picture Harry sitting down to write this. How might I have taken this if I read it all those years ago? I picture myself dissolving into tears--maybe my sister was right in not showing me.

I also imagine I would have known why, and maybe I wouldn’t be where I was right now if I’d had that closure.

But even all these years later, the tears stream down my face as if it were just yesterday Harry handed the letter over to my protective sister. There was so much hurt and heaviness, looking at it from the perspective I had now...I see a glimmer of truth in Harry’s letter. We’d worked wonderfully as best friends, and our intimacy was comforting. But we were also two people being pulled in two directions while clinging onto what we thought would keep us happy. It didn’t mean I forgave him for what he did, how he did it. But I finally understood why.

All this time, I asked why--I wondered if there was something I could’ve done to have fixed it before he left. I see now, he’d wanted an out the whole time. Nothing would have fixed us except time apart. I still felt like shit, but this epiphany made me feel closer to the closure I needed. The light on the horizon grows a little brighter. We’d just had bad timing.

***

I feel bright and chipper Monday morning; a sunny morning and a weekend of closure could do that to a woman. I bring along with me a box of treats; it had been a week since the horrible robbery. We’d put some precautions in since, had the therapist stay a few more days, a few of the employees decided to transfer and as sad as I was to see them go I knew it was the right thing for them to do to feel better. As for myself, I forgot about it most of the time. But it would creep in every so often and freeze me up.

I spoke to the company’s therapist once more after Monday, she’d asked about Harry and I had told her about the letter. She was intrigued but quickly changed the topic to how I was feeling after the events of last Thursday.

“Y/N?” Adam walks into the staff room as I finish the note to accompany the treats. “What’s all this?”

“Treats to cheer everyone up! Not that sweet fried dough is going to erase everyone’s PTSD...” I try to make a joke but Adam’s face is tense like it’d been since that day. “Adam I’m teasing...have you um, have you talked to someone one-on-one?”

“Me? Why?” He jumps. “I’m fine, I’m alright it’s mostly out of my head anyway.”

“Hm,” I look him up and down. “I don’t believe you but I’ll let it drop...for now.”

He fidgets with his hands, “Anyway I came in here to let you know the detective on the case called first thing about returning some evidence-”

“I can’t pick that up.” I say finitely. “Do you have room today? Maybe take an extended lunch and pick that up?”

“From the station?” he stutters.

“Is that where he said it was?”

“Uh yeah, yes. He wanted you to pick it up.”

“Well DCI Styles won’t get what he wants for once, you’ll pick it up at lunch okay? Just keep me posted.”

I go back to my office with a coffee and get a crack on with my work. I check for any updates on the client from last Thursday but I continue to receive the automated email that their office was closed for the week. It was weird, but I just make a note to follow up later on.

After lunch, Adam appears shaken, with the evidence. I instruct him to leave it in the staff room and send out an email, making sure to remind them that they didn’t have to go through it if they didn’t want to. I would keep it there until it was cleared out, even if that took the month. I think about my scarf in there, the one used to tie my hands. I wanted to burn it, never see it again. I send Adam a quick email to remove it from the box and dispose of it.

H’s POV:

“This just doesn’t make any sense,” I comb my fingers through my hair, as if it might trick my brain into seeing the pattern here. “This same group’s hit four places total, and yet Y/N...the HSBC was the first. There’s got to be a connection there, it’s here but I just can’t see it.”

“Harry,” Detective Cole puts her hand on my shoulder briefly before moving it away. “Maybe you need a break, I don’t think I’ve seen you go home the last few days and your shirt’s a bit...ripe. Maybe take the rest of the day off?”

I sniff myself, she was right. She shrugs with a I had to say it look.

She was right too that I hadn’t gone home. I did almost nothing but focus on this case, not only because it was growing bigger by the day and I had pressure from upstairs. But it was a welcome distraction to the new guilt that seemed to jam every other area of my life.

It was almost like I was reliving a timeline, going back three or so years ago. It felt like Y/N and I were freshly broken up, and I was trying to pick myself back up from it. Except that’s not the way it went all those years ago--I’d moved on, quickly then. But now, time was catching up. Or maybe it was karma.

“Earth to Harry?” Cole waves her hand in front of my face. “You really should go home.”

“Yep,” I scratch my stubble. I should shave too. “I’ll just drop by evidence before I go.”

She looks like she was going to say something but she gets up from the chair beside my desk, and walks back to her own. I sigh, sifting through the files on my desk to take home with me. My notepad underneath shifts and I spot Y/N’s familiar writing: Y/N was here. I run my finger over it and smile, remembering how she had written that on the baseboard of every flat or dorm room we’d left. And just like that, the guilt and shame take the memory’s place. How the fuck was I supposed get past this and focus, I think.

I shove my files into a bag and head out. Evidence tells me there wasn’t a lot on the sim card but they were still trying. I ask for an email if anything comes to light, and go home where I fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.

i meant to take a short nap, but I wake at 4am and my mind’s buzzing with so many thoughts that I have nothing else to do but get up, eat a mashup of breakfast and last night’s dinner. With nothing more to do, and 6am creeping up, I decide to get in my car and drive while the roads were somewhat clear.

Driving helped me think sometimes, on my worst case after my promotion, I’d gotten on the road one night and driven all the way to Leicaster. After a night’s rest in a hotel and the drive back home, I’d cracked the case. But this time, with my thoughts racing, I end up driving to Y/N neighbourhood on autopilot. Maybe because she was on my mind, the guilt a constant companion since that day.

I park on the other side of her street, and watch her front door from the rearview. I don’t know why I was there, it felt ridiculous and creepy. Yet, I couldn’t leave. Maybe I could offer her a ride to work, I think. But I know she would decline because she didn’t even come in herself to collect her evidence. She’d sent her awkward assistant instead.

Her door suddenly opens, and a strange man walks out. She leans on the doorframe and laughs at something he says. He leaves a kiss on her cheek and walks away. She shouts something after him and he turns, saying something back that gets her laughing. My heart races, seeing her face in the distance wrinkle with laughter. I remember all the times I could get her to do that, effortlessly. The guilt returns tenfold.

He adjusts his coat, turning back around and she watches him fondly for a few seconds longer before closing her door. I’m suddenly irritated, immediately suspicious of this bloke. I watch, unblinking, until he turns the corner out of sight. Who was he? Her boyfriend?

I look at the time on the dashboard, 7:08am. I sit, indecisive for another half an hour. My thoughts churn: the robberies, the motives, Y/N, the worn out box with baby clothes, her male guest who’d spent the night, the look on her face when she’d woken up after her concussion and saw me: disbelief, anger, and sadness.

I get out of the stuffy car and walk across the street where I hesitate outside her door. I knew I was crossing a line, pushing a boundary she put up by not picking up the evidence herself. She’d made it clear what she wanted, but I never denied that I was a selfish bastard. I raise my hand, and knock.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #detective!harry #dci!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #writingsfromhome #fic #au #harry styles x reader #oop this took a while to get out #but i'm so excited for pt3 #:)

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obsessive-dumpling · 3 years

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Mini Fic

Meant to post this before Wednesday but didn’t have enough time! But I wrote this little doodle for my beautiful moot @hoe-doroki she deserves better but this is all my brainrot could muster. (Sorry doll)

Please enjoy this mini fic of Izuku, in his sleep deprived state, trying to figure out how to address Kacchan’s apology.

It was a blur. All the people who came up to check on Izuku, being ushered this way and that. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful, or that he wasn't happy to see so many faces he missed, he was just exhausted. The adrenaline long since run out, and in its place was just the sheer weight of it all. Not to mention, the additional weight of doubt over simply being there. But even tired and distracted as he was, he wasn't oblivious.

Or maybe a better way to put it, is that he could never miss something that he never looked away from to begin with. His eyes always automatically scanning and landing on blonde. If we wanted to consider this one of his parallel processes, then it would probably be his first. Always looking to Kacchan, automatically fixing on where he was. He had done it his whole life, and though he was sure the other boy knew of this, he never seemed to acknowledge or participate.

Until now.

No matter how the crowd jostled Izuku, pulling him from talking to the citizens, then the heroes, then Recovery girl, then being brough back to the dorms, spikey blonde hair never once left his peripheral. Before UA, it was as if Bakugo Katsuki simply marked north, and Izuku would align himself to it. His former friend’s back the needle guiding him. During their time at UA, that metaphor shifted as they learned to work together again. Making it seem more like being attached by a bungee cord than someone following a compass by themself. If Kacchan pulled one way, Izuku was forced to follow and vice versa. But this?

This felt more like a dance. As Izuku moved, Katsuki moved, but it wasn't forceful. It felt more natural. Izuku, and his second natured awareness of the other found himself shifting every time he was moved, keeping his body pointed towards the other. This wasn't new, he had been doing it since the compass phase. What was new was the fact that Katsuki was doing the same. His movements were almost unnoticeable but always ended with his body pointed towards Izuku, and usually no more than an arm's length away. With the exception of when his mom finally dragged him to the dorm showers to get cleaned up. Even then though, when he came out, Kacchan was standing near the door. Somehow Izuku knew, he had been there the whole time.

“Now, I don't expect this to change a thing between us, but I gotta speak... my truth.”

The words rang through his mind.

“Izuku... I'm sorry for everything.“

Izuku..

Izuku.

"Izuku!"

"Huh, what?!" He shook his head and looked at his mother, whose eyes were wide with worry. "Sorry, I must have spaced out."

He rubbed the back of his neck and allowed himself to use the opportunity to glance over his shoulder, hoping to still find the blonde hair in his sights. They sat in the dorm kitchen to eat before his mother would allow him to go sleep. When he looked over his shoulder though, he was met with red eyes already on him. He lowered his arm but held his gaze. Neither looked as if they were going to look away. Or even that they wanted to for that matter. Both just stared, with quiet resolution.

“I knew he would bring you home,” Izuku’s mother spoke softly, her voice pulled him away for a moment to look back at her. “It was in his eyes.”

Izuku didn’t know what to say to that. Just like he didn’t know what to say to Kacchan. His mother saw his lack of answer and smiled.

“You’ll get there,” she continued in her hushed tone. “It’s in your eyes too.”

His eyebrows pulled together, he didn’t know what that meant. He looked over his shoulder again, only to find that Kacchan was gone. Panic built in his stomach, as his eyes scanned the room. Why am I panicking? He thought to himself. Class-A milled about as they “celebrated” their successful retrieval mission simply with some time spent together. But there was no Kacchan.

“You should get some sleep, nerd.” A low voice said next to him. He whirled around just to find Kacchan leaning over him to pick up his and his mother’s plates.

“Oh, thank you Katsuki,” Inko smiled at him, but stood and took the plates from his hands. “You should get some sleep too though.” He looked back at her for a moment, they seemed to share a silent conversation. In the end he shrugged and turned to walk towards the staircase, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly as he passed Izuku. Izuku stared after him.

“Now, I don't expect this to change a thing between us,”

But how can it not? Izuku thought. And what if I want it to?

Izuku stood abruptly when the door to the stairwell swung shut, cutting his sight of the other off.

“Maybe you should go upstairs too,” his mother spoke next to him. “I’ll tell everyone you said goodnight.” She winked at him. He leaned down and quickly kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” he whispered and made his way quietly to the elevator. He waited for the doors to open and when they did he jammed his thumb into the number four button.

“Izuku... I'm sorry for everything.“

I don’t know what to say to that! I never expected an apology! I never wanted an apology! I forgave you along time ago! Did you not see that?

The doors closed and he felt the elevator starting to move.

“but I gotta speak... my truth.”

No, of course you did. Just like I saw you trying to atone. We always see each other, don’t we? But we never say anything! We’re always missing each other.

The elevator dinged and Izuku staggered off, the exhaustion slightly over taking him now. But he stumbled on down the hall, letting his sleep deprivation fill him with bravery, until he faced the second to last door on the right with the gold name plate that read “Bakugou”.

“Izuku...”

I don’t really know what I want to say yet, but I know what I want to hear, and I know who I want to see!

He took a deep breath and raised his fist to knock on the door.

“Izuku…?”

That was too loud to be in his head.

He whirled around for a second time and feared for a moment that he might get whiplash. The thought washed out of his mind as quickly as it appeared though as he faced surprised red eyes. There was silence for a long moment as they stared at each other. Finally, his mom’s voice rang through his head:

“It was in his eyes.”

“Again.” Izuku spoke firmly. He watched as surprise changed to confusion.

“What?”

“Say it again.” The confusion deepened for a beat before suddenly blossoming into understanding.

“Izuku…” The corners of Izuku’s mouth twitched but he held back his smile.

“Again.” Katsuki raised an eyebrow but obliged.

“Izuku,” He spoke with less hesitancy.

Izuku swallowed unsure of how far he could push his luck telling Kacchan what to do. Something told him though, that he could push this pretty far if he wanted to. Unsatisfied with the current results, he continued.

“Again.” He said taking a step towards Kacchan, who immediately stood straighter.

“Izuku.” He finally said with complete confidence and also took a step forward, leaving only one step between them.

Izuku couldn’t contain it any longer, he let go of the sun flare smile he had held back and a fresh new set of tears all at once.

“I gotta speak my truth too,” he choked out. “Kacchan, I---” his eyes became heavier than he was expecting with the tears. They slid shut and he slid forward, closing the gap.

Katsuki caught him quickly and turned him to see his face. Izuku had finally fallen asleep.

A vein pulsed in Katsuki’s forehead.

Are you kidding me? How are you going to pass out at a time like this? He thought to himself.

Unconscious, Izuku turned further into his arms. Katsuki froze until he settled again.

“Kacchan,” Izuku mumbled. Katsuki leaned forward. “I’m home.”

With no one around, a single tear rolled down Katsuki’s face as he slowly bent down and scooped Izuku up under the knees. He fumbled with the doorknob, walked in quietly, and closed the door behind him. He gently laid him on the bed so he could finally sleep, safe, and where he could see him.

Ya know what? I can wait.

“Welcome home, Izuku.”

#bkdk #bakudeku #dynadeku #dkbk #decchan #bakugou x midoriya #katsuki x izuku #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #moot love #mini fic #bakudeku fan fiction #bkdk fic #i swear i didn't mean to write another name scene #it was an accident and then it was too late #not my expectation for 326 #but my wish for 326 #horikoshi hurt me first

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bluest-planet · 3 years

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Its finally done! I've been working on this on and off for... Probably a month? This is my interpretation for the character/insert of Red in You Belong to Me by @kaitieswritingstuff! Mainly the characters main look (left), and their outfits in ch 11 and ch 29 respectively (please click for better quality).

Please go and check their work if you're into Hazbin Hotel! I gotta be honest, I was nervous about scoping out Hazbin considering all the backlash against it but I was pleasantly surprised to find how different it was. While it obviously has its flaws, I'm of the opinion that as long as you can recognize said flaws and think critically about a show then you're free to enjoy it. (Also side note: I like, never read x readers but i was like: what the hell this sound interesting and my god it was the best decision ive ever made seriously, if u plan on scoping out hazbin fic this is one i gotta recommend i just- Love It).

Initially when reading a fic and on the rare occasion its reader related, I can't picture myself and like to draw up a doodle instead and give them a name so as to better visualize them. In this case however, instead of that I decided to use an old character design for an original story that I never got far with.

(Insight into my design thought process and other information + a link to the fic below the cut, probably gonna be super long tho, you have been warned!)

So to start off with I will talk about the character Red, and the character Rosy.

That character design was an androgynous but afab robot/android esk character, their name was Rosy. Of course, being that there was already a Rosie it would get confusing or redundant quick so I decided to change them a bit.

Rosy had 2 main features before the redesign that remained throughout,

1. They had a tattoo/marking going across their cheeks/face spelling out: R.O.S.Y. given their robotic origins and their name.

2: Their hairstyle and its length. This was conflicting for me because, in the fic Red hates their hair being touch and especially yanked so was I supposed to shorten it? In the end I decided against it because it was important to Rosy's design and secondly I reasoned that, given Red's 50 plus years in hell and not being dead still growing in small pieces like nail or hair growth and that eventually they would just stop bothering to cut it or forgetting since they arguable felt safer around their allies. It also made sense that even if they hated it being grabbed they would braid it to keep it out of reach and since Nifty is also said to do their hair it is regularly taken care of.

These two important features stayed, they kept their hair and the tattoo across the face was changed from spelling R.O.S.Y. to A.M.F.M. in reference to radio stations and to associate them with Alastor.

With that outta the way lets move onto inspiration and details.

The first of the 3 is supposed to be how i envision Red most of the time. I took sometime looking into the description written and the timeframe for their clothes.

They wear a ribbon instead of a tie so as to not completely copy Alastor and at the end of their braid is a radio dial shaped bead to again, reference the radio demon.

Alastor died in the early 30s, the reader most likely hails from the late 30s/mid 40s/or at latest the early 50s. Alastor would probably like something reflective of his own era and -fun fact- the 30s suit for men at the time is very unique compared to other eras because of the cuts like high waisted pants and multiple layers.

In the fic they are described wearing a pinstriped suit but because I thought having only the pants be pinstriped looked better, I changed it. They wear popular women's leather oxfords of the time to better reflect the era.

For the chapter 11 outfit, a black/red flapper dress with a headband and gloves. I decided heavily between a historical approach or a mainstreamed one. In the end I picked historical because I think they'd find it more comfortable as it was designed to drop the hem line, appear androgynous, and be comfortable.

The dress is technically a dark purple but only to not drown the character in solid black. It has a red sash same color as the gloves, and sparkles so to keep it modern. The shear part lets the viewer see their binding mark.

They wear shoes popular during the 20s, a headband with red feathers, and red gloves unchanged from the description.

Lastly their hair style, I couldn't go historical because they had long hair to i went with it being let down but loosely contained with more silvery bands.

Finally, the outfit from chapter 29. Said to be a wide collared red shirt with rolled up sleeves, suspenders, and dark red pants.

If you've gotten this far- Thanks! I'm still not done lol, but we're almost there.

This was post-attack so they have scars (attempting to look like wire burns) along their arms which are covered in small white gloves. Maybe they aren't as self conscious about their scars but I can see Red preferring to wear gloves because hell is a dirty place i also added a pair of men's oxfords again to keep their 30s look intact.

Their hair is less restricted and kept in a half pony but it is poofy and much more wild when not carefully contained in its usual braid. We also see more of their branding along their arms and it fading when it reaches the scars.

First off, this has been in the works for a while now so you may notice a change in quality as i finished the first of the 3 before stoping for life stuff and coming back. Secondly this project has been fun! Researching things and sneaking them in for design or somethings that didn't work out but I hold as headcanons (like the WWL Louisiana's/New Orleans first radio station being the one Alastor worked at and having it embroidered somewhere on their clothing). This has made me do a lot of first and has been kinda hard- feet and detailed shoes are not my forte nor clothing this detailed, and my first ever detailed background redrawn from a hazbin screencap and its been a learning experience. Again, Massive thanks to @kaitieswritingstuff for giving inspo and a great story to read, keep the great work up!

#hazbin hotel #hh #hazbin fic #hazbin fanart #my art

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omniswords · 3 years

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Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 15

new year, new chapter c: it's been a while since i've worked on Chronicles—December Mood dips are Not Delicious, plus i started streaming regularly, which has been fun! ((i’m omnistruck on Twitch if you want to check it out 🥰) but rest assured i intend to see it through to the end. i hope you've been well <3 take care, and enjoy!

From: itsdjbubbles

My dude, if your stage presence is anything like this flyer, y’all are absolutely gonna kill it at La Tortue.

Well. Luka doesn’t know about that.

It’s not like Kitty Section is totally obscure. They’ve had a stage in Paris’s annual pop-up music festival or more than one occasion. And sometimes Juleka’s tagged along to street corners with him so they could duet in hopes of more than just pocket change. And, of course, there was that whole music contest with Bob Ross and XY, but that had only ended in fiasco: their music was stolen, Rose’s vocals ripped right off the track. Luka argued up and down over the phone until he was red in the face, nearly biked down to the studio and let them have it, but he could hardly prove it. And he cared too much about it jeopardizing Juleka’s happiness to follow through.

Total corporate bullshit. He didn’t know how Jagged Stone did it. When he said so at dinner the night he gave up, his Ma only tousled his hair and said, “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”

Sometimes he thinks that’s the strongest, bravest, he’s ever been. That all his audacity peaked years ago, and he’s only gotten worse since then.

Bubbles isn’t corporate bullshit. Luka feels like he’d be able to figure out something like that from conversation alone. But their talks have been friendly—and more than that, supportive. He’s even shown a few messages to the band, just to check that he wasn’t losing his mind. And he saw how their faces softened in approval, or lit up with excitement. Even Juleka’s.

Besides, Bubbles makes music. And when he samples something, he actually credits it. He knows how to play the game. And it feels like they’re on the same side of the board.

Bubbles has that stage presence; the fact that he only needs that one shadowy picture on his profile is more than enough of an indicator. And Bubbles has a reputation that precedes him. So even if they’re on the same side of the board, it feels like Bubbles is always just a couple of steps ahead.

At least his bandmates are on the same side, and at the same step. All it took was a casual mention, during a late-night band practice, of “the bakery he keeps getting their snacks from” being all in on getting them even more exposure. They didn’t exactly do a good job of hiding their excitement, but he wouldn’t have wanted them to, anyway. Even Juleka, after practice ended, had to admit, “You did good.” And then, with perhaps a bit more snark, “Maybe she’s the one trying to impress you. “

“Stop,” Luka said with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t help thinking about it once the partition between their beds was up. There was no way Marinette Dupain-Cheng was trying to impress him.

…Was there?

By now, nearly a day later, Luka’s still asking himself that. Still hemming and hawing like they have more than just two weeks to get their act together. Pacing below deck with his phone in his hand, thinking about pear tarts and pretty faces instead of going to see them in person, and staring at Marinette’s phone numbers until he thinks he’s accidentally memorized both of them.

He doesn’t recognize the pattern or the area code of one of them, so he can only assume that it's an American number. But he still hasn’t mucked up the courage to text or even save the French one in his phone. Why does he need to be scared in the first place? It’s a phone number, and this is strictly business, and everything between them has been strictly business.

Well. Nearly everything. Nearly strictly.

He thinks.

Okay. Okay. All he has to do is say… what? Hi? Who just starts texting someone for the first time with “Hi?” But he can’t go writing a whole essay either, even though at least now he has the power to edit his words instead of just saying them and hoping for the best.

This is harder than it needs to be. And yeah, maybe he’s just making it harder than it needs to be, but it’s not like his brain and the shake in his hands are giving him much of a choice in the matter.

Luka switches back over to his message thread with Bubbles and shoots off a quick reply—flatterer—because maybe answering something easy will make the hard stuff more tolerable. He finds himself looking toward his guitar as though it might lend him strength… well, what the hell. It couldn’t hurt. He plays a doodle or two, idle notes, and catches himself before his fingers can drift toward the beginning of the ocean-blue song. At this point, it’s neither perfect nor good, and he can’t tell if it’s personal dissatisfaction or the numbers that the latest draft has been doing online.

Both. It’s probably both.

Messaging Marinette ends up being just as hard after his attempts at centering as it was before—because as it turns out, the whole music-giving-him-unbridled-confidence thing really only works while he’s playing it. So now he’s left still staring at the blank NEW MESSAGE screen, the cursor blinking almost tauntingly at him because of course it is. Because somehow, he can write a note telling a girl her eyes are pretty and survive long enough to see her smile about it, but he can’t send that same girl a text. It’s not like he can even see her reaction this time, anyway; that just gives him even more of an advantage.

Okay. Okay. He can actually do this. Maybe. He thinks—no, no, he has to.

With a deep breath that he holds longer than he releases, Luka opens a new message.

To: Marinette hey. it’s luka.

And like an idiot, he hits SEND before he’s even put the rest of his message together. So now he has to make a mad dash to come up with something so he doesn’t seem like a total creep for messaging her out of the blue.

For fuck’s sake. This is exactly why he writes his messages in the notes first.

To: Marinette sorry, hit send before i could finish. anyway, just wanted to tell you the band is cool with the postcard idea. i can pay you next time i come to the bakery, if that’s cool.

To: Marinette anyway, it’s really cool of you to offer your help like this. sorry if i didn’t say so yesterday, it’s kind of been... a wild time.

Luka locks his phone before he can agonize too much over what he’s sent, stuffs it away and starts pacing again. It’s not a frantic, shaky thing; no, he’s learned to keep the shakes on the inside until no one’s around to see them. He jumps when his back pocket vibrates, and he nearly drops his phone trying to fish it out. It’s only Bubbles, and he can’t tell whether he’s relieved or disappointed until his phone buzzes again. Twice. And this time, it actually is from Marinette.

From: itsdjbubbles Sorry, I was getting some stuff ready for my next project. Listen, I’m just saying. Don’t sell yourself short as this stuff. Paris is gonna hear you up there, and it’s gonna lose its collective fucking mind.

From: Marinette hi luka ☺️ no worries, i do that too sometimes. here’s the mockup for the postcard. let me know what your band thinks, i’ll do some tweaks and send it to print. sound good?

Luka balks, both at the tone of the message and at the picture she sent. It looks almost exactly like the flyer, same color scheme and everything. The only difference seems to be in the composition, which makes sense; she’s got more of the eye for this stuff, even for someone who only “dabbles.”

To: Marinette wow, this is... thank you? that was fast. and this is really well put-together. i think they’re gonna love it.

you really weren’t kidding, huh.

Luka finds himself sinking onto his bed and staring at the message thread instead of actually doing something productive. And strangely, he’s fine with that. The more time passes, the less scary it is to see her typing back, again and again and again.

From: Marinette course i wasn’t kidding. “help” is practically my middle name to the people who matter.

and i mean, there’s only a little bit of time until your show, right? so, gotta get movin.

anyway, i gotta run. my friend needs help for his summer class and i promised i’d go visit today.

Keep me posted about your band!

♥️

There is far too much in that message for Luka to need to process. “People who matter?” “Keep me posted?” The literal heart emoji at the end? He reads their messages over and over, mostly to confirm that this really, actually just happened, but he’s not going to push his luck. Maybe she just talks to everyone like that, and more importantly, the two of them haven’t been much more than a series of transactions anyway.

A... lot of transactions.

That she’s been doing a lot of giving for.

Luka tries and at least sort of succeeds at shaking the thought from his mind; he can’t read hers, and he shouldn’t try to. He sends her one last text—cool, have a good one—and switches back to Bubbles before he can worry if his words were too casual.

To: itsdjbubbles Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess you’re not the only one? the bakery I go to, they’re offering to help too.

or, I mean, CBG is offering to help.

Bubbles’s reply doesn’t come until a few hours later. It’s presumably after that project work he mentioned, and definitely after Luka’s had some time to play out the rest of the shakes before he goes busking. His phone buzzes with the notification just as he’s about to leave, and what Bubbles has to say makes his stomach churn and his blood run both hot and cold.

From: itsdjbubbles wait. wait wait wait. hold on i just scrolled your posts.

CBG is *Marinette Dupain-Cheng?*

ohhhhhhh my dude you are in for it now.

#miraculous ladybug #lukanette #endgame lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #and we're back to luka being a total mess.#how are you? i hope you're well 💙💖🎶

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ghosttotheparty · 3 years

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while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

6. I can’t even leave my room so I keep pouring AO3

And I've been looking for someone to put up with my bullshit I can't even leave my bedroom so I keep pouring And I ain't seen a light of day since, well, that's not important It's been long - Feeling Whitney // Post Malone

Lucas actually wakes up this morning.

It’s nice. Much better than laying against his wall all through the night, his eyes stuck on his laptop, watching Netflix or Youtube, or on his sketchbook, watching his pencil or pen or paint trailing across the page, leaving lines and smudges in its wake. And then looking up blearily when he realises he can see across his dark room because the sun is peeking through his blinds.

Today he wakes up when his phone starts buzzing and chiming next to his head, half under his pillow. It startles him, and he gasps as his eyes fly open, sitting up and muttering, “Jesus…” as he shuts off his alarm and tosses it to the floor next to him. It clatters against the wood and he winces, looking up at his door and running a hand through his hair.

He grabs food from the kitchen and eats it during his first class, scribbling the homework on a piece of paper he finds on the floor and doodling flowers and eyes as he forgets to pay attention. The teacher's voice turns into white noise.

- - -

He drifts off again in another class, and wakes up to a chorus of voices saying “Thank you,” and “Goodbye.” He doesn’t bother joining them, instead just clicking the hang up button and dropping his head to his arm, sighing and closing his eyes for a second before pushing himself up and groaning.

It’s the third red button he’s pressed just today.

He thinks about how many he presses a day.

Five classes, five red buttons.

Five days a week.

For weeks and weeks.

And weeks.

Christ.

Lucas huffs and pushes himself to sit cross-legged in front of the computer. He pushes it out of his mind, the remembrance that this is… it. All he has. This and a few texts from Kes and Jayden, usually about school or other kids from school, often complaining. Usually complaining. Sometimes he gets texts from Isa, silly selfies or pictures of birds. She knows he likes birds. Sometimes he gets texts from Noah, pictures of his art, drawings and paintings and doodles, or texts from Janna, which are never expected but always make him laugh. Sometimes Liv texts him just to check in.

It.

Homework and classes and red buttons and once-in-a-while texts from people he doesn’t see anymore.

And Jens, he remembers as his phone buzzes. And he smiles, but he really shouldn’t, so he pushes it away as he reaches to the floor and grabs the phone, reading.

guess what i’m making… 🥚🍳👨🏻🍳

He lets the smile push its way back onto his face (there’s no one to see anyway) as he shakes his head.

you didn’t give me time to guess, dummy

He lays on his back and holds his phone above his head, sighing as the bubble appears on his screen.

i’m impatient

Lucas scoffs, shaking his head again.

anyway good morning 😌, Jens texts a few seconds later.

good morning 🌞, Lucas responds even though it’s not really that sunny out. how are you today

well i woke up to my sisters arm hitting me in the face and i just burned an egg so that’s just kind of how it’s going so far you?

Lucas smiles again.

pretty dry so far but who knows

Like it’s a trigger, Lucas’s door swings open loudly and he tilts his head back, looking at his father upside down.

“...Yes?”

“You have to do the dishes, yeah?” he says flatly.

“But I did them last night,” Lucas says, still holding his phone above his head. He doesn’t look at it, even as it gives a short buzz with Jens’s response.

“And I brought dinner for you.”

“You brought chicken home and I cooked it.”

It’s true. Lucas had to Google how to do it, and it was the blandest, driest chicken he’s ever had, but it sufficed. There was nothing else in the kitchen he could have made. Back home, there’s usually things in the cupboard to micwave.

“Lucas—” His dad pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, huffing. Exasperated, like Lucas is the issue here. “Just do it.”

“Fine, whatever,” Lucas mutters, looking at his phone, but he doesn’t get to read the message before his dad snaps at him.

“Don’t whatever me,” he says sharply.

“Fine,” Lucas says, stopping him. “Yes. I will.”

He leaves without shutting Lucas’s door.

Lucas takes a second, huffing at the open hallway. He hates him. And he knows he Shouldn’t, because He’s His Father, but he can’t not. It’s his face. Even before Lucas knew about how much of a dick he is, his face told Lucas everything. Always angry, disappointed. Always bitter, like he tried to sue the universe and lost. His eyes always look pinched. Especially when he looks at Lucas.

He doesn’t know why, honestly. It’s not like he even really knows Lucas. Anything about Lucas that’s actually important. Not that Lucas would tell him anything important.

(He has a list of things he doesn’t ever plan on telling him. His being gay is the top one. He’s never heard his father talk about queer people, but he doesn’t have to to know that he’s probably a bigot. His art is another thing. He doesn’t want to listen to his father talk about how it’s not a Viable Career Option, or how it’s a Waste of Time.)

He looks at his phone after a second.

😔 boring days suck wanna call later and do hw together?

Lucas exhales, trying to sigh away his frustration.

yes ofc you said you can do math right?

He shuts the door (quietly) while he waits for Jens’s answer.

i’m a math genius call me fuckin newton

Lucas scoffs, shaking his head as he sits back on his mattress, leaning back so his head falls off the edge, upside down.

great so that means you’ll do my hw for me

Lucas bites his lip, trying to suppress the smile that appears in anticipation as Jens types.

hmmmm what’s in it for me?🤔

uhhhhh moral support

Lucas grins as you amaze me appears on his screen, followed by oh i can teach you math, which promptly makes him roll his eyes and reply with an exaggerated uuuuuuggggggghhhhhhhhh.

Jens replies with oop i gotta go, and then, as Lucas prepares to send the eye-rolling emoji, see you after school🙃.

Lucas sends the emoji anyway, along with you’re the worst.

A few seconds later, his phone buzzes with love you too <3 , and his lingering smile falters. He sits up, swallowing and setting the phone down.

Because the pause in him, the skipped beat of his heart, the way the words tug at him even as he reads and rereads and rereads them, even as his brain knows the irony, the playfulness, the mindlessness in Jens’s saying it, can only mean one thing, and he hates himself for it.

Lucas is fucked.

- - -

So he ignores it, of course. It can’t be happening. It can’t. He’s known Jens for a few days. There’s no reason for his stomach to flutter the way it does when he gets a text from him, or when his name lights up his computer screen on Google Meets.

“He-ey,” Jens sings when Lucas answers, and a smile flickers across Lucas’s face involuntarily.

“Hey.”

“How you doing?”

“Fine,” Lucas answers, neglecting to mention the rest of his day, which was absolutely not fine. The door slams are still ringing in his head. “You?”

“Eh.”

“Hm,” Lucas chuckles. “Hey, who's your maths teacher?”

“Clark,” Jens says, looking at Lucas with his pixelated eyes. Even glitchy and blurry, Lucas can see that he’s beautiful.

“Great,” he says, ignoring it. “Have you done homework for lesson seven?”

“I absolutely have not,” Jens chirps. “I can do it and show you how to solve the problems.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mhmm.” Jens puckers his lips, nodding and furrowing his brows. “Mhmm, mhmm. Well. I could do it and send you the answers.”

“That sounds great,” Lucas says, sarcastically sweet.

Jens snickers, reaching past his laptop, and Lucas watches as the collar of his shirt falls, a section of his skin exposed before he sits back, pulling a messy notebook, loose papers hanging out of it, and calculator with him.

“Wanna read while I work?” Jens asks, oblivious to the heat in Lucas's chest.

“Oh, yeah, I can do that.”

Lucas barely even processes the words he reads to Jens, his brain somehow paying more attention to the quiet, hushed murmurs of numbers coming from Jens.

He hears Jens mutter, “Divide by six…” and click his tongue in thought a few times just as Lucas reads, “‘...like moths against the whispering and the champagne and the stars.’”

He listens to Jens intently, even though half (or maybe just a quarter) of his mind is on the book, and even though he only catches every few words. Some words, sixty, sixteen, seventy seven, are sharp and cut right through their connection. His murmurs are nearly completely unintelligible, but Lucas listens like he’s actually trying to learn something.

It’s not until Jens says, “Lu?” softly, that Lucas realises he’s stopped reading completely, the book fallen shut in his lap with his index finger holding the page loosely, and he startles, looking directly into Jens’s eyes. His face burns up at the nickname, and at the fact that he had been so enraptured by Jens muttering maths to himself that he had forgotten completely to read.

“I— Yeah, sorry,” he says, looking away and opening the book, hoping Jens can’t see how hot his face is.

“Why’d you stop?” A smile is spread across Jens’s face. Like he knows.

“I—” Lucas stutters again. “You seemed to focussed, I didn’t wanna distract you.”

“Aw.” Jens tilts his head. “That’s sweet.” There’s a pause, and he looks down, flipping a paper that’s out of Lucases sight, before he says, “I’m almost done, I can send you pictures after so do this one.”

“Yeah,” Lucas says, trying not to let out another stammer. His face burns again. He hadn’t realised how long he’d been listening.

Jens clicks his tongue as he thinks again, and Lucas hears the clicking of his calculator and the scratch of his pencil on paper.

“Add on both sides,” he says quietly, and then, “Oh, that’s not right,” flipping his pencil over to erase it.

Lucas snickers.

“Don’t you laugh at me,” Jens says, a smile playing at his lips. “You know you can’t do better.”

“You’re not wrong.”

When Jens finally finishes the problem (he has to try again two more times; he’d skipped the problem to leave it for the end when he’d started) he texts pictures of it to Lucas, and Lucas closes the book, folding the corner of the page.

He can feel Jens watching him as he copies down the answers.

“Number four is seventy three?” he says, zooming in on the photo.

“Thirteen,” Jens says, his voice softer than Lucas expected.

“Oh, that makes more sense.” Lucas writes it. “Why the hell do your ones look like sevens?”

“I don’t know,” Jen says defensively, making a face. “It’s never been a problem before.”

“It’s weird.” He’s met with silence. “If you’re making a face at me, I can’t see it.”

Jens lets out a laugh, and Lucas grins. If sunshine made a sound, it would be Jens’s laughter.

“How do you know me so well?” Jens asks, still laughing.

Lucas giggles, snorting and shaking his head as he looks up to see Jens’s face brightening even more.

“That was so cute,” Jens says lightly, and Lucas feels like he’s on fire.

“Shut up. What’s number seven? It’s cut off in the picture.”

“Oh, shit, sorry. That’s…” Jens’s brows furrow. “Six, four… one—”

“You thought it was a seven, didn’t you?”

“Shut up. One point three two.”

“Thank you-u-u.”

Jens is quiet as Lucas copies the rest of the answers. He shakes his head at how messy Jens’s work is, shocked and honestly impressed with how his brian works, numbers and lines scattered across the page, the answers in neat, little boxes.

“Do any new drawings?” Jens asks abruptly as Lucas copies the last one.

“Huh?”

“Have you drawn anything new?”

“Uh..” Lucas finishes writing the final answer and boxing it like Jens’s. “Yes?”

“Oh?” When he looks up, Jens is resting his chin on his hands, smiling. “Tell me.”

Lucas pauses, biting his lip. He’s only done one, and it’s ripped and crumpled and shredded in the corner of his room in a plastic bin.

“I did one, but it was shit, so it’s in the trash—”

“What was it?”

“Uh, that’s not important.”

“...Okay.” He says it softly. Lucas is grateful. “Can you show me a drawing? Or like a sketch, or…”

Lucas smiles. Jens is clearly out of his element. But he’s trying.

“I might have a picture,” he says, moving the maths homework away. “Most of my sketchbooks are still in boxes.”

“You haven’t unpacked yet?” Jens asks as Lucas scrolls though his camera roll, photos of Utrecht mainly, with a few of homework and screenshots of messages from the guys scattered in there.

“No,” he says simply.

“Why?”

“Eh.” Lucas finds one of a drawing and looks at it, contemplating. It’s a sketch of Noah that he did a little after moving. He’d meant to send it to him, even considered mailing it with a little letter and some Antwerp souvenirs like a post card or something, but he never did. He sends it to Jens. “I don’t really plan on staying here that long, just until this summer.”

“Oh. Oh, woah.”

Lucas beams without wanting to, watching Jens’s head duck as he looks at his phone.

“That’s so good, Lucas.”

“Thank you,” Lucas responds, his voice small. He shifts in his seat on the mattress, fidgeting as Jens looks up at him.

“That’s so good.”

“Who is it?” Jens looks back down, moving his fingers across the screen, and Lucas can tell he’s zooming in on the photo.

“My friend from Utrecht, he’s an artist too.”

“Oh!” Jens looks up again. “Speaking of artists. I have a friend I think you’ll like.”

“You think I’ll like him because he’s an artist?”

Jens drops his phone.

“I think you’ll like him because he’s a cool guy, and you already have something in common.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“You wanna meet him?” Jens asks, almost excitedly.

Lucas stares at him, tilting his head.

“Not in person,” Jens says. “Obviously.” He makes a face. “Sometimes we have, like, a group Zoom call with the guys, do you wanna join sometime?”

Lucas pauses, hoping Jens can see the despair in his face.

The guys.

“Uh— Yeah, why not?”

Jens beams.

It makes the screen glow brighter.

#hes in looooooove #:')#remember to drink water yall #and eat something #and take your meds #stretch your wrists and neck #i love you #<3 #wtfock #skam nl #wtfock fic #skam nl fic #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #vds #van der stoffels #while the world ends around us

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ejm513 · 3 years

Text

FAIRY TAIL NEXT GEN CHILDREN-GRUVIA EDITION

NALU

1-I know there is now a cannon child for edo Nalu and edo Gruvia with names and everything. I also know that Gajeel and Levy have twins and Levy is currently pregnant in 100 Years Quest. I love it and their names and everything about those precious babies-but I’ve had these ideas and characters and backstories growing and developing in my head for years so I’m being the stubborn Taurus that I am and sticking with it.

2-Also please forgive any misspellings and grammar mistakes as I am dyslexic and my school failed us at teaching spelling and grammar. I did my best.

Hello my lovelies!!

So I’ve spent most of the day working on the first two ships and editing everything so I figured why not just post the second one right away.

And the next ship we’re doing on this crazy journey is my personal favorite my OTP to end all OTPS

GRUVIA!!

Ah yes people... I’m in my happy place.

THE FULLBUSTERS:

Nicolai Sliver Fullbuster- Nicknames- Nick, Nicky, Nicky Bear (gotta love little sisters)

Birthday: March 15th, 797 (Bonus points if anyone gets the reference :P)

Magic: Ice Make Magic

Appearance:

-Height: 5’10 (same height as Gray)

-Hair: Dark and thick like Grays, slightly wavy curiosity of his mother.

-Eye color: Dark blue and large like he’s mother’s.

-Built like his father.

-He and Gray are the closest to clones.

IMPORTANT FACTS:

-Gray doesn’t want his boy to deal with the consequences of being a demon slayer… so he doesn’t teach him how to be one. At least not completely. He does pass on some techniques and skills but nothing more.

-For example he teaches him Ice Make Sliver.

-He got the name Nikolai Sliver from both of his grandfathers-I chose a Russian name because I have this idea in my head that in the real world Juvia would be Russian and nothing can convince me otherwise.

-Though he got over it eventually poor thing hated the cold and having to strip in the snow.

-He too got the illness Ultrear had, and while he didn’t get through it as easily as the Dragnell children he got through it in the end.

And before anyone ask yes… he stripes.

Personality:

-Kind

-Loyal (but maybe not to a fault)

-Laid back like his father

-A little moody and temperamental at times

-Can be a bit reserved but more or less wears his heart on his sleeve like Juvia.

-Very imaginative like his mother… which sometimes lead him to being a little ditzy and spacy.

-Very loving

-Very protective of those he loves

-Definitely inherited Juvia’s possessiveness-when his sister was being introduced to the guild for the first time after she was born he grabbed hold of her little blanket, stood in front of her and said

“No! She’s MY baby sister!!”

-Gray QUICKLY helped him get it under control

-A huge romantic like Juvia…like MAJOR romantic. He even enjoys reading her romance novels (but don’t you dare tell anyone)

-He also enjoys drawing, doing anything in the snow and ice

-Very intelligent and did well in school-given his magic he was particularly skilled in art. No one understands how he managed to do so well in school because his note books are covered in doodles

-In general just a much more open and expressive person than his father or sister, much more like his mother.

Relationships:

-Extremely close with both of his parents-the Fullbusters are known for having a very close knit and loving family.

-Like almost every boy in this generation he is a total mama’s boy and you better not call him out on it.

-Also idolizes his father and wants to be just like him

-Absolutely adores his little sister is very gentle and sweet with her. He’s extremely protective of her and one of the only four people he can be a little possessive over (the others being Lila and his parents).However, she can get on his nerves because like most little siblings she follows him everywhere and wants to do everything with him. Plus they can both be temperamental and stubborn. They are also so much alike yet express themselves in such different ways that it causes clashes. As a result, they bicker the most out of any of the siblings in the next gen-but their fights never, EVER turn physical. But the bottom line is they are exceptionally close-so close in fact they are one of the only pairs in the next gen that can successfully pull of a Unison Raid.

-Real he just wants Eliza to stop calling him Nicky Bear… in public at least.

-The first of his two best friends is Simon Scarlet. At first it was a matter of convenience because he was the only boy in the guild close to her age, but it didn’t take too long to become genuine friends. They love to bond over their love of sweets. The other of course is Lila.

And naturally Happy… Happy is everyone’s best friend

-He has loved Lila pretty much his entire life-before he even understood what that feeling was. When he learned what the concept of marriage, he knew right away she was the one he was going to marry. As stated before he constantly referred to her as his wife as children and when they were older (like almost 20 or older than 20) he would say “You know I’m going to marry you one day Dragnell right?”

Elizaveta/ Eliza/ Liza Ur Fullbuster

Birthday: November 23rd, 801

Magic: Water.

Appearance:

Height: 5’2 (a couple of inches shorter than Juvia who is 5’4 according to the Wiki)

Hair: Long, thick and wavy like Juvia’s, dark like Gray’s

Eyes: Juvia’s shape but dark like Gray’s

-She has the same gifted build as Juvia, but somehow a little more fragile looking

-Has her father’s smile

-Yes that beautiful beautiful smile

-Has heard from Gray that despite her strong resemblance to her mother something about her reminds him of his mother

IMPORTANT FACTS:

-Elizaveta or Eliza Ultear got her name from Juvia��s mother and obviously Ultear. Eliza is what she goes by and only those closest with her call her Liza

-Eliza was born five weeks early and this caused… problems. She was extremely sick as a baby. She ended up becoming dyslexic. Finally, it messed with her powers. She has water powers like her mother, but because she was born so early they are technically incomplete because her body isn’t completely made of water like Juvia. This means she’s not impervious to physical attacks, but she makes up for it in other ways.

-Due to being born early and being a little sickly, when she got that infamous illness all the children in the next gem see to get Ultear’s illness (I have no idea what else to call it) she got hit the worse. She actually came close to dying and Gray and Juvia were told to expect the worst.

-Because of this, despite obviously being a skilled and well trained wizard, Eliza is more known for her emotion strength and endurance rather than her physical strength (at least until she was almost an adult)

-Is definitely no ice wizard and can’t stand the cold, but did learn some tricks including how to freeze her rain into snow or freezing rain.

And yes… she is absolutely forbidden to strip under any and all circumstances unless she doesn’t want to see the outside world until she’s 30 or until Gray is dead… which ever comes first

Personality:

-Massive, huge heart of gold

-Very sweet

-Very shy and introverted

-Extremely reserved, keeps everything close to her chest like her father

-Appears laid back but is a ball of emotion and anxiety and occasional bouts of depression

-Comes off as an ethereal, sweet, Mary Jane type of dainty princess when she is anything but

-Actually, has a very snarky, sarcastic sense of humor a la Gray and is just funny like her mother.

-Is never willing to start a fight but if you push her enough she follows the same line of thought as Lila;

-Is very stubborn, moody and temperamental at times

-Very ambitious and always smiling despite everything that’s happened to her.

-Is quiet laid back with her language when she’s older and has been known to swear.

-Is also great at impressions.

-Has Juvia’s quiet astounding imagination and is definitely a dreamer.

-Is a HUGE romantic, openly reading her mother’s romance novels. Otherwise she’s very good at hiding it… mostly.

-Exceptionally smart but struggles with math and is a slow reader because of her dyslexia. She excels in history and music.

-I have a head cannon that Juvia can sing because of all the hydration she gets from having a water body, mermaids/sirens luring sailors with their voices and because apparently Juvia’s voice actress can sing. So Eliza inherited that gift but never sings on stage for the public.

RELATIONSHIPS:

-Because of how sickly she has always been, and because she was the first girl born to the guild a string of boys, and because of how bad she’s treated by kids at school, Eliza is utterly spoiled and a little coddled by all. No on one minds though because she never acts spoiled. She just loves having such a safe and warm space to fall.

-Like her brother is super close to her parents.

-Juvia is her rock and the pair are inseparable.

-She is also daddy’s littler girl though don’t you ever get her to admit it. They love joking around with each other and just talking.

-She adores and idolizes her big brother-her Nicky Bear. She always wanted to follow him around and do what he did-which after a certain point would get on his nerves. She also sometimes get annoyed with how protective he can be. They can both be a little possessive over each other and their parents. As mentioned before they have many of the same personality traits but express them in different ways, so they bicker a lot. But in the end she would be lost without him.

-Like her mother Eliza was unfortunately bullied badly by kids outside the guild and even more unfortunate a few kids in the guild. So her three closest friends are Lila Dragnell, Hazel Redfox and much to her chagrin Iggy Dragnell.

-Iggy is the only person who can flare her temper on the daily and who she has fought with-he never fights with more than words but from time to time she will blast him with water just to get him to leave her alone. He is more or less the annoying younger brother she never asked for but similar to her own brother would be lost without him.

-And before you ask no she has not and will never have a crush or any romantic feelings for Iggy… but Simon Scarlet on the other hand….

-Has a love hate relationship with Happy after he was flying her around ounce and dropped her from pretty high up which gave her a fear of heights.

All right my lovelies!! That is it for this round! I’ll be back soon... hopefully with the next ship!!!

GAJEELX LEVY!!!

#fairy tail #fairy tail next generation #gray fullbuster #Juvia Lockser #Gray X Juvia #gruvia #Headcanon #ocs #super long #this is gonna take forever

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winryofresembool · 3 years

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 21

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Calypso and Annabeth have an important encounter

A/N: Sorry for the lateness! It’s time for some Annabeth action. Just a fair warning, since next Friday is the Christmas day and the Friday after that the New Year, I am not sure when I'm going to be able to post again. Be prepared for at least one week's break, possibly even two. But don't worry because more is definitely coming.

I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!!

Calypso is the bolded text and Hazel the regular in the texting part.

Words: 2300+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

Getting Leo to talk to her again was a huge weight off of Calypso’s shoulders, but there was still more to be done. Annabeth still kept to herself during the history lectures and Calypso didn’t want to force her to talk; she felt Annabeth should be the one to initiate it. From what Calypso had heard, Piper had tried to talk to her earlier, but so far Calypso hadn’t noticed any significant changes in Annabeth’s behavior. When she walked into the lecture hall that day, she noticed the blonde girl on the opposite side of the room, focused on her book. Letting a small sigh out of her mouth, she went to her usual seat pretty far from Annabeth.

Since the lecture wouldn’t start for a few more minutes, Calypso decided to use the time by checking her phone. When she opened her WhatsApp, she considered for a moment to whom she should text. Her first instinct told her she should contact Leo, but she imagined he was probably busy going to his own lecture at that moment, so she ended up scrolling through her other contacts instead. Noticing that Hazel seemed to be online, she started typing to her.

10:05: Hi, Hazel

10:05: Hi there! Was just thinking about you!

10:06: You were? How come?

10:06: Frank just texted me that on his morning jog near the campus today he had run into someone he had apparently recently met somewhere (he didn’t tell me where exactly).

10:07: and they had talked for a while.

10:07: At some point Frank mentioned the guy’s first name was Leo. I’m pretty sure it was /the/ Leo!!

10:08: How can you be so sure? I’m sure there are plenty of Leos around this campus. It’s not a rare name.

10:09: no but hear me out. The description matches with what you’ve told me. He said he’s a mechanic with a dog and when I asked Frank what he looked like, he said ‘dark hair, scrawny, eyes look like there’s some mischief going on in that head of his all the time but he’s not actually that bad when you talk to him’

10:09: I admit that does sound like the Leo I know

10:09: I told you! What a small world it is, apparently the boys we’re interested in know each other!

10:10: Still feels so weird when you put it that directly. You’re the only one who knows so far. So please, if you somehow happen to see him as well, don’t say anything.

10:10: Alright, I won’t. But what are /you/ waiting for? If he’s anything like the boys in our art class I’m sure he’s all over you by now.

10:10: Hazel!

10:11: Sorry, sorry. But you did talk to him after that… situation you had?

10:11: I did. We’re good now. Thanks for the advice the other day, by the way. It did help.

10:12: Ha, so you’re saying I gave you good advice. Could that mean that maybe you should also reread what I just said a moment ago?

10:12: Sorry, I gotta go. Something came up. TTYL!

10:13: Calypso!!

10:13: That’s so rude :P

Calypso hadn’t lied, though. She had noticed someone sneaking from the other side of the hall to the seat behind her, and that someone happened to be her friend to whom she hadn’t properly spoken for several weeks now. Trying to stay on her seat as neutrally as possible, still watching her now dark phone screen, she waited for Annabeth to start the conversation.

There was a tap on her shoulder. “Cal…” she finally heard Annabeth’s familiar voice say.

“Yeah?” Calypso asked tentatively, slowly turning on her seat to see the speaker.

“I think we should talk,” Annabeth stated, sounding more like her usual self.

“Um, sure,” Calypso answered but didn’t have time to say more when the professor stopped her, starting the lecture. “After this class, OK?”

“Right.” Annabeth nodded. Then she turned her focus to the professor, but Calypso noticed that not for long. She started doodling something into her notebook and was tapping on the floor with her foot, a habit that Calypso had noticed was very familiar to Leo, especially when he was nervous. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that Annabeth also had dyslexia and ADHD like him. The information seemed to come to her so naturally… but before the Percy incident, Annabeth had revealed that especially when she had been younger she usually had had to read the textbooks at least 5 times before she had finally absorbed what she had read. Later on, with the help of a teacher that actually understood her learning disability, she had learned some other methods that seemed to help her. One side of Calypso thought that it was relieving to see Annabeth show signs of weakness because usually she seemed so good at everything she did that it was mildly intimidating.

Soon Calypso realized that she herself had trouble focusing on what the professor was explaining while thinking about what she should tell Annabeth after the class. What could she say that she already hadn’t in the previous time? That she absolutely hated Annabeth’s boyfriend’s guts? That her flatmate made her feel weird things when they were in the same room so there was absolutely no need to be jealous?

Once the lecture was over, Calypso packed her things and gestured to Annabeth that they should have their conversation outside the lecture hall. They were walking silently until most of their fellow students had split into their own directions and found a quiet spot by the windows. There were some armchairs spread around the corridor to make it seem more comfortable and the girls sat down on two of them.

“I take it you may have changed your mind about me,” Calypso said directly once she had settled on her seat, feeling there was no need to tiptoe around the topic.

“I… yeah,” Annabeth started, and for a brief moment Calypso thought she showed a tiny bit of fragility. Suddenly she realized that maybe Annabeth wasn’t being her usual confident self, because she wasn’t that great at dealing with her feelings. Things like maths, chemistry and physics were simple to her because there were certain rules that needed to be applied. But the human mind was harder to read, Calypso knew that much. “Sometimes I think there are two different Annabeths: one that is very protective and jealous when it comes to the people she cares about, and then there’s the rational Annabeth who tries to yell to the other one that she is being ridiculous. I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

Calypso shook her head. “No, I think I can understand why it bothered you. I hate keeping things from you, but I promised to myself… I mean, it is safer to not get you guys involved.”

“But… why? What could happen?” Annabeth asked, folding her arms.

“I’m not going to go to details but my father… I’m sure you have figured out by now that he is not a nice guy. When he doesn’t like someone, or someone tries to get into his way… Good things don’t usually follow that. And I mean it. There is a very good reason why I moved this far from my previous home. To be honest, I would have liked to go all the way to Greece but that just wasn’t possible.”

“So you’re saying that your father is what you’re afraid of? And he could get us - I mean your friends - into trouble if you shared too much information with us?” Annabeth collected the pieces of the puzzle together.

“Basically, yes. But please, don’t ask more. I may already have said too much,” Calypso said worriedly.

“Don’t worry. My lips are definitely sealed,” Annabeth reassured her.

“Thanks.” Calypso hesitated a bit. “Um, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” Annabeth nodded.

Calypso shifted a bit on her seat, trying to get more comfortable. “If I’m honest, I was not expecting you to forgive me that whole Percy thing that easily. What changed your mind?”

“Well, let me just tell you that you have some very good friends who managed to persuade me.” Annabeth gave her a playful smile.

“Huh? Who?” Calypso knew that Piper had talked to Annabeth but she didn’t know there were others as well.

“First of all, Percy convinced me that there was absolutely no reason to be jealous. I’m not going to tell you how he did it, but he can be pretty sweet when he wants to. Besides, between you and me: Seaweed Brain just can’t lie to me. I can read him like a book.” Annabeth’s smile only widened as she said that.

“OK.” Calypso didn’t think she wanted to hear more about that topic.

“But that wasn’t all. Piper also talked to me,” Annabeth added.

“What did she say?” Calypso asked curiously.

Annabeth’s eyes started sparkling mischievously. “A lot of things,” she started, “but she reminded me of some events that happened before Percy’s arrival that evening.”

“I don’t understand you now,” Calypso pretended to be stupid even though she was already guessing where Annabeth was going with her statement. “What events?”

“I don’t know…” Annabeth tapped her fingers against her forehead. “I think hugging, cupcake sharing and flirty bickering was involved. Keyword: think. I guess the people involved know more about that than I do.”

“That was… that was just us being friendly!” Calypso rushed to deny. “And what was so flirty about our bickering? We do that all the time and I’m not trying to…”

“Relax, Cal,” Annabeth stopped her. “It just kind of reminded me of me and Percy. But if you say so…”

Calypso groaned slightly. “Fine, you won. Again. Maybe… I may be starting to like him. But that doesn’t mean anything. He probably doesn’t like me back. And it wouldn’t work out for various reasons. I… When I moved here, I really thought I could just forget about everything that happened in my past and start to live my life. But it turns out that my past is still following me and stopping me from forming functional relationships. Besides… none of my former relationships worked. I may have been a kid back then but I made some bad decisions and it wrecked my self confidence. I don’t want to get hurt again and I also don’t want to hurt Leo. He has a very good heart, despite his weirdnesses…”

“Calypso, I know from my own experiences that ghosts of your past can be hard to fight. I have had plenty of family issues of my own in the past and they have probably influenced my later decisions, I admit that. But you seem to have taken an attitude that you have to deal with it alone. But you don’t. Let us help you. Maybe I can’t speak for all of us but I know I’m not afraid of your father. It is always possible to fight if you just come up with a good strategy.”

“This is probably a weird comment but that sounded like something I’d imagine the goddess Athena say. Are you sure you’re not her? Or related?” Calypso attempted to joke.

“Last time I checked, all of us were regular people,” Annabeth chuckled. “I admit I’m probably not quite as advanced in the greek mythology as you are although I have studied some of it, of course. But your question reminded me of this book series I read as a kid: Peter Johnson and the Olympians. The characters in it were children of Greek gods and I always wished that I’d be like one of the main characters who was a daughter of Athena.”

“Ooh, I read that series too!” Calypso said enthusiastically. “It was kind of cute although now that I know more about history and Greek mythology, not all the characters are quite like I picture them in my head. But I appreciate the effort to make the mythology more known to young readers.”

“Right! I agree.” Annabeth nodded before realizing they had gotten pretty far from the original topic. “Sorry, we got a bit sidetracked here. I seriously do hope that you’ll let us help if needed. I myself am gonna try to be more patient and let you do it on your own terms, though.”

“Thanks, Annabeth. Um, about that Leo part, though…” Calypso felt her cheeks heat again and she wanted to curse her silly mind for reacting like that every time she thought about her flatmate. “Would you please be kind and keep it between us? I just really am not ready to deal with that yet…”

“Fine. I’ll let it be. For now. But maybe think about it. Who knows, you could be surprised by what might happen…” Annabeth said mysteriously.

“What do you mean?” Calypso frowned.

“Like I said, there are people who are ready to help you carry your burden even though you’re too absorbed by your issues to notice that. That’s all.”

“O-kay,” Calypso said suspiciously, wondering what Annabeth’s statement implied.

“You should know that one of the people who talked with me was Leo. He said he had noticed that you were feeling pretty down since the… incident and that you seemed to blame yourself for everything. And that you also felt very bad about not being honest. That’s what really opened my eyes and made me decide that I need to get over my grudge that doesn’t even make sense. I got what I wanted, didn’t I? Logically thinking, you should be the one who’s mad at me.”

“That Leo…” Calypso was so focused on that part for a moment that it took her a while to register what else Annabeth had said. “Um, sorry. To be honest, I think the Calypso from a couple of years ago would have been mad. But my priorities have changed and I also realized that Percy is way happier with you.”

“I’m glad you’re not holding a grudge, though,” Annabeth said.

“Life’s too short for that,” Calypso shrugged.

“I guess so. So, we’re friends, right?”

“Right,” Calypso confirmed, giving Annabeth a genuine smile. Some hope had risen in her heart again and she made a mental note to thank a certain mechanic later at home.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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ourcorny · 3 years

Text

charactersssss (a constant wip)

annie morris … twenty-five. currently haunted by her paintings and doodles. how embarrassing! waitress, artist, medicated for an illness she doesn’t has. is actually just from a bloodline of cursed female creative types. more info can be found @tghluck. (fc: mary elizabeth winstead)

edward ainsley … sixteen years old, is actually fifty-seven, vegan vampire. utterly disliked by his vampiric peers due to his being turned into a vampire in his youth, rendered sixteen years old for life. has a tendency towards alcoholism in order to silence his cravings for blood since he deems vampirism altogether unethical. more info found @pastytwat (fc: craig roberts)

robbie moore … fifty. always one of those too big for his own boots kinda guys – one of the ‘i’m jumping ship as soon as hit eighteen’ types. that’s what he did, and that’s when he absolutely fucked it. ran his mouth too loud for too long and ruined any chances he had anywhere he went. robbie is a writer but his unwillingness to compromise with his work leaves him unable to find any real place in the industry. an absolute self publishing expert. to pay the bills he’s an english teacher but there’s no real passion for it. he came back to his hometown after struggling his way around the country and settled down in a marriage with his high school sweetheart that turned sour quickly. the pair never had children and were heading to a painful divorce when his wife passed away suddenly. years down the line and he’s still trying to wrap his head around it. jesus fuck this guy. (fc: marc maron)

tara shaw … thirty-four. owner of SHAWSPB, an independent publishing company ran (run? past tense…? it’s confusing) by one tara shaw, someone who needs to work on her social skills. as it seems, you can actually only reject so many people so many times before it bites you in the ass. more specifically (and more accurately), you can only reject so many people so meanly after you fire the companies’ reader because they’ve let one too many trashy reads out of the slush pile and you have to start wading through the heaving thing yourself. opening manuscripts seemed well and good and safe enough because all you’d be facing is words that were crappy in a worst case scenario, until late one night, you stumble upon something that a sour faced rejectee (yes, one that landed themselves with a personalised handwritten and very specific rejection from the woman herself) gets their pages in the pile. tara opens it and finds that it’s no story at all. it’s a string of nonsense – words that don’t exist, script she’s not sure she’s ever seen before, but transfixed on the page, tara shaw reads the thing front to back and the second she puts the papers down is hurtled into the space time continuum, left to float around in there til something grounds her back into the real world, when or wherever that is. it’s an act of karma, or something, and whenever she lands she pukes her guts out because that’s what that kind of thing does to the human body apparently. (fc: natasha lyonne)

genevieve walsh … seventeen. was made fun of in year six for choosing to go to an all girl’s catholic secondary school, her classmates saying that she would end up a lesbian. she did, though it was unrelated to her formal teaching. very unrelated. she has too much going on and is too moody for her own good. extra info can be found @genegrieve.

morrigan kenny … age unknown. bringer of the apocalypse. wanders earth with her way too long hair (it collects twigs and mud) looking for someone to spend the rest of the end with.

alex … thirty-odd (undisclosed actual age) years old. she is yet to learn to do her taxes, and is for all intents and purposes: a con-woman. arguably not an ethical profession, charging the old and the gullible for exorcisms and that of a supernatural variety while having no knowledge of the subject. but a girl’s gotta make a living — volunteering yourself for stand up gigs at the same place night in night out with little to no compensation doesn’t provide much. she’s a kind person, if you ignore the conning, and is decent to talk to. will give away any information. whoops. (fc: jenny slate)

lou webster … seventeen. modern prophet. refuses touch with good reason (skin on skin means she see the other person’s skin melting off, right to the bone). regularly sees the end of the world and it gives her stomach aches. (fc: natalia dyer)

liv o'dell … twenty-nine. screaming messy would probably win the lottery (the luck of her) if she ever tried it, multiple time accidental murderer. makes no sense. is rude. is annoying. has a surprisingly sweet daughter (kitty). more info @heavyroads

betty cloverfield … a twenty one year old motormouth who can’t hold down a single thing she’s meant to. she happens to have recently induced some type of magenta sensitive dissonance in her sensory processing that she can’t shake. it’s speculated by many that she’s taken one too many poppers and it’s taken its toll. (fc: kat dennings)

aiden ryder … seventeen years old. the angstiest, quietest idiot with four fully charged portable chargers to hand at any moment you will ever know. heavily associated with @optimistsclub (fc: jack kilmer)

mert james ... 21. a children’s author, the writer and illustrator of the BEWARE GIANT CREATRUES series. he has many reasons to not want to leave his house and most surround the obvious images conjured in the phrase hatemyself1999 — hate myself (explanatory) and 1999 (dexter ‘mert’ james’ birth year. also self explanatory once you know this fact). all that said, he does in fact leave his house. teaches drums to kids. none of them practise and it makes him insane. in a running circuit of bands where none of the members are committed. that, or he’s misjudging their commitment and giving them nothing when they do in fact care and then he is the dick. music snob, deadpan snarker, karma houdini, middle child syndrome, world of cardboard, can’t get away with nuthin, i coulda been a contender!

lazyguts / victoria ... suicide/eating disorder mention. i’m writing her through ages 17-19 and here’s the brief overview/context: lazyguts lost all of her friends the year before she went off to university as a result of her total withdrawal [causes being a) her brother attempting to kill himself (he survived but it’s very confusing to grieve a hypothetical especially when you’re not supposed to talk about it) and then b) her already struggling with food issues getting worse worse worse. these two things alone are not the reasons as no one else explicitly knows about them, but the adverse effects of these things combined make her difficult to be around/hard to maintain a friendship with her. all very tragic, but still happens. uno].going to a uni where she doesn’t know anyone seems like the best move. she does. she makes friends with a girl called olivia and they become mad close very quickly. this lasts maybe two months until lazyguts starts locking herself away in uni room and doesn’t see much of anyone at all. she has to drop out on mental health reasons just before the end of her first year. she moves back home and lives miserably and very solitary. she and olivia have long lost touch by this point. a few months later she sees an in memoriam post up on olivia’s social media from some of olivia’s friends saying how tragic the loss is, etc/ olivia had killed herself. the post had said something about a project for the close friends of olivia and she tentatively sends a message despite having never really known the girl. anyway, after quite a few ‘exaggerations’ and then a few straight up lies, she ends up super into the friend group of olivia’s based on the lie of being a long-time friend of hers. she’s not sure why the lie comes out nor why she keeps it going. it’s something to cling onto so she does. best way to put it is she’s very dear evan hansen about it, lying lying lying lllyyyinng. eventually she’s caught out but we’re not there yet (fc: odessa a’zion)

dale knox ... 30ish. painter/decorator. info literally not ever written out before. he’s lovely and in a constant state of stress! affiliated with @fullyfungi (fc: aidan turner)

lenny gata ... 26. lonely funeral poet. followed by a select few of the unknown dead #irl after an accidental latin spell read out at a graveside (not her fault, literally not her fault - she read this out in good faith). caught ignoring them/walking them to their homes depending on the day. (fc: aubrey plaza)

millie matthews ... 17. half part antichrist. the other half is her twin sister (#MISSING). currently, unfortunately, sadly, disappointgly, worryingly, being tracked down.

more tbaaaaaaaa thank you thank you

#cast.#ignore the state of this blog #the STATEEE

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Billy Hargrove VS The World

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader Scott Pilgrim Vs The World AU (See note!)

Warnings: 7 exes that would love to kill Billy, violence, swearing, soft!Billy, I guess two sexual references since it’s Billy we’re talking about, smut mention but no smut, making out, SPOLIERS!, and cheesy pirate Patel

Words: 4947

Note: This is a Scott Pilgrim Vs The World AU because I love that movie and it would be interesting to write an AU involving that. Also this is a multiple part story due to all 7 exes and the battles. One ex per post! (maybe) I’m sorry for the unoriginal title lmao

By the way, yes. There is dialogue from the movie. That is in and going to be in this miniseries. As I said, I love this movie and I think most of the dialogue was funny, plus it is semi important to the story. And the exes are the same people from the movie. Sorry if you don’t like that.

o/o/y/f/c = One of Your Favorite Color(s)

Bold = Words From The Movie (that appear on the screen, if you’ve watched it, then you know what I’m talking about)

Italics with apostrophes = Billy’s thoughts (and Matthew’s thoughts but only once)

Italic = Used for a few different things, mainly enthusiasm/emphasis on words

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

link to the soundtrack on youtube ‘cause why not (a few will be in here I guess)

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5 and 6. Part 7.

“Look.”

Tommy pointed to the new girl. Finally, some fresh meat for Billy. Or Tommy, whichever one thought of her first. Billy finally grew bored of the girls at school, he waited for one that was newer. Fresher. Cuter.

There she was. Her unnatural o/o/y/f/c hair sat on her shoulders. Roller-blades on her feet, her torso clothed in a shirt covered with a hoodie and another jacket. Her bag hung by her side, headphone strings leaving it and connecting to the headphones on her head. She didn’t look like most girls. Billy had seen most of them, and none had looked as breathtaking nor interesting as her. Before either teens could walk over to her, a boy around their age walked in front of them. She was gone when he moved.

“Weird...”

“I hear she’ll be at Tina’s party tonight.” Carol noticed the boy’s fascination with the new kid, sharing it. “We should go, it’ll give you the chance to learn more about her, Billy.”

“We’ll see.” He brushed off his thoughts about the odd girl, her choice of hair color and clothing, and her headphones that caused her mental absence from the world. Billy turned and walked away, continuing with the rest of his day.

. . .

Billy was stopped by Tina. She asked him how the party was going and if he needed anything.

“Hey Tina, you know everyone, right?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” She let out a small laugh. Billy didn’t know whether it was fake or genuine.

“Do you know this one girl with hair...” He grabbed a pen the same color as the new girl’s hair color, quickly drawing a horrible doodle of the girl’s hair. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s Y/n L/n.” Tina took a sip of her drink, “Someone said she was gonna be here tonight actually.”

Billy’s hand that held the drawing went down quickly, his head snapping to the side and his eyes searching for Y/n. “What?”

“Oh Billy, you got the hots for her or something? I’ve gotta tell you though, I hear she’s a little hardcore-” Tina had looked down mid-sentence and when she looked back up Billy was gone. She turned her head with confusion.

Meanwhile, Billy was now walking through the crowd in search of his unique looking crush. His eyes and head shifted when he couldn’t see her, switching from left and right with each step he took. He didn’t blink, afraid that he’d miss her if he did. After many turns of his head and movements of his eyes, he finally spotted her. His hand clenched the red solo cup, squeezing it until it was crumpled and disfigured.

He slid along the wall, stopping when his body was right next to hers. He faced her, his body turned slightly so that she knew she had his full attention.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She turned her head to him for a second, facing forwards again and replying with, “Nothing.” before taking a sip from her cup.

“Hey you know swimming?”

“I know of it.” She took another sip, still not facing him.

He rambled on about the breast stroke and how he could teach her. Billy took notice of her silence, looking up to see that she was facing him with no emotion visible.

“That’s amazing.” Her reply was just as her face was; emotionless and dull.

“Uhm...” He looked down. No girl could make Billy nervous. By now, he’d have them a blushing mess, begging for him to do whatever he’d like. So now that the new girl, on the first day she’d ever met him, just somehow managed to make him regret every word he said, he thought he’d gone soft. “Am I dreaming?” Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion and another emotion Billy couldn’t quite think of. However, it was enough to make him regret speaking once more. “I’ll leave you alone forever now...”

“Thanks.”

And Then

He Stalked Her

Until She

Left

The Party

“Dude!”

He grabbed Tommy’s shoulder, spinning him around.

“What?”

“She’s totally real!”

“Who?”

“Y/n L/n.” His gaze went elsewhere. Billy then speeded off to find Tina. “Dude!” She made a face at Billy’s sudden approach, but let him speak. “What do you know about Y/n L/n?”

“All I know is that she’s (ethnicity).”

His sudden dramatic and demanding of knowledge persona swapped to dreamy, just as it had when he said her name to Tommy. “(ethnicity)...”

“Why don’t you go talk to Sandra and Monique, they know more about her.” Tina’s head nodded to two blond women laughing in a doorway. Billy rushed to them.

“Lady-dudes. What do you know about Y/n L/n?”

Sandra spoke up first, “I heard she has a boyfriend.” Monique confirmed her knowledge, “Mhm, yes. Left him back in New York.”

Billy felt a bit annoyed, but still wanted to know more. “Yeah yeah yeah...What else?”

He asked other people, earning all kinds of different responses.

“I heard she kicks all kinds of ass.”

“She’s on...another level!”

“She has men dying at her feet!”

“She’s got some battle scars dude.”

“What about Y/n L/n?!” Robin asked, semi full of annoyance for her old friend.

“You know her? Tell me now.”

“She just moved here, got a job at the mall, comes into my work.”

“Does she really?” His tone was dreamy again.

A girl put her arm around Robin, “didn’t you say she just broke up with someone?”

“Did she really?”

“They had uh...huge fight or whatever?”

“Did they really?”

Robin slapped the other girl’s arm off of her. “Yes! But I didn’t want Billy to know that, Kate!”

“Yeah...I don’t know what it is about that girl-”

“Billy, I forbid you from hitting on Y/n! Even if you haven’t had a real girlfriend in over a year or whatever.”

Billy’s daydreaming halted to a stop. He let out a scoff and turned away.

“Hey, woah woah woah, my man Billy’s got all kinds of girls...he’s totally getting with an older girl sometime, right?” Tommy couldn’t keep his big mouth shut, as usual.

“Getting with an older girl or multiple girls is not having a real girlfriend.”

“She’s got a point.” Kate wrapped her arm around Robin again.

“I thought you guys weren’t friends anymore?”

Robin slapped away Kate again. “I don’t want you scaring off one of my old friends now that she’s in town, Billy. We all know you’re a lady-killer-wannabe-jerky-jerk.”

“That’s completely untrue.”

“That time with Lisa?”

“That was a misunderstanding.”

“That time with Holly?”

“That wasn’t what it looked like.”

“That time you dumped Faith for-”

“Okay me and Faith are all good now, right?” He turned to where the girl Robin had mentioned stood. Her cup was in her hands and her face was blank with wide eyes. She looked traumatized. Billy turned back to Robin.

“Whatever! Y/n’s just out of your league, let’s just leave it at that. Besides, I’m not even sure she had a big break up. She keeps mentioning some guy named Gideon.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what it is about that girl-”

“FORGET IT BILLY!”

. . .

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know, it’s a letter for you dumbass. Read it.”

Billy grunted and took the letter from his father, tearing it open and allowing his eyes to scan the page slowly. He mumbled the words as he read them. It was only Max and him in the room, so it couldn’t do much harm. “Dear Mr. Hargrove, it has come to my attention that we will be fighting soon. My name is Matthew Patel and blah blah blah blah...fair warning, mono e mono, 7 evil blah blah... This is... This is... This is-”

Max grew annoyed with her older brother. “What?!?”

“This is borrrinnnggg. Get rid of thisss.” He threw the letter into the recycling and walked up the stairs to his room. “Hey Max?” For once, he didn’t care about being an ass to the redheaded girl. He had a plan, and he needed her as an excuse to leave the house.

“What is it?”

“Wanna go to the mall?”

“For real?” Of course, he couldn’t tell her. “Let me get my wallet and I’ll meet you in the car!”

. . .

“Hello. Robin tells me you ordered this ice cream but left before she could give it to you, so here.” The ice cream that she handed him was indeed abandoned when he heard Steve say that Y/n was in the mall and would be hanging around Scoops soon. “You gonna take it? Ooor-”

“Hi, I was thinking about asking you out but then I realized how stupid that would be...so do you wanna go out sometime?”

“Um no, that’s okay. You can just pay for this, alright?”

“You don’t remember me, do you? We met at the party the other day.”

“Were you the swim guy?”

“Nooooooooo, not even. That was some total ass...I was the...other guy.”

“You know you need to take this and pay for it?”

“But if I do, you’ll leave.”

“Yeah. It’s how it works.”

“Okay well maybe, do you wanna hang out sometime? Get to know each other? You’re the new kid on the block...right, I’ve lived here...for a while so there are reasons...for you to hang out with me.”

A short pause was shared between the two. Y/n’s eyes glanced up to Billy’s with an eyebrow raised. He didn’t know why he felt desperate, but this girl was making him feel different.

“You want me to hang out with you?”

“Um...” He looked down shyly, but quickly looked back up to her face. “Yeah, if that’s cool...” His tough demeanor seemed to flee whenever she was present.

“If I say yes, will you take and pay for your damn ice cream?”

He snatched the ice cream from her and tossed it over his shoulder and into the garbage can behind him effortlessly, taking out the money needed and handing it to her. “So yeah, eight o’clock?”

So Yeah ( . . . )

“Why’re you just standing there?”

“Dude, I’m totally waiting on you.” Y/n turned to Billy, her hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie. Billy didn’t know whether she looked offended or confused.

“Oh...I’m sorry, I just assumed you were too cool to be here on time...” In other words, he assumed she was like him. If you were at Tina’s party, then you were bound to be somewhat of a “cool kid” or a rebel or anything remotely relating to popularity. Then again, Tina loved handing out invites.

“Well. You assumed wrong.”

They walked in the chilly weather. Small talk slowly formed and they tried their best to get to know each other just as Billy had suggested. His nervousness didn’t leave him around her, and he was glad that no one else from school was there to see him make a fool of himself. ‘You’re just gonna get lucky and then leave her like the rest of them.’ No matter how many times he told himself that, he was too interested in Y/n. His felt something he wasn’t sure he had ever actually felt.

“So, how’d you end up in Hawkins?” Crap. He wasn’t even sure he could get to like him. Let alone be his snack of the week.

“Just needed to escape I guess...”

“Oh yeah.” He knew exactly how she felt. Or at least what he thought she meant by it.

“I got this job here and Gideon always said Hawkins was one of the cool places, so.”

Now Billy felt the need to ask the question that had been bugging him since Robin brought it up. “Is Gideon...your boyfriend?” It had been bothering him and filling him with a small amount of disappointment and worry.

“He’s...a friend.” Her gaze strayed away.

“Was he your boyfriend?”

She looked hurt. Hurt and uncomfortable. “Do you mind if I don’t get into that right now?” Y/n turned and walked to the swing set in front of them.

“Uh- it’s so not interesting to me...”

Y/n kept walking, Billy joining her and attempting to not bother her any more than he had already done. She took notice and initiated conversation so that he wouldn’t feel as awkward and guilty, “What about you, what do you do?”

“Oh, I’m in between jobs at the moment.”

“Between what and what?” She moved in front of the swing and sat down as Billy started talking. He did the same but his movements were still shy and cautious.

“Well my last job was...a long story, filled with sighs.”

“I know plenty of those.” Billy took the opportunity to check on Y/n. His face slowly looked over to hers, which was looking up and admiring the sky.

“Is that why you left New York?”

She looked in front of her, furrowing her eyebrows and nodding, “Pretty much. Just time to head somewhere a little more chilled.”

A cold breeze swept past the two. It was incredible timing.

“Well it’s certainly chilled here!” The wind gave Billy the perfect opportunity to try and lift the mood. A smile rested on his face, his joke seemed like one of the funniest things in the world seeing as Y/n had that same smile.

“Yeah...”

“It’s chilled as in cold...” Oh no. ‘Why the fuck am I so awkward?”

“Yeah.” ‘Oh dear god she noticed.’

The two decided to swing a bit more. With the conversation at a pause, that was honestly probably needed, Y/n and Billy swung their legs back and forth. competition started. They both tried to see who could go higher, Y/n won and smiled slightly while Billy smiled and chuckled with accepting defeat.

After they finished their fun, Billy and Y/n hopped off the swings for a finale. They continued their conversation afterwards, light droplets of rain mixed with small snowflakes falling over their heads.

“It’s ridiculous. Isn’t it like September?”

“No...but it doesn’t snow much in Indiana...ya know, I can barely see you?” His leather jacket was suddenly not projecting as much warmth as he normally would have anticipated. “This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.”

“I think ‘Act Of God’ is a pretty decent excuse for a lousy date.”

Billy stopped in his tracks. A sneaky signature smirk crept onto his face and his usual attitude made an appearance. “So this a date, eh?”

She stopped as well and turned. “Did I say date?” He nodded. “Slip of the tongue.”

“Tongue.”

“Anyway, nights not over yet...” She turned back to where they were originally facing, “and there’s a thingy over here somewhere.”

“Thingy?”

Once again, she turned her head towards him. “A door.” She turned it back, yet again, but this time there was a door in front of them. Odd. She nodded her head over to it in a beckoning way. “Come on.”

Billy took her hand and was dragged by her over to the mysterious door.

Y/n Come Closer ( . . . )

Y/n took off her shoes and looked up at Billy. He sat at her dining room table, staring at her with awe and adoration. Y/n broke the silence and walked over to her cupboard. “What kind of tea do you want?”

He didn’t know why he took his jacket off. His arms were cradling themselves as one would when they were cold. And he was cold. “There’s more than one kind?”

She opened the cupboard. “We have,” she inhaled. “Blueberry, raspberry, ginseng, sleepytime, green tea, green tea with lemon, green tea with lemon and honey, liver disaster, ginger with honey, ginger without honey, vanilla almond, white truffle, blueberry caramel, vanilla walnut, constant comment annnnnd...earl gray.”

When her sentence was finished, Y/n turned to face a wide eyed Billy. “Did you make some of those up?”

She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a box, “I think I’ll have sleepytime.”

“That sounds good to me...”

She made the tea and set it on the table. Billy’s position didn’t go unnoticed by her, “Want me to get you a blanket?” Her eyebrows were raised with amusement.

“That would actually be...awesome.”

Y/n walked away into her room. A few minutes passed. More minutes. Billy was almost done with his tea. He wondered where she went. He wondered why she was taking so long. Billy decided to go into her room and check on her, making a grunt-like wheeze.

Facing her closet, she was taking off her shirt. Upon hearing him, she turned and raised her arms. “Dude I’m changing.” She didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he just walked in on her while he bra was the only thing covering her chest.

Billy let out a small, “Ah, sorry!” and covered his eyes. “I’m just cold...”

“Here. That help?”

“Yeah...that’s very warm...What is that?” His hands slowly left his face. “Oh- kaaay...” Y/n was standing right in front of him with a cheeky grin on her lips. He leaned in and kissed her. It was finally happening. Their lips danced together, it felt like they had rehearsed the dance for so long yet in reality they were very new to each other.

The make out session with Y/n was all it took to break Billy. He was in love and he couldn’t deny it. As their passion turned rough and intense, he thought of how happy he felt and how he wouldn’t normally feel that with a girl.

They finally pulled away. Billy’s arms were around Y/n and one of her hands was on his shoulder, her arms laying loosely, and her other was clutching his side under his arm.

“Were you just gonna...bring the blanket from your bed?”

“I guess...” Her voice was soft, unlike her previous dead tone. Billy managed to shatter her “hardcore” exterior with a simple make out session. Or so he thought, if you asked anyone what they thought, they’d say Y/n managed to break him within their first conversation and then decided to let him in after touching her lips to his.

“Maybe we should...both get under it...since we’re both so cold...”

“What about our tea?”

Of course. The tea. Billy didn’t give a fuck about the tea. “I can...not have tea.”

The night went on with passion and...lust. They stripped down to their underwear and continued making out on Y/n’s bed. At some point they got under the blankets and Y/n leaned over Billy to continue their rough kissing. When it was “just about to get good”, Y/n pulled away from Billy.

“I changed my mind.”

“...changed it from what?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you Hargrove.” She moved over beside Billy, laying on his arm and snuggling into his side. “Not right now.”

Another, “Oooh- kay?” escaped Billy’s mouth. As usual, he didn’t know if he should feel hurt, angered or just plain okay with it. He longed for Y/n. She was his addiction, better than any drug. In his mind, he made the exception; feel bad about it later, stay with her for now.

“It’s not like I’m gonna send you home in this weather or anything, you can sleep in my bed. And I reserve the right to change my mind about the sex later.” At least he had a chance.

“This is...nice. Just this...” He was referencing their semi-cuddling forms. “It’s been like, a really long time so I think I needed this...whatever it is so...thank you.”

Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek, “You’re welcome.” He wrapped his arms around her when she wrapped one of her arms around his neck.

. . .

Billy and his basketball team were just having some harmless fun. It was a game, and school was out for the day. No one could do anything bad, right? Wrong.

Read to show off, Billy brought the new girl to the gym. Max was dragged along since Billy was her ride home. He and his team were horribly distracted by the pretty girl now known as Billy’s first official girlfriend. Scowls and mean looks were given to Y/n by the other girls at school, purely out of jealousy. This morning, Y/n was walked down the hall of Hawkins’ high under Billy’s arm, wolf whistles and more sounded around them.

A weird looking guy stormed into the room, “MR. HARGROVE. IT IS I, MATTHEW PATEL. CONSIDER OUR FIGHT,” Y/n looked horrified. She was pale and breathing unsteadily. The guy who had announced himself to be Matthew moved his head slightly, nodding his hair out of his face. “BEGUN!”

He ran at Billy. ‘What is this kid on?’ Time felt like it was moving in slow motion. “What did I do...?” His voice was slow. He really was moving in slow motion. “What do I do...” Matthew launched himself into the air with his fist raised. He aimed himself to punch at Billy.

Tommy gripped the shoulders of the boys next to him, leaning forward and yelling with entertainment. “Fight!”

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed. His fists clenched. He threw the basket ball to the side and shifted to a fighting stance. He blocked Matthew’s punch with his arm and reversed their roles. He swung his fist at Matthew’s face, somehow knocking him to the side of the room. Tommy, Max and Y/n’s eyes widened, as well as everyone else’s in the room.

Matthew still refused to give up. He jumped in front of Billy, “Alright! Alright...”

Max yelled from the bleachers. “Watch out!” They all turned to her. “It’s that one guy.”

“Ha!” Matthew smiled mischievously and ran at Billy again. Sadly, some people just don’t learn from their mistakes. Billy threw an uppercut to Matthews chin, sending him flying to the back of the room. Billy got in some extra punches while Matthew was still down. The two landed in front of each other, most of the people in the gym now gathered around them.

Matthew blew dust off his shoulders and turned to Billy before laughing a laugh that could’ve been mistaken for a villain’s. They started to circle each other, Mathew taking a step to the left and Billy taking a step to the right, “Well well well...you’re quite the opponent.” His neck moved left and then moved back to the right after each syllable when he said, “Hargrove.”

“Who the hell are you anyway?”

“My name,” he swung his right arm up into the air, his left clenched in a fist that met his collar bone. “is Matthew Patel! And I’m Y/n’s FIRST,” Matthew lifted his pointer finger on his left hand and moved his arm to the side. He moved his fingers so that his pinky, ring and middle fingers were out, his thumb and pointer finger touching so that the tips were smooshed together. He turned back to Billy, “evil ex boyfriend.” His shoulders moved up and down one at a time when he said boyfriend. When his hand went down, he let out a growl.

“Her what?” Everyone’s heads turned to Y/n.

She turned to Max and the other people on the right of her. Y/n nervously smiled, “Anyone need a drink?”

A fight initiated between the two boys, fists and feet being used. The grunts coming from both males were loud. Surely, at least one of them would have bruises after this.

Max made a face of massive confusion, looking around for any clues of the situation. Her older brother kept fighting the abnormal kid. After a few more swings, Billy, again, realized how confusing this really was. He wanted to ask beforehand, but this Matthew guy was really determined to teach Billy a lesson.

“Wait!” He held out his hand in a stopping motion. “We’re fighting over Y/n?” He personally had no problem with it, but the “Evil Ex” thing was getting to his head.

Matthew lowered his fist slightly, “didn’t you get my letter explaining the situation?”

“I skimmed it...”

Max squeezed her eyes shut and clicked her tongue. “Mm mm.” She shook her head with her disconfirming noise.

Matthew only seemed to grow madder. “You will pay for your INSOLENCE!” He threw kick after kick after kick, all of which were blocked by Billy. The anger fueled him to the point where Billy could only do few attacks with little time. Just as Billy was gaining the upper hand, Matthew socked him square in the face with both fists, then his right foot with a jump spinning kick.

The people in the crowd behind Billy caught him when he fell backwards from the attack, pushing him forwards and urging him to continue with the fight. Matthew backed up one foot at a time and did weird dance, finishing it off with pulling his coat forward a bit so the dust came off of it and tilting his left foot upwards.

“Hey.” Max leaned forward, gaining the attention of two boys as well as everyone else in the gym. “What’s up with his outfit?”

“Yeah. Is he a pirate?” Laughter flooded the room at Tommy’s observation.

Billy was also curious. “Are you a pirate?” He asked Matthew in a simple and genuinely asking way. Unfortunately, Matthew looked caught off guard and offended.

“Pirates are in this year!” He wasn’t shouting, but he said it with a sassy and upset tone. “Gah!” This time he did shout. His fist was aimed at Billy, and his feet were already moving forward.

More attacks were made. Billy finally did have the upper hand. After Matthew tried to hit Billy’s face again, Billy caught his arms and held them to his chest. His eyes and head turned to Y/n. He was pissed off now. “You really went out with this guy?”

Everyone faced Y/n now. “Yeah.” She stood up and leaned forward, “In the 5th grade.”

Silence. Billy looked around, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he spoke up again, “And?”

She sighed. “It was football season and for some reason, all the little jocks wanted me. Matthew was the only nonwhite nonjock boy in town, so the two of us joined forces and we took 'em all down. We brawled and scrapped, fought for hours. Nothing could beat Matthew’s mystical powers. We only kissed once. After a week and a half, I told him to hit the showers.”

Matthew was full of rage. His furrowed eyebrows and reddened skin could do nothing but confirm that statement.

“Dude wait- mystical powers?” Billy was confused. Unluckily for him, Matthew took advantage of his distracted state and broke free from his grip. Music started playing in the background. Matthew pushed Billy and turned to Y/n, holding out his pointer finger and pointing at her. The veins on his forehead were bulging.

“You’ll pay for this,” He paused for a second. Y/n was visibly afraid. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was was ajar. Matthew finished his sentence with a slight raspy sound to his voice, “L/n.” He swiftly turned to Billy and started dancing and singing. It’s a cringey dance and song to say the least.

“If you want to fight me,”

Max made the same confused face as she had previously. “What!?” She knew it was dumb to pick a fight with Billy, but to sing and dance while doing so? And to get her exes together so they could fight Billy? Were they that dumb?

“Hah! You’re not the brightest.

You won’t know what hit you,

in the sligh-igh-ightest.”

He made sounds with his mouth, floating into the air. Black and white colored girls, kind of like those old animations on tv, were summoned around him. They looked like someone wanted to make demon girls but was a perverted guy who loves hipsters.

“This guy’s good-” One of the basketball team members spoke. He too was wide eyed and confused as fuck.

“Me and my fireballs,

my demon hipster chicks!”

Looks like he was right about hipsters.

“Tell ‘em Matty.” They had a seductive-like voice. With a closer look, Billy could see that their eyes were like snakes. Their teeth were sharp too.

“I’m talking thee talk,

‘Cause I know I’m slick!” He winked before his weird demons spoke again.

“S-L-ICK.”

“Fireball-balls!” He threw the fireball at Billy, who thankfully dodged it in time. Gasps were heard around the room. At least it wasn’t just Billy seeing this shit. “Take this sucker out!” More flames erupted from his hands, shooting at Billy again.

“We’ll show him

What we’re all about!”

“That doesn’t even rhyme!” Billy finished off his sentence by throwing the now broken ring from the hoop at Matthew like a frizzbe. It hit him in the head and caused him to flip backwards a bit. His demons disappeared and it was his turn for his eyes to widen.

‘This is impossible. How can this be?’

Somehow, Billy heard and responded to Matthew’s thoughts with his own, ‘Open your eyes. Maybe you’ll see.’ He jumped at Matthew and returned the punch that had formerly knocked him back into the crowd.

Though, something strange happened this time. When Billy’s fist made contact with Matthew’s skin, he slowly fell a bit, but when he hit the ground, his body turned into 9 quarters. Everyone except for Tommy, Max, Carol, Billy and Y/n continued acting normal. The difference with them and the 5 others were that they had no memory of this “Matthew Patel” or of any fight. The damage in the gym was restored, but still. The 5 of them knew what happened and didn’t know quite yet that no one else did.

“Sweet! Coins!”

“Coins that’re mine, shortstack.” Billy took the remains of Matthew from the poor kid holding them. He walked outside, following the other 4 to discuss what just happened.

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pickybearcub · 4 years

Text

Getting to know Spider-boy: Chapter 1

Summary: Ten minutes. Ten minutes was all it took. She found his backpack in the alley and left before he got back. Now, before Peter knows it, Ned thinks he has a secret girlfriend and Spiderman has to be her kibble runner.

Pairings: Peter Parker x OC

Warnings: None

A/N: So, just wanted to try posting my story here. It’s actually already complete on FF.net, but I’m going through it and making a edits, mostly to grammar and some inconsistencies in the story. I’ll post every few days, just to put a little time in between each chapter. Here we go...

Note: Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Chapter 2 Masterlist

Hey mom.

I finally unpacked the last box! So I guess I'm officially moved in. The new place is nice, just like your friend described. It's a little small but more cozy than anything. I really like it. It's really different from the heart of the city. A good kind of different though. I'm looking forward to running at a more normal pace.

I got a part-time job at that café I was telling you about. I'm trying to see where I can get a second job to fill in the gaps.

Glad to hear things are going well over there. Aunt Annie must be glad to have you teaching a few students. Tell me about them when you come around.

Anyway, it's almost time for my shift, so... gotta go. Best of luck to you and everyone there.

Love yah~

Nadia clicked "send" before shutting down her laptop. She pulled her dark hair up into a quick ponytail and slung on her bag while she walked to the door. Locking it, she twirled her keys before shoving them into her bag and jogging to the other end of the hall. She hopped down the stairs two at a time and set a brisk pace to her walk.

The young woman breathed in deeply as she walked through her new neighborhood. Soon, she was passing a few familiar stores and small businesses. A bell gave a cheery jingle as she opened the door to the coffee shop she now worked at.

"Good morning, Hannah."

"Morning, dear." An older woman, the owner, greeted from behind the counter. "You're twenty minutes early again."

Huh…

Nadia shrugged, walking around the dining area, starting to set up the chairs. "It's a step up from the half-hour early and waiting for you to arrive and unlock the door."

Hannah gave a light chuckle. "You know you don't need to be so early, though it is nice."

"It's okay. I think I'm still used to all the rushing around I did back home." Nadia lived most of her life in a fast-paced city. Here in Queens, even if it was just ten kilometers away, everything felt calmer. She didn't have to deal with hellish traffic or the morning rush of people on their way to work.

She'd have to learn to adjust and slow down just a little more.

Another bell chimed as she left another shop later that afternoon. A bookstore to be exact. When her shift had ended at three, she'd gone around to explore more of her neighborhood. She got a little carried away browsing through the titles. Especially when more than half the store was filled with used books.

Nadia always thought that secondhand books were more interesting than brand new ones. Some had various marks left from their previous owners. Notes and highlights, dedications, and dog eared pages. Every once in a while, there would be a piece of paper or two stuck between the pages. Most were older and weren't in circulation anymore, which only added to their value even if they were sold at a cheap price.

The dark-haired girl smiled as she walked. She would definitely go by there again so she could actually buy something-

A heavy thump and a huff pulled Nadia from her thoughts, bringing her attention to a familiar young boy who was tugging at two black garbage bags.

"Hey there, Sora." The ten-year-old looked up, grinning when he saw Nadia. The boy's name was really Shaun, she just called him "Sora" because of the game he was currently addicted to.

"Hi, Dia!"

She'd taken a few babysitting jobs when she first arrived in Queens. Shaun had been one of the kids she’d looked after.

"Isn't it your brother's chore to take out the trash?" She walked to him and tried lifting one bag. It was a bit heavy. Definitely a little too big for Shaun to carry on his own.

The boy huffed again, pouting. "He hid my Nintendo again. He said he'd give it back if I took out the trash this time."

Nadia frowned. That wasn't nice.

"I'm at a good part of the game too." Shaun scuffed his shoe on the ground.

The young woman let a gentle smile onto her features before once again grabbing a hold of one bag. "Why don't I take one, and you grab the other. That way, you can get back to your game faster."

"Okay!" The kid grinned and took hold of the smaller bag.

They both carried the bags to the dumpster in the back alley. When the business was done, the boy thanked her and she told him to tell his parents what his brother had done.

Shaun nodded and scampered back out the alley quickly so he could get his handheld back.

Nadia sighed and dusted off her hands on her pants. That boy never listened to her about telling on his brother, Shaun was too nice.

She was about to walk out of the alley when she noticed her shoelaces were untied. Kneeling down to redo them she spotted something by a corner beside the dumpster.

"A backpack?"

She picked it up by the strap and looked it over. It was dark blue, didn't seem very old, and it was relatively clean. Who would throw out a good bag?

But then… it had some weight to it.

Huh…

Nadia hesitated for a moment before she opened it up. There were a few notebooks, a pen, some spare change, and a few pieces of paper.

This wasn't thrown out. Someone owned this.

No. Someone lost this.

Maybe some kid got bullied and the bullies dumped his backpack here.

She slung the strap on her shoulder. She'd check out the stuff more thoroughly when she got home.

Maybe she'd find an ID or something in one of the pockets. It was starting to get dark, so it wasn't logical to leave the bag and hope whoever owned it found it here. Someone else might take it.

Nadia started walking again and thought about what she was having for dinner that night. There was still some pasta leftover from the day before. That would have to do.

**Ten minutes later**

Peter landed nimbly in the alley where he'd left his bag. He let out a breath as he took off his goggles and mask.

Man. The fabric really made for stuffy breathing after a few hours using it-

Oh no…

He looked down at the empty corner of the alley and groaned.

His backpack was gone.

May would ask him how he lost another backpack after just three weeks. He really needed to find somewhere more secure to leave his stuff when he went on patrol.

On the upside, at least he didn't leave any of his Spider-Man stuff in there.

"New backpack, Peter?" Ned said as he put some of his things in his locker. "That's like the second one this month."

Peter scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah… Uhmmm… A dog chased after me and kinda ripped it."

"Oh! But you're okay right?" Peter's best friend asked, genuinely concerned. "You didn't get bitten, did you? I heard that you get five shots just in case of rabies. Was the dog foaming at the mouth?" He shuddered at the thought.

"No, Ned." Peter chuckled. His friend could get a little easily agitated or overly enthusiastic when it came to asking questions.

"Oh. Okay. Good then." The two walked side by side to their classroom. "You've been a little distracted lately. Maybe that's why the dog got you…." Ned mused.

"Enough about the dog, Ned. Let's just get to class." Peter sighed and tugged at the straps of his new backpack. He didn't like how he had to keep lying to his friend about certain things.

But his powers….

Being Spider-Man…

Knowing Ned, telling him wasn't really the best idea.

Besides, he was still getting used to his powers himself.

Nadia knew just how difficult and irritating it could be to lose your notebooks, especially when you were a student. Taking notes was difficult as it is. She riffled through the backpack she found to see if there was something with a name.

"Peter Parker…" She mumbled, finding a slightly crumpled quiz paper. Why did that name sound so familiar?

Sitting on a stool on her kitchen island, she lazily poked at the bowl of noodles beside the few papers she'd pulled out.

"Wow…" A breath of admiration escaped her as she found two more quizzes. Math and chemistry. He got A's on all of them. "You are one smart cookie."

She pulled out a notebook. Maybe there was some hint of which school he went to. She didn't want to go through the phonebook to ring up every Parker listed there. Flipping through the pages to find a doodle of a school mascot or a randomly scribbled school name or event, she twirled her fork through the pasta she had been eating.

Decathlon tm meeting – Friday

Band practice moved to Tuesdays

So part of a decathlon team and a band… Group of friends or school band?

There probably weren't many of the schools here in Queens that had a decathlon team, right? Academic or athletic though… Ugh…

There had to be something else…

Nadia had just been about to stick the noodles in her mouth when she reached a few pages near the back.

Her fork dropped from limp fingers right onto the paper with a splat.

"Crap!" She quickly tipped the notebook up to get rid of the pasta. There was now a reddish-orange spaghetti sauce stain on the page. She rushed to grab a napkin to clean up the mess before the sauce seeped to the other pages.

Underneath the blotch of pasta sauce were a few calculations, notes, and diagrams. The top of the page read-

Web fluid 1.2

---

Tags:

Well...Tell me if you want to be tagged X]

#fanfic #fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker x oc #oc #original character #friendship #family #getting to know spiderboy #tom holland #marvel #mcu #avengers #homecoming #spiderman #spider-man

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dolphin-enthusiast · 4 years

Note

why hello again my sweet morgy~!! 💞🌠🍭 what a lovely evening to wind down with some writing and a glass of wine! hopefully you are doing alright!! well, of course school is going to make our days a little worse for now, but fingers crossed that i can offer a little brightness to you ��💞 the second day of virtual school was extremely boring, i hate having to sit at a computer for hours,, so i ended up daydreaming and playing with fidget toys and eating lollipops hehe (1/8)

"yet again, you prove to be quite the charmer my dear morgane, out here once again with all of your smooth-talking! i swear, you will be the death of me one day, killing me with kindness,, i can only wish to be such a sweet person like you!! until them, i just have to keep pulling my dumb little one liners in hope of possibly flustering you back 😘 (2/8)

and today i made the unfortunate discovery that i have my ex and lots of mean people in my classes,, and so little of my friends! this is gonna be such a hard year i suppose :( sadly all i can do is hope that this year will be better than the last,, after all, as long as i can ignore/avoid them all staring at me and making comments, i'll be okay ❤ (3/8)

i had a hard time focusing in lots of the class video calls due to anxiety, so i doodled some portraits of my teachers!! i needed the practice anyway,, i haven't drawn in a while! i sent them teach the finished sketches and they both gushed with compliments!! it really cheered me up, i'm glad i was able to make people happy with my little doodles! 💖 (4/8)

speaking of drawings, i woke up to more artwork made of me! it's so so flattering, truly!! it shocks me how some of these artists do such amazing drawings for free, they're all so talented!!! ooh, and this reminded me, i should probably tell you all that all of the art, picrews, etc that's made for me and morg is saved in a special little photo album on my phone,, i call it "things people have made for me 💕" (5/8)

i like to go through them on bad days to lift my mood, so when i always say that your efforts mean a lot to me, i'm not lying 💓 but don't fret darling, even though we do deal with a lot of trouble in our daily lives, there'll be a time in the future when we'll get away from our bothersome struggles, no? and i do look forward to that incredibly so,, (6/8)

we have all of these improvised plans building up that i'm sure we can escape from all of the stress for a good while, we just gotta hang on until then!! and i'm always here to offer endless support, love, and wholesome stuff to brighten your day when you need it! one day at a time dear, we'll work our way there 💗💗💗 (7/8̶ 9)

oh, and of course i'll cook pasta for you amore, and fresh pasta at the least!! there's so many things i have to cook for you and others, so prepare for a feast in the future! after all, i only cook for my loved ones~ 🌺 ooh, i must've glazed passed that one ask about iris by the goo goo dolls,, i just wanna throw in that i absolutely love that song and my papa and i sing it all the time!! maybe i'll post a lil singy thing of that song here... 😖 (8/9)

oh dio, it seems the time has flown too fast again,, i wish these moments could last longer!! at least i can come back tomorrow and see you again! so i bid you a goodnight dolcezza, make sure to take care of yourself! as always, i'm thinking of you 💌 - tutto d'amore, waifu xoxo 💋 ps: don't worry amato, everyone is awkward when first learning to dance (even me!), but i'm sure you'll learn fast when i teach you 💘 (9/9)"

Before anything else if yo ex trynna start shit....je suis here👁️ iS thIs gUy bOtHeriN u qUeEn??

But like i felt that on a spiritual level online claases make me absolutely bored and i almost fell asleep so many times in the past also bc my sleep schedule is fucked so unlike the times i'd get up and freshen up a little now it was like me fighting off with my own body 10 min before online class starts asmr dhshdhdhd (i also basically end up playing video games or watching anime when shit really gets boring lmao)

AnYwAYs thats so wholesome?? The fact that ppl keep makin u stuff and u saved it in a folder too🗿 which reminds me...trust me i aint this wholesome or kind really u dont give urself enough credit dear u can b very sly/smooth if u want to so its def not just me here👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️

Now i could only ever dream of having such a positive attitude as urself bc my dumbass gets thru life by ignoring and pushing down everything which is hella unhealthy but do we care n o t a t a l l ksshhx if anything im glad u keep maintaining a positive aura urself and i have to agree we have so many plans its unreal.....it just succs that life b kinda wack🤡🔪

On another note it sounds to me like we'll have to not only dance but also sing together....i have a feeling i said this before but s t i l l👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️

#the confessional #once again u come for my wig and dont evem give urself credit for it s m h🤩

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striving-artist · 4 years

Note

Someone stop me! what are we stopping you from doing? Also Im p sure im not gonna stop you

That doc is a Wip of the opening of a TV pilot that I really like, but that is too similar to Lovecraft country to go after. Amusingly. I wrote it before LC came out, but it’s got a similar cast, including terrifying over-perfect white lady as the gatekeeper to the world of Other. And the MC’s name is Nick. The concept is basically, 30yo needs a job, cannot freaking get one, gets offered a job working for the Fae.

And since this now can’t go anywhere, thus I do not need to be stopped, I may as well post all of it:

but below a cut bc long.

Shot of a folded futon with a rumpled pillow and blanket, in a tiny room, obviously partitioned from something larger. The curtain is obviously a fitted bed sheet taped in place. The futon has a messy pile of overdue bills. Electric, gas. Phone. Notice of cancellation for insurance. Notice of delinquency from Fedloan. A stack of boxes serves as a desk, pulled close enough that the futon is the seat. A laptop with a crack in the corner of the screen, duct tape along the battery, is making angry noises as it loads up the next page of a job search website. It’s the final page, and the message saying so is taunting.

Oops! Looks like that’s all there is here!

We see NICK, lit by the screen. Black, 30, artsy, if he could afford it. He’s slim, but fit - the side effect of living around actors and performers.

He takes a breath, gearing up, and starts a new set of google searches.

Jobs without a car

Jobs anyone can get

Best city for artist jobs

Best city for jobs?

Companies that will hire anyone

Companies that will hire anyone how to tell if evil

His phone chimes, interrupting his fruitless search, its screen is also cracked. The alert is from his calendar telling him he’s got Coffee w/JESS in half an hour.

Interior of a coffeshop. Exactly like any other coffee shop, with the same jazz covers of pop songs and decor that’s trying too hard. NICK’s got better taste than this, but JESS chose the place. NICK is standing against the wall, watching the barista, waiting to hear his name. It’s busy, but not crowded.

JESS arrives. She’s a whirlwind. A bag looped over her chest, The strap of a purse crossing over it. She’s short, dressed in at least four different bright patterns, and has her hair pinned back into a mohawk, which gets her an extra few inches. NICK waves, and winces when a Woman brightens her plastic looking smile and waves in reply. THE WOMAN is dyed blonde, with unnaturally white teeth.

His name is called, but the only table available is even closer to her. He sits with his back to THE WOMAN.

JESS joins him, setting down a venti latte with a pastry bag balanced on top.

JESS

Is that a cup of hot water?

NICK

I’m not allowed to drink tea?

JESS

Yeah, but that’s water.

NICK pulls a crumpled tea bag out of his pocket and drops it into the cup.

JESS

Wow, so you’re like broke broke, then.

NICK goes for the power move, taking a sip of the tea while trying to look angry. He burns himself

JESS

Oh hun, you are not tough enough to pull that off. And your tea’s like, barely steeped. You just dropped the thing into the -- Sorry -- alright, yeah, you got on unemployment finally, though right?

Flash shot of NICK on the computer, 404 errors, Unknown Error has occurred, Site is down for maintenance. Phone calls; We’re sorry the call cannot be completed as dialled. We’re sorry, all our operators are busy, please call back later - dial tones. That terrible sound that old fax machines make.

So… I’m gonna take that as a no?

NICK

Universe hates me. McDonalds said I wasn’t the right fit. The Sanitation department? Literally got told I wasn’t on the level to be a garbage man.

JESS

You sure someone didn’t steal your identity?

NICK

I spent the 30 bucks to check. No.

JESS

You have a masters degree, this shouldn’t be so hard. Even what’s his nuts - uh - the guy with the weird diet? He played uh, uh, in the show with the paper mache? Him.

NICK looks sort of nauseous.

NICK

Eddie got a job?

JESS

(reluctantly) In the art department for a film. Look, it just doesn’t make sense, you were doing great. We all figured you’d be getting us jobs ten minutes after graduation. We were all buddying up to you so we’d be first in line. Jesus NICK, It’s like you’re cursed or blacklisted or something.

NICK

Right.

JESS

(joking) No, seriously. You had a catastrophic safety failure in the space for your thesis for something that the school should have noticed like a decade ago, and ever since? It’s like - Just. I don’t know. Have you tried going to church? Drink some holy water? Ouija board? Burn some candles maybe?

NICK

What was that stuff that Sarah always talked about? Maybe I should have her do my tarot. No, wait. What was her thing? Chi? Karma? Crystals? I’ll try anything at this point.

(he laughs, but he’s not kidding)

JESS

Oh sugar, you brought your own tea bag to starbucks, you can’t afford good enough crystals to do anything about all this.

He takes another sip, burning himself and dribbling tea onto his shirt.

NICK

How’s your project though?

JESS

I feel bad talking about it with you.

NICK

Come on, just because I’m debating whether I need both my kidneys doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. Tell me about it. Maybe your good luck’ll rub off on me.

JESS

(giddy) Yeah, alright. Well, we’ve got concept books out this friday, and the presentation is next week, and it’s so cool. So so cool. The DP saw me doodling while the director was talking and stole it - scariest moment of my life - and showed it to everyone, and they just -- we made some changes, but basically my stupid little sketch is now in the package, and they had the art department turn it into renders and they asked me to review it? I swear, my soul just. Exited my body. It was amazing.

NICK

Handled it real smooth, huh?

JESS

Screw you, I was so professional they didn’t even notice that -- Yes?

JESS stops, looking over NICK’s shoulder. He turns to check. THE WOMAN is behind him, smiling the smile of a charity worker who’s more interested in posting about it on instagram than helping anyone. It’s fake, but not threatening.

Woman

I overheard you guys talking. Bad luck lately? That sucks.

JESS

This is a private conversation so if you don’t mind---

Woman

(interrupting) You should try contacting these guys.

She hands NICK a napkin with an address written on it, and a rough signature shape on the bottom.

They’ll help if you ask.

JESS

Great, thanks, bye.

THE WOMAN’s smile is static when she turns to JESS, like it’s glued in place.

Woman

You should really learn to be nicer to people. Bye.

She leaves.

NICK and JESS share a moment of WTF before he looks back at the napkin. JESS snatches it out of his hand and crumples it up.

JESS

No. We don’t go to random addresses given to us by botoxed white ladies that think you’ve got no other choices. Don’t you ever watch the news? That’s how people get their asses kidnapped. You’re too pretty to go walking into that. We’ll find you some work, NICK for now, drink your store brand tea, and I’ll tell you about what the AD said to me.

Time passes. JESS keeps talking, until they need to leave. She gives him a hug, whacking him in the leg with the heavier of her bags.

JESS

Come on, you’re too good to be unemployed forever. I know you sent it before, but can you bump the email with your stuff to the top of my inbox? I’ll see if I can get it in the hands of anyone on the team.

NICK

Sure.

JESS

And don’t go after dumb crap just because you’re broke, you’ll get through this, and it’ll look great in your biography one day. Okay, I gotta run before the parking fee goes up, bye!

NICK waves, grabs the garbage from their table to clear it. He throws everything away, and stoops to grab the bit that didn’t make it into the trash. Half crumpled, with a grease stain and some coffee smeared on it, but the napkin is still clear. He scoffs, almost drops it with the rest. His phone chimes. Another email:

Thank you for your interest in the position, unfortunately at this time…

NICK shoves the napkin in his pocket and exits. He doesn’t see THE WOMAN watching.

#my writing #my original writing

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onewhoturns · 5 years

Text

fictober.23.: the first appointment

#Fictober19 Prompt: 23. You can’t give more than yourself. Fandom: Oxenfree Characters: Jonas, Duke (OC) Rating: T (no warnings apply) Tags: Angst-ish, emo Jonas, mental health & therapy Word Count: 2802

So... I'm posting this in order to maintain Fictober, but in all honesty this is actually a side scene/side story to a previously mentioned project that is still in the works and has yet to be posted. There may be some spoilers for the beginning of that fic. This is more an exploration of who this AU's version of Jonas is, how he's been affected by the things in his life- I'm calling it 'emo Jonas' but it may not be the type of emo you're expecting, I don't know.

If you want to read it when it comes up in the fic, it's looking like that would be anywhere from chapter 6 to chapter 9 (we're still in the midst of writing at the moment), and I'll update the summary and add it in as a related work when that becomes applicable.

For now, if you still want to read now (and it's cool if you don't), enjoy Jonas's first meeting with Duke, with no context to the rest of the story.

An appointment. ‘Like a doctor’s visit.’ Yeah. Well, maybe.

“Hey. You want to come on in?”

Jonas holds his breath for a second, standing from the waiting room to follow the man inside. The guy is in his early 30s, brown hair with a bit of gray starting in, just barely this side of messy, with glasses that look like he should be drinking craft brews at some gastropub in Portland. Duke. That’s a name, alright.

“Nice to finally meet in person.”

Jonas just nods. He’s not great at speaking to new people. Took him a couple weeks to start talking in intake. But he has kinda met Duke before. A pretty long phone interview, not to mention emails. They wanted to find a good therapist, and Camena had options. He’d settled on Duke.

“It’s nice to have all the paperwork out of the way already. Kind of a waste of session time, really.”

Jonas’s brows raise as he tips his head in acknowledgment and agreement.

Duke has a leg crossed over the other, and Jonas realizes, in retrospect, that the guy is actually his height. Maybe an inch shorter, but pretty damn close.

“How tall are you?” They’re the first words out of Jonas’s mouth, but they do their part.

“Six three. On a good day, anyway.”

“Nice.”

“Shoe size?”

“13.”

Duke winces audibly. “Damn, you beat me. 12 and a half.”

Jonas smirks a bit. And the ice is broken.

“You came from school?”

Jonas’s eyes wander to the side table between his chair and the unoccupied couch. He reaches for some kind of adjustable wire toy, turning it inside out and flipping it into different shapes. “Yup.”

“What’s your electives?” It’s a better question than ‘how was your day,’ at least. Duke’s foot is bouncing idly, as well.

“Gym and weight training; shop.”

“At CHS, right? Wilkinson still teaching wood shop?”

Wilkinson? “Yeah, I think that’s his name. Old guy, wears a lanyard with a whistle on it even though I don’t think he does any sports stuff?”

“Yep. He’s not too bad. Get him talking about baseball, that’s a thing. Does he still have that slugger in the workshop?”

“I… don’t know?”

“He’s got two, actually, I think. Louisville Slugger wooden bats, one official and one he made. If he still has it. I heard one year some kids stole it for a prank.”

“Kinda a dick move, the guy’s gotta be at least 70.”

“Yeah. Kids can be idiots. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Technically an adult, and I’d agree regardless.”

“When we talked before, you sounded kinda meh on the Individual Studies thing. How’s that looking?”

“It’s…” Jonas pulls a face. “Still meh on it. Some of the other kids are… ehh. Remind me of guys from North Valley, thinking they’re the shit. And the teachers - or whatever they’re called, aides? They’re a mixed bag. This one girl - woman, I guess - she seems pretty cool. Darcy. Good attitude, even if she seemed kinda fake at first.”

“I’m not sure I totally get what the course is, to be honest.”

“I mean, I’ve got three periods of it, it gets old fast. Though— I mean I guess they’re not all the same. First period for me seems more like… learning skills?” Jonas winces. “I dunno, it’s kinda cringey sometimes. And then third is gonna be assessment stuff— kinda miserable, just packets of standardized test questions and shit like that. Last period is chill though. Basically like a study hall for me, working on the stuff from the tests. And I’ve been getting out a little early, so I can-” He stops.

Duke waits a second for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, he lifts his chin from looking at the pad of paper in his lap (where Jonas can see little geometrical doodles as well as his illegible scrawl of whatever he’s noting). “A reminder; mandatory reporting doesn’t include stuff like truancy, just plans to harm yourself or others. And I consider ‘plans’ to actually mean plans.”

“So… there’s this girl, right?”

“A friend?”

Jonas hesitates. “Yyeahhh…”

“Or… sounds like maybe not just a friend?”

He shakes his head, “No, definitely just a friend, just… kinda insane.”

“Fun fact; ‘insane’ is really a legal term.”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “Kinda wild, then. Her and this other guy, too. They kinda like… adopted me?”

“Is that a positive or a negative?”

“I think it’s a positive? But— right, my point was, it gives me time to dip out the back and then meet them in the other parking lot.”

“Why the other parking lot?”

Jonas shoots Duke a flatly skeptical look. “Well they’re not gonna come meet me over in the ‘special’ wing.”

Duke huffs out a short laugh. “Wow, okay, strong feelings about IS are still there I see.” Even as Jonas is rolling his eyes again, he goes on. “So the wild duo. What kind of wild? You think they’ll get in the way of treatment?”

That makes him think for a second. “Um… no? I dunno. The guy is kinda stupid rich and somehow has a line to a shit ton of weed, apparently. Which could be a problem.”

Duke’s brows have risen high. “Could be, yeah. Does your JPPO do random testing? Think being around them could mess with your results?”

Jonas shakes his head. “Nah, they’re scheduled. Every other two weeks. And that should be done by the end of June, and the testing might be ditched entirely when we go down to only meeting once a month. Plus apparently he’s more of an edibles guy, so I’m not super worried about anything accidental. I can always just keep away for a few days before testing, shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Even though you’ve been adopted?”

He snorts a bit at that. “Guess I can’t know for sure. Not too worried, though.”

“That’s good. How exactly did you manage to get adopted?”

“The girl was my tour guide first day. I guess she thought I was cool, ‘cause she introduced me to her friend and… I dunno. We exchanged numbers and stuff. Texted. They’re kinda high energy for me, but also-” Jonas hesitates, rolling his eyes before continuing. “It’s weird, ‘cause Alex is kinda… popular? She’s a total dork, constantly jokes about being a witch, but it feels like everyone knows her? And likes her? It’s weird.”

“Huh. Are you saying you think they shouldn’t?”

“I’m saying…” Jonas shrugs. “Eh. She’s nice enough, I get that. But like… I feel like at North Valley she would’ve been… I mean, not disliked. Considered annoying, maybe, in large doses. Not exactly a class clown, but that same idea. More of a subject of entertainment than friendship.”

“That’s an interesting way of seeing things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Analytical.”

Jonas considers that for a second. “…Maybe? It’s just kinda how the world is, I’m not complaining about it or anything.”

“Are you unhappy about it?”

He shrugs. “No? Like I said; it’s just how it is. People offer certain benefits, right? Sometimes that’s, like… like someone who always knows the homework. If we’re thinking concretely here. And then there’s the one who always has a pencil you can borrow. —It’s like a study group sorta analogy. There’s someone who’s able to get everyone together at once, and someone who can talk to the teacher and argue on your behalf, but who you might not want to spend time with outside of class ‘cause they argue with everyone. And there’s a class clown type, who’s really entertaining but can sorta get in the way if you’re trying to be serious.” Jonas pauses again. “I mean, there’s a lot. But everyone kinda has their strengths and weaknesses, right? It’s like a teamwork thing.”

“So where do you fit in this?”

He thinks for a moment, still playing with the wire cage. “I dunno. I have a car.” That’s part of it at least, even if other things come to mind as well.

“You think that’s what people see you for? Your car?”

Jonas’s lips pull. “I’m not saying that’s my only redeeming quality, I know I’m not just some dude with a car. That’s just, like, the prime benefit.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your other ‘redeeming qualities.’”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m— I know I have them, okay? I’m- I have skills. But they aren’t- y’know, like, my function in a social group.”

“What if you didn’t have your car? You can’t give more than yourself— what qualities do you think you’re bringing.”

“…Alex seems to think my height is a benefit.”

“She obviously has not been 6’3 and attempted to sit in a compact sedan.”

Jonas cracks a smile. “Yeah it’s cute, she’s not tiny but both her and Ren are like… she said it before, I don’t remember what it was 5’5 or 6 or something. Joked about needing me to retrieve pickle jars or whatever.”

“So you’re the guy with the car and the pickle-getter.”

“Sure.”

“That all?”

“Well- I mean, the tall thing is also like—” he waves a hand, “-y’know, the other tall stuff.”

“Can’t say I know what you mean, apart from reaching things and being asked about the weather.”

“You know.” Jonas fidgets slightly. Duke has to know that part of things. “The kinda… intimidation thing.”

“How do you mean?”

Jonas’s lips pull again in that vague passing annoyance. “You know. Being tall and looking— not scary exactly, but like… imposing, I guess. Basically looking like someone you don’t want to mess with.”

“And that’s what you think you bring to a friendship?”

“Yeah. Like… like a bodyguard or something.”

“You think your friends are in danger you have to protect them from?”

“No- well.” He lets out a short sigh, a rueful smirk hooking his lips. “Not yet, anyway. And once they are, I’m betting they’ll have put themselves into it.”

“What does the whole ‘bodyguard’ thing mean, then?”

“Um.” A few images pass through Jonas’s mind, and he hesitates, face impassive for a second before he shrugs again. “Trying to keep her from getting hurt. I guess.”

“…That doesn’t really sound like something based solely on height.”

His fingers twitch, and Jonas’s ears feel warm. “Look, I spent a year in juvie for physical assault. It might not just be the height.”

“You think she wants you to fight for her? Is this like… an American Gladiators kinda thing, or…?”

The laugh is just a huff of breath, but the corners of Jonas’s mouth are lifting. “I don’t think she wants me to fight. I’m just— And I don’t want to fight!” he assures Duke. “But like… there’s probably some element of ‘this guy makes a good meat shield’ or whatever.”

“You ever think they might just… like you? Like just, as you?”

He snorts. “I— I’m not saying they don’t! I mean, at the very least they tolerate me, and I assume they must like me, otherwise we wouldn’t text all the time. It’s really easy to ignore someone’s texts and make excuses.” Jonas isn’t even mad about the question, it’s so far removed from how he feels. “I’m just saying that there’s this fringe benefit for them.”

“And is that how you see them, as well?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Honestly, they’re my allies right now. Not in a bad way - I like them, they’re fun - but at the moment their function in my social circle is connecting me to my new community, right? They’re transitional aids, like a kinda PREP thing. Or IS. I mean, she was a tour guide.”

“Sounds kinda dehumanizing.”

“It’s not meant to be. I’m— Look, we talked all the time about support systems and community engagement, and buying in, right? So, I’m building a support system of peers.”

Duke cocks his head, looking mildly bemused.

“What?”

“It sounds like you know the words pretty well.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t talk much. Mostly listened.”

“Is that really how you think about the people around you? As… I don’t know, bricks in your support structure?”

“I mean, it’s not the only thing I’m thinking. I like the company, I like the distraction, they’re fun. But…” Another one-shouldered shrug. “I dunno, man, call it a justification if you want.”

“What do you mean?”

Jonas sighs. “Gives me a reason to keep trying.” Again, it’s not said in anger, or even in sadness. Just a straightforward factual statement.

“What would you do if you didn’t think of things that way?”

“Can’t know for sure, obviously. But— I dunno. Call it distress tolerance. Giving them a function gives me a reason to tough it out. Like—” He pauses. “…Yeah, no, I can’t figure out an analogy for the brick thing. Sticking with people instead of being— transient.”

“Transient.”

“Kinda drifting around. Moving through things.”

“You think you’re transient?”

“I think I’d survive without friends. Until shit started to go wrong, I guess.”

Duke is quiet, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to parse the statement, considering. “…I’m not sure I get it.”

“I like people, but all the— politics, I guess. It stresses me out. I’d rather just… not. At least, in group things. School, juvie— the social dynamic is this constant thing where you’re maintaining. Don’t shit where you eat and all that. Don’t fuck it up, you’re stuck there. All this work to not make things worse for yourself. Honestly, I’d rather just see people when I see them. All day every day is… a lot.”

“…Can I ask you a question?” He’s leaning forward, and his tone is a different kind of curious than he has been.

“I mean… that’s literally all you’ve been doing.”

“Your residential center, your stepdown stuff— they had GED programs. Why come back to high school?”

Jonas is spinning the little wire toy around one finger steadily, keeping an eye on it to avoid having it fly off, even as he picks up speed. “Dad wanted me to.” His stomach dips, and his voice is a little quieter. “Mom would, too.” He’s silent for a second, still spinning. “And it’s supposed to be good for me. Community engagement, support structures, all that.”

“Why do you think they wanted you to do school?”

“I mean, my mom was a teacher. My dad… just wants me to be well-adjusted. I think he wants me to feel normal again.”

“What do you think?”

Jonas’s gut has been steadily, gradually, slowly but surely filling with lead. He breathes evenly. Too evenly. Actively making the attempt. When he speaks, it’s a low mutter. “Not sure that’s possible, if we’re being honest.”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head. “I dunno. Things just— changed. Can’t really undo that.”

“…I mean, I agree that you can’t live in the past. Things happened, you can’t undo them, but you also can’t spend every minute thinking about them. I know mindfulness tends to get a bad rap ‘cause it’s sort of trendy in the mental health field right now, but there’s definitely a ton of upsides to it.”

“I’m… vaguely familiar.” Jonas’s voice is a bit wry.

“So you know the whole idea of where you’re living. The goal is being present. So not living in the past, or in the future, but in the here and now, without judgment.”

“…Okay…”

Duke is still bouncing his foot a bit. “What do you think? Like— really consider it for a second. What that means.”

“What, living in the present?” Duke shrugs in a casual kind of confirmation. Jonas sighs, fixes his eyes on the therapist, and tries to do as asked. “…I guess I just feel like that’s asking for trouble.”

“How so?”

“I mean… thinking about the future is kinda important. Otherwise you fuck things up and can’t undo them.”

“Who says you can’t?”

Jonas snorts. “You? Like… a minute ago?”

“I guess— maybe it’s just the use of ‘undo.’ You can’t rewind and make something not have happened, but you can control how you handle the consequences, how you potentially repair the situation, your reactions to things, all of that. But if you’re constantly fearing every possible outcome of anything you do… you do nothing.”

“So you’re saying not to think of consequences. You want me to just go party and violate parole and not care what might happen?”

“Well, no.” Duke actually rolls his eyes. “Hell— it’s a delicate balance, right? But some part of that has to be just allowing yourself to exist without judgment.”

“O…kay?”

“Or analysis.”

“…Ah.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m advocating underage drinking or drugs or truancy or anything, but… You’re out, y’know? You’re in this do-or-die headspace, but your situation has changed dramatically. Now’s your chance to go back to being a kid. Live a little.”

[source for AO3]

#fictober19 #oxenfree #jonas oxenfree #oxenfree fic #my writing #mach3 #cjgj #prompt fill #kinda

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replicarters · 5 years

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i was at northeast trek con this weekend, if you couldn’t deduce it from my posts that must have sounded like they were coming from some sort of hallucinatory trip. to say i had fun would be a wild understatement. if you slot this con on an alignment chart, it would be wall-to-wall chaotic good. the theme advertised was celebrating the 25th anniversary of ds9... and boy did we celebrate.

what follows is everything i feverishly tweeted about the wildest 72 hours of my life.

the only reason i went to this con at all was @thylekshran, who wanted to see one mr. jeffwey combs very badly. @jadziadax happened to say to me one night, “hey you should go to this con happening where you live to see nicole,” and i said, “wait a minute, isn’t this the con dylan wants to go to? what if i actually Did go to this?”

friday: i grabbed dylan, somehow, from the bus stop that i think didn’t quite exist on this plane. we get to the con and we walk into the exhibit hall. nicole is right by the door and i cannot look at her, so we beeline for vendor tables, and suddenly before me is an extremely familiar spread of colorful images. it takes me a minute to process it, and then i’m pointing to this table and rushing toward it going, “OH MY GOD. IT’S HER! FROM TUMBLR! OH MY GOD WHAT.” it was none other than @abravenoise selling prints!!!! i had no idea she would be there since i didn’t look at anything before i left the house. just fyi she is irl just about the nicest person i’ve ever met!!!!!! and i’m so glad we got to hang out as much as we did!

we spent the day mostly going to panels and being big baby chickens regarding jeff’s and nicole’s tables, respectively. we did end up at jg hertzler’s table A Lot, because dylan, like, is recognized?? by him and his wife??? idk dylan’s just out here charming the pants off everybody, so i was like, okay cool, this is the first thing that is Totally Fine, just chilling with martok. we also met two cool dudes through jg who really enjoyed hanging out with us, and that was great! making friends all over the place! not the first and not the last!

one thing dylan and i were bummed about was that the klingon meet & greet party that night (where jg and robert o’reilly would get in costume as martok and gowron and duel to the death) was sold out. we really really really wanted to go... so dylan just... straight up asks jg if he can get us in dhfklshdfd. and you know what? he fucking does. just... put our names right on that list! O K A Y!

the friday panels were a sign of what would be to come, every one we went to was crazy. this was my first real trek con, so of course i have never seen hertzler and o’reilly in a room together, but now i have and my third eye is open and all that. not to mention: learning that garrett wang plays pokemon go, nicole cracking up at poop jokes like i said, hertzler doodling a little shran with glasses on jeff’s sign, the con’s power point file just being named DRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. everything that was happening was so good.

chase masterson had a panel about her pop culture hero coalition, and currently working for a non-profit myself, i was really curious about what kinds of programming they do, so i went to her table to talk to her about it. chase ended up talking some about the why’s of starting the coalition, what it meant to her, her own struggles with depression, and i’m thinking to myself, “uhhhhhh well if chase is gonna share about her mental health struggles, then... i... will also do this.” the nanosecond i said something about experiencing difficulty with self-love, she was zeroed in on me like a cruise missile. i spilled everything to her about my job and how my old boss was basically the meanest, most miserable person alive, and how much she got into my head and how now that i was out of that department, i had to pick up the pieces and it was proving to be much harder than it has been in the past. well, god almighty, chase just had the nicest things to say in return, and we commiserated over being your own worst critic, and how ridiculously hard it is to have this fight against yourself over and over again, but that we deserve so much and going forward is worth it. jesus christ! i got a big hug and said to myself, “holy shit i can’t wait to tell my therapist that a star trek actor talked to me about mindfulness and now i want to learn the hell out of it.”

oh but then it was time for the klingon party that we were now going to thanks to jg hertzler. this thing was off the chain immediately, martok and gowron had their duel, first with sparkling bat’leths that fell apart, and then with whole baguettes, and i can’t believe i got to watch this with my eye parts. and that was the beginning; the party would go for another 3 hours, almost all of which i spent dancing with the most generous people i’ve ever met, who went out of their way to welcome everyone they could onto the dance floor, regardless of physical ability or skill level. there was one woman in particular who, if she saw even the slightest twinkle in your eye and you weren’t already dancing with her, she’d be like, “you, get over here!” i don’t know how my body did that for all that time without falling apart.

our esteemed guests began showing up, and garrett wang leapt into the middle of our jump around circle and gave each one of us a vulcan high five. jeffrey combs showed up which of course sent dylan over the moon, and he said, “you go, girl!” to her dancing. max grodenchik gave dylan one of his drink tickets and then asked us whether or not we thought the existence of god could be proven. chase found us and reached out her hand over a couple people’s heads to give me a supportive hand squeeze (!!!???). aron eisenberg, i don’t know what the hell he was doing, but i feel like maybe somebody asked him about terry, because all of a sudden i hear something like, “terry left because she was in love with nog and couldn’t take it anymore.” garrett has three pokemon go accounts, which he showed off at my urging, and let me tell you, don’t encounter him at a gym because he has three dragonites, two tyranitars, a monster blissey, and god knows what else. dancing, dancing, more dancing. then it was time for it to be done, and time to go home. we watched reanimator. i was wired as hell and barely slept.

and THAT. was only friday.

saturday: i had kept my eyes open for a copy of the lives of dax the day before, but didn’t see anybody selling one. this morning, i walk by a booth we went to the previous day and all of sudden, on top of a bunch of other books in a big tub, there it was!!! couldn’t have forked my money over faster if i tried.

then i had this bright idea. hey... here’s a copy of lives of dax... and nicole is here... and she should sign it... and then in the future i can get terry to sign it... boom, bang, let’s do it, right? i had dylan drag me to nicole’s table because i was like, “i am never going to make even eye contact with her if you do not physically take me there,” and one of us brought up that we missed her at the klingon party. it’s cool, we all gotta sleep, right? well, it turns out nicole had gone out with the gaaays in spaaace people to the bar where they were going to have their party later. so she says garrett texts her, “uhhh hey you know you’re kinda supposed to be making an appearance at this thing, right?” nope! no clue. so she texts him back, “hmmm uhhh well,” takes another sip of her drink, “i think i’m doing good work here.”

the thing about nicole that i somehow missed in my drinking in of all ds9 actor content is that she embodies pure shitposter energy, but if the shitposts were coming from a wine mom. she’s hysterical, 50% intentionally and 50% unintentionally. an extremely excellent human. she signed lives of dax, i had my tribble photo op with her later (that i almost missed due to getting into a conversation with larry nemecek!) and she said she was going to the gays in space party later. helllll yes. i hope somebody puts up her q&a because she told a RIDICULOUS story about auditioning for ezri and creeping on jeri ryan on a plane. i can’t do it justice, there are movements that have to be seen.

we went to combsland finally, and i grilled him about whether or not herbert killed the cat, and we learned jeff has two cats! show them off, man! where are the vids! then, and i had never planned to do this, i bought an autograph from him, and the shran i bought it on ended up selling out! crazy.

hertzler had doodled a martok above his table, and so this combined with the little shran from yesterday led me to these words coming out of my mouth: “can i pay you for a drawing? can i pay you for a drawing of jadzia and martok brofisting?” he gave it very serious thought, said he was gonna have to look at a lot of pictures of terry (relatable), and told me to give him my e-mail. between him and his wife, i hope to god one of them remembers my e-mail is in his wallet. let me give you money!!!

my next tweets jump right to gays in space - again, dylan knows a lot of the gis folks, so i didn’t feel like i was going into this totally unawares. we’re chilling at the bar, i’m drinking my cranberry juice, and then o’reilly, aron, and nicole arrive, telling everybody that jg’s probably going to be late because a bouncer pushed his wife and he might go to jail. like, kidding, but also... it’s jg hertzler and he could legitimately fuck you up. so he was gonna be late, regardless.

nicole sees dylan and me and comes to say hello (????!!!!!) and somebody ends up saying, “get this lady a drink!” yeah, dylan and i were on that. in fact, i pulled my credit card out like i cared not one bit about identity theft, fico scores, my own personal finances; i would purchase this alcohol in an alley from a guy using a card skimmer. few minutes tick by and then i’ve officially bought a drink for nicole de boer (?????????!!!!!!!!) and i’m giving it to her (????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and we’re clinking our glasses together (?????????????????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) i’m clinking glasses with nicole fucking de boer and somehow managing to be normal about it. i’m not altogether convinced i didn’t exit the universe entirely by this point and end up in another one.

the gays in space party was AMAZING, it was just as fun as the klingon party! if you have a chance to go to one, please do, there’s like no way you could ever regret it. you get treated to star trek-themed drag shows, get to mingle, there was a raffle, the people were just as friendly as the previous day, it was so great. we were out very late for my old lady body clock but it was worth every bit of exhaustion we felt the next morning, after the saga of actually getting home past a blocked off road and dylan slicing herself open on the bottom of my passenger seat.

sunday: nicole sees me, mid-yawn, and gives me one of those, “eyyy you and me went through some shit last night huh?” looks and tells me good morning. ( ? ? ? ? ? ! ! ! you know this drill.) combs ended up on the escalator behind us after his panel and i turned around and i said to him, “hey jeff, you got any pictures of your cats with you?” (no, but he has a black cat and a very vocal calico.) i went to chase’s table again and got another hug right out of the gate, we took a pic together, and she told me i was powerful! yo! or rather yooooooooooooooooooo!

the con was winding down at this point, but there was one more thing left: jeopardy. the jeopardy game was done at the first northeast trek con and was so popular they did it again, and i really, really hope someone uploads it to youtube because it is beyond description. first of all, the whole draw were the contestants: you could enter a raffle to end up on either hertzler’s, aron’s, or garrett’s team. the champion from the last game ended up buying half the tickets, so he was on it again, and not on aron’s team, much to aron’s annoyance because god almighty did he want to win. he was about to commit murder in there. someone said nicole was upset that she wasn’t in the game because she really wanted to play, lmfao. so the guys running it were like, “well, go get her, she can be on garrett’s team!” which sent aron into a fucking tailspin. now we got a team with two people on it?! they got nicole and drew the other winners, and the game began.

one of the rules was “this isn’t going to be fair. at all.” actually, it was two of the rules. despite this, you’d have thought aron was bitten by a rabid raccoon. every lost question almost got him flipping the table over. nicole belatedly, i’m talking like 5 minutes into it, realizes she doesn’t understand the rules of jeopardy and can’t figure out why “their” question was answered by someone else. she can’t believe someone knew what voyager’s registry number was. one of the questions was, “a young kid called ensign kim this name instead of ‘ensign’,” and with no hesitation, she answers, “asshole,” and wasn’t even joking, that was her actual guess. R E A L W I N E M O M H O U R S

the winner was hertzler and the previous champ. aron wants to ban the guy from buying tickets ever again. we head to the closing ceremony but it doesn’t happen? lmfao. well, guess the con’s over!

@abravenoise, one of our other con pals, and dylan were all taking the same bus that night, so we all went to grab dinner with two other guys, one who was a con pal and one i hadn’t encountered at all, and halfway through our dinner larry nemecek strolls in and sits down with us. things just keep happening, huh? the guy i hadn’t encountered at all was really impressed with me unhinging my jaw to consume my burger, and halfway through doing this i have to stop because he says, “hey, why the HECK did jadzia die?!” ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh here go hell come. my time to shine.

larry like looooves asking people what brought them to star trek, and this time he was asking us the -whys- of what brings us to star trek. i said the characters, for sure. he asked us about our favorites. i told him mine had changed throughout my life, but that when i was a kid, dr. crusher was my first favorite. he said, “in high school?” i said, “no, i mean, when i was REALLY little. like 4 or 5.” he asked me, “wow, have you ever met gates at a con and told her that?” pfft well, no, but first of all, now you got me wanting that, second of all i said what i really wanted was to swap cat pictures with her.

that was the end. i took everybody to their bus, went home, snuggled up in bed, and just asked myself, “what the fuck happened?” i still don’t know! but it was fun as hell, and amazingly impactful, if i’m being honest with you. i was surrounded by so many people brimming with enthusiasm, so many people who were happy. then there’s me, a curmudgeon who’s done everything in her power to stamp down her happiness all in the name of being ~cool or whatever. and it hasn’t made me very happy. i mean, i am also clinically depressed, there is that. but i’ve stopped sharing the things i enjoy with others, especially in recent years. i’ve closed myself off, mostly out of fear and attempting to survive my old job, but even here, i tend to keep myself at a distance, and i thought it was just because i’ve run the whole gamut of loving something before and just want to hang out with my friends. i think it’s more than that, though. i think it’s more of a defensive posture, and it’s that same posture which is running my life right now. it’s exhausting. this weekend wasn’t exhausting. it was in the sense that the human body needs rest and sleep and food and i wasn’t getting nearly enough of any of it, but emotionally, i was unburdened.

it would be nice to be that way all the time. i don’t know if it’ll be possible to be happy again like the people i met this weekend, but i do know that i want to experience this over and over and over again.

now, next time, maybe @rootmacklin and @jadziadax will be with me and we’ll be showing off our friendship necklaces to a very tall lady. that would be a good step toward unlocking my happiness...

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