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singdreamchild · 7 months

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An Alliance Forged || Cassius & Elora

Location: A Latte to Love

Timing: October 8th, midday

Parties: Cassius (@singdreamchild) & Elora (@contemporarybardess)

Summary: Elora sits across from Cassius at a crowded Latte to Love. They discuss their own histories with the town. But more importantly, they discuss the idea of venturing to a sentient haunted house together.

Content Warnings: None

The fall semester was just starting to hit full swing and UMWR students seemed to be swarming all of the local shops and restaurants near campus. Normally, Elora didn’t mind a crowd. But as she came into her favorite coffee shop, A Latte to Love, she saw it was absolutely packed with students sitting at tables with their laptops out. This was normally a place for her to relax and maybe get a bit of work done, but now it seemed that there wasn’t even a spot for her to sit down.

As she awkwardly maneuvered through the crowd, she kept an eye out for any tables that may have had a vacancy. She made her way to the counter and paid for her drink, considering taking her coffee on the go and trying to work from home today. But her ratty apartment hadn’t felt much like home, and the local noise and excitement that seemed to be in unending supply in Worm’s Row would make focusing nearly impossible. She figured she’d rather take her chances with the college kids.

As she stepped away from the counter, she saw a booth that was only occupied on one side. The man at the table had his laptop open and seemed as though he didn’t want to be bothered. He was pale, with blonde hair. He certainly didn’t look like anybody she was used to seeing in the south, so she debated taking the risk of interrupting the man. However, she decided that coming to this town was about new beginnings and making friends with other people who were “special” like her.

“Excuse me”, Elora said, sliding into the other side of the booth. “I don’t usually invade people’s space like this but…” she trailed off, gesturing at the crowded coffee shop around them. “I’m just going to try and see if I can get some work done, I’ll try not to bug you too much, if that’s alright”.

It was crowded, and Cassius had never been one for crowds. Still, he had gotten there before the rush picked up and packed the place, and he was in the middle of grading answers to the reading questions for the chapter he had assigned to his students. He had put his earbuds in to drown out the sounds, letting the song he was listening to keep him sane from the amount of people that were talking around him. He was having a hard time controlling his hunger lately, and he had to fake himself breathing instead of actually doing so, mostly because he didn’t trust himself.

In recent weeks, he had found himself going through the motions of his life instead of truly living. Grade homework, go to work, sleep. He didn’t need the sleep of course, but he found that he’d rather not deal with the real world for as long as possible, and he couldn’t get himself to focus on a book and certainly couldn’t get himself to write. That day, however, he was finding himself at Latte to Love, he had switched it up on himself to at least appear as something other than what he truly was.

Cassius found himself frowning at the lyrics of the song that was playing in his ears,

Someone switched off our innocence, (our) excitement, our joy of life

Where has it gone? When'd it begun?

Who do we have to blame for what is lost?

He quickly paused the song, finding it was hitting a bit too close to home in that current moment. In that moment, he saw a figure walk up to him. He blinked, looking up to see the woman before him. He pulled an earbud out of his ear to hear her better. “Oh, yeah go for it.” He spoke, pulling his grading pile closer to himself as to not take up the entire table. “Seems like a lot of people had the same idea today.” He remarked, referring to the plethora of college students that were getting their work done.

“If you feel the urge to bug me, I do not mind.” He then said, only half paying attention as his focus drifted back to his laptop, which he was using to enter the grade of the assignment to each student as he finished. Mostly good grades, seeing as how he was currently working on the AP assignments as opposed to the freshman.

The man welcoming her to sit down was a relief to Elora, the last thing she wanted to be was a nuisance to anybody.

“School’s back in session. I guess that means the whole student body is going to start hanging around here a lot more often. Which I suppose means I have to either get used to the crowd or find a different place to get some work done.” She looked over at the man and flashed a quick smile.

She had to admit, despite all of the crazy things that happen in this town, the people here all seemed to be good. For the most part, at least. Mack, Monty, and Ariadne all seemed to be good hearted people, but each with a story and secrets that went much deeper than the surface. This man, in spite of looking like an extra who wandered off of the Twilight set, also seemed to have a good nature about him.

“Good to know, but I’ll keep the bugging to a minimum.” She then extended her hand out to the man. “Elora Spiros, I’m still kinda new here. You are?”

Cassius sighed at the mention of school, nodding his head. Serves him right for deciding to settle down in a town that had a college on its grounds. He had only done it to himself, in the end. “Don’t I know it,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “I’m a high school teacher.” He explained with a shrug of his shoulder. “I usually hang out at Masque of the Red Eye,” he then spoke. “College kids find it a strange place to study, but I decided to switch it up today.” He looked around, realizing how foolish of an idea it had been. Stick to what you know, Hawthorne, he thought to himself.

He looked down to the hand, having half a mind to just stare at her in response, but sucked it up and shook her hand. “Cassius Hawthorne,” He responded before dropping her hand. “I’ve lived here for ten years. So if you have any questions about the town, I’m sure I could answer.” He gave a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure why he was volunteering himself to show the girl around, but the words had already left his mouth.

Inwardly, he cursed to himself. So much of who he was fought against what he needed to be. Naturally friendly, that was him. But it put him in danger. The more people he knew, the more people that could find out what he was. And he couldn’t have that.

The Masque of the Red Eye…she had heard of that place before. Lloid had mentioned that it was where “all the brooding goth types like to hang out at”. He also mentioned it’s a hotbed for blood suckers. Now that she knew that there were undead in this town, she couldn’t help but wonder if there were vampires here too as well as zombies. She eyed her new acquaintance a bit suspiciously, but decided he couldn’t be a vampire since it was daylight and he wasn’t currently a giant ball of fire.

“Masque of the Red Eye definitely sounds…quieter. It’s not my usual vibe but maybe I should check it out.”

“I appreciate the offer, I’ll let you know if I have any questions. Oh well, here’s one.” She leaned in a bit closer to him. “Is there something in the water here? I mean other than a ton of microplastics. I feel like half the people I meet are batshit crazy and the other half seem completely unfazed by it all.”

She looked over at the college students, who all seemed to be fresh faced teens. Probably an incoming freshman class. She wondered if they knew about the rumors surrounding this town or the fact that they’re all true. She thought about how many students at the university dropped out or transferred schools early on. She tried not to think about how many have gone mysteriously missing.

The vampire shrugged his shoulder again, giving a half-smile. “No, it’s not a lot of people’s vibe. But they have a good open-mic night for poetry that I like to attend on occasion,” he explained as he rubbed the back of his neck. Cassius tucked the recently graded paper to the bottom of his pile before picking the papers up and neatening his pile before setting them back down.

Her question caught him off-guard. It was certainly a right of passage when moving to Wicked’s Rest, to realize that where one moved turned out to be full of supernatural beings. Whether the individual that moved there knew that it was supernatural in nature, well, that remained to be known. “Ah, yes.” Cassius took a sip of his coffee, trying to put off answering it as much as possible. He stared down at the cup for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say. “There’s a lot of curious individuals that live in this town, curioser still are the creatures that call Wicked’s Rest their habitat as well.” He decided to be vague, it was easier than being labeled a crazy person for admitting there was magic at play.

He didn’t know much about the creatures that existed, but Cassius had seen enough to know that nothing really surprised him anymore. He shrugged both his shoulders, giving a sheepish smile. “Afraid I don’t know anything other than that. Just watch yourself at night and stick to marked paths when walking the nature trails and you should be just fine.”

The concept of an open mic night intrigued Elora. While she had never written much poetry, and certainly didn’t consider herself to be good, she was at least interested in listening to other people.

She noticed him tuck some papers underneath a pile and saw red ink towards the top of each sheet. While she hadn’t been through schooling, she had watched enough movies and television to know what red marks on a paper meant.

“Teaching high school must be hard. You come here to grade papers, I assume? I hope they’re good, I’ve heard stories of some pretty awful work students turn in sometimes.”

“What sort of creatures are we talking about? I’m interested in knowing what types of animals or…others live here. I’ve heard plenty of stories of the otherworldly.”

She took his word of caution with interest , although couldn’t help but note it had come just a bit too late.

“I’ll have to keep that warning in mind. Unfortunately some of the shadier people in this town already got to me once, I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen again, though, thank you! I’m sure if you’ve been here 10 years you must have been roughed up yourself a few times, right?”

Cassius nodded his head in response to her assumption. “I’m either writing or grading papers when I go to a coffee shop. Separating my living and working spaces helps keep my mind in one place.” He explained, pointing to his head for emphasis. “This paper is for my AP students. I don’t really have the freshman students write papers. They get PowerPoint instead.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Worst paper I’ve ever received was a plagiarized essay. Or the ones that get put into a word changer and make them sound all weird.”

He then frowned, not knowing how to describe creatures that shouldn’t exist to someone. “Honestly? I don’t rightly know.” He decided to say. “Sometimes I feel like my eyes have played tricks on me. Others, well… let’s just say I’ve gotten up close and personal with them.” He gave a terse smile. “Like birds with human-looking teeth.” He widened his eyes and raised his brows at the mention of the toothed birds. “Honestly, I feel crazy when I talk about it.” He added on, not knowing if she’d be willing to believe him or not. Still, he found that he didn’t really care if she did.

The vampire frowned as the woman said she had been attacked. Unfortunately, it wasn’t uncommon. “That’s why I make sure I keep something on me while living in a town like this.” He spoke, patting his pant pocket that held his knife. It wasn’t much, but it worked in a pinch. Luckily, he had only needed to use it once. Otherwise, he kept to himself to stay out of harm’s reach. “Only once, and it was recent,” Cassius explained with a shrug of his shoulder. “I tend to try and keep to myself. Especially in a town like this.”

Elora nodded in response to what the man in front of her was saying. “I’m sure the AP students’ papers are a lot nicer to read. I never understood the need to cheat at something. I mean, if you skate by and ‘achieve’ something without earning it, does it even really mean anything?” A formal education was never something Elora had available to her as a child, as she had lived a fairly isolated life. While she could read and write now, it was only at about a 4th grade level. Still, she had come that far completely on her own. Hearing this man speak of writing and poring through many pages of essays in a single afternoon certainly made her feel much smaller in comparison, but she never let her expression reflect that.

“A bird with human teeth?” She answered incredulously, also wondering if a siren could be considered a form of bird with human teeth. If that were the case, maybe she could find some form of kinship after all? She knew many sirens and other creatures living in their own communities had heard of the siren girl who sold her entire colony down the river for a boy. But she still held out hope that any sirens that were here would be understanding and willing to give her a chance at redemption.

“Honestly, that’s not crazy at all. Seems more tame than some other stories I’ve heard here. Did you hear about the apples with faces on them? Or the houses that have a mind of their own? I mean those all seem pretty ‘out there’ to me. But at the same time, I’d love to see something like that firsthand. Wouldn’t you? I mean a haunted house is one thing, but one that can think? You go to sit on the couch and it’s just pulled away right from under you? I think it’d be kind of a charming experience.” She had to admit she had an unusual definition of “charming”.

“Believe me,” she said, her voice growing a bit quieter, causing her to lean in a bit more. “I’ve kept protection on me ever since.” She casually palmed the knife she had looted off of the ranger who attacked her over its holster. She had never considered herself to be a graverobber, but it wasn’t as if the man had any need for it anymore.

“I hope it didn’t do any serious damage to you, and I’m glad you’re okay.” She resisted the urge to attempt making a fist with her left hand, something she often tried to do whenever she thought of her injury. It served as a physical reminder that her injury was real and she had not, in fact, hallucinated it all in some bad dream. “Does it get lonely? Keeping to yourself all the time? I mean, I’m all for safety, but I also need people. Some kind of human interaction, you know what I mean?”

Cassius took a drink from his long-forgotten coffee cup, then nodded his head. “The AP students actually try with their papers,” he explained. “As opposed to the freshman students who think they can get away with a paper written by an AI.” He rolled his eyes, thinking back to the countless papers he had gotten that were too well-written to be written by thirteen and fourteen-year-olds.

“Apples with faces? Now you’re talking.” Cassius couldn’t help but roll his eyes at such a creature. Nothing surprised him anymore, not after all the weird shit he’d seen over the years. “Oh, sentient houses.” He nodded his head, pursing his lips. “Sure, why not?” He narrowed his gaze at her as she spoke of wanting actually to experience such a thing. “You and I have very different ideas of a good time.” He remarked, raising a brow at the woman. “How about you experience the living house and report back to me with your findings?” He suggested with his brows raised. Thank you very much. He wasn’t stepping near anything of the sort.

His amused face fell to a soft frown, nodding his head slowly as she spoke to the lengths she had to go to to keep herself safe. He recalled the first time he had to use a knife. It left him shaking. “I’m more experienced in things than I look.” He said vaguely in response. “I’ve learned a trick or two to keep myself safe.” He didn’t say that he got very lucky and ended up being saved at the last second by someone else.

His gaze fell to his hands. Did he get lonely? Of course, he did. But after spending the past fifty years being careful not to get too close to anyone, the pang of loneliness had long faded into an avoidable background noise. In recent months, he had found himself growing closer to people. Still, he couldn’t help but think of the dangers of doing so. “The loneliness becomes a companion after a while,” he answered quietly. “I have a small few that I speak with. I try to keep it small.” He forced an awkward smile as if to say that it didn’t bother him. And truthfully, it didn’t. Not anymore, anyway.

As she heard of freshman students throwing away their chance at a quality education, Elora couldn’t help but feel a flash of anger well up. If she had been given the chance, she felt she would have taken advantage as much as she could have. But then again, she couldn’t say with any certainty exactly what she would do. Those who were granted privileges tended to overlook them.

“Well you’re no fun” she chided playfully. “If the house eats me because there’s nobody there to protect me, I’m blaming you!”

She took a moment to assess the man in front of her. He didn’t exactly look like the type who could hold his own in a fight. If she was being honest, it looked as if he’d barely needed to use his hands for anything beyond writing for most of his life. Not exactly the spitting image of a rough and tumble survivalist, but she had come to learn already that nothing is as it seems in this town.

“Well I’m glad you’ve picked up a few tricks, maybe I can learn a few myself. Or maybe I should keep to myself more, like you said to do. At least until I get a feel for whose friendly and who isn’t.”

She hadn’t wanted to live an isolated life. That wasn’t why she came to this town in the first place. She had heard of odd creatures and many layers of mystery, but she wasn’t quite prepared for the level of hostility the town had presented right out of the gate. There really wasn’t much sense in trying to make friends if they were all trying to kill you, was there? Still, she couldn’t give up hope now. She was nearly out of money completely, she couldn’t afford to run off somewhere else. Besides, she had done nothing but run for the past 8 years. She was tired of it.

“I’m glad you keep a select few in your circle at least. It’s better than complete isolation. There are some more friendly people here then? I’ve met a few already that I trust, but I’m always open to meeting more. Need as many allies as you can get in this town, right?”

Giving an amused smile at the woman’s reaction, Cassius ran a hand across his face idly. “If you’re looking for the adventurous type, I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree.” He remarked, that same smile still lingering despite the truth of his words. He would sooner run than interact with something that could get him into trouble. It’s what he was conditioned to do. “I’m sure you can find several people that would be more than happy to go adventuring into a conscious and very haunted house with you.”

Cassius hummed, staring down at his hands. Picking up tricks was a strong way of putting it. More staying out of harm’s way and getting extremely lucky was more like it. Having a strong elder vampire backing your every move seemed to help things. “It’s a double-edged sword,” he began to explain. “On one hand, you have less of a chance of running into trouble, because you’re avoiding it entirely.” He adjusted his sitting position as he spoke, sitting up straighter as he crossed one leg over the other. “On the other, however, it’s a lonely world. And we as people are social creatures by nature, and can only withstand that for so long.”

He looked down to his work that was in front of him, and shook his head. “Don’t be like me, make friends and take risks.” He pointed a finger in her direction with raised brows. “Allies,” he echoed with a hollow expression. He had been recruiting more allies as of late, even ones that he would have rather run away from than actually align himself with. Desperate times, and all that. He thought about extending that circle, and it scared him. The idea of allowing himself to potentially get close to more people than he already had was daunting, but he was certainly getting better at it in recent months, so he had to give himself credit for that. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it after a few seconds. He couldn’t get himself to put himself out there more than he already had.

Just as Elora had suspected, the pale man in front of her was cautious to a fault. Boring. What was the point of survival if you couldn’t enjoy your life? Still, she could appreciate his outlook on life. Keep a small circle and keep your head down; it didn’t seem like bad advice. Just not advice she felt like taking.

Just as she was thinking how a lonely life simply wouldn’t do for her, she heard Cassius imploring her to put herself out there. She couldn’t help but feel caught off guard by his expression when the word “allies” came up. She wasn’t necessarily asking him for an alliance right there on the spot, more generally speaking on needing more friends to help bail her out when she made bad choices.

Yet something gave the man pause, almost as if he did want to form some sort of alliance or friendship with her. She figured their conversation was interesting enough and seemed like a genuinely good person. Plus, he had been a resident of this town for quite some time, he probably knew plenty of its secrets. That, to her, seemed like a very fun guy to keep around! Even if he didn’t want to explore any of those secrets with her.

“I’ll tell you what,” she began, leaning in closer to the man. By now, the noise surrounding them had died down considerably, so they were able to speak at a normal volume again. “If you accept my alliance, I’ll sweeten the pot.” She looked at the man for a considerable amount of time, wondering just what she could sweeten the pot with. She didn’t exactly have anything to offer. “Actually, no I won’t. I…honestly don’t bring much to the table. But I’d still like to be friends!”

Cassius let out a huff of laughter as she admitted that she had nothing to bring to the table. This woman, she was blunt with what she wanted. Cassius? Well, he was still trying to learn to make friends. After centuries of being taught to stay away from people for his own safety, it was hard to break that. Still, it couldn’t… couldn't hurt, right? The corners of his mouth twitched into a frown, though he was careful to school his features before doubt and wariness took over.

“I don’t… usually stick my neck out for complete strangers.” He answered honestly, staring down at his hands. “And I’m still trying to break out of this shell I’ve made.” He paused, interlocking his fingers, then resting his chin down on them. He didn’t know how to let someone down gently. He didn’t get involved in things that would get him into trouble.

But…

He thought back to a conversation he had with Inge, and he sighed, shutting his eyes as he realized he was getting far too wreckless lately. “You want to see a haunted, sentient house?” He asked, bringing back up the previous conversation. “Fine. I’ll… go… with you.” He bit out, fighting his better nature that wanted to stay home with a good book. “Seeing as how you’ll probably go anyway, this way we can see just how much trouble you like to get yourself into.” Cassius forced a smile onto his face, and it showed.

“I’m sure you bring plenty to the table, don’t sell yourself short.” He then spoke, waving a hand at her dismissively. He looked around to see if anyone was listening in, but everyone either had headphones in or was sucked into their own conversations. “I bring supernatural strength to the table,” he spoke to her in a serious tone. “Though that comes with drawbacks.” He pointed to the window, specifically at the overcast sky. “Despite my being out during the day, the sun is not my friend.” He raised a brow, looking at her intently. “Catch my drift?”

To Elora’s surprise, Cassius had… agreed? To go to the haunted house with her? She couldn’t help but wonder why he had the sudden change in attitude. Maybe she’d convinced him take a walk on the wild side for a change. She couldn’t help but flash a big warm smile at him in approval.

“You won’t be disappointed, trust me. I’m not completely useless in defending myself either. I do appreciate you sticking your neck out for me though.”

She couldn’t help but give the man another appraisal when he mentioned super strength. By her assessment, he barely looked strong enough to carry a gallon of milk. Then he spoke further, bringing up certain quirks that sounded all too familiar to her. A vampire out in broad daylight, she didn’t think it was possible. She thought the only vampires who could do that were of the sparkly variety. Then she made note of his dark clothing and lack of exposed skin and put two and two together. She considered herself lucky this one was friendly and not hungry.

“You’re a…” she said in disbelief, before stopping herself. She knew better than to make a scene, and the last thing she wanted to do was blow her new friend’s cover. “It must be hard getting dressed in the morning when you can’t look at yourself. Also must suck cooking with a garlic allergy. I love garlic.” She nodded, and gave a knowing raise of her eyebrow.

“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Hawthorne. But I’ll hold you to that haunted house visit. After all, I’d love to see that super strength in action. And maybe ask you some more questions about…people like yourself. If you wouldn’t mind? I happen to be special, myself. I have a very slender, almost bird like figure, an enthralling voice, and tend to be VERY persuasive. If you catch my drift.”

The vampire chuckled despite himself, ducking his head as she lamented about the loss of garlic. “I’ve grown used to it.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Not that I can’t eat garlic, it just… produces unwanted side effects,” he explained with a wave of his hands. He knew the more people he told, the more he put himself at risk, but he found that he was tired of hiding all the time. Maybe Elora wasn’t so bad, seeing as she had taken the news with curiosity and fascination over fear and disgust. Maybe she wouldn’t be a bad ally, after all.

“Hopefully I won’t need to use it,” he grumbled in response, rolling his eyes. “Hopefully we won’t encounter anything too crazy while there.” He spoke, hoping that he was right. Man, this was a bad idea. Still, there was that voice in the back of his mind that demanded he live a little. He nodded his head slowly as she explained that she, herself, wasn’t all that she appeared. He wasn’t sure what exactly she was, but he was sure he would find out when they exchanged questions. “I’m unfamiliar, but I’m sure we can discuss our… conditions further when we’re trapped in a sentient building.” He widened his eyes and raised his brows as he spoke. “What could possibly go wrong?”

#An Alliance Forged #threads #contemporarybardess #t;contemporarybardess

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rostovs-lover · 3 years

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dalí on tuesday

charlie dalton x reader | cursing, smoking, brief mentions of sexual things, charlie (probably) has daddy issues, cameron | she/her pronouns | fluff | wc.2562

i am in love with charlie, this is now a charlie dalton centric blog, also ignore how terrible the title is please

anon : Hi!! I love your blog! can I request a charlie Dalton x reader fluff where reader is an artist and he visits them while they're painting? (maybe they end up wiping paint on his face?) I don't know, something really sweet at cute <33333

Charlie Dalton had been resigned to relish in small pleasures to keep himself sane at school, never did he think the library would be one of those. More specifically, the painter tucked into the basement of the library.

───☮︎───

Charlie Dalton was a connoisseur of many things. Pretty girls, expensive wine, shitty poetry, and hand rolled cigarettes - to name a few. His imprisonment at Wellington made only one of those things readily available. So he settled - boxes of cheap smokes bought through upperclassmen, bottles of grocery store wine someone would sneak in from a party, and the two girls that occasionally came with Knox. The shitty poetry was always on deck, he had that at least. It was a tragedy to be resigned to such a bland life, there was absolutely no carpe diem-ing happening in a school that held adolescent boys to uniforms.

It was miserable, truly, but Charlie scrapped by on the thought that soon enough there would be no more stuffy Catholic school and he could finally have a taste of freedom. In the meantime, he would have what little fun he could. The meets in the cave were always the highlight of the week. A place where he could talk and people would listen, and not because they had to but because they enjoyed it. They enjoyed his words and thoughts and presence. No one else had ever really seemed to enjoy Charlie’s presence. They could tolerate it, handle it, but they always had more pressing matters. A business meeting to attend, a bill to pay, a dinner to go to. Always something just a little bit more important and never quite enough time for Charlie. But the other Dead Poets, they valued him. He wasn’t just a kid, a college tuition to pay and a life to layout. He was a person, with interests and hobbies.

It had been there, in the safe haven of the cave, that the idea for the library first came up. Meeks had already talked Pitts into coming, Neil didn’t take much convincing at all, Todd was also easy to lure, Cameron groaned about leaving school grounds but refused to be left out, and Knox agreed to go but only if Nuwanda came too. Charlie had already started to cover what there was to do at a library, read?

Meeks dove into the technical manuals and Pitts followed tentatively, cradling their science project in his arms. Todd had followed Neil to the S authors, Cameron was trying to chat up the woman at the register, and God only knew what Knox was doing. He had been stranded with few options. He could find the geniuses and be talked over for the next hour or third wheel Neil but that guaranteed intruding on something he probably shouldn’t. The polite thing to do would be to rescue Cameron from making a complete fool of himself, throwing bad pick up lines at a clearly uninterested college student, but it was amusing to watch.

Charlie settled on trying to find Knox, at least then he could have some company. Said company was absolutely nowhere to be found. The rows of shelves wound in a confusing maze and Charlie was lost before he could even begin to look. Weaving around he did come face-to-face with a rather large picture of Charles Dickens that made him recoil. It was perched just at eye level above a short staircase and it seemed to judge his every movement. Charlie followed the carpeted stairs down to escape Mister Dickens’ strange little beard and beady black eyes.

The further down the steps Charlie descended the brighter it appeared. The lower level was the children’s section. Considerably more fun than science books or Shakespeare. The big oak counter was abandoned but the lights were still on. He was alone, still.

Charlie sighed, sitting down in one of the bright red wooden chairs. He was much too big for it but it held well under his weight. A sad stuffed bear stared dully into him from the green glossy table.

“Well hello,” He mumbled, picking it up under the arms, “And you must be?” He cleared his throat to take on a gruff baritone, “Mister... Bearington,” Charlie sighed, that was bad. He dropped the bear into his lap, “This is so stupid,”

“Bearington?”

Charlie shot around in the chair, tipping himself off center and stumbling to his feet, bear still clutched in his arms, “Where the hell did you come from?”

“A few blocks over, walked here actually.” You turned back to your work. A painting. Not just a painting, Charlie realized, a mural. It stretched the length of the wall, roughly sketched in pencil and waiting to be finished.

He blinked, “That’s good. The wall I mean,”

“Thank you,” Your face flustered and Charlie took notice, “It’s not much of anything yet, just an outline. It’ll look better painted.”

He took a few steps closer, sidling up to you, “What’s it supposed to be?”

“A forest,” You pointed to a rotund blob perched on a long line, “That’s an owl, and there’s going to be a fox somewhere down in the grass,”

Charlie grinned, “That’s an owl?”

“That-” you tapped the blob, “Is a shape, objectively. Subjectively, it’s an owl.”

His brow creased, “Subjectively it’s an owl? That's like saying Mister Bearington is a rabbit, subjectively,”

You stared at him, baffled. It was almost irritating that he could so casually come down to your domain and invade your creative bubble. And it was even worse that he talked to himself as a stuffed bear but now he was challenging your judgment on what was and was not subjectively an owl. But he had a wonderful smile and it lessened the intrusion. Plus, you had never seen a teenage boy develop an attachment to a stuffed bear as quickly as he had, “What’s your name?”

“Nuwanda,” He grinned, setting his chin atop his bear’s plush head.

“Nuwanda?” You blinked at him, “That’s… neat. I’ve never heard that before.”

“What can I say? The only Nuwanda this side of Vermont. What’s your name?”

As you opened your mouth to answer several sets of footsteps thundered down the stairs. Knox spun around the corner first, closely followed by Pitts and Meeks.

“Charlie!” Knox called, “We gotta go before Cameron proposes to the clerk.”

You looked at the boy in front of you, “Is Charlie short for Nuwanda, or just a nickname?”

He shrugged, “I’m Nuwanda, subjectively. It was truly a pleasure meeting you. Can’t wait to see your thing DaVinci!” He set the stuffed bear back on the table as he made his way out of the room. With Charlie’s energy gone it became much quieter and you were plunged back into the impressionistic outline of your artwork.

The next time a library trip was suggested Charlie didn’t completely dread it. Yes, it was still numbingly boring because it was a library and he didn’t have clerks to fall in love with, people to write love letters to, anyone to kiss in the aisles, or a spaceship to build, but he did have his own personal Van Gough to torment.

The lower level was the first place he went, not even hanging his coat on the rack inside the big double doors. He made his way past Cameron’s preoccupied receptionist and under Dickens’ hard glower. Halfway down the steps, the smell hit Charlie. Wet paint.

You had just picked out a brush when he pulled one of the wooden chairs next to your station. He sat in it backwards, holding Mister Bearington out in front of him, “Never got your name Monet,”

“Well, it's not that. Or Da Vinci.” You stroked the brush up the grassy outline.

“Do you want me to guess?”

You had yet to look at him, “Nope,”

“Are you gonna tell me?”

“Should I?”

“Obviously, I told you my name.”

You set the brush down and turned to face him, “(Name).”

“Pretty,”

Charlie Dalton liked many things and the musty old library uptown had never been one of them. It had ancient red carpets and gaudy gold ceilings and it was trying too hard to look regal. So it was a sheer shock when he began to leap at the suggestion of going and even more so when he chose to go by himself one afternoon. Naturally, the other poets followed him, they had to.

Charlie didn’t dally upstairs, waving hi to the clerk and rushing down to the children’s section. A sign was posted outside the entrance warning of wet paint but he stepped around it.

“You’re making progress Picasso!” He set his hands on his hips and took in the wall.

You turned back to look at him, “Did you not see the caution: wet paint, do not enter sign?”

“Oh no I saw it,” He pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, “It's bright orange, hard to miss, really,”

“So you just chose to ignore it?”

He nodded, making his way over to sit by you on the ground, “I choose to ignore lots of things, it really makes life easier,”

You shook your head, “Are you just going to sit here and bother me?”

“Yes, that's actually the whole reason I came today, believe it or not.”

You blubbered in vague disbelief, “Please tell me you’re not serious,”

“Dead serious,” Charlie grinned, leaning closer, “I had to see how your weird owl was going. And also make sure you hadn’t gone mad and cut your own ear off yet,”

“You’ve already used the Van Gogh joke, Charles,”

“Maybe I want your ear,”

You paused, “You… what?”

Charlie’s confidence cracked, “That was bad. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to sound that way. It was like, a bad pickup line? Because Van Gogh cut his ear off to send to his girlfriend,” He sighed, shaking his head, “Sorry,”

“I mean if I had to pick someone to give my ear too I guess you would be my first choice?”

Charlie looked at you, eyebrows pinched together, “Why?”

You shrugged, “No one else has asked, first come first serve.” You dipped your brush back into the blue paint and went to work on a patch of flowers.

“Huh, well I do appreciate it,” Charlie scooted closer, leaning over your shoulder. He was close, very close. When you took a breath you could smell his cologne and whatever it was he used in his hair and you could feel the edge of his sunglasses brush your ear. He brought an arm around to dip his finger into the soft sky colour on your palette. And then he wiped it on your nose.

You gasped sharply at the foreign feeling, snapping your head to the side to glare at him, “Why?!”

Charlie snickered, leaning back, “The opportunity presented itself, how could I just let that pass?”

You reached back, squirting a touch of purple paint over the palm of your hand, “That was truly a horrible idea,”

Charlie shot up just as you did, stumbling backwards, “I’m sorry-” He stuck his hands up in surrender, “I regret my actions and if I could take them back I would,”

“Hmm, but you can’t” You took a step closer, “Surrender now and it doesn’t have to get any messier than this,”

He pointed towards your paint coated hand, “Do not,”

You grinned, “I might,”

“I’m begging,”

“Fine-” You offered him your other hand, “Truce?”

Charlie mulled it over for a moment, “Fine, truce,” He grabbed your clean hand and you used it to pull him towards you.

“Why on earth would you trust me?” You tugged him even closer as he shrieked and smeared your hand down his cheek, “There, now we’re even,”

Getting distracted by your triumph gave Charlie the upper hand. He pulled you to him the same you had done to him and pressed his cheek flush to yours. The paint was cold against your skin and you jolted back, away from him.

“Vile,” You hissed, “You are vile and evil. That's so cold. You will pay, I hope you know that.”

Charlie snorted, “Oh please, what’re you gonna do?”

“You underestimate me, you ass, I’ll figure something out,”

“Will you?” Charlie grinned, “I will be waiting in anticipation,”

“You better be,”

Meeks elbowed back into Cameron’s ribs, “You’re going to knock me over,”

Cameron craned his neck further to peek around the corner into the children’s section, “I just want to see, let me look,”

“Nothing is happening-” Meeks snipped, “They’re just talking now and I might be able to hear if you could can it!”

Cameron rolled his eyes, “Of course, whatever you say,”

“Will you shut up?” Knox batted at Cameron’s shoulder, “They’ll see us, we’re not super well hidden,”

“If you don’t stop talking they’ll realize we’re here,” Pitts mumbled, rolling his eyes. Cameron started to rebuttal, turning to look at Gerard but the motion knocked Meeks out of place and he gasped, stumbling forwards. This did indeed draw Charlie’s attention.

“Meeks, what the hell?” Charlie snapped. He was in a state, sunglasses askew in his hair, paint smeared from his cheekbone down to the corner of his mouth, and his shirt was wrinkled away from his collarbone.

Meeks stared, “Hi Charlie. Are there any textbooks down here, uh… the science ones?”

Knox groaned, stepping out from behind the wall as well, “We wanted to see why you came here on a Tuesday afternoon by yourself,”

Charlie blubbered, “Did you all come? Is Keating there too?”

“He could be,” Meeks shrugged.

Charlie rolled his eyes, “Will you leave, I’ll be upstairs in a second,” The other poets nodded, scampering up the steps to the first level.

“Assholes, should have known they’d come,” Charlie sighed, adjusting the sunglasses atop his head, “I need to go before they decide to intrude again. I’ll see you soon though, anxiously anticipating payback,”

He was almost out the door when you bucked up the courage to call out to him, “Charlie, wait.” You let him turn back to you before continuing, “Could I have your phone number?”

He clicked his teeth, “Don’t have one, private school. But I’ll find the library number in the books and try to shoot you a call sometime,” He winked and started back up to his friends.

Knox was waiting at the landing with a handful of tissues, which he shoved into Charlie’s hands, “So you’re gonna read your stupid poem about tits at a Dead Poets meet and then not tell us you’ve got a girlfriend?”

Charlie grabbed the tissues, “Not my girlfriend, I meet her like two weeks ago,”

“Didn’t stop Knox,” Neil elbowed him.

Charlie wiped at his face, “Well I’m not Knox. I like her painting, she's good.”

“It looks like she was painting you,” Cameron slapped at Charlie’s chest and he threw the tissues at him in retaliation.

“Shut up, at least my library worker actually talks to me,”

Cameron fumbled with the dirty material, batting it away from his chest, “You dick!”

Charlie grinned, pulling his glasses down and starting towards the door. Something about it was thrilling, having this to himself. A little secret that he and you shared. His personal Salvador Dalí, something to look forwards to besides bad tobacco and Keating’s eccentric lectures. It was bright and exciting and he felt seen. He felt important. The blue paint he had stolen from your tray was still on the tip of his pointer finger and he wondered how long it would be until he could see you again.

( @interwebseriesfan24 )

#dead poets society #charlie dalton #charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton imagine #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society imagine #its the way this tried to crash my computer #also peep the new format #dedicated to everyone who said theyd read if i posted dps #enjoy!#dps #lennie writes

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brywrites · 3 years

Text

Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand. You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,” she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

Tags: @calm-and-doctor @averyhotchner

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #prison reid #prison!reid

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soft-for-them · 3 years

Text

and they were room mates ♡ annie edison x reader ♡ headcanons

Anon: I have heard that you are taking community request? There hasn’t been a lot of x reader when it comes to that amazing show 😤. If you’re taking them, could I ask for Annie x fem!reader headcanons?

Female reader people, she just screams closeted lesbian to me and you cannot change my mind, not proof read like always.

- Annie Edison.

- Your queer heart nearly exploded the first time you saw her.

- You are a couple year older than her, being twenty when you first meet.

- You originally were going to go to a community university closer to you but

due to Abed, your internet friend and fellow film fanatic, you now go to Greendale.

- Annie and you are quite different.

- But they do say opposites attract.

- She always wears nice womanly dresses whilst you are always swamped in hoodies with film posters on them.

- ‘Why are you staring at Annie?’ Abed first asked when you both sat down in the so called Spanish study group.

- ‘She’s really pretty.’

- ‘Unfortunately, she seems to be ogling at Troy.’

- ‘Well you can have Troy and I can have Annie. ‘ you joked unknown that your words would come true.

- One thing I’d like to point out; the whole study group are a clusterfuck of neurodivergent people so there is always a lack of studying.

- You have always been somewhat intelligent but due to a bad school experience you didn’t do well hence why you’re at a community college.

- You were only taught one way to study, that way being the complete wrong way for you and the teachers never really tried to help you out, them rather ‘helping’ the grade A students instead.

- Some coming to Greendale you had be stuck in the same rut of not knowing how to study, that one of the many reason you came to the study group.

- And due to the shenanigans of the study group you still haven’t learnt how to properly study.

- This is where Annie had came in.

- She had seen you in the library trying to learn by yourself, you obviously failing miserably, and due to Annie’s nature she had come straight over to you and taught you some studying techniques.

- ‘I think you’d do better studying with others than by yourself, I find hearing someone else say something outload is way better than reading everything by yourself.’

- Thus this beginning a ‘private’ study session every week between the two of you.

- Jeff always calls you a ‘watered down’ version of Troy and Abed which is both a complement and an insult.

- A complement because Troy and Abed are cool and you hoped your friendship with Annie could be as close as theirs.

- But an insult because you and Annie aren’t female versions of you dear friends, you are your own people.

- At the start of your friendship you had subconscious hidden away you apparent feeling for her.

- She was taken with Troy then Jeff so you had always assumed that she was straight.

- ‘You are very obvious (y/n).’ Abed would often say very loudly.

- ‘Shut up Abed.’

- The dynamic you two had is always the one where she’s the ‘crazy’ person and you’re the person who always calms her down.

- But considering that the whole study group is crazy you really are the only sane one.

- When Annie was hard on money and was collecting aluminium cans, you had helped her out.

- Sure, you aren’t that well of but you would buy her lunch, collect cans for her and sometimes slip money into her bag so it looked like her money had just fallen out of her purse into her bag.

- Unknown to you Abed had told Troy rather loudly about you little plan and she had overheard.

- She was so confused at why she blushed at the thought of you helping her but my god did it start her crush on you.

- Because of Annie’s closeness with Jeff you had really stayed away from her romantically.

- You had begun dating which had left an odd feeling in Annie.

- She’s deep in the closet so she had no clue her heart was breaking.

- You both still walked each other home (mostly you walking her home.)

- And she always felt safe near you.

- But as you began dating you stopped walking her home less.

- You still offered when you weren’t on a date but Annie had stated to reject you offers for she felt weird with you.

- Hopeless closeted lesbian.

- Her protection was gone and she felt unsafe so she got a gun.

- Annie soon realised that she like liked you when you, Abed and Troy where having your housewarming party.

- Abed and Troy were sharing a room whilst you had your own.

- It was part of your plan of getting Troy and Abed together.

- Of course, that day everyone realised that Annie owned a gun.

- Upon realising that she didn’t feel safe living where she lived you had basically forced her to live with you.

- She had to share a room with you.

- The first few nights she had you bed whilst you slept on the floor for you didn’t have a second bed or mattress.

- But soon enough Annie would begin to feel lonely even though you were right next to her on the floor.

- She would drape her arm down and brush the hair out of your face whilst you slept, sometime even holding you hand.

- ‘I like you (y/n).’ she would whisper whilst you were in dream land.

- One night she proposed something to you.

- ‘We cannot afford another bed and I don’t want you sleeping on the floor again, so sleep with me!’

- Let’s just say gay panic got the better of her and she had muddled up her words.

- ‘I mean, share the bed with me.’

- ‘Ok.’

- Unknown to Annie you were not longer dating anyone and your feelings for her had come back in full force.

- So currently you both lay awkwardly facing each other in you small double bed.

- ‘I can feel your breath on my face.’ She says.

- ‘Sorry! I’ll turn over!’

- You turn over to Annie’s disappointment.

- But she braves it and hugs you from behind.

- ‘Annie are you ok?’ you can feel her overthinking behind you as her head nuzzles into your neck.

- ‘I really like you.’

- For a good minute you are silent.

- ‘I like you too.’ You blurt out.

- You hold her hand and turn you head back to peck a quick kiss on her hair.

- ‘We’ll talk about this in the morning, maybe go on a breakfast date.’ She mutters.

- ‘I’d like that very much.’

ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

#community #community x reader #annie edison #annie edison x reader #any female reader can read this really #headcanons

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

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Hi, can I get a yandere Keishin Ukai who's interested in a new girl as their new volleybal team member, please? Like would he be overprotective over them, kidnapp them, stalking them? And if so, how would he deal with another teammates noticing his yandere behaviour and giving hits to a newbie to be careful around him? Thank you very much, i really like your blog. ♥♥♥

The coach, hmm? I did a platonic and romantic version of him since it is possible that he might see her more as a sister rather than a lover given the age gap. I’m actually not a fan of student and teacher, but since a few of my parents closest friends, with whom I grew up with, are 10 years apart, everything in that span is somewhat acceptable. But I refuse to do this for people like Aizawa as long as it isn’t platonic Yandere!

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, stalking, overprotectiveness, romantic interest in a much more younger person,

The new girl

🚬I’m making the s/o a third-year to make the age difference as small as possible. That would make you about 18 years old, giving us an age difference from about 8 years. Since you’re a third-year, there’s a chance that you’re friends with the other third-years who probably wanted you to join them since your first year and after a really long time of trying to convince you, you gave in.

🚬You would be most likely a bit protective over Yachi since she’s a first-year, and whilst just like you new to everything, as the older one and person who isn’t as scared of everything as she is, you might just naturally act that way. It’s similar to Kiyoko who watches over her. You might be in general more watching over the first and second-years since you’re their senpai. You would be ordered as a ‘good’ person in Ukai’s mind, someone who looks out for others and cares for them. I see him in general falling for someone who could be described as the hardworking mother type.

🚬I believe that his reactions would differ whether we’re talking about a platonic version or not. In a platonic version I see him remaining a lot more oblivious than in the other one. Because in here Ukai might just sort his growing overprotectiveness out as feeling worried for the newbie despite the fact that you’re a third year and have Kiyoko and all the other members of the team helping you. He wouldn’t really realize the wrongness of his feelings until something happens where he goes more violent.

🚬If we’re talking about a romantic Ukai, he would feel much more faster and intense embarrassed and deeply ashamed about this. Keishin is an aware Yandere, he knows about the dangers laying in his emotions and would be in general someone who tries to hold himself back. But he has his honor as well, you know? And the moment he would notice how he starts feeling jealous whenever you talk to the boys in the team or gets flustered when you talk to him, he could sink in a hole and not come out because he knows that this is inappropriate.

🚬Platonic!Ukai wouldn’t be jealous, he would be more worried. Because you’re surrounded by boys, too many boys for his taste and they all come running to you when they need a bit help in something. He does trust this boys a bit, they’re his team after all, but he doesn’t trust them too much either, especially when it comes to you. He is kind of worried that someone might use you for your kindness and boys in their teenager years are the not dangerous to deal with, he used to be one himself. He’s especially worried if Nishinoya and Tanaka should have the same fixation on you like with Kiyoko. It leads him to somewhat sticking during training sessions closer to you or asking you to help him organizing stuff, about anything to keep you away from all the boys. He would also try to keep the boys away from you and keep them busy so they don’t go anywhere near you.

🚬He would act more like an overprotective brother in here, being really friendly with you, asking you everyday how you’re doing and if perhaps one of the boys is annoying you. If you should visit his shop, he would always give you snacks for free or at the very least make you pay less for them. Doesn’t count for the others, they would be afterwards all whiny because they didn’t get special treatment which leads them to accusing him he does this because you’re a girl. He’s always in a good mood when he is with you and would feel proud if you should ask him for help or advices. It makes him feel like you trust him and he wants to be a person you see as mature and come too if you need help with anything.

🚬It’s the complete opposite with a romantic!Ukai. In this scenario he would somewhat shy away from you because not only has he currently the most difficult time of his life after discovering his feelings, but he also knows what everyone will think when finding out about this. If worse comes to worse, everyone, including you, would feel disgusted of him and call him names, him getting kicked out of the school and maybe even from his own mother kicked out of the store since she would feel ashamed of her own son. So he tries to limit the interactions with you to a minimum, more watching from a distance and trying to keep quiet, even if he is jealous of the many boys.

🚬And yes, in here he would be more of a stalker since he is too nervous to be too close to you. He wouldn’t follow you home or anything, he just kind of watches over you a bit so nothing happens. The age gap just makes him feel like he lived longer and has more experience whilst you are still missing a lot more in comparison to him. At the same time he realizes how immature he is, not to mention that there is something very wrong about this, for falling for someone in High School! He feels like he is acting exactly like a boy in High School as well, he can’t speak nor hold eye contact with you without getting totally flustered which is why he distances himself in the first place. Because he fears he would be too obvious with his feelings. He talks more through Kiyoko and the other teammates with you and if he seems to notice that you overworked yourself a bit or it seems like something is bothering you, he would ask Kiyoko to tell you that he told her to look more after yourself. It’s ridiculous, but the only method he can think of right now.

🚬With him as a platonic Yandere the chances of others noticing are in my opinion less likely than if he would be in actual love with you. Because in this scenario it’s just obvious that he likes you the most from all, judging from the way he constantly hangs around you, gives you free snacks and barks as soon as one of the boys comes to close to you. He’s openly acting like a brother trying to keep his younger sister away from other boys at this point and some of the members are joking about this. The need to do something in here wouldn’t be that big because it just looks more harmless and ridiculous and as long as nothing catastrophic happens, it will stay that way. The only time where others might warn you about being more careful around him is when he becomes a bit too overprotective. But thing is that they know that he does because he cares for you as a student and member of the team which makes it more acceptable.

🚬That would be different if he is in actual love with you because that’s the scenario where everyone will become more cautious around him and protective over you. Because in here everyone can agree that his feelings are wrong and not suited for a coach of their team. They don’t have real proof, but it unnerves them how he keeps staring at you from a distance, glares at every male being that comes too close to you and whilst he is careful with it, he was caught a couple of times somewhat trailing behind you. And in all honesty, Keishin can’t really blame them if they should warn you about him, even though his darker thoughts will. His sane side even thinks that you need to be warned of him and the Karasuno team warning you just leads him to walking on egg shells since now everyone is watching him and he knows Takeda will throw him out of he slips up one more time. It’s everything, but a pleasant experience for him.

🚬In both scenarios he wouldn’t kidnap you, even after you graduate from Karasuno. Him as an overprotective brother version would most likely throw a drama when you do and babble about you being careful now, to take care of yourself, to not date any boys, things like this. He will be hugely upset if you move somewhere further away from this town for your college, but that’s no reason to kidnap you. Not for him. He would also ask you to contact him once in a while so he knows what you’re doing and whilst this might come over as creepy, at this point everyone knows that he acts and feels like a not blood-related sister about you, you as well.

🚬Him being romantically interested would give him maybe more temptation to kidnap you. But he wouldn’t for two reasons. The first one is that he can feel the mistrusting gazes of the whole team even when they aren’t there and so he knows that, if you should disappear, he would be made suspect number one which he would like to avoid. The second is his awareness of this whole situation. He’s convinced that he is messed up for falling for a student in the first place which is why he won’t kidnap you. You deserve better and he doesn’t need another reminder that he is sick. So despite his brain screaming at him to not let you go, he would be mentally strong enough to let you go. If you stay in contact with some of the members, he would try to ask through them how you’re doing, maybe, if your college isn’t too far away, drive for a while with his care by to check on you. He might even confess to you some day, but that would only be after you graduated, have your own job and are a grownup.

#yandere haikyuu!!#yandere haikyuu #yandere keishin #yandere keishin ukai #platonic yandere #yandere ukai

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nothingbutimagines · 3 years

Text

Elizabeths (Chapter II)

Pairing: Bad boy!Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Cursing, death, mentions of suicide

Summary: Y/n is part of her high school’s most powerful and most popular clique, but she disapproves of the other girls’ behavior. When Y/n meets the new boy in school, Peter Parker, and begins dating him, what she has known to be her clique begins to unravel. Starting with the death of the clique leader, Liz Allan, one by one, people Y/n doesn’t like begin to die by her and Peter’s hands. Soon, she realizes that Peter is killing students he hates and begins to try to foil his plans, all while clashing with the new clique leader, Elizabeth “Betty” Brant.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is a Peter Parker AU I thought of doing. It’s a Heathers AU!!! This is going to follow a similar plot to Heathers, but of course, I won’t keep everything the exact same. Here, we meet our protaganist, Y/n, and our love interest, JD Peter.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

Dear Diary,

I know I said I only fuck with the college boys and to hell with the high school ones, but goddamn, I can’t take my mind of off Peter Parker. Especially with him pulling that shit he did with the gun in the commons.

“God, they won’t expel him. They’ll probably just suspend him for a week or something.” Lizzie insisted, clacking her croquet mallet against your own as you both chuckled.

“He used a real gun.” Liz scoffed. “They should throw his ass in jail. Doesn’t he know today’s climate? Hasn’t he heard of Columbine?”

“No way.” You argued, leaning forward on your unused mallet as you watched Liz retie her ponytail with that red scrunchie you always hated. “He used blanks. All Peter did was ruined two pairs of pants... maybe not even that...” You and Lizzie began giggling. “I mean, can you bleach out urine stains?”

The sound of Liz knocking her mallet into the red ball and the red ball hitting Betty’s green one was a response enough. The sound was almost deafening as silence fell between you and Lizzie.

“Ah, yes, Peter.” Liz finally spoke up, “You seem pretty amused. I thought you were over high school guys.”

“Never say never.”

“What are you going to do, Liz? Take the two shots or knock me out?” Betty asked, her doe like eyes meeting Liz’s, making it clear she had not been paying attention to the conversation at hand.

“Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?” Liz snapped. “First you ask if you can be red, knowing I am always red...”

You watched as Liz took a step forward, her foot firm on her red ball as she hit the mallet against it, the red ball sending Betty’s green into the flower bed, causing you to wince as Liz grunted triumphantly.

Liz hit her ball again, this time falling short of the wicket as she groaned, rolling her eyes. Always too cocky too early, Liz.

“Damn.” She cursed. “Anyway, I can say never to high school boys. Especially when I have Steve.”

“Ah, yes. King Steve.” Lizzie chuckled, taking her shot and getting the yellow ball through the wicket as she squealed.

“Maybe when you get older and actually reach maturity, you’ll understand the difference between Columbia University man like Steve and a Midtown High boy like Brad “nut-and-bolt” Davis.”

Lizzie shrugged. “I think Brad’s sweet. Your turn, Betty!”

Betty pouted, a whine escaping her throat as she navigated getting into the flower bed, trying to avoid the peonies your mother had planted earlier in the week.

“No pain, no gain!” Lizzie teased.

“Give it up, girl!” You added, both of you howling at Betty.

You watched as Betty furrowed her brow, leaning down a bit as she hit the ball. You chuckled as it bounced off a tree and then hit the fountain in the yard before rolling perfectly through the wicket.

“Holy shit!” You gasped, howling in laughter.

“That was incredible!” Lizzie squealed.

“What. A. Shot.” Liz added, shaking her head, a mixture of pride and jealousy in her smirk.

You began setting up your shot as Lizzie spoke up, your attention half on her and the other half on getting the shot.

“So, tonight’s the night. Are you two excited?” Lizzie asked, glancing between both you and Liz.

“I’m giving Y/n her shot. Her first Columbia party. You blow it tonight, girl, and it’s keggers with kids all senior year.”

You groaned, having missed your shot. As you dropped your mallet, bending down to pick it up, you rolled your eyes as Liz’s attitude.

“Damn.” You cursed. “So, who’s this Bucky guy I’ve been set up with? Witty and urban pre-law or an idiot and savant art major?”

“Don’t worry.” Liz rolled her eyes. “Steve says he’s very. So he’s very.”

“I doubt it.” You muttered, knowing full well the only boy you wanted to be set up with is the bad boy wannabe from the commons.

“Lizzie! Your mom is here!” Your mother called before Liz could open her mouth to say anything further.

“Come on, whoever wants a ride!” Lizzie announced. “Bye, Y/n. Good luck.”

“Yeah, good luck.” Betty agreed as she rushed past, following Lizzie and Liz up the stairs.

You dropped your mallet and followed behind the girls, waving them off as they cut through the side of the house and off the property. You took a seat at the table on the patio as your father took a seat beside you, James Patterson book in hand as you mother joined you both, salsa and chips on the platter clutched in her fists.

“So, what was the first week of Spring Break withdrawal like?” Your father asked, leaning past your slouching figure to grab a chip.

“Hey, kid, isn’t the prom coming up?” Your mother asked before you could answer your father.

You shrugged with a smile. “I guess it is.”

“Any contestants worth mentioning?”

“Maybe. I guess you could say there is a bit of a dark horse in the running.”

“Goddamn. Why do I even read these damn Patterson books. Bastard probably doesn’t even write them.” Your father chimed in, looking up at you.

“Because you’re an idiot.” You beamed, laughing alongside him for a moment.

“Oh, yeah. That’s it.”

“You two...” Your mother smiled, shaking her head.

“Thanks for the salsa.” You rose from your seat. “But I gotta motor if I want to be ready for that party tonight.”

Dear Diary,

When you fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn to fly. Columbia is Liz kicking my ass out of the nest, whether I like it or not. And to be honest, I don’t wanna fucking fly.

You opened the car door, the cold night breeze chilling you to the bone as you slammed the door shut, wincing as you knew Liz would scold you for your improper behavior later. Tugging at the length of your sleeves, you walked towards the 7-11.

“Corn nuts!” Liz yelled, half her body out the car window as she yelled at you.

Without looking back, you waved her off, tempted to just give her the middle finger and call it a night.

You swung the door open, the warm draft greeting you as you made a beeline to the Corn Nuts, hoping to get in and get out and get this goddamn Columbia party over with.

“You going to get a Big Gulp with that?” A voice erupted from behind you as you turned around, the bag of Corn Nuts you needed in hand.

“No, but if you’re nice, I’ll let you buy me a Slurpee.” You teased, meeting Peter’s eyes, or rather, eye, as the other was covered by his falling bang. “You sure do know your 7-11 slang.”

“I’ve moved around all my life; Baton Rouge, Vegas, Dallas, Suburbia. There’s always been a 7-11. The only stability. Any town, any time, I can pop a chicken sandwich in the microwave and feast on a tornado. Keeps me sane.” He explained, his hand shaking next to his head at the end of his speech.

“Really?” You asked, “I don’t know, I mean, that thing you pulled today was pretty severe.”

“The extreme always makes an impression, but you’re right, it was pretty severe. Did you say a Coke or Cherry Slurpee?”

“I didn’t.” You pulled a red vine from the open box at the counter. “Cherry.”

You smiled, taking a bit out of the vine as you twirled it between your fingers, Peter matching your expression. You took the Slurpee from his hand and followed him to the counter, the silence between you comfortable as he paid for the snacks you collected and you followed him outside.

You shivered in the cold air, the thought that getting a Slurpee was a good idea now turning in your mind.

“Great bike.” You nodded to the motorcycle as Peter took a seat on it.

Liz honked her horn, causing you to tear your gaze from Peter as she gave you an agitated look, only for you to return the gesture with a glare and turn back to Peter.

“Just a humble perk from my uncle’s construction company or should I say deconstruction company?”

“I don’t know, should you?”

“My uncle seems to enjoy tearing things down more than building things up. Seen the commercial? ‘Bringing every State to a Higher State.’“

“Oh, shit.” You gasped, connecting the dots as you playfully hit Peter’s shoulder. “Peter Parker... Your uncle’s Big Ben Parker Construction. Must be rough, moving place to place.”

Peter shrugged. “Everybody’s got some static in their life. Is your life perfect?”

You scoffed. “Sure, I’m going to a Columbia University party.”

Liz honked the horn again, letting her hand rest on the horn for a little longer as you frowned.

“It’s not perfect.” Your tone was serious. “I don’t really like my friends.”

“I don’t really like your friends either.” Peter shook his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

“It’s like they’re just people I work with and our job is being popular and shit.”

“Maybe it’s time for a vacation.”

Liz’s horn blared again as you waved at Peter, starting to walk away. “You’re telling me!”

Dear Diary,

The day I take a vacation, that’ll be the day Liz Allan is dead. Until then, I’m stuck doing my job being her popular lap dog and sucking her dick by telling her how hot and popular she is.

You could barely suppress a look of disgust as you followed Liz and Steve through the crowded dormitory hallway and into Steve’s dorm. You hated Steve. Sleazy, sweaty, somewhat mediocre looking Steve. You could feel the clot of bile creep up your throat as Steve held the door open for you, the sick smell of cheap beer and sweat so pungent your eyes teared up.

“You can just throw your coats down on the bed, girls.” Steve instructed as both you and Liz slipped off your coats and did as you were told.

You watched as Steve walked away for a moment, you assumed to get Bucky as you looked at Liz, who was watching them as well, the doe like look in her eyes telling you that she was in love with him. That for some reason, the clever bitch fell for the disgusting college guy.

“Y/n, this is Buck.” Steve introduced the other boy, his hand clasped on his shoulder as he guided him to you.

“Excellent.” Bucky nodded, his eyes tracing over your form as you held back a frown. “Did you girls bring your partying boots?”

“Yeah, let’s party.” Liz smiled, jerking you to get you to do the same.

Steve chuckled, throwing his arm around Liz as he looked at her. “What can I say? She loves to party.”

Dear Diary,

I want to kill and you have to believe... damn pen!

“So, are you a cheerleader?” Bucky asked, his back against the tacky blue and grey striped wallpaper.

“Not at all.” You gagged, the smell of beer and cigarettes on his breath making you nauseous as you took a sip of the drink in your hand.

“You’re pretty enough to be one.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It’s so great to be able to talk to a girl without having to ask ‘what’s your major?’ I hate that.” Bucky took a sip of his beer before continuing, “So, when you go to college, what do you think you’ll study?”

You have to believe it’s for more than selfish reasons. More than a spoke in my menstrual cycle. You have to believe me.

Bucky had given up on conversation, you could tell by the way he shifted on his heels uncomfortably. It’s not like you minded, nor cared, since you debated finding Liz’s coat and stealing her car, leaving her in your dust.

Goddamn Liz. Goddamn Columbia guys. Goddamn you for agreeing to be here.

“So, what do you say we go up to my dorm and have a real party? I’ve got the best rap mix in the whole dorm.” Bucky’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as another boy approached.

“Buck, man,” The boy jerked Bucky around by the shoulder, “Nick’s been looking for you. He says he owes you for blow and he just got some shit himself.”

“You’re kidding. Asshole really scored some of his own?”

“He’s in Nat’s room. Go, man. Party on.”

“Excellent.” Bucky finally turned to you, as if he forgot you were even there, “Y/n, you ever do coke?”

“Ever since writing that DARE essay in fifth grade, I refuse everything.”

“DARE? Are you sure that shit still works?”

You smacked your forehead lightly. “Oh, geez, right! I wrote that at eleven. Might as well do drugs now since I’m not so stupid!”

You groaned, pushing through the crowded hallway back to where you and Liz had thrown your coats.

“Hey, don’t run off, now!” Bucky called out, following behind you closely.

Seventeen is the last year Mom buys the Twinkies. When you make the jump from working at Pizza Hut on the weekends to working thirty years at I.B.M, when you lose something, not innocence - power.

You swung open the door to the room, throwing yourself on the stack of coats on the couch beside the door. Setting your glass of vodka in your lap, you pulled out the matchbook you’d gotten at the 7-11. You struck a match, holding your hand over the flame, bringing it closer and closer until the red light licks your hand, causing you to shriek in pain. You dropped the match into the glass, shocked when it catches fire. Giggling to yourself, you toss the glass out the open window; out of sight, out of mind.

“There you are.” Bucky’s voice has you rolling your eyes as you turn to him. “How’s my little cheerleader? Now I know everyone at your high school isn’t so uptight, come on.”

His hand was coated in sticky sweat as it touched your tight covered thigh and his breath was hot and warm as his leaned in too close to your face.

“Hey, I really don’t feel so great.” You argued, shoving him away from you as you shot up off the couch.

“Let’s do it on the coats.” He grinned, oblivious to your side of the conversation. “It’ll be excellent.”

“You know, I have a little prepared speech I give when my suitor wants more than I’d like to give him. Gee, Blank, I had a nice-”

“Save the speeches for Malcolm X. I just wanna get laid.” Bucky chuckled, cutting off your sentence before you could even get the bulk of it out.

You yanked your coat out from under him, sending him sliding off the couch and to the floor.

“You don’t deserve my fucking speech.” You huffed, stepping over him and storming out the door.

You slow as you realized you now gained Liz’s attention, along with Steve’s as Bucky emerges from the “coat” room. You can tell by the falling smiles on both Steve’s and Liz’s faces as Bucky spews some words you can’t hear that they are more than pissed at you. You watch, your eyes widening as Liz slides her beer glass on the table beside her, steel-faced as she approaches you.

“What’s your damage? Bucky says you’re being a real cooze.” Liz snapped.

“Liz, I feel awful, like I’m going to throw up. Can we jam, please?”

“Hell no.”

You couldn’t help it, the sudden clot in your throat was replaced with actual vomit as you leaned against the wall, rendered unable by your sudden fatigue to make it to the bathroom. You leaned over, vomit spilling onto the carpet and splatter hitting Liz’s red heels. Groaning, you charge down the hallway and out the door, determined to make it back to the car as Liz follows close behind.

Christ, I can’t explain it, but I’m allowed an understanding that my parents and these Columbia University assholes have chosen to ignore. I must stop Liz.

“You stupid cunt!” Liz roared, the trash can fire casting shadows on her face as you shivered in the cool night air.

“You goddamn bitch!”

“You were nothing before you met me! You were playing Barbies with Cindy Moon! You were a Brownie, you were a Bluebird, you were a Girl Scout Cookie! I got you into a Columbia University party! What’s my thanks? It’s on the hallway carpet. I got paid in puke!”

“Like it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.”

“Monday morning, you’re history. I’ll tell everyone about tonight. Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson. No one at Midtown is going to let you play their reindeer games.”

Cindy Moon was a real friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatchdogs and Diet Cokeheads. Killing Liz’d be like offing the Wicked Witch of the West. Or is it East? West! I sound like a fucking psycho. Tomorrow I’ll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Liz. A world where I am free.

You couldn’t help but fling your diary across the room, the satisfying thud from it hitting the wall beside your window soothing you as you wallowed in anger. You gasp as you hear a sound at the window, looking up, you tear off your glasses and make eye contact with one Peter Parker.

“Dreadful etiquette, I apologize.”

“It’s okay...” You replied breathlessly.

“I saw the croquet set out back, you up for a match?”

Your heart was still racing, however instead of the initial shock, it was now revving up with anxiety as you looked at the boy in your bedroom. Was he even really there? Or was he just an anger fueled hallucination?

“Sure. But I’m blue.”

Dear Diary,

When did my life become reminiscent of a YA novel? When did I come to believe it wasn’t weird that Peter Parker was coming through my window? Did Twilight finally condition me into believing odd behavior was true romance?

“Now I can see why you looked so mangled when I came up.” Peter shook his head, his voice soft.

You shifted so that your head was on his bare chest, your eyes focused on the pile of his clothes that sat beside him.

“I’ve always treated Liz’s drama queen plays as bullshit, but I’m honestly really scared. Who am I going to sit with at lunch on Monday?” You groaned, leaning back onto the grass, the blades pricking your bare shoulders. “God, I sound like I’m from Riverdale.”

“Are girls really that bad?”

“It’s a dog eat dog world.” You shrugged. “It feels like it’s either kill yourself or get told to kill yourself.”

“Geez.” Peter shook his head. “That was my first game of strip croquet, by the way. I thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s a lot more interesting than flinging your clothes off and going at it on a neighbor’s swing set.”

“Well, I don’t know, there’s something to be said for- ouch!”

You chuckled as the blue mallet that was stuck in the ground fell over and hit the boy. He handed you your panties that fell along with the mallet before sliding on his own underwear.

“What a night.” You giggled, slipping on your panties as you kissed him softly and stood up. “What a life. I almost moved into high school right out of sixth grade because I was some sort of genius. But of course, my mother was too scared I wouldn’t make friends, so we chucked the idea and blah, blah, blah.”

You searched the yard for your clothes, cursing Peter silently for allowing you to toss them around instead of into a neat pile like he had done. You picked up your shirt and pants, gathering up your socks and slippers before putting them on as you spoke.

“But now blah-blah-blah is all I ever do. I use my grand I.Q. to decide what shade of lip gloss to buy and how to hit three keggers before curfew. Some genius.”

“Liz Allan is one bitch that deserves to die.” Peter blurted out, making it clear he wasn’t listening to you.

“Killing her won’t solve anything.”

“A well time lighting bolt on her walk into school on Monday morning, all the other Elizabeths, shit, the whole school, would be cut loose.”

“Well, then, I will pray for rain.” You chuckled. “A flowerpot falling from the window sill would work just as well, more likely to happen too.”

“You see those condoms in the grass? We killed it tonight, Y/n. We killed our baby.”

“Hey, it was good for me too, imbecile.”

“I’m just saying. It’s not hard to end a life.”

“There’s a big difference between killing the prom queen and busting into a condom.”

You both laugh as Peter finally starts getting dressed.

“I guess I don’t know what I’m talking about. After all, there’s only one genius here.”

“I know exactly what the hell you’re talking about and you’re right, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Why don’t we just graduate, grow old and be adults, and then die?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“But before we do that, I want to see Liz Allan spew chunks so we can call it even.”

_____________________

Tagged: @thewinchesterchronicles @spookyanairwin @audreylovespidey706 @asonofpeter @halparkebitch

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comrade-meow · 3 years

Link

“If men could get pregnant,” Gloria Steinem famously said, “abortion would be a sacrament.” But we live in a new world — one wherein men can get pregnant, which has made things a little bit awkward for those fighting for abortion rights (though they refuse to acknowledge it). Today, it’s important not to exclude “men” from the abortion debate, as “men” can get pregnant too.

“Gentle reminder,” Imani Gandy tweeted last month, “it’s not only women who need abortions.” Gandy is Senior Editor of Law and Policy for Rewire News Group, once called RH Reality Check, Rewire has been focused on the abortion fight and reproductive rights since 2009. Today, they publish articles like, “Medical Students Are ‘Driving’ for Change Over Gender-Inclusive Language,” which tells the story of “Sam,” a trans-identified female whose pregnancy symptoms were, we are told, not taken seriously because she was not a “cis woman.” Rewire writer Alys Brooks concludes that “Sam’s story illustrates not only the high stakes of accurately communicating a patient’s gender and their sex assigned at birth, but also the need for health-care providers to factor those details into clinical decision-making.”

Medical students are “driving and demanding” changes to the med school curriculum that “better accounts for transgender patients,” Brooks reports. Which includes “degendering”: replacing terms like “pregnant women” with “pregnant people.”

Biology professor’s like Karen Hales, who is employed at Davidson College in North Carolina, have moved towards replacing “mother” and “father” with “egg parent” and “sperm parent.”

In truth, “Sam” had failed to inform the nurse that she was female, identifying herself as “transgender” and, even worse, her medical records showed she was a “man.”

To me, this exemplifies the false propanganda pushed by trans activists and the complicit media, constantly claiming incidents of “transphobia,” which are, in fact, simply about either people who identify as transgender being correctly sexed, or about people lying about their sex, thereby confusing the sane.

“Sam” was not treated ineffectively at the hospital because she claims to be “transgender,” but because it is imperative that medical professionals know the sex of their patients, and “Sam” had been informed by the government and trans activists that it was not only acceptable but necessary to her survival and happiness that she lie about her sex.

The notion that what is needed is to “degender” (which actually means “desex”) patients is ludicrous. Health care professionals need basic information about a patient’s biology/sex, easily communicated by using the (correct) language that already exists: female/male, woman/man, he/she. Imposing gender identity ideology on medicine and biology is clearly confusing, not clarifying, matters.

~~~

On Saturday, thousands gathered across America to protest Senate Bill 8, which was passed in Texas last month and allows people to sue anyone who helps a woman get an abortion after six weeks. While the conversation about abortion should be extended beyond the “legal” vs “illegal” one — a conversation too complex for this particular piece, but that I will say is oversimplified and limited by the notion that women should be reliant on the medical establishment in order to have autonomy over their bodies and reproductive choices — I of course disagree with a law allowing those who “help” women get abortions to be sued. But what is worse is the fact that so many of those fighting this legislation refuse to say that this is an issue affecting only women.

If you can’t understand or say that abortion only impacts women, you cannot fight effectively for abortion rights.

There is a reason men have attempted to control women’s bodies, autonomy, and reproduction all these years, and that is because of biology. ***In an evolutionary sense, men need to know if their offspring is indeed their offspring, in order to stick around. They have an evolutionary drive to spread their seed, as it were, and they don’t (again, in an evolutionary sense, perhaps not an ideal/moral one) wish to invest their time in a family that isn’t “theirs.”*** This is why men decided to keep women in the home and out of public life, gallivanting with other men who might impregnate them. If women have control over their reproductive choices, it limits men’s ability to control women and keep them dependent/in the home, tied up with baby-making/raising.

I am oversimplifying, but the point I am trying to make is that only females can get pregnant, which is why men have tried to control their bodies and lives, historically, and is the basis for women’s historic oppression.

Women were never kept in the home, their autonomy limited, because they grew their hair long, wore skirts, put lipstick on, or named themselves “Caitlin” or “Alana.” Nor have women ever been able to opt out of historical oppression by wearing pants or cutting their hair short. Their status remains vulnerable because they are biologically female. Modern, Western civilization and legislation has protected women from institutional oppression, but the fact of pregnancy still means we may be vulnerable to, well, having little control over our lives. Abortion and our ability to control if and when we get pregnant offers us some control over our life circumstances and freedom.

This all seems like basic feminist information, but has become invisibilized by trans activism and its woke disciples. At abortion rallies across the nation, trans activists insisted on disrupting what should be unequivocally woman-centered activism to remind participants that this was not just a women’s issue as “men need abortions too.” In Washington, trans-identified athlete and activist, Schuyler Bailar, said:

“This is a women’s issue, and it is also a transgender man’s issue. It is also a nonbinary person’s issue. It is also a gender queer, gender fluid, transmasculine person’s issue. This is about all of us.”

And, yes, pregnancy and therefore abortion could well affect anyone who identifies as any of these things, but that still doesn’t mean men need abortions. It just means only females will ever want to access an abortion, making Bailar’s entire statement unnecessary. Pregnancy doesn’t care how you feel about gender roles or about how you identify. The only thing that matters is your biology.

You might think it is merely “polite” or “inclusive” to discuss pregnancy and abortion in gender neutral terms, or to remind people that “men can get pregnant too,” but what you lose in doing so is massive: why this matters and is a fight in the first place. It is also, of course, embarrassing and farcical, and makes a mockery of women’s rights advocates. Who could possibly take seriously an activist (or reporter, or politician, or academic, or health authority) who demands female autonomy while also insisting that “men can become pregnant”?

Young women in particular have completely lost the history of and context for the women’s movement, and, as a result, are losing hard fought for rights. That they’ve allowed themselves to be bamboozled by a group of narcissists who have zero interest in women’s rights and are so privileged they can manage to occupy their time with academic notions of “gender,” rather than the material circumstances of their lives, is shameful, and demonstrates how thoroughly out of touch they are with the current and past real life struggles of women across the globe.

Erasing women from the fight for reproductive rights should be sacrilege, but instead it has become doctrine. Women’s rights will continue to disappear in front of our eyes so long as women continue to go along with this nonsense ideology. If you can’t even acknowledge what a woman is and what rights are particular to females, your role in this fight is a joke.

***replace evolution with class society imo***

#Anglo.txt

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the-ss-zemyx · 4 years

Text

PVP(umpkin Spice Lattes)

Zexion and Arpeggio are Discord friends. They chat in private messages, raid in Verum Rex together, and may or may not have feelings for each other.

Ienzo and Demyx are college roommates. They hate each other, for the most part. At least they can both agree on pumpkin spice lattes.

Happy 2nd Zemyx Day of 2020!!

Specifically for today, the S.S. Zemyx Discord Server hosted a collaborative fic-writing event! Over the course of the past five days, four of our writing members teamed up on a Google Doc in one glorious, inspirational, chaotic, frankenstein-esque fic-writing bonanza! That's right, the fic you're about to read is the product of -four- people's efforts! Enjoy!! :D

(A HUGE thanks to my co-writers: Aliceslantern, Ennarcia, and Carbonpixel. This was a hell of a lot of fun to do and I'm immensely proud of us!! - Mod Arxsia)

Also available on AO3!

__________

Demyx hated his roommate. Okay, no, hate was a strong word, and Demyx did his best to be a friendly, outgoing sort of guy, so ‘hate’ was definitely too strong a word. He liked to make friends. Having friends was nice. Having friends was very nice, and so, he tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But his roommate was a different story, and Demyx did not like his roommate very much at all.

At least he was easy on the eyes, because everything else about him got on Demyx’s last nerve. His name was Ienzo, but his name might as well have been "Jerk," with a capital J. When he wasn't hogging the Internet bandwidth doing God-knows-what on a chunky Alienware laptop, he was lecturing Demyx on the virtues of keeping the floor free from dirty clothes and giving empty soda cans a proper burial in the plastic wastebasket by the door. Lame. Also, he was a little condescending. That jerk .

One day, Ienzo burst into their dorm room with the gusto of a hurricane aiming to speak to a manager about a botched coffee order. He swung his laptop bag onto his mattress. It bounced when it landed. "Out," he commanded.

Demyx looked up from his phone. He sat with his legs crossed on his own bed, his Discord app open to a private message thread on his phone. In a few minutes, one of his server friends, a guy with the display name "The Cloaked Schemer" but going by his Discord handle, Zexion#1309, would be starting a voice call with him. It was kind of a big deal--they had been chatting in their shared server for almost a year, and in private messages for almost as long, but they had yet to actually speak to each other. "I'm actually busy," Demyx said.

"I don't care. Out."

It turned into an argument, of course, neither yielding and probably disturbing their neighbors with the yelling. Yep, Demyx didn’t like his roommate one bit.

He ended up in the lounge by the kitchen, utterly fuming, cursing his idea to “go rando” with a roommate all the while. It’s the best way to make friends, Demyx , his mother had told him. What better friend than a roommate?

Very funny.

At least he’d been able to grab his phone. Of course, Zexion was wondering where the hell he was.

The Cloaked Schemer: Do you need to reschedule?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: roommate’s being a dick and kicked me out. Sorry!

The Cloaked Schemer: Ah, I too am having roommate troubles. I can sympathize. I know too well what it’s like when one’s privacy is denied.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: he’s driving me NUTS!

The Cloaked Schemer: Have you tried talking to him about it?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: He didn’t exactly uh seem receptive to talking

The Cloaked Schemer: It’s always a good idea to try for maturity first.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I did! Not my fault the guy wasn’t having it.

Anyway. Id hate to let that guy take up any more time.

Hru?

The Cloaked Schemer: Doing as well as I can, I suppose. I’m enjoying my classes so far. It seems a little easy, but then again, it is only one of the first weeks. Things should pick up more by midterms.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ure too smart zexy. And didnt you skip a grade?

The Cloaked Schemer: A year, yes. I don’t think they call them grades in college.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Considering some of the people ive met, couldve fooled me.

The Cloaked Schemer: If I’m hoping to have a grad degree within five years, I have to fast track it. I’d rather not spend much more time in undergrad than necessary.

Though I am especially resentful that, despite the fact that I am technically a sophomore, I’m considered enough of a freshman to still be required to dorm.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: That blows

But dude, ure here. Might as well try to enjoy the journey, yaknow?

The Cloaked Schemer: Oh, Arpeggio. Your naivete is too obvious sometimes. It’s sweet, I think.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: har har

The Cloaked Schemer: I am disappointed though. I was looking forward to meeting you--in a manner of speaking. You’re probably one of the most sane people from our Verum Rex server.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Issa game, bro. Some of them, idk, take it a little too seriously

The Cloaked Schemer: Well, aspects of it are worth being taken seriously, but I understand what you mean.

Though the ship wars are grating.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ha! Yeah.

The Cloaked Schemer: We’ll have to find some other time, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Mann i was hoping to see if you sound as smart as you type

The Cloaked Schemer: You flatter me.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Do you think if we lived near each other we would hang out?

The Cloaked Schemer: If it’s all the same, I’d prefer to keep my location anonymous.

At least for now.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I know. Just a hypothetical question

The Cloaked Schemer: I’d like to say yes.

But for all I know, you’re actually a forty year old serial killer who lives in his mother’s basement.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: harsh

You listen to 2 many true crime podcasts

Anyway, I g2g. See if the roomie will let me back in. Got homework.

The Cloaked Schemer: Enjoy your night, Arpeggio.

Hopefully one of us has a good one.

Demyx closed the app and repocketed his phone. He flopped back on the lounge couch, eyes squinting at the fluorescent lights above and his limbs ragdolling in uncomfortable directions. A good night, huh? It’d be better if he could spend time in his own room without having to engage in guerilla combat whenever he wanted to exist in his own space. Wishful thinking, he thought.

__________

Ienzo stared at the chatlog open on his computer screen. The circle next to Arpeggio’s icon turned a dull gray, and the remaining bits of Ienzo’s hope for decent conversation dulled with it. He had finally caught up enough with his classwork to have some free time to spend, finally arranged to voice chat with Arpeggio, finally gotten Demyx to leave the god-forsaken room so he could have the one conversation he’d been looking forward to for weeks , and now… nothing. All that planning, gone to waste. Another wave of irritation hit him, and suddenly he was out of bed and grabbing his keys. He needed some tea.

Ienzo didn’t get tea at the coffee shop, despite his plans. The alluring, hipster scent of pumpkin spice hit his nose instead, and he caved before he could stop himself.

The college employed students as baristas in the campus coffee shop, as part of the work-study financial aid, so it wasn’t uncommon to see one’s peers at the shop. “Hey, Ienzo,” Riku said. It was getting late; chairs were already on top of all the tables. They’d met in Ienzo’s anthropology class.

“I’m not too late, am I?”

“I can bend the rules for you.” He went back behind the counter. “What’ll it be? Your usual?”

He blushed guiltily. “Pumpkin spice. Please.” Curse that glorious, wonderful scent.

He smirked. “Coming right up.”

“I know it’s dreadfully popular.”

“Yeah, cause it’s good ,” Riku said. “As long as you’re not one of those “half-caff, no whip, vanilla and almond, five shots” type of people.”

“Why complicate coffee so much?”

Riku handed him the paper cup. “At that point, just drink coffee-flavored syrup.” There was a pleasant lull for a moment. Riku began cleaning the espresso machine. “So why are you out so late? Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?”

Ienzo grimaced. “My roommate and I got into a fight.”

“...Again?”

“We are not well suited for each other.” A sigh. “I went to the Residence Life office to try and apply for another room, but the period for that is over. I was told, and I quote, “unless he’s hurting you, tough it out.””

Riku chuckled.

“He is simply-- obnoxious ,” Ienzo continued, the pressing need to vent taking over. “Slobby, loud, and always around at precisely the most inopportune times. I was supposed to have a call with a good friend of mine, and it took some doing just to get him out.”

“Right, your Discord friend.”

“You have a good memory.” Ienzo swished the coffee around a little; it was slightly too hot to drink.

“The one you have a crush on,” Riku said with a grin.

Ienzo flushed painfully. “I do not have feelings for him,” he said.

“Dunno. You managed to bring that call up in almost every conversation we’ve had. If he was really just your friend, would you be that excited? Enough to hype about it for weeks?”

Ienzo shrugged. “I do not know where he’s from, I don’t know his real name, I don’t even know what he looks like. For all I know, he only uses he/him pronouns online.”

“And?”

“I just… see no reason to desire something I cannot have.”

Riku wiped at the counter. “Oh, don’t be so doom and gloom,” he said. “If the call matters so much, it’s going to happen eventually.”

“I know.” He smiled. “Well, thanks for the tea and sympathy. Er, coffee and sympathy.”

“Any time.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You too. Play nice.”

“Just promise to bail me out if things go awry, will you?”

“Ha, on my salary?” Riku winked.

Ienzo left the coffee shop. He didn’t want to return to the dorms yet, but the fall night was calm and quiet. He checked his phone (maybe Arpeggio was free? Though he did say he had homework…).

As a stroke of luck, he had a message waiting for him.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I have a room again! \o/

the jerk was gone when I got back!

The Cloaked Schemer: How fortunate for you. I assume you’re flying through your homework now?

Mel0d10us N0cturn3: nope! :p

this science paper is kicking my ass!

Im really no good at this sort of thing

The Cloaked Schemer: Do you have any tutors available? Ordinarily I’d love to help but it might be easier and more private to go there instead.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: \o/

We actually do have one of those tutoring centers I think! Thanks for the idea!

Don't want you to waste your special brain-powers on little ol’ me lol

The Cloaked Schemer: I’d hardly call helping you a waste of my “special brain powers.”

It’s not a bad idea to check your local resources though.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: o7

Don’t think I’m gonna make any progress on this paper tonight tho lol

The Cloaked Schemer: Giving up already? I didn’t have you pegged for a quitter.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Awww, come on! Don’t guilt meeee

My poor brain!

It’s mush!

;-; will you not spare some mercy for my poor mushy brain?

The Cloaked Schemer: I suppose just this once, provided you use your resources and go to the tutoring center.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: o7 Yes sir !

First thing in the morning!

My mushy brain thanks you for your mercy and endless kindness!

Ienzo’s cheeks grew warm, but whether it was from the message on the screen or the sip of pumpkin spice coffee currently running down his throat, he neither knew nor was willing to explore.

Despite the late hour, there were plenty of students milling about campus, taking up their little spaces. It had taken him some time to find an empty bench to sit on, but one eventually caught his eye and he claimed it immediately, sitting down with his coffee in one hand and phone in the other.

The sky was inky black, dotted with stars, the sun long gone by now. Nights were starting to grow just a tad chilly, the beginnings of autumn seeping into the atmosphere. It was Ienzo’s favorite season and the aroma of pumpkin spice wafting past his nose was just what he needed to make up for the disappointment of having his voice call with Arpeggio abruptly cancelled.

Well, maybe not entirely. He’d been really looking forward to hearing Arpeggio’s voice for the first time, but this did nicely enough, he supposed. It was better than sitting around stewing in annoyance over his damned roommate anyway.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: so what are you up to right now?

The Cloaked Schemer: It’s a lovely night out. I needed some tea. Got coffee instead.

What is it about pumpkin spice that’s so irresistible?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Never wouldve pictured YOU as a devotee of the PSL.

The Cloaked Schemer: Guilty pleasure.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: theyre so good. I can’t have that many of them cause caffeine makes me SLEEPY

The Cloaked Schemer: Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me at all.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: whats that supposed to mean?

The Cloaked Schemer: Nothing derogatory, I assure you.

Though the idea of you being hopped up on caffeine amuses me.

You seem like one of those people who has energy all the time.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: i wish

The Cloaked Schemer: I should--begrudgingly--head back to my room.

You should try working on that paper.

I mean it about the tutor.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: yeah, yeah. I hear ya

Hopefully your roommates not being a dick anymore

The Cloaked Schemer: Fat chance. M3l0d10us N0cturn3: enjoy your coffee~~

__________

Demyx sat for a long time looking at that exchange. He could’ve heard Zexion say those words. He was just so painfully smart, but Demyx could listen to him say anything. About anything. For hours.

He showered and got ready for bed, hoping that Ienzo would stay gone. But as it was, he was back. Ienzo scowled in greeting.

“Nice to see you too,” Demyx muttered. He noticed the coffee cup Ienzo had set down. Ienzo seemed to live on caffeine and spite.

“I needed to clear my head, as I do not have the luxury of privacy.”

“Well I gotta sleep somewhere,” Demyx said. He crawled into bed. Ienzo rolled his eyes. Demyx saw him grab his own shower caddy and head out to the communal bathroom. He thought he smelled--he blinked. Slowly, ever so slowly, he got up, crossed over to the cup, and sniffed it.

Of course he likes pumpkin spice lattes, Demyx thought bitterly. Ugh.

He went back to bed and fell asleep listening to music.

__________

The universe thought it was just so funny. Demyx had taken Zexion’s advice and the tutor he’d met with was his jerk of a roommate. At least Ienzo was unhappy too, if the scowl on his insufferably nerdy face was anything to go by.

“What are you doing here?” Demyx blurted before he could stop himself.

“I work here,” his jerk of a roommate answered in response, “as a tutor, for my work study. I take it your procrastinating finally caught up to you and you need some last-minute help?” Did he really have to be so damn condescending though?

Demyx hiked his backpack strap a bit higher on his shoulder and rapped his fingers on the tutoring center's reception desk. Ienzo could glare daggers at him all he wanted from his seat at the computer behind the desk, but the curious eyes of the other tutors and students around meant that he would have to maintain decorum. They both would, lest Ienzo lose his job and Demyx lose his tutoring privileges. He took a deep breath. "I need help with a biology paper."

Ienzo's expression tightened. "Would you like to make an appointment?"

"No? You said it yourself: this is last-minute." Demyx tapped on the desk. "I need to talk to the science tutor on duty, please."

"It seems like we're both out of luck tonight, then," Ienzo replied dryly, absently clicking at something on the computer monitor. "I'm the science tutor on duty at the moment."

"You? Gross."

"I'm not particularly happy about it right now, either."

Demyx considered his options, and cringed at his conclusions. His paper was due in two days, and it was only half-drafted. Without a passing grade on the assignment, he would set himself up to fail the class. Petty squabbles were not worth the hit to his GPA. He sighed. "Well, can you help? I'm kind of desperate, here."

Ienzo returned the sigh. "Fine. Follow me."

Demyx followed Ienzo around the reception desk to a square table in the far corner, a plastic chair on each side. Ienzo alighted onto the seat closest to the wall. "This better not be a waste of time."

Demyx pulled his laptop out of his backpack before sitting down across from Ienzo. "Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent people skills? Because if they did, they lied to you."

Ienzo rolled his eyes. Yep , Demyx thought, amazing people skills. They were off to a great start. Getting through this paper was going to be agony. "I'm paid to tutor, not practice social niceties."

The laptop screen lit up as Demyx swiped one finger over the trackpad. A screenshot from one of his more memorable raids in Verum Rex guarded the rest of his files behind his login password. Demyx typed his password as quickly as he could, shooing the image of his and Zexion's avatars away before Ienzo could ask any unwanted questions. Evidently, he did not type fast enough.

“Verum Rex? You're familiar with it?”

Demyx nearly jumped, shoulders tensing. He knew Ienzo was there; that shouldn’t have startled him as badly as it had.

“Duh? It's only the best MMO on the market right now. Not that you would know, since you're so committed to the whole 'smug asshole' thing,” He snarked on reflex, feeling slightly guilty about it afterwards. Ienzo was being friendly for once, or was at least making something of an attempt at it. Yikes. Demyx wasn't usually one to make low blows like that. He opened the Biology folder on his computer and selected the draft of his paper, making an effort to get along with Ienzo while they were forced to sit together. "Please help me with this? If you would be so kind, please?" Demyx made praying-hands in Ienzo's direction in apology.

Eyebrow rising - was it just one, or both? - Ienzo shot him a look, obviously unamused in the slightest. “If you’re trying to be cute, it’s not going to work.”

Demyx pouted and opened up his biology paper, turning the laptop toward Ienzo. “Fine, fine, just help me?”

Rolling his eyes yet again, Ienzo was just about to lean in to read what Demyx had so far, when the familiar sound of a Discord ping had Demyx scrambling to turn the laptop back toward himself. Shit. He’d forgotten to close his Discord window before showing up at the tutoring center.

While Demyx closed the Discord app, Ienzo watched him carefully, contemplative. “You use Discord?”

Turning the laptop back, Demyx gave him a look, half in disbelief because surely Ienzo was too much of a nerd, but not in the cool way, to know what Discord was, and yet he did. Shit, it would be really awkward to end up in a server together. “Yeah, who doesn’t use Discord these days? I mean, especially if you play games or are into, I dunno, any fan community stuff.”

For a moment, Ienzo said nothing, slowly turning to look at Demyx’s biology paper on the screen. “Alright, let’s see what we have to work with so far, if anything.”

Demyx sighed. Asshole.

__________

Was this some kind of joke? Ienzo was being pranked, wasn’t he? Any moment now Demyx would start laughing about wasting his time and walk out, like the lazy slacker he was. Halfway through, he half collapsed on the table.

“This is impossible,” Demyx whined. “You don’t really understand this stuff, do you? You’ve gotta be lying.”

Ienzo felt his eye twitch. “Not all of us are lazy fools who give up after 15 minutes. Why are you even here?”

“Because my friend said I should, and I trust his advice. He never leads me wrong, so even if I have to spend time with you , I’m gonna do this.”

"Your friend sounds like he has the sense that you very much lack," Ienzo deadpanned, scrolling through Demyx's paper. He took stock of the misformatted section headings, missing in-text citations, and the off-center data table in the middle of the mess. The topic of the paper did not appear in any of Demyx's written work. "Can you tell me what this assignment is supposed to be? I can't tell from what you've given me."

"It's…" Demyx shrank back in his seat. "I don't know what it's supposed to be. My professor gave us all a table of data-results-things and told us to organize and analyze them. I don't know what he wants, exactly."

Ienzo huffed, and almost slammed Demyx's computer closed on the spot. Thankfully, his better faculties kept him from breaking Demyx's laptop. "There's your problem. You can't complete an assignment if you don't know what the assignment is . Email your professor for clarification and request an extension. If you do it early enough, they might grant you leniency."

"Really? That's your advice? Beg my way out of it?"

"Not begging. Requesting. It shows forethought, self-awareness, and emotional maturity, even if you don't actually possess any of those things. The adage of faking proficiency to gain proficiency has some truth to it." Ienzo pushed the laptop over to Demyx. "Is there anything else I can help with?"

Demyx's arms crossed, and his expression took on the quality of a betrayed toddler. "You didn't even help me with what I came in for, asshole."

Ienzo waved away Demyx's indignation with a dismissive hand. "There's only so much I, or any tutor, can do without having a good idea of what your professor expects. Emailing is the best advice I can give right now."

"So if I email my professor, you’ll help me?”

“I give you my word.” A promise made in haste, if only to appease the barest responsibilities of his job. Hopefully Demyx wouldn’t make him live to regret it.

Not long after Demyx was gone, Ienzo checked his Discord app, surreptitiously on his phone behind the reception desk, to find a message from Arpeggio.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Zexy, this worst thing ever just happened!

My roommate is my tutor!

Save meeeeeee

The Cloaked Schemer: That is peculiar. Though colleges are small worlds, so I hear.

What did he have to say re: the paper?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Ugh he couldn’t even help

Because I had licherally no idea what the professor wants

I mean, the dude has an F on ratemyprofessor so

He said to email and beg for clarity and an extension

The Cloaked Schemer: ...That is sound advice, actually.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Youre taking his side???

The Cloaked Schemer: Not exactly.

But in academic situations, it always looks good on you to take the initiative and seek help when you need it.

I guarantee the professor will work with you, and perhaps be able to refine that same assignment in the future.

If he’s worth his salt, he’s seeking to improve himself the way you are.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I GUESS

You wanna do a raid tonite?

The Cloaked Schemer: Alas, I, too, am a college student with coursework.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: RUDE

Ienzo leaned back in his chair in the campus library. How coincidental, he thought. He’d just given Demyx the same advice. Then again, college papers--especially in the sciences--were not always diverse on the gen ed level. He recalled Demyx’s paper; he should’ve asked him to see the email, or post, or handout with the assignment on it. Chances are the moron had merely misunderstood.

Demyx liked Verum Rex. Perhaps they could have this to talk about. Ienzo wondered who he mained. Probably Yozora, he thought with a sneer.

The Cloaked Schemer: Actually, I can do one raid.

ONE. Brief. Raid.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Thats more like it! \o/

One raid turned into two, then Ienzo ended up staying in the library, at the tutoring center, until it closed.

__________

Demyx begrudgingly took Ienzo’s advice. After his marathon raid session with Zexion, he sent a brief email--agonizing over the wording--to his professor, who responded almost instantly with an apology. Several students had already asked him about the assignment, it turned out, so he was going to extend the entire class’s deadline. But if Demyx needed a few days after that, he could have it.

“You were right,” Demyx murmured out loud, as he read the email the next morning.

“Of course I was,” Ienzo said, not looking up from his desk. “See? All it takes is a little maturity.”

The irony. Demyx grimaced. He looked over at him. “So you’ll help me?”

“When--and only when--I am on duty,” he said. “I have a life outside of work, you know.”

Demyx wondered how true that was. Ienzo spent a lot of the time in the room if he were not in class or in the library. Did he have friends? Did he go to societies? He nearly asked. Then he looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in weeks. He had bags under his eyes, and was washed out, books spread in a circle around him. “Outside of studying, too?”

Ienzo opened his mouth, then shut it. “I am not here to socialize. I am here for a degree.”

“But don’t you… have any friends?”

“Of course I do,” Ienzo said, just a little too quickly.

Like he would honestly tell Demyx. “Sure,” he said, shutting his laptop and tucking it into his bag. “Well. I got class. I’ll see you at the center later?”

“Much to my chagrin,” Ienzo responded evenly.

Demyx’s day was ordinary other than that. After the professor clarified what he wanted in class (and, to Demyx’s immense relief, it was much less daunting than what he’d thought), he stopped by the library to check out some books which might point him in a vague direction. Ienzo could tell him if they were any good. He stopped by the coffee shop to grab a croissant and a coffee, and, on impulse, got one for Ienzo as well. The idea of it made him nervous. Maybe I’ll say they made an extra by mistake, he thought. He already knew Ienzo drank them.

There Ienzo was, sitting in the office. “It’s you,” he said in an unreadable tone.

“It’s me.” He cleared his throat. “Um…” He thrust out the coffee without saying anything else.

“Is this for me?”

“Uh, yeah.” He felt his face heat--though why?

Ienzo took it, looking confused, and sniffed the small hole in the lid. “Oh,” he said softly.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked--”

“No. I do. That was kind of you.” He blinked, his expression odd, slackened; Demyx realized it was without malice. “Let’s get to work, shall we? I don’t want this to take any longer than it has to.”

Ienzo helped him structure the paper, and reviewed proper citations with him. It would take a little work, but seeing it outlined, Demyx felt a lot less overwhelmed. Something he thought was a mammoth project would maybe take an hour or two to write.

“Once you have it written, come back and I can help you with grammar and syntax,” Ienzo said.

“Awesome.” He took a deep breath. “I feel… a lot better now.”

“One typically does when one stops procrastinating,” Ienzo said. He leaned back in his seat. For a second--but just one--he sounded like Zexion, all firm and proper, genteel without being rigid.

__________

"You got your grade back already?"

Demyx beamed as he held his laptop screen-out, his browser logged into the university's online grading system. One score was listed under BIO 101, labelled "Paper 1." The percentage displayed next to the assignment name was higher than Ienzo expected from Demyx. "I didn't completely fail!" he practically cheered.

"So you didn't," Ienzo agreed, nodding slightly at the number from his desk. "It's amazing what a bit of work will do."

Demyx dropped himself onto his bed and turned his laptop. He bounced on the mattress a few times while he looked at the number. "This is the best news I've gotten all semester and it's the best feeling. Is this what it's like to be a genius and get good grades all the time?"

Ienzo returned his attention to his own laptop, where a half-drafted essay mocked him with its blinking text cursor and nonsensical thesis statement. He clacked another line of bullshit into the document. It was for English class, he reminded himself. Any answer was correct if it could be argued well. "No, not really. You get used to it."

"I… I should thank you," Demyx said, after a beat of silence. "For your help. I wouldn't have had anything to turn in at all if you hadn't told me to email my professor."

Another line of bullshit trailed across the screen. Ienzo squinted at it, unsure of what he had typed. "Don't mention it. It's my job."

"But still. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Ienzo could hear Demyx shuffling on his bed. "So… you play Verum Rex?"

"Fairly regularly, yes."

"Do you do raids or multiplayer at all?"

Ienzo shot Demyx a warning glance. "I already have a raiding group. I'm not looking for another one."

Across the room, Demyx had tucked himself into bed, his Star Wars sheets pulled all the way up to his chin. He blinked at Ienzo unceremoniously. "Jeez, forget I asked. No need to be snippy about it."

Demyx's head disappeared under the covers, and Ienzo returned his attention to his essay. At least, he tried. The Discord notifications in the corner of his screen kept distracting him.

Eventually, Ienzo admitted defeat and opened Discord. All of the messages were from Arpeggio.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: hey, do we have an opening on our raiding party?

Zexion?

Oh nvm he said no

What are you up to?

I'm taking a victory nap after getting a good grade on that paper I had to

write a while back

My roommate is typing something and he's so loud

What is he writing that makes him so angy

The Cloaked Schemer: I am also typing angrily at something

It is a universal collegiate experience

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: still so angy tho

Are you angy atm?

The Cloaked Schemer: I am… frustrated

I'm meant to be dissecting the themes in a short story but I feel like I'm only spewing garbage on the page

Perhaps if I present the garbage with enough conviction, I will be able to maneuver through this class

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: if youre writing it, it's definitely not garbage :P

you need to have more confidence in yourself, Zexy

The Cloaked Schemer: Ha. I think my roommate would disagree

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: well then he's a bum

Tell him that

Arpeggio says so

Ienzo looked back at Demyx, cocooned in spaceship bed sheets and doing who-knows-what under the cover of bed linens. He thought he saw the flash of a phone screen through the fabric, but the light disappeared as quickly as he caught it.

The Cloaked Schemer: I'll pass. He seems busy.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Busy doing what? Bum things?

The Cloaked Schemer: I certainly hope not. We're in the same room right now.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: oh. Awkward

The Cloaked Schemer: I’ll say.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: so you know ive been thinking

The Cloaked Schemer: Have you? What a concept.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ha ha.

Its been a while since we tried voice chatting

Maybe we could try again?

The Cloaked Schemer: You would want that?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I want to hear your voice. To see if youre actually as smart as you write

Maybe youve got, like, a transatlantic accent, or something. Thatd be cool

Ienzo blinked, staring hard at the screen. His heart beat a little faster. It was so hard to determine tone through text.

The Cloaked Schemer: Maybe I’m not as cool as I seem.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: highly, HIGHLY doubt it

Youve kept me sane

I really appreciate our

Ienzo saw him type “thing” and then frenetically edit to “friendship.” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

The Cloaked Schemer: The feeling is mutual.

A long, long pause. Ienzo did not know what else to say. His face was burning.

The Cloaked Schemer: Normally I’d rather be caught dead than admit this.

But it does get somewhat lonely here.

It’s nice to have someone to talk to.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I know what u mean

Sometimes i feel like i dont really know who i am

And like college is supposed to be about finding that

But its hard.

The Cloaked Schemer: You don’t have to tell me twice.

Part of why it’s so easy to exist in online spaces, in games. Appearance doesn’t matter. It’s like being a more concentrated version of oneself.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Do u feel like a more concentrated version of yourself?

The Cloaked Schemer: When I talk to you.

Ienzo’s heart was pounding. He thought he heard Demyx sigh across the room. Was he typing too hard?

Arpeggio started and stopped typing several times, just making Ienzo more nervous. What is he going to say? Did I push it too hard? Was I too forward?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Me too, Zexion

I wish we knew each other. Like, irl

Getting to do raids in person

That would be so fun

And i dunno, maybe do other things

Go out to eat. Go to the movies. Maybe go dancing.

Do u like clubs?

The Cloaked Schemer: I’ve never been.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: it takes some getting used to

But the energy of a crowd is electric

Especially with people you know

Oh god oh god oh god , Ienzo thought. His hands were trembling.

The Cloaked Schemer: Where would we go to eat?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: anywhere you want

Well. on a college students budget anyway

-laughs in poor

The Cloaked Schemer: Ah, so, five star cuisine, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Just dont order the lobster

In all seriousness. We need to vc sometime

The Cloaked Schemer: Yes.

There’s going to be a raid event on Saturday. Perhaps then?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Depends on if i have the room :/

Wanna say yes so bad

The Cloaked Schemer: I know the feeling.

I suppose if I get desperate enough I can rent out a study cubicle in the library.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Awww you’d do that for little ol’ me?

The Cloaked Schemer: Yes, I

His finger slipped, hitting the enter key a moment too soon before he could even finish the thought in his head. His hands felt almost clammy, the inner mechanizations of his mind working on overdrive, as if trying to race against the pitter-patter beat of his heart. Shit. Perhaps… Riku was right after all? Had Ienzo, usually so level-headed, actually developed a crush on Arpeggio? It was utterly nonsensical, and yet he couldn’t deny that he felt a comfort with Arpeggio that he didn’t feel with anyone else he knew, online or offline. Was it possible to fall- ...to develop a smattering of feelings for someone based on typed text alone?

Well, wasn’t that a theme in literature? Two people falling in love over written letters? For all Ienzo knew, there could very well have been instances of it happening in real life, in the days of old, long, long before the age of technology and the internet. A pair of penpals, miles and miles of distance between them, communicating through the written word; it could happen, couldn’t it?

Hold on. When the hell did he turn into a sap ? Frowning, Ienzo ran a hand over his face, feeling like a lovestruck fool.

No. No, this couldn’t be a crush. Just because it was so easy to talk to him, just because they’d been talking for a year or so by now, it didn’t mean-

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Zexy?

You ok?

Shit, how long had he zoned out for?

The Cloaked Schemer: Sorry. Got distracted.

But regardless, I think we should aim for Saturday.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Great!

Hoping we don’t get interrupted by our dick roomies

The Cloaked Schemer: Quite. It’s a date, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Yes :3

Ienzo took a deep breath. Regardless as to whether or not this was practical, it seemed that Arpeggio reciprocated his flirting.

Wait. Ienzo looked at the screen, cheeks heating up as he realized he’d typed the word ‘date,’ and Arpeggio said ‘yes .’ He couldn’t deny the little flutter of his stomach in that moment.

__________

Demyx set his phone aside, his heart beating heavily in his chest, his face bright red. He swallowed. There was no way sleep would come easily now, and it probably wouldn’t be until Saturday.

He thought about the nature of crushes. He’d never seen Zexy’s face, or heard his voice, but he was so adept at weaving words in the way Demyx wanted to be with music. He tried to imagine him, what he might be like.

He rolled onto his back. Ienzo’s frenetic, noisy typing had stopped. Demyx sat up, rubbed his eyes, and pretended he’d been napping the whole time. “You good?”

Ienzo shut his computer quickly, like he’d been doing something questionable. “Yes. Fine.” He was a little out of breath. What the hell had he been writing?

Demyx blinked. “I’m gonna go get a coffee,” he said instead. “Want me to bring you one back?”

“Sure,” Ienzo said, his face flushed.

Demyx shook his head. Well. If Ienzo needed to take care of that he had at least a few minutes now. “Cool.”

The whole time he was at the coffee shop, he kept thinking about Zexion, all their little conversations. It was evolving, and evolving fast. Demyx knew from brief experimentation with dating apps that just because a person sent you some flirty words didn’t mean anything would come of it. For all he knew, Zexion lived in New Zealand, or something.

That didn’t stop him from wanting it.

He drew a deep breath, exhaled. Well. Saturday he would find out.

Demyx wasn’t going to let Ienzo ruin his chances of meeting Zexion. He decided to strike preemptively, pausing at the door of their dorm room and sucking in a breath, steeling himself. He could do this. He could ask his roommate for the room for one night, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Hey, so, I have a thing Saturday,” he said vaguely. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t coming off as strongly as he intended, but he could still try. “Mind if I hang here alone for a few hours?”

Ienzo glanced up. The flush was gone, and he seemed much more composed. “Yes, that’s fine. I was going to go study anyway.”

“Study? Don’t you ever have any fun?”

“Perhaps I find studying fun,” Ienzo said.

“Suit yourself.” As he passed on his way back to the bed, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Ienzo had Discord open.

__________

Friday night, Demyx barely slept. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. Crushes didn’t usually… hit him this hard. It’s dumb. It’s so dumb. His loneliness was getting to him. Even Saturday morning, there were some hours until the events started. He looked at his DM history with Zexion. They’d spoken briefly, only to confirm a time and place for their characters to meet and chat. He sat at his desk, his hands trembling, as the game booted up.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: You ready?

The Cloaked Schemer: Of course.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Cool.

My mic isnt like great

But you can still hear me

He was shaking. He was shaking. “Get it together,” he muttered to himself.

The Cloaked Schemer: You’re a broke college student. I’m not expecting a professional setup here.

Though I will say my booth is pleasantly soundproofed.

Let me connect.

And Demyx thought his heart might stop. I’m so gay, he thought. A second later he heard that familiar call connection. He twitched a little, and his mic clattered loudly on the floor. Shit!

“Arpeggio? Are you alright?”

“I just dropped the--”

A long, long pause.

He knew that voice.

“Zexion?” He picked up the mic and set it down.

“Arpeggio?”

“I dropped the mic.” Demyx swallowed.

“You…” Zexion fumbled for words. “Speak a little more, please.”

“Is that really you?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re in a library right now.”

“And you had an event… Saturday.”

“Ohh my god,” Demyx mumbled. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, just that he was feeling a lot of it. “Ienzo. You’re Zexion?”

“It’s an anagram,” he said, his tone numb.

“Seriously, this whole time--”

“Evidently.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but at the same time, there was something warm in his chest.

Wait, no. No. This was Ienzo, and they hated each other--

Demyx realized he was panicking. He also, vaguely, in the back of his mind, realized the call had disconnected.

Demyx spent the next few minutes desperately trying to control his breathing, trying to not focus on how Zexion- No, Ienzo- was so disgusted it was him that he’d immediately dropped the call.

Of course. Of fucking course. The universe hated him. The universe had it out for him, surely. Why else would this have happened? He finally meets this sweet, smart, wonderful guy who takes him seriously and actually likes talking to him, on a regular basis , and then… And then… It turns out to be the very same roommate who hates him. That would just be his damned luck, wouldn’t it?

Grabbing his pillow, Demyx face-planted into it, pressing it furiously against his eyes to stop them from burning, to stop the tears that threatened to spill. Of all the people it could’ve been. Why Ienzo ?

Demyx had been nervous enough as it was, afraid the person on the other end would think him annoying - his voice, his tone, the way he just couldn’t fucking shut up sometimes when he got excited about something. Alternatively, the filter between his brain and his mouth was immensely weaker than the filter between his brain and his fingers, and he could’ve said the wrong thing, unable to stop himself in the same way his hand can catch itself on the enter key before hitting it, or quickly delete the message before Zexion could read it.

But this was so much worse, because Ienzo already knew him, already had an impression of him, and that impression was far from good. It’s no wonder he disconnected the call so suddenly. He likely couldn’t stand hearing the truth any longer, stomach churning with disgust, head filled to bursting with regret, and not just regret over the voice call, but everything .

An almost entire year’s worth of conversations, soiled now, because Demyx was, well, Demyx . A slob. A slacker. An idiot. He wasn’t worth Ienzo’s time, and now he knew he wasn’t worth Zexion’s.

A sharp ache spread over his chest, cold and numbing, all of him tense with it. He… liked Zexion. He very genuinely liked him, so excited to get to talk to him, his bristling nerves aside. All week he’d thought about it, daydreaming, wondering what the person on the other end would sound like, if he’d love that voice as much as he loved the text on his Discord screen.

It no longer mattered, not when it was now clear that Zexion - no, Ienzo , was utterly disgusted with him.

It was over. It was all over - their friendship, a year’s worth of personal conversations, these budding feelings he was beginning to have, or that he’s been having for a while now…

On the flipside, was Demyx disappointed that it turned out to be Ienzo? He… didn’t know the answer to that, still reeling in the fact that Zexion, his dear friend and crush, hated him. The pillow was starting to suffocate him and he instinctively pulled it away from his face, eyes still burning. He sucked in some deep breaths and just when he was finally on the cusp of calming down, his door swung open so fast Demyx feared it’d break off the hinges.

Ienzo leveled him with a determined stare. “You.”

__________

Ienzo sat.

And sat.

And stared, and sat some more.

He was dizzy. Slowly, so slowly, all the pieces clicked together. The coffee. The references to Verum Rex. How they were always just missing each other. The whole tutoring scenario. Good god . So this person he’d been harboring feelings for this whole time was--

He pressed a hand to his forehead. And yet, a small part of him… was relieved?

It could be…

No, it couldn’t be anything! They hated each other! They’d complained to each other about each other more times than Ienzo could count. They had--

Ienzo felt the walls of the study booth begin to close in around him, pushing the breathable air out of the room. His ribcage constricted around his lungs, and his heartbeat pounded at his temples. He gathered his laptop and microphone in his arms and burst out of the room, chest heaving.

He braced himself against the outer wall of the study booth and willed himself to breathe normally, his head tilted all the way back to rest on the door. This was real life, and he was fine. He would be fine, anyway, with a bit of finessing. Okay, perhaps a little more than a bit.

Ienzo retrieved his backpack and stowed his equipment inside as he analyzed the situation. Arpeggio and Demyx were the same person. A strange revelation, but not world-ending. He could find another raiding party. He could join another server. There was more than one person with whom to play Verum Rex.

But--

Ienzo caught himself zipping and unzipping the top pocket of his backpack, more forcefully than necessary each time. A new server didn't sound appealing. A new raiding party, even less so. He would have to chat with new people, learn their idiosyncrasies and fighting styles, learn their pseudonyms and remember how they differed from their usernames. It all sounded so… hard, and boring, and unnecessary.

He zipped his backpack closed for the last time and held it at his side by its tiny top handle. Its back straps kicked at his calves as he raced out of the study area, through the main lobby, and into the courtyard. His mind was set. His choice was clear. The only thing to do was follow through.

Ienzo made a beeline back to the room. He found Demyx sitting cross-legged on his own bed, his computer accessorized with a small budget microphone and his face awash with something that looked like guilt. His eyes widened when Ienzo crossed the threshold.

"You." Ienzo's statement rang out like a gong.

Demyx swallowed. "Yeah?"

"We need to talk." Ienzo shut the door behind himself. It slammed closed, though Ienzo had not intended for that.

"...yeah." Demyx turned back to his computer, fiddling at the USB port where his microphone connected to the rest of the machine. "Ienzo, I--"

"Shut up." Ienzo stalked into the room, single-minded. He stopped at the edge of Demyx's bed. "Shut up and listen, for once."

Demyx's shoulders rose to his ears. He stayed quiet.

Ienzo dropped his backpack to the floor. Though his fingers trembled, his resolve held firm. The moment of reckoning was upon him. "Did you know?"

Demyx shook his head.

"Did you want to know?"

He responded in a whisper, pained and hushed. "I wanted to meet Zexion."

Ienzo's hands trembled faster. He balled them into fists to compensate. "And now that you know," he said, "do you regret it? Wanting to know? Learning the truth?"

A tear trailed down Demyx's downcast cheek. "No."

Something deep inside Ienzo wanted to reach out and wipe away the tears that followed, while Demyx's breath caught in gasps over his laptop keyboard. Ienzo steeled himself. "I… don't regret it, either."

"You don't?" Demyx looked up and met Ienzo's gaze with caution. Aside from the red tinge at their edges, his eyes looked almost hopeful.

Ienzo softened, relaxed his fists. "I don't want to find a new server, or a new raiding party."

Sniffling, Demyx nodded. "I don't, either."

"I don't want to stop talking to Arpeggio," Ienzo continued, his heart playing timpanis in his chest. "He is a close friend of mine."

"He's also your lazy roommate." Another tear escaped, this time going down the side of Demyx's nose. Demyx wiped at it with the heel of his hand. "Ienzo, I--"

"We've had differences. We've also had commonalities, albeit in virtual space. There's no reason we cannot bring the two together."

"Ienzo--"

"There's no reason we should be at each other's throats. We--"

"Ienzo!"

He blinked. The drum performance in his chest missed a beat, then started from the top at full speed. "Yes?"

Demyx unplugged the microphone from his computer, sighed, and tossed it to the far edge of his bed. "I don't think that will work."

Ienzo frowned and crossed his arms. He was beginning to remember why he and Demyx didn't get along in meatspace. "Why, pray tell, is that?" he asked.

Demyx swallowed again, more conspicuously than before. "It's just… I…"

Ienzo leaned forward, his head cocked to the side. "You what?"

"I, um, I…"

"Go on. I don't have all night."

Demyx pushed his computer aside and drew his knees into his chest. "I… shit. I had a thing for Zexion." His shoulders hitched with sardonic laughter. "Shit. Fuck. This sucks." He reached behind himself for his pillow and buried his face in it. "This is so embarrassing," he whined, his voice muffled.

Ienzo's budding anger deflated. "You… you did?"

Demyx nodded into his pillow. "Uh-huh. And now you know, too."

Ienzo opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't make the words in his head form coherent phrases. His throat sputtered with half-formed consonants instead. Words. For fuck’s sake, wasn’t he good at words? Why was this suddenly so damn hard?

"This is the worst," Demyx groaned. "Just kill me now. Make it look like an accident. Tell my family I loved them. Don't let my sister take my bedroom at home."

Ienzo's faculties returned in the bumbling, clumsy way that drunkards stumbled home from dank local pubs. "I... don't think that will be necessary," Ienzo managed, through his own confusion.

"No?" Demyx put his pillow back in its place, and faced Ienzo with dried saline clumping in his eyelashes. "What, are you gonna torture me instead? Make me regret being born? Because you're a little late on that front, buddy, I already do."

Ienzo took a deep breath. His crossed arms dropped to his side, then held each other at the elbows. "I may have developed… similar feelings. For Arpeggio." Ienzo's mouth went dry. The drum performance upgraded itself to a full marching band drumline, twenty-five snare drums pounding paradiddles and rolls in synchronized sweeps.

A silence consumed the space between them, interrupted only by Demyx's sniffling and Ienzo's heartbeat. It stretched into the abyss and the stratosphere in equal measure, and stung more acutely than the idea of never speaking to Arpeggio again.

Demyx broke the silence by clearing his throat. "So…"

Ienzo coughed. "So..."

"Are we…" Demyx unfolded his legs and swung them over the side of his bed. His hands grasped at his mattress, and his head hung from his shoulders "Are we, y'know… do we still, like…"

"Do you want to be?" Ienzo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Friends, cohorts, party members, server mutuals? Or…"

"Or what?"

"Or…" Ienzo trailed off. Or what, indeed? Friends with benefits? Significant others? Boyfriends? The mere thought made Ienzo's palms sweat. "Or…"

In the moment between Ienzo's efforts to name his emotions and act on them, Demyx had sprung up from the bed and slipped his hands around the sides of Ienzo's face, his thumbs resting just below the apples of Ienzo's cheeks. His breath tickled at Ienzo's nose and lips. "Or… this?"

Heat seared at every inch of Ienzo's face. If he could feel Demyx's breath, Demyx could feel his as well. "...I suppose, yes."

"In that case," Demyx murmured, somehow purring and wavering at the same time, "tell me no." He rested his forehead on Ienzo's. "Tell me no, and we won't. I promise. Things can go back to normal."

A whimper, wholly undignified and unbidden, escaped from Ienzo's higher register. "I can't," he whispered.

Demyx leaned forward, and Ienzo followed. At some point, they met in the middle, and the world's axis shifted two degrees to the left. It was a tentative press of lips, but Demyx’s hands on his face kept him anchored. It didn’t feel like Ienzo thought it would, and self-consciousness invaded. Suddenly Ienzo felt very young and immature; vulnerable .

But… after a moment or so, not so much. Demyx was so warm against him, and Ienzo realized it was a learning curve, one he was picking up with his usual speed. He was shaking a little in disbelief. It was so-- nice.

Demyx pulled away and brushed his fingers across his cheek. "You're trembling."

"Forgive me. I--" He swallowed.

"No, it's cool." Demyx pulled away and smiled, brighter than Ienzo had ever seen someone smile before. "Do you… want to go again?"

Ienzo did, very much so. "I'm not opposed, per se, but I think we should… explore our relationship a bit. Perhaps starting with our mutual interest in pumpkin spice flavors."

“Sounds like a plan to me, Zexy,” Demyx grinned.

__________

Riku set the pair of pumpkin spice lattes down on the little square table in the back corner of the coffeeshop, glancing at Ienzo, then Demyx, then back at Ienzo, one eyebrow shooting up into his hair. “Is the world ending? Did I miss a memo on the corkboard in the back room?”

Ienzo coughed. He was vaguely aware of the heat rising in his cheeks. Damn it all to hell. Of course Riku was here, why would it have been anyone else? Sighing, he gestured to Demyx, bracing himself for the inevitable bit of humiliation, courtesy of the one friend who knew about his very apparent crush on his Discord friend. “Riku, meet Arpeggio.”

Riku’s other eyebrow shot up into his hair. “You’re shitting me.”

Demyx looked across the table at Zexion, clearly trying to fight the incoming of a shit-eating grin. “You talked about me to people?”

"Only the unimportant ones," Ienzo said, picking up his cup and sipping loudly.

“Psh,” Riku spat with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, and every damn minute of the day. If I had a dollar for every time you made heart eyes at the ceiling while talking about him, I could quit this job and pay off my tuition.”

Ienzo balked at that, nearly choking on his latte. “It was not that often.”

Waving a hand, Riku corrected himself, looking pointedly at Demyx. “Wait, no, he’s right. I’m forgetting that half the time, he’d be complaining about his horrible room-”

“Shouldn’t you be behind the counter?” Ienzo hissed, glaring at Riku. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Demyx’s gaze flicking between him, like he was watching a game of ping-pong. “Or should I text Sora and Kairi about all those little hearts you like to draw around their names on the garbage receipts every time they come in?”

"Go ahead. I'm ninety percent sure they're both into me, anyway."

Ienzo pulled his phone from his pocket and brandished it at Riku. "Are you willing to test that theory?"

"Make sure you write it down," Demyx chirped, blowing into the hole in his drink's lid. "If you write it down, it's science. I learned that in Biology this semester."

"I'll do more than that," Ienzo said, tapping on his phone screen with both hands. After his phone played a short 'whoosh' sound, he placed it face-down on the table. "Images sent. Now we wait for our results."

Riku scoffed, then balked, then turned beet-red. "You're an asshole," he hissed through his teeth.

"Relax. I was just kidding,” Ienzo said with a glint in his eye that Demyx barely caught.

"Forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical." Riku scowled for a moment, but eventually softened into a smirk. "Whatever. Enjoy your Discord date, Casanova." He knocked on the table once before returning to the checkout counter.

"Discord date?" Demyx asked, taking a swig of his pumpkin spice latte. "I thought we were hanging out in real life."

"Let's not split hairs. We're about to see a show." Ienzo jutted his chin in the direction of the cafe's front door. As if on cue, Sora and Kairi burst through it like a duo on a mission.

“Oh Riiiiiiiiku!” they chorused in sing-song at the top of their lungs.

"Sometimes," Ienzo said, turning back to Demyx, "I like to watch the world burn."

“Yeah, I know. That’s actually kind of hot,” Demyx admitted, taking another sip of his latte. "Remind me not to piss you off again, though."

#Zemyx #Demyx #Ienzo #Zexion #Kingdom Hearts #fanfiction #Zemyx Day #Zemyx Day 2020

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fallen-in-dreams · 4 years

Text

Chasing A Dream

Links: FF.net & AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Kakashi. Summary: Her mother always told her to follow her dreams. In this case, her dream happened to have silver hair, mismatched eyes, and a smile that took her breath away. And she was determined to follow him all the way, even if he decided to break her heart. KakaSaku AU. Status: Complete.

Enjoy. ^_^

.:.

Sorry I have to leave so abruptly, Daddy. I’ll come back as soon as I can, okay? I know you’re disappointed in me. I wasn’t trying to shame you. I love you. I love you both. I’ll see you soon. Tell mama I’m fine. I always know my way home. - Love, Sakura.

Sakura Haruno walked for half a mile to get to the service area where she knew that drivers congregated before leaving Wajima. She did her best to dress like a foreigner and not show her Roma origins—nomads (Sanka) were considered as un-Japanese as any foreigner (Gaijin). She wouldn’t win the sympathetic ride with a stranger wearing her usual bodice and scarf.

She decided on a simple shirt and her nice jeans; they fit comfortably and hugged her well. It was cold out, even in the middle of the day, so she brought a heavy coat; one that was still easy to wear with her travelling backpack.

Her goal was to hitchhike her way to Tokyo. Depending on traffic and how long it would take to get a ride, the trip would take about seven hours. It would be expensive if done with public transportation; she had to save what little money she had for those things once she actually got to her destination.

To him.

And she was unfamiliar with the more typical ways of travelling through Japan. This was her last option; she had put this off long enough. For the first time since the last time she’d seen him, she wasn’t running from her problems; rather, meeting them head on. Before her father got it into his head to ruin things with that famous temper of his. Images of silver hair and mesmerising, mismatched eyes, invaded her thoughts unbidden and she sighed deeply before looking around contemplatively.

Service areas like this all over Japan made hitchhiking that much easier. Cars, trucks, motorcycles—there was a plethora of drivers to choose from. Sakura had hitched before—her first time had been when a second cousin went into labour. The pinkette was twelve years old at the time, and her parents were nowhere to be seen, so she’d had to make her way to the hospital on her own. It was easy, safe, and fun, really.

If you were careful.

A girl on her own was an easy target for perverts and predators, but Sakura always made sure to go with families or women; she was a good judge of character, so that elderly man had been a smart choice, regardless. But she wasn’t a weakling; she knew how to handle herself. Anyone who tried something with her would get a twisted arm and a swift kick to the shins or balls. Whichever one tickled her fancy.

This place was perfect; away from the expressway and most people here were headed in the same direction.

A few minutes into her perusal, a teenage girl waved at her and Sakura waved back. She looked to be with her parents. They had a Suzuki and ample room. She approached them with her sign; it read ‘Osaka’.

Sakura put on her best friendly smile and fake accent. “Konnichiwa.”

“You going to Osaka?”

The pinkette nodded silently, remembering that while it was uncommon for Japanese people to hitchhike there were no laws against it; it was just best to appear to need help, like a foreigner rather than a local.

“You speak Japanese?”

Maybe it was her hair, but she was often treated like a foreigner no matter what she said or did; she didn’t understand it. But she always just went with it. The key was to look as harmless and friendly as possible.

“Hai.”

The girl conferred with her parents and then came running back over to Sakura and threw her arms around her. “You look like you are a good person. We can take you as far as Toyama, okay?”

“Hai.”

“Okay!”

The girl talked Sakura’s ear off the whole time, going on about her family vacation and how she loved Winter so much.

So bloody much.

But Sakura kept her smile on and upon disembarking at a service area near the Toyama train station, felt compelled to show her appreciation. She bowed deeply. “Doumo. Arigato.”

Alone again, she sighed nervously.

One ride down.

Shifting the weight of her backpack out of nervous habit, she ambled her way through the crowd of vehicles, glancing at the faces of the drivers and any passengers they might have. She was looking for the concerned face, the curious face; the honest face.

Found three.

It was a couple and their six-year-old boy, wearing matching outfits, looking like they were heading for the Alps. They accepted her quickly, saying how they didn’t want to leave her here on her own, and looking so vulnerable.

“There are some sickos these days,” the mother muttered, while the father nodded in agreement.

They seemed sane to Sakura.

“We’re going to Myoko,” the little boy said excitedly, the moment the pinkette climbed into their Subaru.

Sakura humoured him, listening to him talk about all the skiing he was going to do, and that he had to go to some boring wedding instead of the night-time Onsen. He was really cute, and she found herself feeling wistful and nervous, thinking about what awaited her at her destination. So much so that she gave in when he pestered her about where she was going. She told him almost everything...

“Sayōnara, Sakura-chan! And good luck!”

Left again at a service area, Sakura quickly got to work scoping out the people and their vehicles again. The next car she got belonged to another group of friends, middle-aged women on their way to some kind of religious retreat. She listened to their excited chatter in polite silence but was glad to be on the move again.

Next ride.

It was like riding a bike now; her instinct didn’t fail her as her eyes zeroed in on five people who looked around her age, almost twenty. They turned out to be college students on holiday and could take her all the way to Tokyo—their ultimate destination was Yokohama, where apparently, they all had family.

They were so boisterous and so energetic that it was contagious. Sakura found herself laughing for the first time in months. It made her temporarily forget her imminent problems. They were so warm, she found herself drawn to them. A loud blond guy in particular, seemed to just radiate kindness, and the banter between him and the raven-haired guy she assumed was his best friend, was the highlight of the trip.

When they made it to her drop off point, she was disappointed.

The blonde girl took her elbow and stopped her from leaving dejectedly. “You need money for the bullet train? They’re faster and will be safer this time of night.”

Sakura shook her head as they suggested giving her the money. “I couldn’t–”

“You can.”

“We insist. Go get your man!”

A wad of cash was shoved in her hands and bouts of cheers from the group followed her as she walked away, and Sakura blushed heavily. That little boy with the concerned parents had opened a floodgate and she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut! This was highly unusual behaviour. Did everyone around here give money to strangers?

That had been a particularly rowdy group of college students, she decided naively. Definitely out of the norm.

Best to just accept the money and get on the train.

Sakura waved back at them and made her way in the direction they’d indicated. Tokyo was a very odd place. There was a bus station nearby, and the train station was lit up and dazzled her. She strained her neck looking around; its services also included commercial centres for shopping, dining, and entertainment. Everything was so big and lively! She spent a few minutes just gaping like a tourist before remembering why she was here.

Sakura steeled herself and took the directions the students had given her to the correct station and line.

She bought her ticket from the vending machine and passed through the Fare Gate, rushing to get onto the locomotive. She just wanted to get this part over with. The Tokaido line would take her directly to her destination.

Sakura pulled out a piece of paper as she took her backpack off and sat down next to it in her seat. All she had was an address, and vague directions; she’d gotten it from her father’s own journals. She read it silently, committing it to memory. This was it. This was what she’d been dreading and anticipating. When she would finally see him again.

Sighing, she settled into the seat and stared out the window, her eyes taking in the beautiful landscape as the Shinkansen Bullet Train started moving. It was this kind of view that she loved most about travel. Having been a part of her family performance group her whole life, she was no stranger to moving around. Japan was truly the most hospitable and exciting country; even when they did stick to the Ura-Nihon (the backside of Japan).

And it was that lifestyle that had gotten her into her current predicament.

She remembered it like it was yesterday.

.:.

Gypsies, tramps, and thieves: dealings with those unwanted was not something most businessmen would risk. That was why just talking to Kizashi Haruno was considered on par with black market dealings. Moving things across prefecture borders via Roma who performed shows for a living supposedly came with all the mystique of illegal dealings but with none of the danger of dealing with the Yakuza.

It was the preferred choice for shady men who were too cowardly to deal with the real crime syndicate.

And Sakura was both repulsed and intrigued by her father’s dealings. Every client had their own story to tell, though, and she was a sponge for information. Every negotiation and patented deal were slightly different to the last, but they were all conducted the same; in brisk, formal manners with no-nonsense chit-chat and a back-and-forth debate that seemed redundant.

Eager to listen in, she always took the initiative to pour the tea for her father and his clients when they met in his tent. They paid her no mind as they continued to talk business—after all, what would a little girl know about the price of illegal dried meat or black-market liqueurs? She learned a lot from listening in but could only linger for so long.

Several months after her eighteenth birthday, a new business associate of her father’s caught her eye; and this man did seem to be bothered by her presence during their talks. He was so no-nonsense that Sakura imagined he’d have her standing to attention and saluting if he’d wanted to, but he also greeted her father with a smile that seemed genuine (a twinkle in his eyes) and a handshake that didn’t look designed as some macho display of dominance.

It took her breath away.

He was… different from the others. And his visits lasted longer; her father seemed to like him more and more every time they sat to talk business. And when Sakura poured the man’s tea he said, “thank-you” when none of the others would even look at her, probably thinking her some simple serving girl. When she froze in shock for a few seconds, he raised an eyebrow at her and waited for her to move away before taking a sip from his drink. When she didn’t leave the room immediately, his gaze would flicker to her curiously.

She often felt his mismatched eyes on her as she left the room. He didn’t dare to stare at her in any disrespectful way with her father in the room—he definitely wasn’t as ignorant or creepy as her father’s other clients. She had no idea why he was there because, instead of paying attention to what he was saying, she would be focused on his voice. And he would stop talking once he realised, she was listening in.

His curious looks turned into intense stares and she would give him a shy smile before exiting the tent. It was an interesting back and forth—kind of like flirting. Sakura had never flirted before, so she wasn’t sure if she was doing it right. Her father had been in talks for a few weeks in order to marry her to the son of a friend (a well-placed man in their Roma clan), so she was expected to avoid boys, sex, and the like. But Kakashi Hatake was responding to her awkward flirting, catching her eye when her father was distracted, giving her a dark, penetrating look when she was doing chores and he was passing by with Kizashi leading the way out (or in) to their encampment.

He wanted her.

And she had to admit, it felt good to be on the receiving end of his obvious need, though she considered him a gentleman, since to the casual observer, he seemed to treat her well enough; his smiles were innocent and his choice of honorifics when addressing her were appropriate for their non-relationship status. He was just a business acquaintance of her father’s and nothing more.

At least, that was what she thought. She was soon to be betrothed, after all.

But she couldn’t help imagining her life however, if Kakashi made a claim for her and took her away to live with him. She fantasised that he would save her from her boring life; she loved her family, but Sakura craved more. She had no idea what his life was like, but she wanted it. The sexual tension between them would not go away; a sense of both trepidation and anticipation filled her being. Sakura knew it would be frowned upon, that her father would rage, but she wanted him too.

Didn’t men usually make the first move in these situations? She’d heard they did.

Maybe he was just biding his time?

On what was apparently his last dealing with her father, Kakashi found himself in a pickle; his ride home had abandoned him, and her father insisted on letting him hitch with them, as they were headed in the same direction, come morning. His mind was made up and that was the end of things. Kakashi Hatake gave a grateful smile, his eyes twinkling when they met green and Sakura blushed under his gaze, her own smile eliciting another one of his dark, penetrating stares. She could feel a heat building up inside her as he licked his lips and exhaled deeply.

“Sakura?”

Her mother’s voice snapped her out of her reverie and Sakura dutifully left to help her, with whatever she needed. It was almost dinner time.

Supper was a nightmare. Sakura rubbed her thighs together, trying to hide her obvious interest the entire time. Luckily, only Kakashi noticed.

That night, long after her parents had gone to bed, Sakura Haruno lost her virginity.

He’d come to her tent, knelt down in front of her, parted her legs, and taken his time introducing her to sex. It had lasted for hours. And he spent most of the night inside her before slinking back to his own tent after she’d fallen asleep. When she woke, the only proof he’d been there were the indent from his head on one of her pillows, the foreign soreness between her legs, and the smell of sex that still lingered in the air.

She was profoundly disappointed.

And he’d seemed to have gotten what he wanted, acting normally on the rest of their trip, giving only a minute longing glance in her direction to show her she hadn’t imagined it before leaving their caravan behind.

“He’s such a nice man,” her mother said, watching him go. “And so handsome,” she added, fanning herself. “We should have him over more often.”

Sakura swallowed back a sob and forced herself to pretend everything was all right, so she could go back to her normal, boring life. But three months later, a discovery upended her life, and everything changed.

.:.

“Forty-Six, forty-seven...” Sakura counted off the numbers as she made her way through the hallway. Kakashi Hatake lived in a luxury high-rise building with a view of the waterfront as well as a park. She wondered idly how many of his illicit dealings paid for this place. He had to be no normal smuggler to afford a place like this; it was far out of her reach, even if she were to drain her father of the combined intake from his clients.

She stopped at the correct number and let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

This is it.

Yep. All she had to do was ring that bell and wait.

And wait impatiently.

Is he even home?

She’d heard the bell ring through the apartment from her position but there was no other noise inside.

The passing maid gave her a strange look, adding more to Sakura’s embarrassment; reminding her she wasn’t dressed to match the décor. She sighed, undid the buckles on her backpack and slid down the door to sit to wait for him to turn up. It wasn’t the middle of the night—just barely ten o’clock—so surely, he wasn’t fast asleep yet?

Speaking of sleeping; Sakura drifted off so quickly she didn’t remember falling asleep when a hand was gently shaking her awake. It seemed all her worry had exhausted her more than she’d realised.

“Sakura?”

That familiar voice had her freezing instantaneously, then slowly looking up into the mismatched eyes of her lover. That thought made her blush, but she fought it down. He knew better than to ask if her father was aware, she’d camped out in front of Kakashi’s door; what they had, what they’d shared, no-one else could know.

The energy between them shifted; it had always been electric.

As he stared at Sakura, Kakashi couldn’t help but think that everything was about to change.

He sighed, rubbed his left eye tiredly, and helped the girl up, off the floor. She was exactly as he remembered, except that she wore normal clothes instead of the bodice that had flared at her breasts, giving him an ample view of her goods. He smirked inwardly, remembering rubbing his hands over those very supple goods not three months ago.

Was that why she was here? He was confused. He cleared his throat.

“Do come in.” He unlocked the door and swung it open to let Sakura into his apartment, taking note of her sudden and obvious nerves, not to mention that she had a death grip on her backpack. “Please take your shoes off. The maids here are vicious if they catch even a whiff of the outside on these hardwood floors.”

Sakura nodded and looked around for a shoe rack.

“Here.”

Kakashi led her off to the side to place her things.

“Do you want some tea?” He might as well play the good host, considering her father had always been gracious to him.

“N-no.” Uh... “Yes,” she amended after shivering.

“What kind?”

“Hot.”

He didn’t bother pointing out to her that tea came in hundreds of flavours and was always “hot”. Well, all the tea he’d bother drinking, anyway. He busied himself in the kitchen, instead. “Make yourself at home!”

Sakura carefully placed her shoes on the rack and shrugged off her coat. Her hand went to her stomach and she felt mild panic; this was why she was here, but it was terrifying. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds of Kakashi moving about in his kitchen, preparing their tea.

I can do this.

Gingerly, she made her way into the kitchen, too nervous to take in the large and gorgeous apartment he owned. It had never occurred to her that he wasn’t single… but now the question tormented her brain. The idea that she’d slept with someone’s spouse, that she had trekked across the country to see him and was laying her pregnancy problems on someone who was spoken for… she suddenly felt cheap.

Sakura stopped a foot from the kitchen and glanced back at the living room, eyes darting about and looking for clues of a girlfriend or wife. There were none. But she wasn’t going to stop panicking until she knew for sure. Taking a deep breath, she entered the kitchen, laid her coat on one of the kitchen stools, her eyes on the back of Kakashi’s head as he whistled along with the kettle.

When he turned to face her, she felt her insides squirm in nervous anticipation; but the kitchen island bench was high enough to hide her small protruding belly. He smiled that award-winning smile.

“I’ll just be a minute, you can wait in the serving room if you want, then we can talk about what brought you to my humble abode, yeah?”

She wasn’t sure how to interpret that hopeful look on his face, but she nodded, waiting for him to turn back to the tea before slipping out into the other room like he suggested.

Oh gods.

Her nerves had just skyrocketed.

Sakura studied the pictures on the opposite wall to the tatami mat, entwining her fingers as she attempted to simmer her nerves. None of the people in the photos looked like his “other half” so to speak; there were people in business suits and an elderly couple in several that looked like Kakashi’s parents. The one that stood out was a photo of Kakashi and two others—a guy and girl, but the way those two were holding each other, she figured she didn’t have anything to worry about.

I hope.

She spun around quickly as Kakashi entered the serving room, like she’d been caught reading his dirty magazines or something. He wasn’t looking directly at her as he moved to place the tea try on the low table in the centre of the room. He looked up and her breath hitched.

“Oh, you took the coat off? I turned the thermostat up, so you don’t have to keep that heavy jacket on–” He paused. “Uh, Sakura?”

His eyes fell to her stomach and widened. “W-what?”

His eyes roamed over her shirt; with the coat out of the way, he could suddenly and terrifyingly understand why she’d come all this way on her own.

“Hai, Kakashi, it’s yours,” she said, to break the silence.

That made it easier. She was showing already, but it was mostly still just bloating; she’d deliberately worn a tighter shirt and cosy jeans to show it off. After taking off her coat, her baby bump was difficult to miss. To the casual observer, she didn’t look pregnant until she’d removed the coat.

Kakashi continued to gape at her.

“Kakashi?”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, quickly recovering his speaking ability. “It’s just... a shock.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry too. But I didn’t know how else to tell you. Daddy...”

She trailed off and he understood. Kizashi was going to kill him. It didn’t matter that he needed the Hatake business right now, his daughter had been defiled and impregnated. No decent father would just let that go. And Kizashi was as decent a father as Kakashi had ever seen. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where the older man wouldn’t yell at him and call him every name under the sun for this.

He swallowed heavily.

“Where does he think you are right now?”

“Not at home.”

He chuckled humourlessly. “I suppose so. Uh,” he motioned to the tea. “Don’t want to waste my hospitality, right?”

She nodded and sat down; he ran a distracted hand through his odd hair and sighed, moving to pour her tea for her, before allowing her to pour his. They sat in silence, across from each other, avoiding eye contact and just enjoying the rich flavour of the tea he’d chosen. She wanted to ask what flavour it was but was feeling too nervous to start idle chatter. She was as nervous as he was, looking everywhere but at Kakashi as she delicately sipped at her tea. When they were both done and the silence dragged on, Sakura was beginning to worry he was going to send her on her way with little but a “I’m too old to have a kid” or some such nonsense.

She cleared her throat, her eyes lowering to her hands, sitting in her lap and twiddling like a schoolgirl. The fear and dread came rushing back when Kakashi seemingly had nothing to say and she didn’t know how to start the topic of what to do now. Her fidgety hands moved from her lap to her knees, back to her lap, and then finally to the serving table. She splayed her hands out, faced down, frowning at them.

Sakura only had to wait a few more minutes after her fidgeting stopped before the father of her unborn child finally broke the silence, causing her to look up at him, now fixated on his mismatched eyes.

“I don’t regret it,” he said slowly. “I…” He held a hand over his face in an attempt to cover his blush, but the look on her face told him he was busted. Kakashi chuckled, resting the hand on hers, instead. He rubbed his thumb over her hand. “It was amazing. You were amazing.”

It was her turn to blush.

“What I’m trying to say is...” He sighed. “I... don’t regret it.” He chuckled at his own expense again. “I’m not really helping, am I?”

She smiled. Sakura appreciated what he was clearly trying to say. She had him tongue tied, apparently. It was a good feeling, surprisingly. It meant she wasn’t just a notch on his belt—she wasn’t forgettable and unwanted. She cleared her throat again.

“Where do we go from here?” She asked, her voice trembling. She was scared of the answer, but also… not. It was strange.

Kakashi ran a hand through his hair—he did that when he was both nervous and unsettled, she’d noticed. Or at least, she gathered so. He wasn’t the most open person, that much was obvious.

“I–”

Whatever Kakashi was going to suggest was drowned out by a loud, abrupt serious of knocks on his front door. Whoever it was wasn’t bothering with the doorbell and sound irate and impatient.

Sakura paled immediately. Her father might’ve put two and two together, somehow… she’d told her friends where she was going. But the caravan answered to her father, so if he really wanted to squeeze information out of them...

Oh my god.

“Hatake!”

Yep, that was Kizashi Haruno’s angry voice.

Kakashi and Sakura stared mutely at each other. They both knew that the longer they took to answer it, the more hell there’d be to pay.

“Kakashi I swear, if you don’t open this damn door–”

Kakashi quickly strode over and swung the door open before Kizashi could finish that sentence.

“Daddy?” Sakura squeaked, standing up.

Her father’s eyes dropped to her protruding stomach as her hand fell to it instinctively. For a moment, it looked like the wind had been knocked out of him; then his face screwed up and he shoved his way inside, leaving Kakashi to close the door in an attempt at some kind of privacy.

Kizashi spun around and growled audibly, his eyes narrowed in on his business partner.

This was it. Sakura knew what was coming.

Kizashi Haruno was infamous for his temper, and when he was at his most angry, her father was a rambler.

His hands flailed and gesticulated as he ranted. “Kakashi, you bastard! What the hell did you think you were doing with my daughter!? She’s soon to be betrothed, not the concubine of a low life porn smuggler!”

Sakura’s eyes widened at this piece of information.

“She’s supposed to lay with her husband, not some one-off, out-dated lady’s man! She deserves better! She deserves more respect than this! To think that Mebuki thought you were a good guy. What the hell is wrong with you, Hatake? I don’t care that you’re a staunch bachelor, you will do right by my baby girl and marry her before it’s too late! And don’t you dare try to blame my little girl for your midlife boner. Take some goddamn, fucking responsibility!”

Silence met this proclamation, but the air was still rife with the tension created by Kizashi’s anger. He huffed and attempted to calm himself; he wasn’t normally a violent man, but he really wanted to punch Kakashi’s lights out. But there was no way he would stoop to that level in front of his little girl. He would deal with that urge later.

Kakashi, for his part, looked thoroughly shamed. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair (again), and nodded toward his future father in law.

Meanwhile, Sakura’s heart was racing. When the hell had this escalated to marriage? The logical part of her brain knew she could no longer marry that son of a friend within their Roma clan, but to marry Kakashi… Well, it wasn’t a horrible idea. But her brain had yet to plan ahead that far, so she was gobsmacked by her father’s insistence; not to mention Kakashi’s strangely immediate acquiescence to this demand.

“Sakura!”

“Daddy?”

Kakashi took the hint and stepped into the kitchen to give them privacy, a little too fast for Sakura’s liking.

Kizashi sighed, one hand falling to her stomach as he kissed her forehead. “What am I going to do with both of you?”

“Daddy, I—”

“It’s my fault. You felt you couldn’t talk to me. Did he… uh, take you against your—”

“No, daddy,” Sakura said, clasping his hand that was still on her stomach. “I wanted it.” She blushed as he glared up at the ceiling. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I got your letter.” He sighed as her face dropped. “I just want what’s best for you and I’ve failed you. Now you’re trapped with Mr. King of Black Market Erotica. Nothing immoral,” he assured her when she scrunched up her face in disgust. He sighed again. “Hatake! Get your arse out here!”

Kakashi did as he was told and waited until Kizashi had finished ranting at him again before seeing her father out. “I’ll be in touch for preparations,” her father said, before the door closed.

“Well, that went well,” she chuckled nervously.

They stood in silence again. It felt like she’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes. But as Sakura rubbed her stomach, and Kakashi couldn’t help but watch the motion carefully, she thought maybe that was okay. The father of her baby was no spring chicken. She smiled and he stepped over to her cautiously, placing a hand on her stomach.

Those mismatched eyes of his stared down at her and her breath caught in her throat as they twinkled, and he smiled. He was so beautiful. She suddenly couldn’t wait to see what their child would inherit from him. Sakura stood on her toes, held his face in both hands, and kissed him. He responded immediately; every inch of her body hummed, reminding her of their night together. Of their connection.

“I’ll do good by you, Sakura. I promise,” he said, once they were forced to stop in order to breathe.

And she believed him.

.:.

#KakaSaku #fanfiction #my fanfiction

13 notes · View notes

akihikosanada · 3 years

Note

tell me ur thoughts oh wise one on ushiwaka and also bartosz 😼

ok jokes aside even when i do nothing but make fun of him and how he never defeated hinata i don’t particularly hate him as a character????? he is the most stereotypical antagonist we have in haikyuu and definitely the one you would feel the least sympathetic about since it’s not like his backstory is anything particularly special however he has never been a character i’ve felt hatred against but instead full on indifference (read more because i went crazy stupid with this)

we love making fun of him and his “i’m better than you” mentality however this is something that was definitely thrust upon him thanks to the way shiratorizawa’s team works where all attention goes to him instead of anything else. however, he never let this mentality the team has affect their relationship with them since they could easily hate him for always being the player everyone talks about etc. there is a bonus chapter in the manga that was also included in the fourth movie where he talks to his junios about the things they could improve on in order to have the team reach higher places, which tells us that despite how unemotional he may look he observes his teammates and worries about their performance as any captain would. we never saw any other teammate be particularly mindful of this since it’s not like we saw daichi or kuroo tell each one of their teammates how to improve individually. this isn’t a criticism regarding them but rather showing how different their teams play since shiratorizawa focuses more on individual performance while karasuno and nekoma on teamwork. his relationship with his father is also really nice since he goes visit him later on and thanks him for never preventing him from being left handed as it worked wonders for his volleyball career. his friendship with tendo is also really sweet since despite being complete opposites they complement each other and acknowledge each other as their best friend. not that i defend him for being awful with them or anything but the only people he seemed to have treated with disrespect is hinata and kageyama when he met them on the street. he never treated his shiratorizawa peers with anything but respect and when he met iwa in california he never dismissed him as being below him and appreciated the input he gave him even if iwa was just a “college student” and he was a national team player. he is more blunt than anything particularly bad just like the time he told oikawa and iwa there was only one slot for the miyagi qualifiers. his whole “you should have come to shiratorizawa” skit with oikawa is more about him thinking that all there is to volleyball in high school is going to nationals, something oikawa definitely would have done if he had gone there. however, this was never what oikawa thought and thus shows no regrets of having attended seijoh instead and his journey in high school, something we see in the last chapter where we see him as an olympics player for argentina

ALSO before i forget something i forgot to talk about is how he completely changed his spiking form post timeskip which is something daichi asahi and suga take note of. despite his previous form being the reason he was a top 3 ace he didn’t stick to what was already good and decided to experiment with new things to the point his new form turned out being much better suited to him than his original one

anyways in conclusion while ushijima is definitely not a character i have as a fave or anything i feel like there is indeed some depth to his character after rereading the msby match and rewatching the shiratorizawa match. he may look incredibly blunt and seem very egotistical from his encounter with hinata and kags on the street (once again, not defending him for it he was mad annoying there and the fact that hinata won twice against him makes it hilarious) but it is also thanks to shiratorizawa’s influence on him and just his personality in general. he seems like one who has to see others play before respecting them as a group since we never saw him dismiss kageyama and hinata afterwards (that one time during youth camp could have also been about how he knows he wasn’t invited instead of believing he was not worthy of being there) so YEAH waka-chan in we respect a man who has basic hygiene <3 anyways fuck washijo i blushed so hard when ushijima hit him with a volleyball on haikyuu bu i feel like he is the reason shiratorizawa is like That and god bless everyone turned out pretty okay with the exception of shirabu fuck him.

ANYWAYS BARTOSZ TIME they did him so dirty on dark first of all his mother had CANCER and everyone was so mad at him for being distant and thinking about himself put some respect on the kid with the only sane family. he had really loving parents as he deserved however they were always busy which is the reason why he ended up on that weird drama with noah later on. maybe jonas should have spent more time with him playing on his playstation instead of lusting after martha -_- he was a really good friend to jonas who lied to everyone about him being in the hospital. meanwhile jonas was making us believe he took his gf from him when bartosz never even KNEW jonas had a crush on martha. the one who is on the wrong is jonas because he knew bartosz had a fat crush on her AND jonas’ aunt and yet he kissed her when he went back in time while bartosz had no idea about this 😔 we have no clue if he is alive in the correct timeline HOWEVER i refuse to think any differently because the only good dark family deserves being alive and well so he was chilling at home with his dad while regina was eating with the rest <3 also he looked really cute with the long hair on the bad timeline (where regina had died though we pretend that never happened 😔) so he gets points for being the only fashionable one who was just minding his business while everyone else was having crushes on their family members and whatever

#tiedemann supremacy always <3 #ask game #kat 🍙

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moonlightreal · 3 years

Text

Fate Episode One

At long last, it’s tiiiiiime!

First: whitewashing bad. Fact acknowledged. Everybody else has said everything on the subject (ad nauseum...) so no reason to say it all again!

I’m diving in with questions. The main one is “Will there be a good reason for Musa to be a mind fairy rather than a music fairy?” Dunno why that’s what I’m wondering the most, but it is. There’s also “Is Fate!Stella truly an unholy union of Stella and Diaspro?” and “so what makes them fairies not witches/psychics/mutants?” and “So what’s up with Beatrix? We know nothing about her, and as an Umineko fan I’m favorably disposed towards witches named Beatrice!” and also “They’re not really having sex are they?!”

I’m going to try and approach Fate just like I do every season of the cartoon, ready to celebrate the good, snark at the bad, enjoy many headcanons, reference random stuff, and have a good time. Pretending I haven’t had my fannish heart nigh to broken by the state of the fandom and that I’m worried I’ll get hate for even posting this. I’m’a try to start from zero to find my own answer the really big question… “Good, bad, or totally irredeemable?”

So… In which we discover a new world.

We start with… a night scene. Not promising when “too dark can’t see” is one of my pet peeves! An old fella comes out to check on his cute Irish sheep. He passes through the barrier, into the dangerous forest beyond to look for a missing sheep. Yup, he’s gonna be guest victim in the first five minutes.

Oh no! Something has disemboweled a sheep and left it hanging in a tree! Clearly there are leopards in the magical realm!

There is a great roar and an unseen but very large-sounding beast chases our poor shepherd! The guy trips and falls just as he’s about to get through the barrier and is set upon and devoured by the unseen beast! Blood spatters the rocks!

Opening! It’s the wings we’ve sen and some really beautiful music. One point for the music.

Then a gorgeous flying shot of the outside of the barrier and Alfea. Whatever the plot turns out to be, the outdoor setting is beautiful. Music that seems to be both pop and edgy plays as we zoom in on the logo on the gate, and there’s Bloom coming in the gate.

And there’s Terra with her father and a tray full of plants.

And there’s Aisha walking by with her dreads

And there’s Stella taking a selfie with other students.

And there’s Musa leaning on her suitcase, headphones on, looking at her phone. Another girl says something to Musa and she turns and replies and smiles.

And there’s one of the guys twirling a knife. I’ve heard Sky starts out in a pink shirt so this must be Riven. The camera comes back to Bloom as she gives him a doubtful look. In the novelization she’s mentally labeling him an edgelord, and that kinda fits. Any dude showing off his willingness to twirl weapons at a high school probably is best avoided—except the dudes here are training to fight so the weapons rules must be different. I wonder if Bloom knows yet that dudes with swords are normal here.

Bloom gets a text to meet Stella at the gate. She waits.

Camera pan to Sky talking to another guy. Sky looks… Sky-ish. Chris Evans style handsome, blond. I’d’ve made him grow his hair to mimic cartoon Sky’s silly shaggy haircut, but points for making Sky look like Sky! Minus points for not dying Riven maroon. They could’ve made it work!

Sky is indeed wearing a pink shirt. In the novelization Bloom thinks he’s wearing it “because gender roles were for the weak” which is a line I think is funny and intend to use in a story somewhere. There is no obvious hint in the show that Sky thinks gender roles are for the weak

Bloom’s tired of waiting. She heads off. Sky ditches his buddy to go meet her. “Wow, you are so lost. I’m impressed with your confidence in the face of complete ignorance. Issue is, you’re overcomitted. You’re essentially running. And now that I’m here you can’t possibly give me the satisfaction of turning around.” he says, all in one go.

I can’t decide if that’s jerkish or charming. Maybe Bloom shares my weakness for men with accents because she decides on charming.

Bloom says she’s a fairy, giggles because that’s something she never thought she’d say, they’re standing in the courtyard of a college for fairies, Bloom’s from California, not the Otherworld. So we get all that established. Sky is kinda charming here and points out the specialists’ hall and fairy hall.

Sky: “I’d be happy to-”

Bloom: “Mansplain it?”

So the writing team does know some modern issues! Bloom says Sky seems like a mansplainer, which seems like quite a leap since she is new and he is helping her, in a friendly-sarcastic kind of way. She’s giggling, clearly charmed.

Then Riven comes up, and he’s like a foot shorter than Sky, and Bloom escapes for some reason so maybe she wasn’t enjoying the conversation as much as it looked? Or maybe it was just the plot needs to move along. Riven glomp-hugs Sky. He’s got a great accent too.

Bloom must’ve left because she saw Stella, they say hello. Bloom says she got impatient waiting and Stella says, “How very American of you” So American stereotypes are known in magical worlds also?

So, Stella! Blonde, tall, zero Stella vibe. Accent. Long pale coat and a satiny top with big chunky pendant. She gets to her ring quick, “Portal ring, the only thing that keeps me sane in this place is the ability to leave it. Your world may not always be thrilling but it beats this one. There are seven realms in the Otherworld, each a different kind of boring.” All spoken in a jaded monotone. Ugh, what have they done to our Stella!

The girls walk inside while Stella speaks, the school is pale stone and arches and plants. Other students are arriving, hauling suitcases, hugging. At least some of them seem happy to be here!

Cut to the globe! and it’s a magical globe, the water moves and there are lil sailing ships! But the lands are totally blank, so it’s a cheap magic globe Dowling didn’t pay enough for the one with tiny forests too. Alfea is in the realm of Solaria.

Maybe they shouldn’t have made Ireland = Solaria. I’ve only been to England but we did not see the sun the whole trip! Bloom’s in Dowling’s really cool office. She spins the globe but the camera pans away before we see the names of the other realms. Bloom’s talking nervously about seeing people updating their insta stories, expecting Tinkerbells, and the lack of wings.

Dowling: “We had wings in the past. As we’ve evolved, transformation magic has been lost. Tink was an air fairy, you’re a fire fairy.”

Dowling says classes tomorrow, learn to use magic slowly but safely… we establish Bloom is here to learn to control her magic so she can go home and not keen on ‘slow.’ Dowling says, ‘trust the process’ which immediately makes me mistrust her.

Then she gives a great lil speech: “Alfea’s graduates have ruled realms and led armies. They have forged powerful relics and rediscovered long lost relics. They shape the otherworld.”

But Bloom just wants to get done and go home. She says, ‘I'm here because you promised you’d teach me control.” and Dowling says, ‘no, you’re here because you knew you have no other choice.” and Bloom looks betrayed.

Yeah Dowling’s sus.

Next scene: Bloom showing her dorm to her parents over video call! How does that work between dimensions? Her folks look nothing like Mika and Vanessa, dad’s got a beard and silver temples, mom’s got big blonde curls. Neither of them have burn injuries or the sort of freaked out vibe I’d expect from folks whose house was just on fire.

Roommate pan-around! Terra puts potted plants everywhere! Stella preens at the vanity! Musa headphones-and-laptop but smiles at Terra. Aisha comes in with her laundry bag.

Bloom’s parents get suspicious about the timezone thing, they think Bloom’s in the Alps, and Aisha comes and covers for her saying it’s time for lights out.

Aisha intro! She is wearing a pink and brown checkered dress that’s not super fashionable or flattering. I like her blue braids though. Aisha does not seem to have the accent that many Alfeans have.

Bloom explains the “human parents, fairy daughter, I must be a throwback to an ancestor” thing. Aisha looks dubious. Then they mention Harry Potter!

Bloom; ‘Ravenclaw, sometimes Slytherin.’

Aisha; ‘Explains the lies then. Gryffindor.’

Bloom: ‘Explains the judgment.’

Congrats, you both were jerks in three short lines. 9_9 But they’re smiling so I guess it’s friendly sniping.

Bloom goes to see Stella, who’s holding up sparkly tops to herself. She’s also got this weird rainbow skirt that looks like gymnastics clothes not real clothes. Stella’s changing for the party because people have already seen her in her clothes. Bloom asks confused, ‘People expect you to wear multiple outfits?’ and Stella comes back with, ‘people expect me to care how I look.” In the same jaded monotone.

Before Bloom can WTF outta there like a sensible person Stella snaps her fingers and creates a ball of light. Bloom gapes, but not nearly as much as I feel like she should. The magic is beautiful, it’s all rainbowy and sparkly. Bloom just hesitantly asks, ‘Can I ask, how exactly you..?” and Stella shuts her down with an almost kind, “I’m a mentor, not a tutor.”

But she does give a little infodump. “Fairy magic is tied to emotion. God thoughts, bad, hatred, fear, the stronger the emotion the stronger the magic.”

And Bloom says, ‘Do you hate me or fear me? You were looking at me when you did that. And I’m pretty sure you don’t love me.” Smart cookie, Bloom! Points to you! We know it’s because Bloom was talking to sky, and that gives Stellla some emotions.

And points to Stella, she thaws out her voice and talks like a real person, ‘I don’t know you. I’m sure once I do I’ll find something to love.” She sounds rather doubtful about the last bit but yay actual emotion!

Then Stella goes over to Terra for her intro scene and I cringe because the novelization did Terra dirty and I’m not keen to see it on screen. But it works ok. Stella gently calls Terra on the number of houseplants and says the secret garden was better kept secret, Terra responds that wasn’t really the message of the book, Stella looks at her with amused patience and leaves Musa and Terra to continue the scene. And I decide if there’s no infodump about how earth and the Otherworld relate to each other in this show I shall be cross.

Then Terra chatters on about her family and how she grew up at Alfea since her dad works here (she’s holding a 100% fake plant) and drops that Stella is a second year. Musa asks why a second-year is in a first-year suite and Terra says it’s some administrative thing probably best not to mention. But Terra totally knows the secret.

Musa’s eyes glow purple. Magic! But we don’t hear what she hears. She starts putting her headphones on. Terra goes on to say they should all not mention it to Stella, then interrupts another headphones-attempt to offer Musa a succulent, “They’re low maintainence, perfect for you, not that I really know you...’

Musa: ‘If I take it will you stop talking?”

Terra visibly deflates and Musa apologizes and grabs the succulent before finally getting to escape into music.

Aisha leans in to ask Terra if Alfea has a pool. It has a river and Aisha’s been swimming—twice a day every day! Terra says no pool, just the pond where the specialists train but nobody swims there, at least not on purpose.

And we immediately cut out to the pond, which looks pretty mucky, I wouldn’t want to swim there either! Two specialists, a boy and a girl, are whacking away at each other with wooden swords on the shore. They’re all dressed in black pants and tank tops, very Divergent movie poster except with the Alfea logo on the front. There’s a bunch of specialists training all around the pond and one does indeed knock their opponent in with a splash! But we home in on Sky and Riven and I cannot get over how short and skinny Riven is compared to Sky! And the fact that I’ve just been rewatching Lord of the Rings and Riven doesn’t look 100% not like Dominic Monaghan… sorry Riven’s actor, I’m sure in future episodes I’ll stop thinking you’re a hobbit!

Anyway, Riven’s teasing Sky about his crush on Bloom, says Sky always goes for the crazy ones and all redheads are crazy. Sky puts Riven on the mat and Riven says he was getting high all summer and not practicing. Before Sky can give him a “big brother speech” on that riven skedaddled because here comes the teacher with a different speech!

This show’s Codatorta, whose name is Silva and who looks very irish and I like him, does a little speech about how y’all gotta train, singles out a black guy I think is Dane and says, ‘even you will be able to fight like him.” and attacks Sky, who fights back. They spar for a minute.

Infodump: “Sky’s father was Andreas of Eraklyon, that makes him a legacy.” Also, some of these kids are from families of specialists and some were selected by Silva based on their talent for combat and weaponry. “This place will seem like hell until actual hell comes. We are the first line of defense, a certainty when the future is uncertain!’

Then Dane snickers about the whole ‘school full of kids with swords’ and Silva says it must be nice to be so ‘soft’ he can make fun. And Dane drops that the barrier exists ‘to protect the school from Burned Ones.”

As he says it, we cut to Sky going out through the barrier to smoke.

Burned ones are gone. But Silva saw one when he was a kid. His father shot it but was killed by the Burned One’s poison. Burned Ones are inhumanly strong and fast, and have a terrible poison, or disease that kills people who get away.

Sky looks over and sees the shepherd’s body. Yikes!

Cut to the staff arriving to look at the remains. Just three: Dowling, Codatorta, and Terra’s dad. Is that the whole staff? Who teaches? Could’ve been a wolf or a bear… Terra’s dad collects some gunk from the body and I think calls it “char residue.”

Dowling says, “She killed all the Burned Ones.”

She? This world’s Marion/Daphne, likely.

But the adults clean it up so the kids can party! Our girls are gathered around the food, and they’re better dressed! Aisha’s got her hair up and a blue hoodie, Musa’s got a little red coat. Terra has not been blessed by the fashion fairy, she’s in some overalls it looks like, not flattering. Terra is saying hopefully that maybe the shepherd died of old age and Musa’s ‘Yeah, that old age decapitation” is gentle ribbing not cruel.

Aisha’s loading up a stack of cookies, says how much she eats and, ‘If I didn’t swim I’d be massive.” it’s not aimed at Terra , but Terra flinches. Aisha heads off and Terra says something that boils down to, ‘Musa, you’re tuning out me in particular.” which, Terra you’ve known Musa for what, six hours? Way too short a time to take it personal. Musa says, ‘It’s a me thing, it’s not you.” and Terra just flusters and heads away. Musa looks troubled but not sure what to do and puts her headphones on.

This is SO much better than in the book. Not perfect, all the interactions between the girls have been very weird as if they’ve been given a script full of cruel catty lines and instructed to say them in a kind way, but at least they’ve tried for the vibe of “trying to be nice to people we don’t know yet and flubbing it” rather than “we are all terrible people” like I feared.

Terra meets her dad and tries to go to the greenhouse with him but he makes her stay to enjoy the party.

Cut to some grownup dude—Dowling’s secretary? Apparently searching for something in a desk that I presume is outside the headmistress’ office.

Beatrix… or possibly a gothed-up Bloom… comes to see Dowling and when told the headmistress isn’t in says, ‘I’ll just take a water, room temp, thanks love.’ and then when the door opens Beatrix greets Dowling with a simpering ‘I'm your biggest fan, I’m obsessed with Alfea...” and cascading apologies for swearing, with more swearing. Dowling and her secretary are as confused by this as I am but Dowling says Beatrix can study the history of Alfea in the library if she wants to. I assume this is evil Beatrix slyly getting permission to hit the books. Is Beatrix even a student at Alfea?

Cut to Bloom’s notebook, she’s already started taking notes about powers being linked to emotions, love hate and fear. Great initiative Bloom, but are there no textbooks you could be reading ahead in?

We get dumped back to a flashback: Bloom’s mom wants her to go out on a Saturday night, to a party or a movie or whatever teen thing. All Bloom wants to do is go to antique sales apparently. Bloom doesn’t want to be a “basic bitch” like her mom and her mom doesn’t want her daughter to be a “weird loner.”

Pause while I urban dictionary “basic bitch.” Huh. Not a term I ever heard in my circle of nerds.

Bloom and her mom are awful to each other. Back in the present Bloom’s eyes flame up as she remembers. She decides it’s time to go experiment! Right now! Before even one day of magic class or one page of a textbook! The idiot ball has entered play.

Night has fallen because of course it has. Bloom runs into Sky at the party. But she’s not looking to party, she’s looking for a place to be alone outside. Sky directs her to beyond the barrier, because we’re about to have Plot. If it weren’t for Plot I‘m sure Sky could’ve suggested a specialist workout area inside the barrier. Sky says there might be wolves or bears or “maybe something much scarier” and Bloom catches the idiot ball and says, ‘But no people? Perfect!”

Sky offers to go with her but Bloom says no thanks in a “I think you may be flirting and I may be down for that in the future just not right now.” kind of a way. Good character interaction! Except Stella grabs Sky for a chat once Bloom heads out to meet the Plot.

Sky and Stella have an opaque exchange that really just establishes they have a past of some sort that everyone knows about because everyone stares—or at least Stella thinks everyone is staring. I’m starting to feel weirdly sorry for this Stella who has none of her namesake’s sparkle and confidence. Why does she think all the realms are boring? Is she ever enthusiastic?

...wait, it’s still day! Why was it night inside?? This show is weird about lighting. Gosh Ireland is beautiful! Where’s this castle they got to be Alfea? Can I go there? This FOREST! It is a fully magical forest. Aisha is swimming in the river, with goggles and a cap but Bloom heads into the amazing forest. Good music here too! Forests and magic and music, come on Fate you CAN be a good show, I believe in you! Just put down the idiot ball and step away... Bloom goes through the barrier and outside it sees a swirl of orange and white sparkles in the air. She watches it and laughs and then hikes through a little more forest.

Finding a clearing Bloom calls her fire. At first she can’t, then she looks through the pictures on her phone looking for emotion. “Pictures of my sad teenage years are not happy thoughts. Noted.” She says with an angsty little smile. Then there’s a photo of the burned out house. She zooms in and stares at it taking in all the details. And we get flashbacks to the line of fire racing towards her parents’ bed.

Fire! Bloom turns her handful of fire this way and that, delighted, then tries for two hands. This is the scene from the trailer, playing with fire. Good music here. And good that Bloom thought the magic was neat… uuuuntil she realizes she doesn’t know how to put it out. She freaks out and waves her hands around trying to blow out the flames.

Aisha comes to the rescue and says dumb things like, “You’re losing control.” and “If you get angry at me...” and Bloom does get angry and throws lines of fire right at Aisha. Who looks terrified. Sensibly, but also has she never seen fire magic before? She grew up in a magic realm, does she know nothing about how to help someone get control? Is control taught to magical babies so teenagers rarely see someone wigging out? But if magic is emotion then everyone will lose control sometime since we all get upset. How does an emotion=magic society function?

Anyway. aisha pulls water up from the ground and puts out the flames.

Inside Aisha gives Bloom what for about losing control. Including, “Is that American for sorry I almost set you on fire?” Srsly, this show is Irish people and Italians stealth throwing shade at Americans! *Laughs in January 2021* Bloom retorts that she went away from people to experiment for just that reason, and tells Aisha about not having had fairy parents or any magical experience.

Aisha responds with the story of flooding her school including the toilets and having to wade through poo. (I also tend to call it poo, after watching Mike Rowe. I wonder if they watch Dirty Jobs in the Otherworld.)

And Bloom tells her story. Bloom isn’t a cheerleader, she likes antiques and staying home by herself, so she and her mom don’t get along. Her parents removed her door, which is awful! And Bloom got flamey eyes and sent fire straight at her parents while they slept. While Bloom sat on her bed in a rage trance. Understandable level of fury after that fight. And Bloom feels awful, also understandable. And she snuck out to sleep in a creepy warehouse to protect her parents. Her folks didn’t know it was her of course, they don’t know about magic.

Aisha says that beats her flood story, but Aisha is also wondering about something. “You drew on a good deal of magic without even trying. it’s hard to believe you’re from a dormant bloodline. Is there any chance you’re adopted?”

Bloom laughs. Then says she heard the story of her birth a million times, she was a miracle baby diagnosed with a heart defect but then after birth her heart was fine.

Aisha: “Oh god, you’re a changeling!” … ‘It’s barbaric and it barely ever happens anymore….”

Bloom has had enough and just says, “why would you even tell me that?” and leaves. Musa comes over and asks Aisha what she said. Aisha: “The truth. Because someone’s been lying to her.”

Cut to Dowling, lookin’ sus!

This changeling thing had better be fully explained later. Why was it done in the past? Why is it considered barbaric? What happened to the parents’ real kid? I assume she died of the heart condition, but that’s a bigole dangling bit of Plot. In the unlikely event that Fate goes for many seasons that baby will turn up with magic too or as a specialist or something.

Dowling pours tea. Then she telekinetically locks her office door and opens a secret passage! Dowling is sus.

Back at the party, where it again seems to be night. Dane is leaning on a column hangin out when here comes Riven with a flask! He offers, Dane says no thanks, Riven says, ‘There are two types of first-years: pussies and aspiring former pussies.” and pours the entire flask’s worth of booze into Dane’s cup anyway.

Dane says something about, “It feels like less a binary choice and more like a spectrum.” And points for the actor delivering this line like it’s a sarcastic comment on social juscice-ness rather than the large sign saying “Dane is not straight!’ that the writers intended. Dane drinks, makes a face, and Riven bullies him into drinking the rest, tipping the glass so Dane chokes.

Terra rides to the rescue, “Bullying the first-years? Can you be more basic?” and Riven says Dane was into it which he wasn’t.

Terra: “Thinks he’s some badass but you should’ve seen him last year he was just a tragic nerd in disguise.”

Riven: “And she’s just three people in disguise.”

Dane does call Riven out on that bit of nastiness but Terra just does a great lil speech and strangles Riven with vines. Thought I’d hate that but I kinda liked it. Go Terra. Then she introduces herself to Dane, says that wasn’t a great first impression but Dane says he’s about to make an impression by throwing up after a single drink, and Terra hurries him away presumably to the nurse.

Bloom google-imaged changelings! Lotsa woodcuts, someone’s fanart entitled “horror of fairy babies.’ There’s more nuance to it than that… Bloom looks at a family photograph.

There’s Stella, coming to be sympathetic? Nope, she’s coming to conivingly advance the plot! “You know there’s no shame in that, wanting a normal life, wanting to be home...”

When the girls get back Bloom is nowhere to be found. Musa mind-reads that Stella is wracked with guilt, They put it together, Bloom was talking to Sky and now she’s gone. Apparently Stella did something nasty to the last girl who talked to Sky. Terra is kinda straight up badass. Stella confesses, she kindly loaned Bloom the portal ring so she could go back to “the first world” but to use it Bloom has to go deep into the forest outside the barrier to a door in a graveyard.

Portal’s super low special effects, Bloom pushes open a door in a cemetary, the ring glows, and Bloom walks into what must be the warehouse she hid out in.

It’s very dark inside both buildings but away from the cemetary it seems to still be day so we can see a Burned One’s shadow coming towards the portal. Day and night seem to depend on location in this show, and anywhere you need a monster it’s gonna be dark! Bloom seems to leave the magic portal open and we see her step out on the warehouse into a weirdly well-lit night on earth.

Real actual nighttime on earth. Bloom walks to her parents’ house and calls them from outside. Her dad’s surprised she called twice in one day. This call her folks seem just worried and nice, not awful like they were in the flashback. Bloom cries. She can’t ask her parents about the changeling thing. Her mom says very kind, ‘Your path isn’t like mine or your father’s but I can’t wait to see who you become.” Bloom hangs up and cries and watches her parents in their house, then walks back to the warehouse to return to Alfea.

But first we get to see where she was camping! In a little office in the warehouse. She brought a lot of stuff, bedding and pictures for the walls and everything. She opens a notebook and we see that she was experimenting already, discovered she was fireproof, wondered if she had superpowers. Then she senses something and looks out through an interior window into the rest of the warehouse.

Yikes! it’s a Burned One!

Bloom staggers back, trips, and drops Stella’s ring down a grate in the floor.

Bloom’s never heard of Burned Ones at this point but she knows a monster when she sees one. She cowers, back to the wall. The Burned One breaks through the window and tries to grab her!

Bloom escapes into some kind of tunnel, I guess she opened the grate that the ring fell through? It’s not totally clear. There’s the ring, on the other side of a different grate or screen, Bloom can’t reach it, there’s lots of roaring, Bloom runs like hell!

And there’s Dowling! She says, ‘don’t stop now.’ and gestures Bloom through the door back to the cemetery. The door closes behind her. Terra, Musa and Aisha are waiting to make sure Bloom’s ok. Bloom says the Burned One got the ring.

Stella, meanwhile, is on Sky’s bed when he comes out of the shower! Dressed, at least.

Sky is not interested. “You can’t be here, Stell. If Silva finds out-’ Sky goes for his trousers but Stella comes over and snuggles up to his bare back. Sky is still not keen. Seems Stella dumped him then went silent all summer and now she’s jumping in since he talked to Bloom. Stella… comes out and says, “I got jealous. I did something really stupid.” and she says, “I can’t sleep in a room where everybody hates me.” For sending Bloom into danger to get home when that’s what Bloom wanted? Not great, Stella, but hateworthy? Did the girls all tell her they hate her or does Stella just think she’s an awful person? And is Stella actually desperately unhappy or is she just trying to get in Sky’s pants? Not sure what to take away from this. Sky hugs Stella and tells her she’s better than she thinks she is.

The others get back to the dorm and Aisha reassures Bloom that Dowling can take care of the Burned One.

Cut to Beatrix leaving her raid on the library with armfuls of books. She passed Riven, who’s smoking. They say flirty things and Beatrix says she’s been “snorting the midnight adderall” to show that she’s a bad girl. Riven offers her a puff but her hands are full of books so they do this almost-kiss so Riven can blow smoke into her mouth. Erotic, also gross. Is that a real thing people do? Riven asks Beatrix if she’s a first-year and she says “I’m lots of things” and walks off leaving Riven and the room he’s in, which has the most gorgeous arched windows with trees in them. Is this place real? It’s the same place the party was but now it’s night and these windows are glowing green with tree outlines in them. This has gotta be something the filmmakers added.

Pajama scene in the girls’ suite, Terra waters plants, Musa hops in bed with headphones on. Terra does a needy little wave. Musa reluctantly un-headphones. Terra offers a speaker she borrowed from her brother so Musa can have her music without shutting other people out.

And I cringe so hard because just let people tune you out if they want! Communicate by whiteboard! People not wanting to share doesn’t mean they hate you, it means they have their own thoughts they’re busy with! Come on Terra, be better than your novelization self!

Musa calls Terra out on her fake-happy bullshit. Musa can feel all of Terra’s insecurities and anger. Seems like maybe empaths shouldn’t have to share a room! What’s the range on mind reading? How did Musa hit 16 without learning to tune stuff out or going mad? But Musa says, ‘but if you want to know how I really feel...” and switches her music to a speaker, it’s guitar-y and nice.

Up in Dowling’s office, Silva says she should’ve killed the Burned One not left it chained up and knocked out in a shack outside the barrier. Dowling needs to investigate this Burned One, see if there are more of them. Then Dowling spills that Bloom is a changeling, from the time the last Burned One disappeared. And she says, “Rosalind kept so much from us. I’m worried about the students. The Alfea they know is very different from the one we attended.” There’s something very “there was a war before” about the two of them. Dowling may not be sus after all, though that may make her a terrible headmistress depending on how the next episodes go.

Montage of sleeping students. Terra and Dane are texting. Dane accidentally likes one of Riven’s sexy photos. Riven’s pleased. Sky and Stella are sharing a bed but after the last scene I can’t imagine they actually did anything. Sky seemed pretty unseduceable.

And outside a Mysterious Cloaked Figure passes through the barricade, finds the Burned One in the hut, and zaps it awake with lightning. It pushed back its hood… Beatrix! So if she undid her too-tight braids she’d be Stormy? So is Beatrix the villain? I mean obviously she’s a villain but the threat of the Burned Ones feels... bigger than one teenager in Bratz clothes who has not got the presence of even one Trix much less all three wrapped up together. But anyway she’ gets to be a doomful cloaked figure at the end of episode one.

Very pretty ending credits music. Listened to it several times. I can’t understand the lyrics which is probably just as well. Is it in irish or is it just sung in a way to not have clear lyrics? C’mon fate, Irishness is a big thing you’ve got going for you, please milk it for all its worth!

I… I LIKED it! Now my friends say future episodes get worse so I can’t get my hopes too high but this wasn’t awful. None of the girls really had any vibe of their characters, only Bloom and Sky really look like Bloom and Sky. The worldbuilding is lacking, I’m left with more questions than answers.

And oh god one episode was ten pages and about five hours. I… I meant to do this with every episode but I’m not sure I can. There’s so much to comment on it takes forever. Maybe I’ll do each one in parts. Or maybe I’ll abandon the writing and just watch the show like a normal person. It’s a lot of fun to fine-toothed comb each scene but I’m’a be here forever!

#fate the winx saga

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