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splendidly-secret-sick-fics · 3 years

Note

THANKS FOR ANSWERING MY PROMT I LOVE IT CAN'T WAIT FOR PART 2!!

The Biggest Idiot of All Idiots: A Miya twins sickfic (Part 2)

Characters: sick Atsumu, caretakers Osamu & Mama Miya (lol)

Word Count: 2,418

Warnings: swearing, vomiting, and Miya-family fluff

Part 1

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I’M SO EXCITED THAT YOU LIKED IT!! YAY!

I’m back with Part 2 a lot sooner than expected. So yay me. I did this instead of working. Oops.

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Osamu was lulled into a sense of false security.

Atsumu slept for over an hour. With how out of it and overheated Atsumu was earlier, it was no surprise that he zonked the minute his head hit the pillow.

So Osamu thought, maybe there was no other shoe. Maybe his twinstincts were wrong this time. He even felt good enough about this deduction that he told his mom to stay out and finish her errands. That he had things under control.

It only took another twenty minutes for him to fully regret that decision.

The video game he was playing, mindless though it was, kept him distracted from the fast devolving situation on the top bunk right above him. It wasn’t until Tsumu called his name weakly that he registered that the whimpering he’d been hearing for the last 20 minutes was his brother and not the video game.

“Samu,” Atsumu wheezed. The sound of his ragged breaths dropped a small rock of worry into Osamu’s stomach, but he tried to remain calm; to ignore his gut. Maybe if he did, things would be fine. He didn’t need to blow things out of proportion when it came to Atsumu, the self-titled Biggest Drama Queen.

“What?” He called, continuing his game.

“Too...too loud,” Atsumu moaned.

“The volume is barely loud enough for me to hear. Don’t be so dramatic,” Osamu replied.

“No…” his voice shook, “it’s pound-pounding.”

Osamu rolled his eyes, but turned the volume down nonetheless.

“Anything else, Princess?”

“Hot...s’hot… les go go insi-inside,” Atsumu whimpered. At that, Osamu immediately went on high alert. They were inside, had been inside for a couple hours now. He should know that.

In one swift movement, he paused his game and hopped onto his bed to check on Atsumu. The rock of anxiety quickly turned into a boulder at his twin’s appearance.

Atsumu was panting, his breaths shallow, and his face was an almost ashen grey color, save for the red flush spread across his cheeks. He was curled into a tight ball, his arms wrapped around his stomach protectively. Worse than anything else, the unmasked pain that was etched into every inch of his face made Osamu grab at his own stomach, suddenly very sick with worry.

“Tsumu,” he said gently, because Atsumu was dramatic, yes, but those theatrical tendencies stemmed from an obscene amount of anxiety that he shoved deep into the locked safe of his mind. Calm, soothing, gentle, those were the things Osamu needed to be right now.

“Hey, Tsumu, look at me,” he demanded as softly as possible. He reached for Atsumu and put a hand on his cheek. Atsumu winced away, but not quickly enough for Osamu to miss the heat radiating off of him. He cursed under his breath.

“Samu, wanna go inside,” Atsumu nearly slurred. Osamu bit his lip. Slurring was absolutely no good.

“We are inside, Tsumu,” he tried, putting a comforting hand on Atsumu’s quivering shoulders.

“‘S too hot,” came the reply. Osamu jumped off his bed and crossed the room to turn on the ceiling fan.

“Can ya tell me what else is wrong?” Osamu asked when he got back to Atsumu’s side. He ran his hand through Atsumu’s hair like their mom did. Like he did when they were kids.

Atsumu shook his head, “I feel ba-bad.”

In that moment, all Osamu could see was his stupid, sniveling little brother upset and in need of consoling because some jackasses on their elementary volleyball team called him mean names. The trembling, crying, whining teenager before him resembled nothing more than that little kid who hadn’t learned how to ignore other people’s opinions yet. It brought every ounce of protectiveness that Osamu held for his brother flooding forward with full force.

“Okay, alright. Hey, it’s fine, Tsumu. ‘M gonna help ya. Just hold on,” Osamu got off his bed and grabbed his phone. He needed to get his mom home to help. He also needed to bring down Atsumu’s fever. His brain told him he needed to get the sweatshirt off his brother and try and get him into a cool bath.

As he climbed the ladder to get to Atsumu on the top bunk, he called his mom.

“Hey, sweetie! What’s u—“

“Ma, come home now,” Osamu interrupted, trying to convey the urgency of the situation quickly.

“Osamu? What’s wrong? Is yer brother o—“

“No, Ma. No. He’s got a wicked fever and he’s hurtin’ but I don’t know why. I can’t help him because I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s hurtin’ him,'' Osamu reeled. Talking to his mom, he noticed, for the first time, the knot in his throat and the burning of tears behind his eyes.

“Okay. Calm down, Samu. I’ll be home as quickly as I can. In the meantime, just keep him calm and cool, alright?”

Osamu nodded, took a centering breath and squeezed himself between Atsumu’s back and the wall.

“Alright. Okay. See you soon.” He hung up and turned his attention back to his brother. The warmth coming off of him was palpable. He steeled himself and put a hand on Atsumu’s arm.

“Tsumu, I’m gonna pull ya upright, okay? Gotta get this sweatshirt offa ya,” he said as steadily as he could. Atsumu only whined in response.

He took that as a go ahead though and gently eased Atsumu into a seated position. As soon as he was upright and before Osamu could even blink, Atsumu’s stomach gurgled, his cheeks puffed out and he forcefully vomited all over his bed.

(Osamu thanked every god ever that he sat adjacent to Atsumu, and not in front of him.)

“Shit, Atsumu!” He exclaimed. If Atsumu heard it, he didn’t register it. He only heaved again, wheezing and hacking. Sympathy pains rattled Osamu’s chest at the sight and his stomach turned over itself.

“Sam—“ Atsumu tried, grasping at his brother’s arm frantically. He was cut off by another mouthful of green puke exiting his mouth violently. Osamu grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed.

“It’s alright, Tsumu, it’s okay. You didn’t mean to. Just get it up, okay? I’m here,” he soothed. The hand not holding Atsumu’s found his twin’s sweaty, shivering back and rubbed calmly between his shoulder blades.

Atsumu gagged again, his whole body shuddering and Osamu’s face contorted in sympathy.

“Fuck, Tsumu. How’d you get so sick so quick?”

Atsumu belched wetly in response. Nothing more came up, thankfully. His head hung limply over his lap, which was unfortunately covered in puke, and he panted, catching his breath.

Osamu let him calm down for a minute or two and surveyed the mess in front of him. Almost the entirety of the top bunk was covered in vomit and there was absolutely no way that Osamu could get his brother off the bed without dragging him through the mess. Not even he was that cruel.

Atsumu whimpered and Osamu returned his attention to him.

“Samu, ‘m sorry, I didn-- it jus--,” he cut himself off with a whimper. Osamu heard that subtle crack in his twin’s voice that signaled a bigger break down on the way. He needed to prevent that meltdown, or it would just make things worse.

“Hey, no it’s fine,” Osamu reassured, “Obviously it wasn’t on purpose, ya idiot. Don’t cry or it’ll make things worse.” He hugged Atsumu, trying hard to ignore the vomit that was inevitably going to get all over his shirt.

Atsumu shook his head and whined again.

“Tsumu, really. It’s alright, okay. ‘S not even that bad.” Atsumu inhaled shakily, whimpered as he did so. This wasn’t working.

“For real. ‘Member that time I puked all over the living room? We were watchin’ a movie with the team and I was already sick, but insisted that I wasn’t? Then I got squeamish durin’ the gorry part and threw up everywhere. You and Kita-san had to drag me to the bathroom. That was way worse than this,” he offered, cringing at the memory. Maybe his own embarrassment would lessen Atsumu’s.

“Here, it’s just me and I already know yer a disgustin’ piece of crap. This ain’t gonna change my opinion at all,” he finished. Thankfully, Atsumu chuckled a little and Osamu knew that he was in the clear. At least for now.

He pulled his brother away from his chest and used the bottom of his already ruined shirt to wipe off his face.

“Got quite the fever, there, Tsumu,” he sighed.

“I really don’t fee-feel good…” Atsumu muttered, breathless and hoarse.

“No shit, idiot.” Atsumu only frowned deeper in response.

“I need ya to sit here for just a sec, okay? Just gotta get these nasty ass sheets off the bed and then I’ll help ya down. You should take a cool bath to get yer temp down.” Osamu carefully gathered the blanket and took it down the ladder. He grabbed the trash can in the corner of the room and handed it up to Atsumu before taking the soiled material to the guest bathroom where he plopped it in the bathtub with a sickening splat.

Before he went back into his room to face his sick brother, Osamu took a second to collect himself. He dropped down to his knees, holding onto the bathroom sink for stability and inhaled slowly.

Atsumu was really sick. It wasn’t a usual occurrence (usually it was Osamu who got hit first; Atsumu cared too much about missing volleyball and was a borderline germaphone because of it) but it’s not like it’s never happened before. It was just so…shocking. Osamu needed to find some sense of grounding and push aside his worry for a little to be more effective at helping his brother until their mom got home.

When he felt calmer, he went back to their room, only to find Atsumu heaving into the trash can.

“Tsumu…” Osamu frowned.

“Samu,” Atsumu cried, “I feel-feel so bad. I just want to-want to sleep.”

“I know,” Osamu said, crawling back onto the top bunk. He rubbed Atsumu’s back again and waited for the spell to pass.

“Let’s get ya cleaned up, okay?”

It wasn’t a fun process and Osamu would have punched Atsumu more than once if he wasn’t so sick, but eventually and after much struggle, Osamu got himself and Atsumu cleaned up. At some point, their mom got home and started gathering all the necessities for the Certified Atsumu-is-a-Whiny- Baby-When-He’s-Sick package in their room (it included the latest manga, his baby blanket, those nasty green sports drinks, and a few other things that the Princess desired).

Osamu sat in the bathroom with Atsumu while he cooled down in the bathtub, though his twin told him he could leave. He made up some excuse about making sure that he didnt drown and sat against the wall of the bathroom.

With the curtain shut and Atsumu currently calm and not puking, Osamu allowed himself to relax for a bit. He didn’t realize how much tension he held in his shoulders and jaw until then and slowly loosened everything up. He scoffed at himself. Atsumu was the only person in the world that could make Osamu that tense with worry and yet still pissed him off to the point that he was practically begging to get punched in the face.

About half an hour later, Miya-san and Osamu settled Atsumu into the bottom bunk (“no freakin’ chance you can sleep in yer own bed, Tsumu. We ain’t cleaning up the top bunk again”). A thermometer hung out of his mouth limply while he pouted.

Even before the thermometer beeped, Osamu could tell his fever was lower. Not gone, but at least lower than before. It settled more of the tightness in his shoulders.

“No volleyball fer ya fer a few days, Tsumu,” Miya-san declared after she checked the thermometer.

“Figured as much,” Atsumu huffed. He was putting on a tough bravado, but Osamu didn’t miss how he was already half-asleep again.

“Gee, thanks Tsumu. Now I’m gonna have to play setter and wing--” Their mom cut Osamu off with a hearty guffaw.

“As if yer goin’ to practice, Samu. You think yer safe from this? If I have learned anythin’ about bein’ the parent of two boys as close as you two, it’s that when one goes down, the other goes down right after him.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about? I hate this guy.”

“Mhm, sure. I’ll go ahead and call yer coach. Good thing it’s summer break and ya don’t have classes!” Miya-san said smugly as she left the room.

Osamu glared at Atsumu who only smirked tiredly back. A second later, he closed his eyes and groaned, squirming around in bed.

“You okay?” Osamu asked before he could stop himself. Atsumu smiled lazily and peered up at his brother.

“Yeah. Thanks, Samu. Fer bein’ my brain and catchin’ this before I did.” Osamu blinked at him. If he wasn’t an asshole himself, he would smile and say it was no big deal.

But they were twins after all, and so Osamu was indeed just as big of an asshole as Atsumu.

“Ya better be,” he scoffed. Atsumu opened his mouth to protest, but closed his eyes suddenly.

“Tsumu?”

“Just got dizzy. It’s fine.” He exhaled and opened his eyes again. They were still hazy and half-lidded with fever.

“Just go to sleep, dumbass,” Osamu muttered and sat on the bed by Atsumu’s ribs. He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, just like he did when they were kids. Even if Atsumu no longer looked like that tragic, pathetic child, a part of Osamu would always feel the need to shield his brother from the harsh world. Deep down, he hoped Atsumu felt the same way.

(Sometime later, their mom walked in the room to find her two sons sound asleep together on the bottom bunk. Osamu lay across Atsumu’s middle, one arm stretched by his face and the other stretched towards Atsumu’s hair. She laughed to herself at the fact that, no matter how old they got, they always seemed to fall asleep in this exact position if they were near each other.

The next day, Osamu cursed out Atsumu as he threw up in the bathtub. Atsumu swore at him from his position over the toilet. Their mother secretly delighted in getting to take care of her baby boys again and brought them their blue and green sports drinks.)

#haikyuu sickfic #sick atsumu #caretaker Osamu #caretaker mama miya #tw vomit #miya astumu #miya osamu #haikyuu

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walkerwords · 4 years

Text

“The Bourbon Drinker and the Brute” Negan x F!Reader

Summary: When you are trying to relax mid-apocalypse, Negan comes across you while he is on his way back to Alexandria, dragging Rick and Carl along. What happens when he tries to engage with you in conversation? Will you humor him? Essentially, you meet Negan while he's on the road and you are less than impressed.

Word Count: 1944

Warning: mention of past abuse, swearing, drinking, negan being negan

Song I Wrote To: “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage The Elephant

Notes: This is also posted on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23147752

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The apocalypse was not something you would have thought would happen while you were alive.

The Dead rising? That was something that was from movies and comic books, not seen from your backyard. You had been on your own since the start of the infection and would occasionally find groups, but it never lasted longer than a few weeks. You started to realize that maybe the humans were worse than the dead.

Everyone knew that some of the Living were trying to build a new world order. There was talk about communities rising out of the rubble, but you always stayed clear of any place that had barbed wire and walls. It wasn’t ideal to be on your own all the time, but you figured it was better than being under the rule of someone who felt the need to be the new advocate for humanity. Especially when they had guns.

Shortly after the initial wave of the Dead, you found out that noise was the worse thing. You had a pistol, still did for emergencies, but your preferred weapon was the bow in your hands and the quiver on your back. You learned to shoot at a young age. Your grandfather was an archer and your mother as well. It was her bow that you carried. You didn’t know if either of them were still alive, but you kept that hope in your heart as you made your way across the southern states of America.

Sleep was hard to come by and being alone meant nobody was there to be a lookout. You started by locking yourself in old hotel rooms and abandoned schools, but you soon found that being indoors only made the Dead smell you more and so you took to the outdoors whenever the weather allowed it. Your favourite place was trees and you’ve even been lucky to find empty tree houses in which you removed the ladders and scaled the trees. You made camp there until you ran out of supplies and had to be on the move once again.

On the rare occasions that you ran into people, you stayed hidden and prayed that they wouldn’t discover you. It happened a lot at first, but now, people were rare in the more rural areas. Either they had found shelter, fell victim to the Dead, or they had even joined the Dead themselves. It was just the way it was, people weren’t around anymore.

However, that changed the day you met a group that terrified and also annoyed you to no end. You knew you were risking it being so close to what you called a safe haven. It was reckless to be in a territory you knew was run by armed men and women, but supplies were short and so you had to make runs. A recent one gained you a new bottle of bourbon that was not only delicious, but much needed.

So, there you were, laying in the bright Southern sun, on the ledge of an abandoned pedestrian bridge. Both sides had been blown out by someone or torn apart by something and barricaded to restrict access, so you had to climb a few of the overgrown vines. However, you were just glad to be up high and even let your right leg swing lazily off the side.

It was around midday when you were keeping your ears open for the dead and you heard the rumbling of multiple cars. It wasn’t unheard of to hear the odd engine, but nowadays it was rare. You tried to stay clear of the people in the area and now you were regretting the bourbon run even more so. You kept your breathing even as the procession of vehicles stopped before your bridge and many men and women filed out of the cars, guns in hand. You lazily lift your bottle to your lips. It’s nearly empty and you’re enjoying it till the last drop. You take another pull when you hear the brutish voice from down below.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” You prop yourself up onto your elbows, securing yourself with your dangling leg, and look down at the man. He is clearly the leader. He wears a wolfish grin on his stubbled face and a leather jacket on his back. In his right hand, he holds a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

He swings it up onto his shoulder as he looks up at you, “Looks to me like we have a little loner here, hey Rick?” The brute looks over his shoulder at another man who looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else than near the man with the bat. A kid is next to the one called Rick, his son, you guess due to the matching expression that was a near mirror to the first man. You take another drink, getting to the end of the bottle. “What’s your name, Darlin’?” the first man asks.

“Not ‘Darlin’,” you shoot back. He whistles, pressing his hips forward like a bad Travolta impression.

“Well, aren’t you something? What are you doing up there all by your lonesome self?” You raise the bottle so he can see it better.

“Drinking,” You call back. You lift it to your lips and down the rest of the bourbon. He watches you, clearly amused. When you’re done, you drop the bottle off the side of the bridge. It breaks against a boulder, shattering into many pieces. “Sorry, that was my last bottle.”

“Fuck, you really are a little spitfire.” You stare down at him. “Still waiting on that name,” he says and since he didn’t use some ridiculous pet name, you humor him.

“(Y/n),” you say.

“Well, (y/n),” he smiles and a laugh comes right after, “why don’t you come down from there?” You glance at the army at his back. It becomes obvious he is a leader of one of the nearby forts that make you nervous. However, you would be lying if you said he didn’t make you curious.

“I think I’m good up here, Bruce,” you shoot back. He frowns at the name you give him.

“The name’s Negan,” he says.

“I think it's a joke,” The kid next to Rick says, gaining Negan’s attention. “Bruce as in Bruce Wayne. Batman.” The kid gestures to the baseball bat on Negan’s shoulder. Negan howls at your bad joke, reaching over to slap the kid on the shoulder who tries not to shake off the man’s hand.

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I ain’t no fucking superhero,” Negan says.

“Neither was Batman,” you finish, causing him to laugh again.

“Well, okay then. So, listen (y/n), here’s what I want,” You cut him off.

“Oh, I know what you want. You’re one of them looters. You want my supplies. But here’s the thing, I only have the clothes off my back, the knife in my boot, and a bow without arrows. A bow that you’d have to kill me for and tear from my undead hands if you want it. So, keep moving, Bruce, and leave me to get some much-needed sleep.” Negan whistles gaining timid laughter from behind him. Rick was looking between you and the brute as if trying to figure out who was going to win.

“I ain’t too fucking keen on people telling me what to do, Darlin’,” You lay back down, swinging your leg once again.

“Name’s not ‘Darlin’, Bruce, and the way I see it is that you can either get back into your car and leave me the hell alone or you and your merry men can drag my ass off this bridge and put a bullet in my head twice over,” You say bluntly. The group was quiet, clearly not expecting those words to come out of your mouth.

“How about this?” Negan says, “I see a third option.”

“I don’t,” you call. He was quiet again. “I’ve survived alone for a long time. I tried it with people before and it did not end well for me or them. Therefore, I’ll take my chances because either the Dead kill me or you do,” you look down at him, narrowing your eyes, “your move.”

“You just love to be disrespectful, don’t you?” Negan taunts.

“It’s the damn apocalypse, honey, respect is pointless.” Light entered his eyes as if he had finally met his match. “So,” you continued, “with the utmost respect, fuck off.” Immediately, you hear a gun cocked in your direction and you move. You notch an arrow, spinning onto your left knee, raise your bow and pull back. You aim at the man with the mustache to Negan’s right.

Negan glances between his man and your steady hands. “Thought you didn’t have any fucking arrows,” Negan calls.

“I lied,” you sneer.

“Simon, drop your fucking weapon,” Negan orders and he does. Negan then hands the bat to the kid who takes it as if he has been asked to do it before. Negan takes a couple of steps closer to you and you retrain your weapon on him. He raises his hands. “No need for violence, a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be concerned with the likes of me.”

“Call me a stupid pet name one more time,” you warn, keeping him in your sights.

“I’m assuming the last man who called you that didn’t get an arrow pointed at him,” Negan grins.

“You’re right,” you nod, “he just got a knife to the groin. Sudden castration is an unfortunate side effect of being a rapist.” Something flares in his eyes and you could tell that even if he was a killer, Negan would never lay a hand on a woman uninvited.

“That why you’re alone?” he asks.

“Beats the alternative.”

“Yes ma’am it does,” he says. “I’ll tell you what Miss (y/n), you’re a fucking fighter and I respect that. So I will remember you. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. That sound good to you, Grimes?” He asks Rick.

Rick nodded to him with a sigh of relief. Rick then met your eyes and nodded to you. You decided then and if you were to cross paths with them again, Rick would be the one you’d trust.

You lower your weapon.

“I’d say we have a deal...Negan,” you say. The brute smiles up at you. Then from his jacket, he produces a small bottle. He tosses it up to you. You catch it and smile at the small bottle of whiskey.

“Peace offering,” he says. “I’ll see you again, (y/n). Dead or alive, we’ll cross paths again,” Negan says as he struts back to his truck. The kid hands Negan the bat back and Negan gets into the driver’s seat. You keep a firm grip on your bow as the vehicles cross under the bridge. You watch until they disappear over the hill in the distance.

Tucking the mini bottle into your boot, you lay down and listen to the groaning of the dead in the distance. Your heart slowly leaves your throat. You hadn’t been that scared in a long time. You had perfected the mask to keep people at bay, but you knew that if he had been any closer, he would have seen the sweat on your brow and the slight shaking of your leg. You only hope that Negan didn’t see through it and that he would keep his word.

You stay out his way and he would leave you alone. Problem was, a part of you didn’t know if you wanted him to leave you alone and that scared the hell out of you even more.

#the walking dead #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead imagine #negan imagine #twd #badass reader #reader x negan #reader insert #twd imagine #twd imagines #reader #carl grimes #rick grimes #twd season 7 #y/n #negan x you

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kumeko · 3 years

Photo

A/N: For the ‘A lost Ballroom of gold’ rarepair zine! I had to write sylvixgrid and I wanted to lean into that masquerade feel. This is utterly self indulgent.

…

Ingrid softly sighed as she looked around the ballroom. Dozens of couples waltzed around the dance floor, each pair magically gliding past each other without so much as a bumped elbow. As A minor noble’s daughter, there were many perks to her family’s status: there weren’t as many functions she had to attend, her father allowed her free reign to hunt and ride on their lands in the attire of her choice, and society’s expectations for her were low.

Unfortunately, that was only when Fódlan’s was out of season. Now that the balls had finally started, her father had packed her off and sent her to the capital. The season really just meant ‘husband hunting’, as her friend Dorothea had put it. While Ingrid understood the importance of climbing up the social ladder, of marrying a more powerful family in order to help her own, she hated it with every fiber of her being.

It also didn’t help that she was terrible at courtship. She had two left feet, walked in a masculine fashion, and the only good thing about her was that if she kept quiet, she could perhaps pass for a gentle lady. Rubbing her arm, she tried not to glare. Ingrid couldn’t scare away everyone, after all.

“Careful, your face might freeze like that,” a man to her right teased.

“What—” Ingrid snapped, cutting herself off when she realized her childhood friend stood next to her. “Sylvain!”

The redhead grinned mischievously. “That’s the name, don’t wear it out!” Hands in his jacket pockets, he leaned forward to take her all in. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious in her pale green ball gown.

“What?” she asked, resisting the urge to tug on her long hair nervously.

With a wolfish grin, he whistled. “Wow, Ingrid, you look gorgeous. How’d they get you in that?”

Immediately, she wanted to elbow him. His flirting came to him as easily as breathing; she should have expected that by now. Still, her ears warmed at the compliment. “Sylvain, please tell me you haven’t said that to every woman in the room. I can’t save you if you’re attacked later.”

“Don’t worry, the idiot hasn’t talked to anyone yet,” Felix cut in.

Ingrid blinked, surprised. Leaning forward, she found her other childhood friend on Sylvain’s other side. The two were dressed in similar suits, with small differences such as tie colours and buttons matching their families’ crests and coat of arms.

It was odd. The season had started a few weeks ago, and while she’d only attended a few events since, she’d seen and heard Sylvain flitting about them. Felix, on the other hand, she’d barely heard a word about and she’d almost thought he’d stayed behind in his estate. “Felix? I thought you didn’t like balls.”

“I don’t,” he replied flatly. His posture was stiff as he looked around the ballroom, his perpetual scowl scaring away anyone who’d come near.

Well, if Ingrid didn’t find a partner tonight, she could blame Felix for it at least.

“Why do you two always gang up on me?” Sylvain pouted, his cheeks puffing slightly. He’d always had a childish streak. It was cute at times like these, when she wasn’t cleaning up after him. “Felix, you think she’s pretty too, right?”

Felix made a strangled sound before directing his glare at Sylvain. Despite her best efforts, Ingrid still felt a pang of pain; she’d long known that the extent of his affections was a bare tolerance. Anything more was pushing him. Before he could say something she couldn’t unhear, she stepped on Sylvain’s foot. “Don’t drag Felix into your jokes.”

Felix looked at her, his expression unreadable.

“I wasn’t, but fine, fine, I give.” Sylvain sighed, his handsome features twisting into a frown. “Anyways, been here long, Ingrid?”

“Not really.” She rubbed her wrist, remembering the journey over. “My carriage’s wheel needed to be fixed, so I arrived late. I could have just ridden here instead, with the time it took.”

“That sounds just like you.” Sylvain laughed. Leaning closer, he waggled his brows, already over his sulking. “So you haven’t danced with anyone yet?”

“No,” Ingrid replied slowly, stiffening. There was something inherently untrustworthy when Sylvain asked that many questions in a row. Even more so when her response caused him to sigh with relief and Felix to visibly relax.

Whenever the both of them agreed to something, there was trouble brewing. She’d never understood how Sylvain managed to drag her, Felix, or even the king’s son, Dimitri, into any of his nefarious plots, but then again, she’d never met anyone with a silver tongue like his. He’d even charmed her grandmother!

“Why are you asking?” she asked, stepping out slightly so she could glare at both of them.

“Nothing, nothing!” Sylvain walked closer, blocking Felix from her view. Felix had always been the worse liar. “Can’t a friend ask questions anymore?”

“Not when the friend is you.” She pursed her lips, trying to read his expression.

“Am I really that untrustworthy?” His smile didn’t drop a notch, his eyes crinkling with amusement. Without waiting for her to respond, he held out a hand. “Well, since you haven’t had a chance yet, could I claim your first dance?”

“Huh?” That wasn’t the response she’d expected. Flabbergasted, she stared at his hand. “Me?”

“Who else?” he winked playfully.

“But…but…” Incredulous, Ingrid spluttered as she tried to make sense of it all. She couldn’t tell if this was one of Sylvain’s japes, or if he was earnest. And even if he were earnest, this wasn’t one of their family functions; the dances here were for a singular purpose for them.

“Let’s get in before the song starts.” He gently grabbed her hand before she could reply and quickly guided her to the dance floor. When she hadn’t been paying attention, the last waltz had ended and a new one had started. Couples swapped on the floor, pairs exchanging partners as they tried to find a suitable spouse.

And now, in the midst of it all, she stood with Sylvain. His arm hooked around her waist, pulling her almost flush against him. His other hand slipping into her right, cupping it carefully. Her skin burned from the impropriety of it all, but this was the waltz. They were supposed to be this close. Sylvain’s breath was supposed to warm her ear, his long hair was supposed to mingle with hers if she turned her head just so, and no one would think this was shocking.

Unless they realized it was Ingrid he was dancing with, and not one of his many, many dancing partners. God, she hoped no one recognized her, she couldn’t handle the gossip after.

“Shall we?” he asked, cocking his head slightly, green eyes bright with merriment.

It was impossible to resist those eyes. Gingerly, she rested her hand on his shoulder and nodded, not trusting her voice. Luckily, the music started immediately after and they slowly glided through the ballroom in time with everyone else. Ingrid had never been a good dancer—she could handle the movements just fine, but she lacked the grace to make them look good. Sylvian never had that problem and in his arms, she felt comfortable with the moves for once. It was like she’d finally learned to read or solved a difficult problem.

“Having fun?” Sylvain asked quietly.

She hadn’t realized she was smiling. “Yeah. I didn’t realize dancing could be so” Fun. “Easy.”

“That’s because you always overthink things.” He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “You and Felix are both the stiffest dancers I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, sorry for that,” she huffed. “Why don’t you dance with someone more graceful next round?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad thing!” Sylvain protested, dipping her slightly before pulling her back. “I find it cute.”

Ingrid fixed him with a flat stare. “Cute.”

“Yes, very cute.” Sylvain chuckled. “Your expression is so serious when you try to dance, and Felix’s is so determined to beat his partner. It’s like you’re both fighting a war. There’s just something really cute about how terrible you both are.”

“I’m not trying to be cute,” she grumbled automatically, though her mind was awhirl from what he’d just said. She’d had her suspicions over the years, but this was the second time he’d brought up Felix. Maybe she hadn’t been imagining things after all.

“Which makes it all the cuter.” Sylvain grinned as he squeezed her hand. “Man, I’m glad you finally debuted. The season’s was too long last year. I really missed you.”

If he hadn’t taken the lead, Ingrid would have frozen in place. Sylvain was a consummate flirt, something that was easy to forget in face of how goofy he was. These lines just rolled off his tongue naturally. They didn’t mean anything. He’d said them to dozens of girls, some she’d had to console after.

Her skin heated up anyways.

“Sylvain.” She frowned, looking up at him. “I know you act like this to every girl you meet, but you shouldn’t be telling people you have no intention of courting that they are cute or that you miss them or well, flirt with them.”

He didn’t look the least bit contrite or chastened as he locked eyes with her. “What makes you think I have no intention?”

The implication wasn’t lost to her. Incredulous, she studied his face once more, looking for some sign that this was another jest of his, that this was out of pity or something akin. “Sylvain, you’re supposed to take this seriously,” she hissed, lowering her voice.

“I am taking this very seriously,” he replied. For once, there was none of his charm in his voice, none of his light-hearted teasing. His green eyes bore into hers and she swallowed. The music stopped. Before she could get her bearings, he leaned close, his lips brushing her ear and sending a shiver down her spine. “I meant every word.”

Then he stepped away, bowing slightly, his usual teasing smile in place as he headed to the side of the room. She could only stare at his back, her blush spreading down her neck. How was she supposed to take that? React to that?

Someone behind her coughed, and Ingrid realized she was still on the dance floor. The next song would start soon. “Sorry,” she mumbled, turning around. “I—”

Her apology caught in her throat as she found Felix stiffly standing behind her, his hand out. “Next dance is mine.”

Felix looked utterly uncomfortable about the whole thing and Ingrid bit back a sigh. “I can guess why Sylvain did it, but you don’t have to copy him. I don’t need your pity too.”

He snorted. “Like I would do this out of pity.”

Well, she couldn’t deny he had a point there. Ingrid couldn’t remember the last time anyone had forced Felix to do something he didn’t want to. Even his father had a hard time reigning him. Puzzled, she bit her lip. “Then why are you here? You don’t like dancing. You don’t like the attention. You can barely tolerate me. What do you get out of this?”

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “The dance is about to start.”

“That isn’t an answer,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes as she took his hand. However infuriating he was, dancing with him was still better than dancing with yet another unknown suitor.

Felix’s hands were surprisingly gently as he slipped into position, his right hand featherlight as it settled on her waist. His other hand clasped hers delicately, like she was china and easily breakable.

“You can hold on a little tighter. You know I don’t bruise that easily.” Ingrid clicked her teeth disapprovingly, resting her left hand on his shoulder as she stepped closer. “We can’t dance if I’m that far.”

He didn’t say anything, not even his usual scoff, as his fingers dug into her side a little firmer. When she peeked up, she found his ears a soft pink, jaw clenched. Normally she’d think of it as his usual annoyed look, but now she reconsidered. Felix seemed more embarrassed than irritated. Ingrid giggled softly. Even when they were kids, he’d always strived for perfection; it must bother him that in this one arena he couldn’t quite reach it.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked as he took the lead.

“Nothing,” she lied, hiding her smile. Knowing how he’d take it, it was better not to say anything at all.

He harrumphed but didn’t press. This dance wasn’t quite as easy as her last. Felix was steady, for sure, and mostly smooth, but he lacked that innate grace that Sylvain had. Then again, she wasn’t much better herself, and she felt at ease as she kept up with him. They were equally uncomfortable on the dance floor, and there was something oddly reassuring about that.

From the corner of her eye, she studied him. Standing under the bright candelabras, he cut a dashing figure. A classical handsome, with his well-cut jaw and stern expression. Sylvain had always been the preferred one, but she’d still heard ladies tittering for Felix, not realizing just how sharp a tongue he had.

Or how carefully he hid his soft spots. Like this dance. Ingrid scanned the wall as they danced, trying to find their misguided friend. “I’m sure Sylvain pushed you into this, but thanks anyways.”

“Sylvain didn’t push me.”

His response was blunt, to the point, and Ingrid tore her eyes back to him, flabbergasted. “Huh?”

Felix’s eyes were dark, burning, as they met hers. She’d seen this gaze directed at Sylvain before, but now that it was on her, she was surprised by the intensity. “Why do you think I can barely tolerate you?”

“I…” It was a little hard to think and she studied his shoulder. “I’ve known you for years. After Glen—”

At the mention of his dead brother, of her ex-fiancé, his grip tightened. Even now, he hardened when Glen’s name was brought up. “That was years ago.”

Oddly enough, his voice was tempered for once. She’d expected his usual harsh outburst, but today he had reigned in his emotions enough for them to actually talk. “It was also a rejection,” she replied carefully. “Not just of the engagement, but of me.”

Ingrid hadn’t expected him to take on his brother’s engagement after; he had always chafed against his father’s expectations. But he had been unnecessarily cruel when he had. With time and distance, she could see it for what it was: a boy in pain lashing out. Yet they had never properly talked about it and it was ironic that out here, as they swayed and spun in time with a dozen strangers, that they were having the most honest conversation they’d had in years.

“We haven’t been the same since then,” she added, lowering her eyes.

Felix fell silent and she wondered if he hadn’t noticed the gap between them. Sylvain had always filled it; ever since he’d pulled her out of her depression, dragged Felix out of his rage, he’d always done that. They’d had a handful of times when it’d been just the two of them after, and it had always been an awkward dance of figuring out where they stood with one another.

Letting go of his shoulder, she twirled once before he pulled her back into his arms. Quietly, he muttered, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She had to strain to hear his response; he wouldn’t repeat this, she knew. It was as close to an apology as Felix could get, and something in her unclenched. Clearing her throat, she offered a lopsided smile. “It’s fine. Like you said, it was years ago.”

“Anything else?” he asked, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her.

It took her a moment to remember what he was talking about. “Well, there’s…”

Ingrid frowned, parsing through her memories. What else was there? Felix had a sharp tongue, it was true, and they’d gotten into more than a few fights over it, but that was the case with everyone. While he had never sought her company, it was almost impossible to imagine him asking for anyone either.

And even when she’d barged in, uninvited, he had never turned her away either. Even at his grumpiest, he’d listen to her rant about Sylvain and his pilfering ways.

“You…” She bit her cheek, trying to figure out why she’d felt that way. Grasping for straws, Ingrid mumbled, “You’re softer with Sylvain.”

Felix snorted. “You’re the same.”

Ingrid couldn’t deny that. “Then…” She had nothing else. Had she spent years misreading their interactions, all because she couldn’t let go of the past? Embarrassed, she stared at his shoulder. “I was wrong.”

She expected a smirk, an insult, anything but the soft chuckle he gave. Surprised, she looked up at him only to find his usual exasperated expression was more fond than annoyed. Felix brought them to a halt, bowing slightly as he let go of her hand.

As he left her not only with more questions, but the strangest sensation in the pit of her stomach.

“Fe—” Before she could take a step forward, broad shoulders blocked her sight and Ingrid looked up to find Sylvain grinning at her once more.

“Can I have the next dance?”

-x-

For all her intelligence, Ingrid knew she could be dense on some matters. However, after swapping between her friends yet again, even she could figure out what their plans were. Or, at least what part of their plans were—their conversations left her confused and flushed in ways she couldn’t understand.

Still, that could possibly be chalked up to the fact that she had done four dances in a row. For a woman that hated her heels, that was four too many. It was time to end this game. The second the song ended, Ingrid grabbed Felix’s hand before he could disappear. Pivoting immediately, she found a surprised Sylvain already waiting in the wings.

“We’re going to talk,” she ground out, snatching his hand as well. The nobles would titter about this, no doubt. It was highly improper to act the way she did, but she was tired of the questions, the confusion, and, most importantly, the dancing.

They’re almost too compliant as she drags them to a secluded balcony. Ingrid had never known Felix to agree to anything in his life. All but shoving them out into the cool, night air, she hastily loosened the curtains on the doors before closing them behind her. It was the most privacy they could get, unless she forced them further into the gardens.

Sylvain and Felix stood in the middle of the balcony, watching her expectantly. There was a single candelabra outside, giving just enough light that she could make out their expressions. Sylvain’s looked apprehensive, while Felix’s was more bored. Her heels clacked against the marble as she approached them, coming to a stop just in front of the two. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Felix snorted. “Told you we couldn’t keep it from her.”

“I know, I know.” Sylvain sighed, running a hand through his fiery mane. “I thought we’d have a little longer.”

Triumphant at this admission, she crossed her arms. “I knew it. Is this some sort of game.”

“Game?” Sylvain laughed, shaking his head. “No, no, we’re just keeping the others from dancing with you.”

That wasn’t a response she’d expected. Or, well, maybe from Sylvain, but not Felix as well. Confused, she glanced from one to the other. “What? Why?”

Felix regarded her coolly. “Why do you think?”

She didn’t really have an answer to that. Turning it over in her mind, she hazarded a guess. “You remembered how I complained about my father? I’m grateful, truly, but—”

The words died in her throat when Felix frowned, shooting her a derisive look. She’d guessed wrong. Even Sylvain sighed, pinching his nose. “How are you so sharp in everything else, but get this wrong?”

“Are you calling me an idiot?” Ingrid retorted hotly, flushing. She had known these two for years now, how was she having such a hard time reading them tonight?

Felix shrugged. “You are one,” he stated simply.

“Your denseness is adorable,” Sylvain smoothened over, grinning as he wrapped an arm around Felix’s shoulder. “But it makes things a lot harder than it has to be.”

“What? Dense?” Ingrid gaped, not sure how she’d ended up here. She was supposed to be the one lecturing them, not vice versa. What was she even being attacked for? Irate, she pointed at them. “I know about you two.”

This stopped their laughter in its tracks. Sylvain’s eyes grew wide, his expression almost comical as he managed an incoherent, “Huh?”

Even Felix looked shocked. It was a major victory. Ingrid savoured it for a second before she realized exactly what she’d admitted. Immediately, she covered her mouth, but it was too late. The cat was out of the bag. The air grew tense and she wondered if it was too late to step back into the ball and pretend that none of this ever happened. “I…”

“You knew?” Sylvain finally asked, regaining control of his mouth.

“Since when?” Felix was as straight to the point as ever.

Ingrid rubbed her arm, looking away, past the railing and out onto the barely lit gardens. It was strange, she had suspected this for years, but somehow their admission made her heart ache a little. Maybe it was the lies or the loneliness or—she didn’t know. It just hurt. Quietly, she explained, “It’s hard to miss the way you two look at each other sometimes. Or, you know, the way your hands linger.”

She blushed as she spoke; it felt even more inappropriate to talk about than it had been to witness.

Amazed, Sylvain stared at her. “And you noticed that?”

“That’s because I—” Watch you. Fortunately, what little brain power she had left was working right now and she cut herself off before she could embarrass herself further. If she even finished that sentence, she knew how Sylvain would look at her, and then how he’d ask questions she didn’t know the answer of. Clearing her throat, she finished lamely, “We’re close, that’s probably why. I’m sure no one else has noticed.”

“Who cares?” Felix grumbled, hands in his pocket.

Their parents, for one, high society, for another. While the nobles were willing to overlook discrete dalliances, anything too obvious would result in blacklisting. And with Sylvain’s penchant to flirt publicly and Felix’s inability to read any room, it was amazing they’d made it through life as it was.

For tonight, at least, they’d spent all that time dancing with her and not angering their peers. Whether it was out of pity (and her heart twisted again at the thought) or friendship, they’d spent the last few hours keeping suitors off her hands. It was the most fun she’d had at a ball, even if it had also been the most perplexing.

It was only fair she returned the favour. Clasping her hands in front of her, she offered, “I can keep the balcony empty for you two.”

“Huh?” Once more, a befuddled Sylvain stared at her.

“What are you talking about?” Felix asked, his brow furrowed.

It was strange, knocking them both for a loop a second time, and it threw her off balance too. Resisting the urge to rub her neck, she gestured at the empty space around them. “It’s a nice night, and there’s plenty of room here. I know you can’t dance inside, but the music still reaches here.”

“Ohhh.” Sylvain’s expression brightened, catching on. He whistled appreciatively. “Nice eye, Ingrid.”

“What are you going on about—”

Before Felix could finish his sentence, Sylvain wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. “Mmm, yeah, I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

“You’re an idiot,” Felix huffed, but he didn’t pull away.

Her heart tinged again, an inextricable pain. What did she want? It wasn’t this. They were her friends, she should be happy for them, but she didn’t want this. Not trusting herself, she turned around “I’ll keep an eye for a few songs. They won’t miss you for that long.”

Luckily, her voice remained strong. Maybe later she could figure out how to smile in front of them.

Before she could open the door, Felix growled, “Where are you going?”

That was the only warning she got before Sylvain’s soft hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her in place, before Felix’s hand splayed against the door from behind her, pressing on it hard as he kept it shut. Ingrid gave an undignified squeak when she realized she was penned in between the two of them and the doors.

Every one of Annette’s and Dorothea’s raunchy novels ran through her mind. It was the most inappropriate time for that to happen and did nothing to help her calm her racing heart as she slowly turned to the pair of them. Her cheeks burned a dark red but Ingrid tried to keep her voice as even as possible as she asked, “What are you doing?”

“Stopping you,” Felix scoffed, still towering over her.

“I can see that.” Ingrid glared at him. “I mean…” She tried to tug her hand out of Sylvain’s vise-like grip, but he merely grinned, not letting go. “I’m trying to give you some privacy.”

Sylvain chuckled. “That’s why I called you dense.”

“Huh?”

“You got us wrong. Or not entirely right?” He shrugged carelessly as he leaned forward, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “How could you see how we looked at each other, but miss how we’ve looked at you?”

“Me?” She swallowed. Certain she was misunderstanding, she glanced at Felix, waiting for him to deny it all in his usual blunt manner. “Felix?”

“Don’t make me repeat him,” he glowered, his ears a bright pink.

“Wait…then…” Ingrid’s eyes flickered from Sylvain to Felix and back again as she put together everything that happened tonight. “The dancing…”

“Well, you deserve a proper courtship,” Sylvain explained, his hand now cupping her jaw. Tenderly, his thumb brushed her cheek. “And we couldn’t let anyone else snatch you up.”

Felix lowered his hand from the door, his fingers now threading through her long hair. Even without saying a word, she got the message loud and clear.

It didn’t make sense, really. Even hearing their words, she couldn’t believe. But Ingrid had seen the way they’d look at each other, when they thought no one was looking. Something soft and hungry and more powerful than the sun.

It was how they were looking at her now.

“Really?” she asked, not fighting her blush as it spread down her neck and up her ears. Her voice came out softer than she’d intended, shyer.

If they noticed, they didn’t say anything. Sylvain leaned forward, pressing a kiss against the corner of her lip. “Really,” he answered, and she shivered as his breath warmed her skin.

“Like we’d do this for any other reason,” Felix grumbled, his finger brushing her ear, sending a jolt of electricity through her.

Ingrid wasn’t sure what she’d tell her father. Or the nobles. Or anyone, really.

But that was a tomorrow problem. The door was still closed behind her, the curtains drawn, and the night air cool on her hot skin. For now, all she wanted was a moment to just feel it all, this joy that threatened to burst her heart.

#fe3h #felix hugo fraldarius #sylvain jose gautier #ingrid brandl galatea #sylvixgrid #fanfic

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flipomatic · 3 years

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Internship Chapter 34: Day 27 - Amity, Emira, Edric

Author Note: I'm posting this chapter a couple days early, since I have a busy week coming up and I don't want to delay the final chapter.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

_____________________________________________________

As it turned out, their parents had already been informed of the incident by the time they made it home. They had been waiting in the study, not bothering to come to clinic.

Amity had left Ed and Em in their care, though they didn’t seem upset about what had happened.

No, they actually seemed pleased, which was super strange. Their mother said something about how the publicity of this would look good for the family, which Amity didn’t understand. Amity could hear them interrogating the twins as she left, asking for all the details.

It was hard to fall asleep that night, though not due to what happened with the twins. No, Amity realized that after visiting all of the major covens, she still didn’t know which one she was going to join. Sure, she had learned about each one of them, but she hadn’t succeeded at her true goal.

Despite all of the time spent searching, she didn’t have an answer.

She had no idea what to do about that, which led to uneasy sleep.

The next day, Amity went back to the library as arranged with Luz. The plan was to finish the conversation they’d been having about Azura yesterday, but Amity couldn’t focus on that.

They were sitting in the same spots they had been the day before, both flipping through a book. Amity closed hers and looked up at Luz slowly. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Since we visited them all, have you decided which coven to join?” Amity asked the question that had been haunting her since last night.

Luz brought her eyes up, connecting their gazes together. “Nope.” She said the word with certainty as she closed her book. “They were all so cool, with so much awesome magic, I can’t decide.” She still sounded happy though, even without having come to a conclusion. “I really loved seeing the different beasts for beast keeping, oh and the future at the Oracle Coven.”

Thinking back to what the oracle saw in her future warmed Amity’s cheeks. “I remember.” She also recalled how excited Luz had been, looking around the covens, and how eager she was to learn new spells.

“Plants too, oh plants are too great!” Now Luz’s eyes were sparkling. Amity thought about the plant that almost ate Luz’s hand, and was less enthused. “It’s impossible to pick.” Luz stated with a firm nod.

“What will you do then?” This was the question Amity had been asking herself, for the whole month now. The question she’d been struggling with all this time, with no progress.

For Luz, the young woman who always seemed to know what to do, the answer came easily. “I’ll keep learning all of them!”

Was that the answer then, to learn all types of magic? It wouldn’t work for Amity, she knew that. But that wasn’t the point.

No, what Amity was starting to understand was that it was okay to still be learning. Luz felt perfectly comfortable stretching her wings and trying new things. She wasn’t prepared to choose a coven, and so she didn’t.

Amity could do that too. She’d spent the last month traveling around with Luz, after all, exploring what different covens had to offer. She had loved almost every minute of it, all of the time spent learning with her friend.

With Luz by her side, the possibilities were endless.

Even though Amity hadn’t come to the end with an answer, with a coven to join, she had still learned something.

“That’s just like you.” Amity replied to Luz’s exclamation, which surprisingly caused the other teen’s face to flush pink.

Luz broke eye contact and ducked her head slightly, seeming embarrassed. “What about you?” She asked.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Amity chose her next words carefully. “Do you mind if I keep learning with you?”

Luz lifted her head and looked right at Amity. Her bright brown eyes were wide with surprise. “Of course!” She almost shouted, then covered her mouth with her hands. “I mean, of course I don’t mind.” She looked so endearing like this, too cute.

Amity smiled; she couldn’t help it. “Thank you.” She then looked back down at her Azura book, which was lying forgotten in her lap. “Maybe after book club, we can get started.”

Luz’s hands fell away from her face. “For sure!”

The two resumed flipping through their books, though they had to try and remember what they’d been searching for earlier.

Later, after they were done, they would start trying to learn a healing spell. After seeing Ed and Em’s burns the day before, they felt that was the best place to start.

Progress was slow, but that was fine. Amity was in no hurry.

As long as she was spending time with Luz, expanding their limits together, she was happy.

____________________________________________________

The attic was dusty, despite its more regular use. Emira had been very careful while climbing up as to not irritate her healing side.

The burn had hurt quite badly on the walk home, which was only made worse by her parents fawning over her. It had been weird, and she got away from them as soon as she could.

The burn cream, which the clinic gave her, helped ease the pain. She had applied it carefully while changing the bandages.

When morning came, she mostly sat around the house. She couldn’t go anywhere, and with the internship over it wasn’t like she had anything she needed to do. School work wouldn’t start again until Monday.

Emira had been sitting in her room when a small magic symbol flashed on her desk; Ed was summoning her to the attic.

That was how she ended up carefully hauling herself up the ladder, taking it one step at a time. Ed had beaten her up there, which was no surprise since he put out the summons.

He had taken his bandages off to let the burns breath, which he could do since they were smaller burns. He was sitting on the same box as usual when Emira made it to the top, wearing his casual clothes.

“We could’ve met downstairs.” Emira protested as she got both of her feet onto the landing, moving to sit on a box and rest.

Ed looked her over, eyes stopping where the large burn was. “And risk being overheard?” He asked, with the real unsaid question being, would that be worth it?

The answer was no. “You’re right.” Emira sighed, slouching against a box.

A small smile crept onto Ed’s face. “Thank you.” He quipped, before the smile shrank back away. “Frederick sent me a note this morning, the coven is investigating Nick.”

That sounded like good news. “So, did we win?” Emira asked, still not sure of all the details involved.

“I think so, yeah.” Ed put his elbows on his knees, leaning forward so he could rest his head on his hands. “Can’t believe it’s over.” He muttered.

Emira understood how he felt. The second half of the internship felt like it had flashed by, like a firework. “Back to school on Monday.” Emira replied, causing Ed to roll his eyes.

“Unfortunately.” He grumbled. “Did you at least learn any new spells?” He asked, still leaning on his arms.

Oh, that was right, Emira hadn’t had time to show him yet. “I did.” She said with a smile. Though she hadn’t expected to, she learned a lot from Jen.

The internship had turned out far better than her first impression of it; she probably should’ve given it a better chance from the start. Emira would try not to make that mistake again.

Ed sat up straight, now intrigued. “What kind?” He asked, and Emira could practically see the gears in his brain already turning.

“A layered fireworks spell, I’ll teach you once I’m healed.” Creating fireworks while covered in burns wouldn’t exactly be responsible.

“I learned one too.” Ed replied, now smirking. “By that, I mean I created it.”

“Ooh.” Emira leaned closer, though had to sit back up when her side twinged. “What’s it do?”

“Creates a patch of anti friction ground, it’ll be great for pranks.” Ed then explained the basis of the spell, and demonstrated it on an object in the attic. Emira couldn’t wait to try it.

They continued talking about the spell, along with potential combos it could be used in, for a while longer.

“There is one more thing I have to do, before we go back to school.” Ed said as the conversation was winding down.

“What’s that?” Emira thought that dealing with Nick had been the last thing.

“Later, when Mittens gets home, I’ll show you.”

________________________________________________________

“This is the spot.” Edric stopped about a hundred feet away from the house, marking a patch of grass with his foot.

“Are you sure?” Em asked, with one eyebrow arched in his direction. They had already reassessed two different spots.

“Yes.” Edric ignored her sass and nodded. “Go ahead and cast.”

Emira rolled her eyes, but did as she was directed. She spun her finger in a large circle, casting an illusion mirror. It sat between them and the house, reflecting back the grass so that they couldn’t be spotted.

Amity had her arms crossed. “What do you want me to do again?” She asked, clearly annoyed with how long it had taken to choose a spot.

“Summon your abomination and have it dig, this is what we’re burying.” Edric tried to remain patient as he held up the item in question.

Amity called for her abomination, and it appeared out of a spell circle. It was a small one, to avoid being seen around the mirror. She directed it to the designated grass. “Abomination, dig.”

The purple creature obeyed, digging up the grass and creating a small hole. Once it was wide enough, Amity had it stop.

“Perfect.” Edric said, leaning over to examine the hole. He held the object in both hands. “Would either of you like to say a few words?” He asked his sisters.

“Pass.” Amity said bluntly.

“It was better than going to school.” Em supplied.

That was true, it had been better than going to school. Edric was not excited to get back to that, but at least he had a couple new tricks up his sleeves.

He looked down at the mask in his hands, the one he’d worn every day for the last month.

What had he learned? Well, a new spell, but what else? Watch out for corrupt authority figures?

New experiences weren’t so bad, or something like that.

“Good riddance.” Edric said, kneeling down to place the mask into the hole. It looked good there, better than it had on his face.

Amity then had the abomination cover it back up with dirt, leaving a slightly elevated patch.

Edric cast a plant spell, the only one he knew, to try and make some of the grass grow back. A couple strands popped out of the ground.

“Good enough.”

#the owl house #the owl house fanfiction #amity blight #luz noceda #emira blight #edric blight #and with that the fic is complete #I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading!

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heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

My Girl Series: Chapter 14 - Home Truth

…in which Y/N discovers a family secret, and Harry is in despair.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 13: Ghosts - Y/N returns to Holmes Chapel, and Harry is a little too late.

A/N: The next chapter will be the last one of this book.

Warning: this is 8k word long, so it’s inevitable that I’ve made plenty of mistakes. If you spot some, just ignore them alright? 😂

OC version

"Y/N, can you take this to the attic?"

Y/N paused halfway down the stairs to lift an eyebrow at Marcy, who was holding a pile of old books and fashion magazines. The bride-to-be was probably influenced by their family tradition — in this house, they never threw away old things, instead, they either tried to fix them or hid them somewhere in case they might need them again. Most of those things ended up in the attic.

"Why don't you do it yourself? I'm busy," Y/N lied in order to get away with the little favor, only to realize how dumb she sounded. If she was in London, it would make total sense since the big city life was always in a rush. But now that she was in Holmes Chapel, how could she possibly be busy? All the people she wanted to be with were now far away. The only thing she could do was drive around town or bring a book to a coffee shop in her neighborhood to read the day away.

Marcy only gave Y/N a smile, ignoring the lame excuse as she insisted, "I would, but I'm allergic to dust. It'll only take a minute."

"Lucky you," Y/N muttered as she rolled her eyes and marched down the stairs to take the books and magazines from her future stepmother.

Marcy thanked her for it before rushing back to the kitchen, probably to check on those cookies in the oven for her own wedding tomorrow morning. It was only a small celebration so the family did everything by themselves without hiring any wedding planner. Now that the decoration was all finished, Y/N wasn't much useful around the house since she couldn't cook. Therefore she told herself it was only fair if she did the small favor for Marcy.

To be honest, Y/N couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the attic. That place used to be her nightmare when she was a little girl. The thought of evil creatures lurking in the dark among dusty old furniture and shelves was the reason she'd slept with the light on for an entire month after climbing up there once out of curiosity. Now that she was an adult, it was barely more than a crawl space with low ceiling and mold. She had to hang her head to walk in, trying to locate obstacles in the dark for the only source of light was from the long narrow windows near the ceiling.

The unsoftened echo of her footsteps on the floor made of timber brought on a claustrophobic feeling, and so she put the books and magazines in the corner to hurry back to the ladder as fast as she could.

Right before she reached the entrance, Y/N tripped over a small table and almost lost her balance. But she didn't fall, instead, she knocked over a dusty carton box which fell onto the floor and created a loud thump that echoed within the confined space. Dust flying all over the place got the girl coughing uncontrollably, still, she decided to bend down and clean up the mess she'd made.

The first thing that got her attention was a portrait of her younger self, sketched by her mother. Everything in that box belonged to her mother. Most of them were drawings and souvenirs she'd bought on their family trips. Y/N had no idea how long they'd been in this attic, but judging from the yellow hue of the paper, she would guess that they had been there since her mother was still alive.

As a result, Y/N ended up staying in the attic for longer than she'd intended to. She sat on the floor, going through the rest of the stuff in the box, feeling whole inside for the fact that most of her mother's sketches were of her face, some others were corners of their house and random objects like a tea set, a bowl of fruits, a flower vase,...

There wasn't anything unusual, until...there was.

At the bottom of the box lied a little tin box. The girl almost didn't see it for it was hidden too well. For some reason, just looking at it gave her a feeling that there was something inside she had to see.

With her heart thumping like a drum, she brought it to her lap and carefully opened it. It would've been a huge disappointment if the box had been empty like she'd feared, but her instinct rarely made a mistake. The box contained many letters written to her mother from a man named Dave Hardfield, alongside which was a photo of them together. His lips were on Tam's cheek and Y/N had never seen her mother smile that bright before. At first, Y/N assumed the man used to be one of her mother's boyfriends before meeting her dad. However, when she looked at the date on each letter, she discovered the truth that'd been hidden for all those years. Those letters, love letters to be exact, had all been written and sent when her parents were married already.

Y/N found out, to her dismay, there were worse fears than invisible monsters in the attic, it was the ones living within every person including the ones you thought you knew all too well.

She picked up one of the letters to read through the first few lines just to make sure she didn't draw any conclusion way too soon. But what she learned wasn't what her heart wished it'd be. Her mother had been in love, madly in love, but with another man, not her father.

She felt a lump in her throat when she read the part about them planning on leaving this town once the divorce had been settled. That letter came just a week before the accident.

The grip of her hands tightened, nearly tearing the page in two. She was so in shock that her brain stuttered for a moment and breathing became difficult. It took her a while to come back to her sense and gather everything besides the letter to put it back in the tin box before leaving.

She didn't even think as she hurried down the ladder, marching straight to the front door while clutching the letter in her hand. This man, whoever he was, might have the answers to most of the questions she'd been asking herself since her mother's death, beginning with what had happened the night of the accident. Y/N walked fast, wasting no time, yet her father appeared without warning to stop her right before she could reach for the doorknob.

"Where are you going?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at his daughter, who was quick to hide the letter behind her back.

"To a coffee shop," she said, trying too hard not to let her anxiety show. And maybe she was putting on such a good act that her dad didn't seem to suspect a thing.

"I was hoping you would stay to help us out."

"I will when I get back. Promise."

"Not so fast, young lady." Bradford cleared his throat loudly as he clutched her by the arm when she barely managed to escape. "You're acting strange. Are you alright?"

"Of course I am."

That reply was followed by the fakest laugh she'd ever pulled. Even she knew that, how could her father not?

"Is it—" The man paused to decide if he should make a guess. It wasn't really a guess since he already knew the truth. It was because of Harry. She'd been crying for that boy and hurting for that boy, like she had most of her life. It was obvious. But then again, Bradford pretended like he had no clue. His daughter had never been a sentimental person, not openly at least. Maybe it was one thing they both had in common.

"Never mind..." He sighed, twitching his lips. "Be back soon, alright?"

Smiling in return, Y/N gave her father a firm nod. "Hey dad, can I borrow your car?"

"Sure. But don't crash it."

It was meant to be a harmless joke. But as both of them came to realization, they just quietly stared at each other for two seconds long. Bradford handed her his car key, stuttering as he wanted to say something to lighten up the mood. Unfortunately, Y/N didn't hesitate to walk out of the door.

The truth was, she had no plan at all. She just knew she was going to see the man named Dave Hardfield, whose address was on the letters sent to her mum. She didn't even have the script of the things she should say, or the list of questions about everything she was dying to know. She just wanted to go see the man to learn the truth, whatever it was, even when she wasn't ready to hear it from a complete stranger.

Funny how one surprise came right after another without a single break. The last person Y/N would expect to show up in Holmes Chapel right now, was waiting right outside her house by his car.

"Isaac?" She gasped, walking fast towards the man whose smile was as bright as the sun when he saw her face. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you. Wanted to make sure you were alright."

"So you...drove all the way here from London...to see me?"

He took a deep breath, letting it all out. "You're gonna tell me I'm stupid for doing this, aren't you?"

To his surprise, she shook her head fast and pulled him into a hug so tight that it almost took his breath away, literally. Y/N didn't seem to care as she kept repeating the words "thank you" into his shoulder, leaving him no choice but to also wrap his arms around her.

It finally occurred to her how desperate she was for a hug. It didn't matter whose. She just needed to feel a little bit of comfort after the series of traumatic events that'd been after her lately. At least with Isaac, she knew there was only peace.

"I'm going to Heartward," she said, pulling away but her hands were still resting on his hips. "Wanna come with me?"

"Where is that?"

"It's a town nearby, only an hour drive from here."

"Sure. Let's go."

Shocked by the answer, she grabbed him by the wrist when he turned back to unlock his car doors.

"You're not gonna ask me why I'm going there?" She raised both eyebrows, mouth agape. He, on the other hand, looked as cool as ever.

"We've got an hour in the car, right?" Isaac said with a beam as he opened the door on the passenger side for Y/N.

Now she felt the need to hug him again for she didn't think she could ever repay his kindness. In order to save time, however, she'd probably save that later. If they didn't get going right away, they wouldn't be back soon enough for her dad to not suspect a thing.

"Let's go!" She exclaimed with a bright smile, watching Isaac shake his head as he laughed before getting into the vehicle as well.

For most of her life, Y/N had lived in Holmes Chapel and hadn't realized until now that she'd never gone any further than her neighborhood. This was her first journey to a different town in Cheshire. As turned out, it was a lot different from her own. The streets here were narrower and the houses were smaller. While Holmes Chapel had always been simple, Heartward was a maze with the labyrinth of roads, as complex as the human heart.

"Are you nervous?" Isaac's voice pulled Y/N's attention away from the window, back on him.

"Of course I am." She snorted, inhaling deeply to let the silence sink back in for a couple seconds before speaking up again. "What type of person do you think he is?"

"Probably kind. I mean, your mother was kind."

The answer made the girl chuckle as she lifted an eyebrow. "You didn't even know my mother."

"I know you," he said, his blue eyes sparkled with joy.

In that instant, Y/N felt warm within and she was glad he'd shown up at her door. She would still be freaking out right now if she'd gone alone. It was rather funny how she'd been his damsel in distress countless times ever since they first met. Sometimes she did think about it and wondered how he still felt about her after everything. Was he nice to the others too or her only? If the latter was the case, then there was another reason for her to believe she didn't deserve someone like him.

The smile grew on Y/N's face as she watched Isaac's face screw up while he was concentrating on the road ahead. That same smile, sadly, died out the second he brought up the name she'd tried to erase from memory.

"Have you talked to Harry?"

Y/N gave Isaac a shrug, turning back to the window on her side. "I will...at some point."

He didn't ask any further, thank god for that. The last thing she wanted was for him to figure out what had really happened between her and Harry. Though she no longer felt the pressure to reveal her sexual relationship with him to Isaac or anyone else for that matter, she was still afraid what Isaac might think of her if somehow he found out. Honestly, she felt cheap. Even though her feelings for Harry had always been true, to him she was just a replacement, nothing but a body to get him through the night while his heart stayed missing somebody else. But that was exactly what she'd signed up for, so she shouldn't be bitter now that it didn't end the way she wanted.

"Speaking of the devil," the girl muttered under her breath when a couple texts from H popped up on her screen.

"Read it," Isaac said, his eyebrows furrowed. "He must worry about you a lot."

Little did he knew, Y/N did want to. She really wanted to.

Harry had called her a hundred times since this morning and she'd fought herself from answering those calls. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if she only read his texts and not reply to them. Nodding in response to Isaac's words, she eventually opened those messages.

⌲ H: If you get this, please text me back.

⌲ H: Let me know you're safe.

⌲ H: Please call me back, text me, anything.

⌲ H: I need to talk to you please.

"So? How's he?"

Y/N turned off her phone and put it away as she also turned a deaf ear to Isaac's question.

"You haven't told him where I am, right?" She asked in concern, only to sigh in relief when he shook his head.

"If I had, he would be here instead of me." With a slight chuckle, he added, "you're really good at ghosting on people, Smiley."

"Only the ones who deserve it."

When Y/N received no reply, she turned to see the goofy grin on the man's face.

Pinching his lip slightly, Isaac kept his eyes on the road rather on her as he joked, "if I hadn't texted you when I was in Italy, we would never have spoken again, right?"

She knew he wasn't serious when he said that, but his expression alone could still pain her heart. A sense of guilt flooded into her hollow chest to replace the comfort she'd been feeling this entire time in the car with him. Isaac was too nice to admit that she had hurt him too for coldly turning him down once before. She'd been too busy paying attention to how she was feeling and forgotten about him. Why was he still here after everything? Why was he still treating her like the only person in the world who mattered? Why hadn't he asked for anything in return?

"Isaac—"

"Oh! We're here!" The man happily announced as he slowed down and pulled his car over on the side of the road. She wasn't sure if he cut her off on purpose or he genuinely didn't hear her. But maybe this wasn't the time to talk about them.

"Are you sure this is the place?" She asked in disbelief when they both got out of the car at the same time.

"It is. I've checked the address twice," he assured, yet looking just as appalled as she was.

The house they were looking for was square and grey, with narrow windows that looked far from picturesque. Y/N had to check the address for the third time to make sure it matched the one on the letter. This place looked like it'd been abandoned for years. Maybe the owner didn't really care to pay enough attention to making his front yard and porch look even the slightest presentable.

Exchanging worrying looks with Isaac, she finally found enough courage to press the doorbell. She wasn't sure if anybody was home because through the windows all that she saw was a part of the pitch dark living room as far as natural light could reach.

Fortunately, just when the two of them thought they might have to leave empty-handed, the door slowly creaked open.

Y/N had never met this man in her life, but his expression when he saw her made her think he had known her his entire life. His face was stern, yet peaceful. And even though his hair was turning grey and the wrinkles were slightly visible on his broad forehead, he still appeared quite handsome for a man his age.

"Excuse me, sir," Y/N spoke after two awkward seconds passing by unnoticed. "Are you...Dave Hardfield?"

"Yes, I am." The middle-aged man nodded, his eyes were still round as he stared at her in confusion. "You are..."

"I'm Y/N, Tam's daughter," she said, handing him the envelope she'd been holding the entire time. "I found your letter in my attic, and—"

That sentence was left unfinished when Dave opened his arms and dragged her into a hug without warning. Isaac flinched, nearly pulling Y/N back for he feared the man might do something to her, but the moment he spotted the hopeful look on Dave's face, he decided to stay back and remain silent.

"You look just like her."

Those words from the stranger made Y/N's eyes well up when he loosened his embrace to cup her face. He examined her features, eyes glistened with tears as a smile spread across his chapped lips.

"She has the same beautiful eyes."

"Wow...that's very...nice of you. Thank you..."

Isaac couldn't help but chuckle at Y/N's reply, receiving a playful glare when she turned back to him.

"Come in, you two! come in!" Dave said fast, giving Y/N and Isaac no time to hesitate before urging them into his living room. When the door was shut, and the lights were on, Y/N saw the living proof of the saying 'never judge a book by its cover'. The interior was the opposite of the mess she'd seen when she first arrived — tidy and very well-taken care of.

Dave's living room gave away more than it was supposed to. Every decoration was soft and homely, showing the fact that he probably lived alone. In order to fill the void, he had created a cozy place that made him feel safe and warm so he wouldn't have to come home to remember how lonely he was. Y/N would know that better than anyone.

Above the fireplace were pictures of him with his children, she assumed, for they were arranged from the left when his twins were babies to the latest one on the right being the three of them together at the girls' graduation. There was no photo of the wife.

Dave sat down on his chair and pointed to the sofa in front of him, telling his two guests to make themselves at home. There was already a tea set on the table, so he made two cups for Y/N and Isaac, saying that he'd already had his before they arrived.

"So Y/N, is this your boyfriend?"

"No." Y/N blushed hard when she caught Isaac's stare and turned away quickly.

"My name's Isaac, I'm her friend from London," said the young man as he reached out to shake Dave's hand, showing his signature Prince Charming smirk. How could anyone not go soft for that?

"Oh, how do you like Holmes Chapel so far, son?"

"To be honest, I've been in Heartward for longer than Holmes Chapel." He chuckled, glancing at Y/N who furrowed her eyebrows at him. "This one literally dragged me here when I first arrived at her house."

She pushed his shoulder playfully, laughing along. "In my defense, I did ask if he wanted to come."

"The things we do for these ladies, right?"

Dave's comment made Isaac chuckle, but Y/N had already turned away to hide the fact that she was all flustered.

As the young people enjoyed their tea, the older man took his own letter out of the envelope, smiling nonchalantly at the memories while rereading what he'd written two years ago.

Y/N gave him a moment to get lost in his happy thoughts before breaking the silence among the three of them. "So it's true...you and my mother..."

The man's beam slowly turned into a frown as he sighed heavily, putting the letter back into its envelope.

"Yes," he confessed, eyes locked with the girl who still seemed in denial even though she'd known the truth ever since she first read his letter. Her mother, a cheater? The woman she'd looked up to her entire life turned out to be that kind of person? It didn't make any sense.

"We were in love," Dave went on despite the look on her face. "It wasn't something I was proud of, to fall head over heels for a married woman. But...I guess we never get to choose whom we fall in love with."

Isaac's eyes were on Y/N, yet hers were fixed on the man who was speaking. She didn't know how to feel anymore. Should she hate this man for ruining her parents' marriage just like how she had hated Marcy for thinking it was her? The problem was, she couldn't grow to hate him, not even the tiniest bit.

"How old are you?" Dave asked, eyes squinting at Y/N.

"Twenty."

"Wow." He sucked in a breath and rubbed his palms together nervously. "You were fifteen when I met her. Can't believe it's been five years."

"Were you married at the time?"

"No. My ex-wife left me when my girls were only six. They barely remember her."

The look on his face was heartbreaking still.

"I'm sorry," said Y/N as she wetted her dry lips. "Uhm...where are your children now?"

"They're both living in California with their husbands. I'm very proud of them," he said with a huge grin. That was enough to tell how much his children meant to him. "They're just four years older than you."

"Oh, they're the same age as you!" Y/N told Isaac, who responded with a slight laugh for how excited she seemed to discover the coincidence.

"When the girls left home, I was devastated," Dave continued with a sad smile, looking at them both. "Tam was the best thing to happen to me at the time. I believe I was also hers. She was unhappy in her marriage, yet she couldn't leave because...she didn't want to force you to choose between her and your father."

Y/N stayed silent, nodding her head slowly.

"The day of the accident, he found out about us and they got into a fight." His voice grew smaller and weaker as he recalled the tragic event that took away the woman he loved. "When I received the news, my whole world fell apart. Even now...I still blame myself for what happened to her. If I'd just given up and let her go, maybe she would still be here."

So that was how it'd happened. Her mother's affair was the reason there'd been a fight. That was why she'd given her father back the ring and drove away from the damage she'd caused. That was the truth — a hard pill to swallow.

"But you made her happier than my father did..." She spoke after a moment sinking deep in her own thoughts.

"You...don't hate me?" Dave seemed surprised by her reaction. It was certainly not what he'd expected.

"No." The girl shook her head. "At least now I know she was truly loved. So...thank you."

Dave didn't say anything else. Y/N didn't ask either. They exchanged heartwarming smiles, and Isaac reached out to hold the hand on her lap, giving her a look that said he was there for her if she wanted emotional support. Maybe that was she needed to feel at peace again.

The drive home was strangely comforting for all the secrets had been revealed, and what was left was just bare relief. Staring out of the car window, Y/N recorded the last images of Heartward into her mind like a goodbye to the little town. Then she began to wonder how many times her mother had driven down that same road, or if she had remembered the map of Heartward like the back of her hand. Maybe Heartward was her mother's London, the place that wasn't really home, but there lived the man whom her heart would always belong to.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course I am." The girl chuckled slightly as she watched Isaac stand with his back against the car, one hand still holding hers. Now that she was home safe and he knew that she was safe. She wondered what would happen next. Would they say their goodbyes and he go back to London, maybe back to Italy even?

The problem was, now she didn't want him to go.

"You sure you're okay?" He raised both eyebrows, making her toss her head back and crack up.

"Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you that I am?"

"Alright, alright, just wanted to be sure," he said, grinning from ear to ear and checking his watch.

Y/N studied his expression closely, wishing she could ask him to stay, a part of her was still reluctant that she might've troubled him too much already. Nevertheless, it wasn't her to decide what happened next.

"Y/N!"

The loud voice caused both Isaac and Y/N to let go of each other's hands as they turned to her front door. Her father rushed towards them, followed by Marcy. Both seemed so distressed that Y/N thought it was quite hilarious.

"You're safe!"

"Dad, I've only been gone for a couple hours."

Isaac chuckled as he watched the girl trying to break away from her father's arms.

"The car was here and you were gone, so I thought—"

"That I got kidnapped by the ice-cream man?" She laughed, holding him by the arms. It was then that Marcy finally noticed the handsome young man standing right behind her future stepdaughter.

"Oh!" She squealed happily. "Who's your friend, Y/N?"

"Hi, I'm Isaac, Y/N's friend from London. You must be the bride."

"I am!" The woman shook his hand enthusiastically, giving him a massive smile. "Hey, why don't you stay for our wedding? A friend of Y/N's is a friend of ours!"

"Thank you, ma'am. But I'm only here for today. I'm leaving now actually."

"Would you like to stay though?"

All eyes were on Y/N when she asked that question. She couldn't really blame them for even she didn't believe in her own words. Her cheeks instantly turned red as she was sure Isaac noticed how shy she was. His smile grew a bit wider.

"Stay for the wedding?" He questioned, probably just wanting her to say it again.

"Yeah..." She nodded fast, eyes to the side instead of looking at him. "Uhm...I do need a wedding date."

"Wait, but I thought Har—"

"That's a great idea!" Bradford cut his bride off just in time as he stepped forward to pat the young man on the back. "It's not safe to drive back to London through the night. Come in, we'll have the guest room ready for you."

"But I'm not formally dressed for the wedding—"

"Don't worry about that. It's just gonna be a family party," Bradford said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, you cannot miss an opportunity to see Y/N in a pink dress for the first time since she decided that adolescent angst suited her personality better."

"Dad!" Y/N cried out, causing the other three to dissolve into laughter. Hiding her face with one hand, she sneaked a look at Isaac, who couldn't stop beaming at this point. There was something about the radiant joy on his face that made her feel calm. Holding back a laugh, she watched Marcy pull him into their house.

Marcy was still baking for the wedding tomorrow, and since she had to do it all on her own, she was thrilled to bits when Isaac offered his help.

"I used to help my mum in the kitchen all the time," said the young man. That was enough to convince her that he was qualified to be the Executive Sous Chef in her kitchen. Bradford intended to join them as well, but Y/N stopped him right before he could volunteer to lend a hand.

"Dad, can we talk in private?" She asked, holding onto his arm.

In this household, they rarely discussed their conflicts and problems, just like old furniture, they put those in a dark corner and pretended they didn't exist until someone suddenly remembered they were still there. But look at what all these secrets they'd kept from each other had turned them into? A broken family. They had never been truly happy under the same roof. From now on, something had to change.

Bradford followed his daughter upstairs to her room where their conversation couldn't be heard. When she asked him to sit down in her chair and shut the door, he knew it was something serious. So serious that someone who had avoided every single heart-to-heart talk in her life like Y/N must initiate this conversation.

Without further ado, she sat down on the edge of her bed and handed him the letter from Dave Hardfield. Judging by the look on his face, she knew he had never expected her to find out like this, if at all.

"I came to see him today," she spoke at last, tearing down the silence which was only tormenting them both. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I found out about this the day before your graduation, darling. And the accident came right after. This news would've broken you even more."

"What about after the funeral? What about when I moved to London? You'd had so many chances to tell me," she stated. The tears in her eyes were inevitable yet it still hurt him to see her cry. He didn't need to know she'd been holding them back since the moment she found those letters in the attic. He didn't need to know what the other man had said to her. All he knew was his little girl had been through so much only to find out the truth about her mother from a stranger.

"I didn't want you to hate her for this."

His answer left a lump in her throat as she swallowed her tears and narrowed her eyes at him.

"So you just let me hate you instead?"

When he nodded, her heart nearly cracked open.

"She was a better parent than I am," he said with his head hung low. "You used to tell her everything. I can't-I don't remember the last time we sat down and talked like this. Everything I know about you, your mother told me. The bond you two had was so strong, and you looked up to her so much, I couldn't take that idea of her away from you. I wanted you to always think about her as a role model so you would always have a reason to never give up."

Y/N was speechless. She pressed her lips tight and could only nod fast to replace the words she couldn't come up with right now. Bradford scooted his chair closer so he could take her hand and hold it tight, meanwhile wiping away the tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, what he should've done years ago.

"Did you...did you ever love her?" Her voice trembled as if it was going to break anytime soon.

"I did. I still do," he admitted, his eyes now glistened with tears. "My biggest regret was not appreciating her presence in my life. I didn't treat her right because I thought she would always be around, until she wasn't anymore."

"So...did you hate her?"

"No." The father shook his head. "And I hope you won't either."

She looked at him through the tears, subconsciously reaching up to touch the locket lying close to her heart which was now racing faster than ever. Letting out a shaky breath, she said, "what she did cannot change the fact that she loved me, and she was the nicest person I knew. How can I ever stop loving her?"

"Good."

That one-word reply was so simple yet just enough. It was heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time how they both cried and wiped away each other's tears only to smile again. This was the closest Y/N had ever been to feeling fulfilled.

When she was little, every time her parents fought, she used to wish for a better family with perfect parents who never argued. But maybe this was the best she could get. At least now she knew her imperfect family could finally be a happy one.

"Brad!" Marcy's voice from downstairs made Bradford and Y/N turn to the door. "Don't think you can get away with not helping me!"

"We'd better go." Y/N chuckled as she rose from the bed. But before she could reach the door, Bradford stopped her by the words he hadn't said in too long.

"I love you."

Y/N couldn't keep track of how many nights she'd lost sleep over those three words. She had faced the fear that she might not get to hear them back. She had faced the reality that she didn't get to hear them back. To hear them now from the man she thought she should hate most in her life had filled the empty space inside her chest, even if temporarily.

"I love you, too," she said almost as a whisper but loud enough for her father to hear. Without waiting for a reaction from him, she rushed into his arms, hugging him for the first time since she was just a little girl.

Now that she was older, she must accept the fact that her parents weren't heroes and she might not really know the people she'd always thought she knew. However, true love was constant. The love for her mother, for Harry, would always be there, no matter what kind of people they turned out to be or what secrets they'd kept from her. Just like herself, she knew they had their own pain so she couldn't blame them for their mistakes.

She might not replicate what she had lost. She wasn't sure anyone could ever fill the shoes of her mother or him. But some love could only be beautiful if kept in memory. Thus from now on, she was willing to let them both go.

"So, this photo was taken on her first day of kindergarten."

"Brad! Look at her cute pigtails! I can't believe you never showed me this before!"

Y/N sat on the armchair facing the other three on the sofa opposite from her. They had their noses stuck the family photo album. It was like a game to see who could spot the most embarrassing photo of her as a child. Apparently, her dad was winning.

"Are you guys all done?" She asked, arms crossed in front of her chest as her face contorted, but nobody flinched.

"Aww, the Donald Duck Halloween costume." Isaac chuckled. He tried to ignore her, yet couldn't help but glance up to catch a glimpse of the look on her face as she scoffed in response to his comment.

When Y/N picked out a daisy in front of her and tossed it at him, Marcy wasted no time to grab the vase, holding it firmly against her chest.

"The whatever you want, just don't hurt my flowers!" She said.

"Okay, the fun's over!" Y/N rose from her seat to grab the photo album and put it aside. With both hands on her hips, she lifted an eyebrow at the men. "Chop-chop. Get back to work."

"Yes, ma'am," Isaac and Bradford said at the same time as they hurried back to the tasks they'd been assigned before getting distracted by those photos.

Bradford stood up so Y/N could take his place next to Isaac and continue arranging those wedding flowers for Marcy. Meanwhile, the father kept on looking for that cookbook he hadn't seen in years, only because Marcy's parents expected him to cook for them tomorrow night. He was just about to head upstairs and search in his room, when his phone began to ring.

It was Harry.

The man had hesitated for a long moment before picking up that call. He didn't want to see Y/N's reaction if she caught him speaking to Harry. Even so, he still wanted to know what had happened between them, knowing she would refuse to confide in him, or anyone for that matter.

"Hello?" He finally answered, keeping his voice down so his family couldn't hear.

"Is Bambi, I mean, Y/N...Is Y/N there, sir? If she is, can you get her on the phone?"

Bradford had known Harry since he was little, and he knew Harry was a good person by nature. However, after seeing the pain his daughter had endured, he now must pick a side.

Sitting in his living room was the man who made his daughter laugh, on the phone was the one who made her cry. The choice should be fast and simple, yet there was utter guilt within his heart when he decided to keep Harry from the truth.

"She went out a while ago," he lied, his heart fell to silence as a long pause followed right after.

"She doesn't wanna talk to me, right?" The sadness was clear in Harry's voice when he finally spoke.

Even though Bradford had no idea Isaac was Harry's best friend, he was aware that Harry's heart would be crushed if he found out Y/N was laughing with another man on the sofa, and the same man would accompany her to the wedding tomorrow. The father had no other choice but to be frank, "I think you should wait until after the wedding, when she returns to London. You know, give her time."

Harry was quiet for a while, as if to ponder on his own.

"Sir...do you think she still hates me?"

For this question, the older man took a deep breath. "I don't know Y/N that well, but she can never hate you."

"I know I would if I were her."

"Y/N always says things she doesn't mean. I thought you would know that better than anyone else." Bradford chuckled slightly. "She said she hated you when you left the first time, yet she still sent you those letters."

"Letters?" Harry sounded like he almost choked on the word. "What letters?"

"You never received any? That's odd...She used to check our mailbox every day, and her mother once told me that she'd been writing to you."

Bradford waited, yet the reply what came after was nothing but silence.

"Harry?" He mumbled, assuming something was wrong with the phone and the young man couldn't hear him well, until Harry cleared his throat and said that he was still listening, he must hang up now regardless.

"Can you please ask her to call me back?"

Harry's plea for help sounded so desperate. Now Bradford could only feel sorry for the boy. He looked over his shoulder, into the living room. Y/N and Isaac had long forgotten that they were supposed to be arranging the wedding flowers. They were too busy fooling around by putting daisies in each other's hair while guffawing like children. Seeing the beam on his daughter's face, Bradford was able to empathize with Harry. It definitely wasn't easy to remember how much you loved someone only when came someone else who wiped away their tears and made them smile again.

"Take my advice," the father spoke with a soft reminiscent sigh, turning his back to Y/N and Isaac. "Some things are not meant to be said on the phone."

The two-second pause on Harry's part made Bradford believe his guess was right all along. What Harry wanted to say were the three words that had started this whole mess, and Y/N deserved to hear them in person.

"I know," the young man spoke at last. "Thank you so much." And just like that, he muttered his goodbye.

The call ended with a sense of sorrowful regret, leaving Bradford standing still with messy thoughts flowing through his mind. It was Y/N's voice that pulled him back to reality.

"Dad, who was it?"

Turning his head fast, the man locked eyes with his daughter's. For a second, it was Tam that he saw staring back at him, and in that instant, he realized how much Y/N resembled her late mother.

"Was it him?" Her eyebrows furrowed when he nodded his head as an answer. What was the use of lying when she already knew the truth?

"You should call him back," he suggested. "He wanted to talk to you."

"But I don't wanna talk to him." Y/N's answer turned the man speechless. He parted his lips, yet she was quick to cut him off before he even figured out what else to say. "If he calls again, tell him he doesn't have to feel sorry...It was also my fault for expecting too much."

"Darling, it's not your f—"

"Tell him I won't call him back." Y/N interrupted her father once again. "There's really no point in torturing each other anymore."

From the look in her expressive eyes, the man understood that his daughter was badly hurt by those words of her own, yet she must say them otherwise she could never truly move on.

In silence, he watched her go back to the living room where Marcy was now instructing Isaac how to arrange those daisies. Even though he respected Y/N's decision, Bradford knew, just like him, a small part of her still wished it was Harry instead.

It was quite a wrench to Harry when that call came to an end and he hadn't got to hear her voice. The director got really mad at him for being distracted during filming and checking his phone way too often. Harry made up an excuse that he was just tired, yet none of the people he worked with was convinced. It'd been the worst day in his life ever since she left.

On the drive home, he couldn't stop replaying the conversation with one of his co-stars, who said, "I feel like this isn't what you love anymore."

He'd thought about that sentence a lot before coming to the conclusion that the man who'd said it was completely wrong. This had nothing to do with him being lazy or losing motivation since acting was what he was born to do. He loved his job, and was indeed grateful for all that he had now. But there were also the other things that he loved, one of which was her.

Now she was 185 miles away from him. And he couldn't even get her on the phone just to explain why he'd hesitated to admit that he loved her, to apologize and beg for another chance. He knew he couldn't make it back to the wedding because he'd got a commercial to shoot tomorrow morning, and he couldn't wait until after because it'd be too long. But maybe her father was right, words would sound much more sincere if they were said in person.

There was, however, something else that was bothering him. Bradford had mentioned those letters she'd written to him when she was younger. At first, he'd assumed they all had got lost in the mail, yet it seemed too much of a coincidence to be true, unless the universe really didn't want him to read them.

What if she'd never sent those letters? If so, where were they now?

Harry was too lost in the questions for himself that he almost didn't recognize his assistant who was waiting for him outside his house. The girl had to call out his name to get his attention as he walked right past her.

"Jo? What are you doing here so late?"

"Jeff said you had a rough day on set so he asked me to buy you dinner," said the short brunette as she fixed her glasses and handed the food to her boss. "And Miss Ruby Ellis called me a couple times today asking to talk to you, but I told her you were busy. Do you want me to set up a date—"

"No. It's fine," he cut her off fast, pressing his lips into a small smile. "Next time just ignore her calls."

"Oh...Okay...One more thing!" The girl stopped her boss when he unlocked his door. "I brought your laundry into your room and accidentally knocked over the books on your nightstand. I already put them back."

"Jo, you don't have to report everything to me," Harry replied as he chuckled, assuming the girl was new to her job so she was just overly careful.

Jo shook her head quickly. "I was afraid that you would see the books in a different place and think I got intrusive and read your journal or something."

"My journal?"

"Yeah, the pink notebook with your name at the back."

Harry's eyes went wide as realization hit him like a fast-moving train. He thanked his assistant, saying a fast goodbye before rushing into his house. The first thing he did was run to his bedroom and get Y/N's notebook.

She'd had it since she was nine. He always knew she wrote a lot in there, including her random thoughts, her favorite quotes, her story ideas, almost everything she could come up with; some she'd read to him, some she'd kept to herself. But he never actually got to read for himself.

If she was writing letters that she never planned on sending, would there be a better place to keep them?

Harry felt awful as he brought the pink notebook to his lap and sat down on the bed, inhaling deeply. He wouldn't want anyone to read his deepest and most personal thoughts, surely she wouldn't be happy to find out that he wanted to read hers. He was going to anyway. Desperation had got the best of him.

With trembling hand, he flipped to the back of the notebook, and immediately spotted his name written in small capital letters at the bottom corner of the hardcover. Harry didn't know why he was smiling as he gently ran his thumb over the word. He missed her too much that such a small detail could make his heart flutter.

After contemplating it for a whole minute, he took another deep breath and opened it for the first time.

Here goes nothing, said his inner voice.

The first page, which he'd seen once before, was filled with silly doodles made by a nine-year-old, hence they weren't pretty. He still remembered the day she showed him these and got mad when he made fun of her for her awful drawing skill. The memory made Harry chuckle as he turned to the second page where lied the very first entry. The ink was slightly faded due to all the years it'd lived by. Her handwriting used to be so easy to read.

On the first line right below the date, she wrote:

My definition of true happiness is the boy next door. His name is Harry Styles.

#my girl series #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #older!harry #bestfriend!Harry #actor!harry

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writetobuildtheworld · 5 years

Text

BLACK

Power, sophistication, formality, elegance, wealth, mystery, fear, evil, anonymity, unhappiness, depth, style, sadness, remorse, anger, underground, grief, and death.

"hello, for the prompt game, could you do Adrien from ml with the color black? i think it would be interesting to see our sunshine boy be angsty."

Hello friends, and welcome to pt.2 of my akumatized!Adrien fanfic. I hope you enjoy!

Read pt. 1 here. (Or don’t, but you might be kind of confused going into this.)

I apologize in advance if the line break doesn’t work. Tumblr is being shitty again, but what else is is new?

xXx

The end of pt.1:

Marinette awoke to a soft knock on the skylight in her bedroom. “What on Earth?” she muttered groggily. She pulled herself out of bed and opened the skylight, jumping as Chat Noir climbed down into her bedroom.

“Hi, Marinette,” he said, sitting cross-legged on her floor. “There’s something that you and I need to talk about.”

Marinette yawned, rubbing her eyes. “Couldn’t it have waited until morning?”

“No. It’s too important.”

Marinette stared at the superhero, and noticed an unfamiliar dark gleam in his eyes.

Chat Noir offered her a smile, but it wasn’t his usual goofy grin. It was cold, calculating.

This person... This was someone else entirely.

xXx

"Uh," Marinette stammered. "Sure. Okay." Internally, she was in complete panic mode. She didn't know why her partner was acting the way he was, and part of her was afraid to find out. She sat down on the edge of her bed, scooting towards the end away from Chat Noir. She doubted she was successfully hiding her discomfort. "So... What's going on?”

Chat Noir sighed, resting his chin on his hand and staring up at her from his seat on the floor. His eyes weren't their usual vibrant green - they seemed darker, somehow, yet also faded. Emptiness was not a look she liked on him. "Princess, has someone close to you ever kept a secret?"

Marinette wasn't sure whether it was worth lying to him. The knot of fear coiled in her stomach suggested it wasn't. "I mean. Probably. People keep secrets all the time."

"Not like that." He sat up straight, and Marinette noticed him clench his fists. "I mean a secret that never should have existed in the first place."

"I - No?" She laughed, and her voice jumped up an octave. Ugh. It couldn't have been more apparent she was freaking out, could it? "I don't think anyone has ever kept something like that from me. At least I hope they haven't."

"Huh. Well, you're lucky."

Marinette bit her lip, glancing sideways at Tikki, who was hiding in a crevice between a bookshelf and a portrait on the wall. "I guess so." She clapped her hands together, standing up. "If that's all you needed, you really should get going. I need to get back to sleep because my parents are expecting me to wake up early to help out in the bakery tomorrow - we've got these big orders from Mayor Bourgeois, you see - and I really think it'd be best if you -"

Before Marinette could blink, Chat Noir had jumped to his feet and grabbed her, pulling her close to him as he placed a finger on her lips. "Shh," he murmured. "You talk too much when you're nervous... M'lady."

Marinette's heart was racing, beating out of her chest. Her voice was caught on a dozen blades in her throat, ice seemed to flow through her veins instead of blood, her lungs were lead and she couldn't breathe -

He knew.

He knew she was Ladybug.

Marinette's legs became Jello and she would have collapsed if Chat Noir hadn't still been holding her close to him.

Shit. She was going to pass out.

"Marinette? Are you okay?"

She looked up at Chat Noir, and for a moment, her partner was back. The person she cared for to a fault and was incomplete without. Vibrant green eyes stared down at her with deep concern, and his grip loosened on her waist. Whoever had been there before, whoever it was that had climbed through the skylight into her room - he was gone.

Marinette reached up and gently cupped his cheek in her hand. He leaned into her embrace, closing his eyes. For a moment, he seemed to melt into her warmth.

But it couldn't last.

Her partner reopened his eyes, and the stranger was back.

Marinette shoved him away. "Sorry!" she managed to say. "I need to - uh, well, I gotta..." She trailed off. Of course her ability to generate excuses would fail her now, when she desperately needed time to recalibrate and think.

"Is something wrong?" Chat Noir asked, taking a step towards her. "You know you can trust me, Marinette."

"No, no, everything's fine! It's just, I need to - er, my period started!" she blurted out.

Chat Noir froze, and - oh my God. Was he blushing? That would have been hysterical if she wasn't so terrified. "Oh," he stammered. "Well, ah, you should probably go take care of that."

The period excuse. It never failed with men.

"Sorry," she apologized, already halfway down the ladder out of her room. "I'll be back in a hot second, I swear." She closed the trapdoor behind her, jumped the rest of the way to the floor, and practically flew down the hall to the bathroom. Tikki was waiting for her there.

"Not your classiest excuse, Marinette," Tikki teased.

Marinette rolled her eyes and locked the door behind her. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides - it's a solid backup plan." She really didn't understand why men turned into a quivering mess around the word "period," but she certainly didn't mind using it to her advantage.

"Speaking of a backup plan... What are you going to do about Chat Noir?"

Marinette sighed, hugging herself tightly as she leaned against the door. She was still shaking. "I don't know, Tikki." She glanced at her kwami. "Do you have any idea what is going on with him?"

Tikki shrugged. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's been akumatized." She glanced at her chosen. "Do you think...?"

The question was left unspoken.

Marinette sighed. "Yeah. That's what I'm worried about." She ran her hands through hair. "Tikki, he knows I'm Ladybug! This is bad, this is so, so bad!"

Tikki flew over to her. "You don't know that for sure, Marinette. Let yourself breathe."

Marinette glared at the kwami, her fear turning into frustration. "He called me 'M'lady.' He only calls Ladybug that. I don't know how he figured it out, but he did. He knows."

Tikki sighed. "If you're right, if Chat Noir is akumatized and he does know you are Ladybug, then the odds that Hawk Moth knows your identity, too, are much higher."

Marinette groaned. "I would say this couldn't get any worse, but I'm sure it can, and I don’t want to jinx myself." She looked at her reflection in the mirror. A small, frightened girl was staring back at her. "Tikki... I don't know what to do."

The kwami flew next to her, landing on Marinette's shoulder. "And that's okay, Marinette."

Marinette almost laughed. "Aren't you supposed to tell me that I'll figure something out?"

Tikki shrugged. "Maybe. But I don't think that's what you need to hear right now." She flew up next to Marinette's face, nuzzling her cheek. "Do I believe you'll come up with a plan? Of course I do. You're my chosen, and therefore the most clever person in the world. But it's okay to not know what to do, Marinette. No one is perfect. We're in a sticky situation right now and I'd probably think you were crazy if you told me you already had a foolproof plan."

Marinette closed her eyes and allowed tears to fall down her cheeks. "It's the middle of the night. One of my best friends has probably been akumatized and also knows my secret identity as Ladybug, not to mention he basically broke into my house. I'm having an emotional breakdown, and I am currently being comforted by a small, magical creature who gives me magic powers when I say the right words." She started to laugh. Or maybe cry. She wasn't sure. "Can my life get any weirder than this?"

Tikki didn't answer. Marinette hadn't expected her to.

She let silence fall. For a few minutes, that was what she needed. Quiet.

But she knew she had to start brainstorming. It was time to switch into Ladybug mode - develop a plan and use what she had around her to get it done.

"Okay," Marinette began. "Chat Noir is akumatized. We need to get ahold of the akumatized object, only we don't know what that is."

"It's probably his ring," Tikki pointed out. "If I were Hawk Moth, that's what I would target."

"That makes sense. Unfortunately, if it his ring, that means I can't destroy it to get the akuma, since only a Cataclysm can destroy a miraculous. Which means we need to get the ring off of him and take it to Master Fu."

"Taking the ring off will cause him to detransform, you know. Then you'll learn his identity, too."

Marinette sighed. She'd realized that. "Yeah. But there's not really any other option, is there?"

Tikki nodded. "I understand. Assuming the ring is the akumatized object, then at least he'll also de-akumatize. But until you can get the akuma out, we can't let him put it back on."

Marinette cracked her neck. "Alright. I think I've got a plan. It's pretty simple, but I'm going to need your help to make it work."

Tikki beamed at her. "Anything for you, Marinette!"

xXx

Marinette returned to her room, hitting her head on the trapdoor as she opened it in a way only she could. "Sorry about that," she apologized. "I was starting to have bad cramps, so I took some medicine."

If it weren't for the anxiety gnawing at her stomach, Marinette would have laughed at Chat Noir's expression of discomfort. God, she hoped her plan would work.

"It's fine," he muttered. "I, uh, hope you feel better soon."

Marinette laughed and sat on her bed, pretending she wasn't trying to guess his every move. "The midol should kick in after a while. But I appreciate your concern." She crossed her legs. "So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about? You mentioned something about a secret."

Chat Noir shrugged. "Yeah. I recently learned a few people I know were keeping some things from me. And these were people I really thought I could trust." He shifted away from the bookshelf he'd been leaning against and moved next to her on the bed.

Marinette had to resist every instinct in her body telling her to move away. She needed his full attention to be on her in order for her plan to work. "That sucks," she said gently, trying to sound comforting. "Is that what you wanted to talk about, then?"

Chat Noir stared at her, and Marinette had never felt more vulnerable. His gaze seemed to pierce her body and see straight into her heart. "No," he finally said. His eyes shifted up to her ears. "Cute earrings."

Marinette touched her ear out of reflex. "Thank you. They were a gift. From a good friend of mine."

Chat Noir nodded. "Do you mind if I get a closer look?"

Marinette shrugged, chuckling. She had to keep him distracted for a few minutes longer. "That's kind of a weird request, you know."

He smirked. "Well, I guess I've never been close enough to you to notice them before."

Marinette turned bright red at that comment. "Oh. Well."

He reached to touch them, but Marinette pulled away, scrambling off her bed and moving to the other side of her room. All she had to do was keep his eyes on her - and away from the bookshelf.

"Sorry," she said. "I just... Like my personal space, you know?" Tikki needed to hurry. Marinette didn't know how much longer she could keep him preoccupied.

Chat Noir stared at her. Finally, he stood up. Marinette became very aware of just how much taller he was than her. "Let me see your earrings."

Marinette managed to hold her ground. "No."

"Marinette."

"No!" She rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool. "C'mon, kitty. You're normally pretty good about knowing when a girl needs her space."

Chat Noir smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was only icy malice behind it. "I need your earrings.” He took a step towards her. “Ladybug."

"Ladybug?" Marinette sputtered, doing her best to act shocked. "I really don't know why you’re acting so weird tonight, but -"

"Don't bullshit me, Marinette!" he growled, his hands curling into fists.

"Any minute now, Tikki," Marinette muttered under her breath.

"It's the only way, M'lady," Chat Noir insisted, slowly moving towards her. "The ladybug and cat miraculouses, when combined, can grant any wish the user desires."

"Except it's not that simple!" Marinette protested. "You should know that! Every wish comes with a price. It's - It's equivalent exchange."

"I should have known you wouldn't understand," he sneered. "You have everything."

Before Marinette could process what he said, Chat Noir moved directly in front of her. He placed two fingers on her forehead, and energy suddenly began to seep from her body. Marinette glanced down at her arms, biting back a scream as she watched the color slowly fade from her body. Her knees buckled, and she would have collapsed had Chat Noir not caught her and helped her to her bed.

"I don't want to hurt you," he insisted. "I really don't. Not you." He sighed, muttering a curse under his breath. "I just need your earrings!" He reached for her ears.

"No," Marinette gasped. Her body was stiff, but she managed to push him away. "I won't... I won't let you do this."

A familiar purple outline of a butterfly formed around Chat Noir's face, and Marinette bit back a swear. She'd been right - he was akumatized. Sure, she'd expected that from the moment he'd entered her room, but never before had she wished so much to be wrong.

It was too late, now.

"What do you mean that should have incapacitated her?" Chat Noir demanded. Marinette knew he wasn't speaking to her. Her partner paused. "Detransform?" He sighed. "Fine." He glanced at Marinette. "Whatever it takes to bring my mother back." He held his hand up. "Plagg, claws out!"

If Marinette's body hadn't felt like it had been drained of all life, she might have gasped upon realizing who her partner was. Instead, all she managed was a weak, "A-Adrien?"

Her... friend gave her an eerie smile. His eyes were covered by a blood red ribbon and his skin was nothing short of a deathlike gray, but she could tell who he was. His arms were bare, but his veins glowed a deep red, twisting and turning up his body. On his chest, around where his heart should have been, was a red, felt, stitch-on heart, halfway peeled off. The quaintness of that didn't match the deadly black smoke curling around his fingers.

"My name is Cœur Noir," he began. "Not Adrien." He clenched his fist. "Adrien has been locked away, and he can't - he won't return until his mother returns with him."

Marinette didn't know what he was talking about, but even if she'd wanted to ask her lips refused to move.

"Sorry about this, Marinette," Adrien said as he stood over her. "I really do like you, you know. As Ladybug and as yourself. You stole my heart from day one." He shook his head. "I don't think you know how much I wish there was some other way I could do this." He stared down at her, and though Marinette couldn't see his eyes through the ribbon, she could feel an intense sadness permeating her room. "But I can't afford that anyone gets in my way." He reached towards her, the black smoke dancing around his fingers as tantalizing as it was repulsing.

Why did guys always confess to her when they were akumatized?! It really wasn't fair. "I appreciate the sentiment," Marinette mumbled. "But I'm the one who needs to apologize to you."

Adrien frowned, pausing with his fingers an inch away from her forehead. "What are you -"

"Tikki, now!"

A textbook was shoved off the bookshelf and crashed onto Adrien's head with a loud thunk, knocking him out cold. He crumpled to the floor like a rag doll.

"Don't mess with my chosen!" Tikki said triumphantly before flying over to Marinette. "I already know what you're thinking - 'is he dead'?"

Her kwami wasn't wrong.

"He's not. He’ll be fine. I think that will keep him knocked out for maybe an hour. But he probably has a mild concussion."

Marinette winced. She did feel bad about that.

Tikki's eyes narrowed, then widened as she took in Marinette's full appearance. "Marinette... Did he touch you?"

Marinette managed a shrug, even though it felt like there was a one hundred pound weight on her shoulders. "Kind of. But I got the impression the effect of the akuma was muted because he was transformed into Chat Noir at the time." She glanced down at Adrien. There was a small cut on the back of his head.

She pulled herself off the bed, allowing herself to fall to her knees next to her friend's limp body. Carefully, she reached out and removed the silver ring from his finger. She shoved it into her pocket and then watched as the effects of the akuma disappeared from his body.

God, it really was Adrien.

Marinette wiped stubborn tears from her eyes. This was no time to cry.

Part of her had been praying that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't Adrien. That maybe she'd been mistaken. But she'd recognize him anywhere.

Almost anywhere.

"I can't believe Adrien was Chat Noir the entire time," Marinette murmured. "How did I never see it before?"

"I know this is a lot for you to take in right now," Tikki said gently, flying down next to her, "but we need to get to Master Fu."

"Oh, thank God."

Marinette turned to see a small black cat floating behind her.

"Plagg, you're going to need to fill us in on everything the moment we get to Master Fu's," Tikki instructed. "Okay?"

Plagg winked at her. "Got it, sugarcube."

Tikki rolled her eyes. "Ignore him, Marinette."

Marinette hardly registered her kwami's remark. She stretched out and grabbed a small mirror off her dresser, then nearly dropped it when she saw her reflection.

No longer was a small, frightened girl staring back at her.

This girl... This girl was a hollow shell of a person.

Her eyes were no longer blue but instead gray and void of all life, and they were accentuated by bags so dark they were nearly purple. Her hair was duller than it had ever been. The pallor of her skin was ghastly in more ways than one. "I look..."

"Dead?" Plagg finished. "Yeah. That's essentially what Cœur Noir's power is. You're lucky you weren't touched for more then a few seconds, or when he was at his full strength."

"We should get to Master Fu's," Tikki said. "He'll know what to do."

Marinette nodded and placed the mirror back on the dresser, unable to stomach her appearance any longer. "Right." She forced herself to stand up, and fortunately the movement did restore some energy to her limbs. "I don't think Marinette is up for this journey. I just hope Ladybug is. Tikki, spots on!"

She could only pray they'd make it to Master Fu's before it was too late.

xXx

Chat Noir's ring was stored away in a sealed miraculous box before Plagg recounted his tale. Adrien was also tucked into a sleeping bag, with a bandage wrapped around his head where the textbook had left a cut.

"He's going to be fine," Fu had assured Marinette. "As long as he doesn't put that ring on, Adrien will remain himself, and Hawk Moth will not be able to communicate with or even locate him."

Marinette had offered Fu a sad smile. Sadness and hurt seemed to be the only emotions she was capable of feeling at the time. "That doesn't stop me from worrying."

Fu had chuckled. "Well, I would hope not."

Plagg then explained everything, from Adrien convincing him to spy on his father to the discovery of his mother's body underground.

"Oh my God," was all Marinette could say. "No wonder he got akumatized." She'd never wanted to hurt someone more in her life - Gabriel Agreste was a horrible person. Words couldn't possibly describe it. How had she ever worshipped him as a designer?!

Marinette couldn't imagine the sense of betrayal Adrien had to be going through. When he'd been ranting about secrets, she'd assumed he was referring to her keeping her identity as Ladybug to herself. In reality, he'd been talking about finding out his mother was alive after so long.

Not alive. But protected.

And worse, his father had been the one hiding it from him.

Marinette became nauseous trying to comprehend it all.

"Master Fu, is there any way we can fix this?" Tikki begged. "We don't know how to destroy the miraculous to force the akuma out without a Cataclysm."

Fu sighed. "There are only two feasible options, I'm afraid."

"That's better than no options," Marinette replied. "You know we're willing to try anything."

"The first is for Plagg to cataclysm the ring himself," Fu began. "That would effectively destroy the miraculous, but I fear the damage done to it would not be completely reversible by Ladybug's power."

Marinette exchanged a glance with Tikki. That option seemed fitting for a last resort. "What's the other way?"

"The other way is that we wait for Adrien to wake up, then have him put on the ring and force the akuma out."

Plagg winced. "Master, I don't know if that's possible, even for my chosen. Hawk Moth's will is crazy hard to break once someone is hooked. Not to mention that in this stage of grief, Adrien really will do anything in his power to bring his mother back."

"Well, he won't be alone." Fu turned to Marinette. "You will be with him."

Marinette blinked. "Me?"

He nodded. "Yes. You, Marinette, are the only one who can help Adrien fight off Hawk Moth. Ladybug and Chat Noir complete each other. He needs you."

Marinette looked down at her friend, who appeared so peaceful she could almost pretend he was sleeping instead of being unconscious.

Her friend. Her partner.

Maybe something more, like she'd always dreamed.

But that was only possible if he was deakumatized.

"Okay." She turned back to Fu, determination glimmering in her still-gray eyes. "I'll do it. I'll convince him."

"Are you certain, Marinette? While I have full confidence in you, you also must trust yourself. And I have to warn you that the effects of the akuma also will not disappear from your body until you cast your Miraculous Ladybug."

Marinette laughed, though there was no humor in it. "It's the only way. Besides." She glanced back at Adrien. "I have to help him. Whatever it takes."

Tikki smiled. "And that is why you, Marinette, are the perfect Ladybug."

Not perfect enough to stop her best friend and loyal partner from getting akumatized, she wanted to say. But she didn't. "Thank you, Tikki. That means a lot coming from you."

Fu sighed, adjusting the turtle miraculous on his wrist. "Now we must wait."

Waiting.

Sometimes, Marinette felt like that was all she could do.

Wait. Completely helpless against the flow of time.

But if it meant pulling Adrien out of the hell he'd been trapped in... Well, she'd wait as long as needed.

She'd do anything to save him.

xXx

people who were interested in a pt.2: @shayshaysspace, @sassy-bagel-to-go, @a-mahou-shoujo, @rena-rain, @ouatpancakes

(I apologize if you didn’t want to be tagged!)

I hope you all enjoyed pt.2! I plan to start writing a pt.3 soon if anyone is interested; that will probably be the final part. I’m curious as to how you guys think all of this will be resolved. ;) Thank you so much for reading!

For more ml content by yours truly check out @yespleasefandomtrash.

(if someone drew akumatized!Adrien I would love you forever okaybyenow)

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areyounotthrowingawaymysocks · 4 years

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Playground (Daveed x Emmy/ Anthony x Jasmine)

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Emmy Raver-Lampman and Anthony Ramos x Jasmine Cephas-Jones

Word Count: 2217

Warnings: Bullying, Injury, Hospital, Surgery

Author’s Note: This was originally a short, fluffy fic about the kids playing together at the playground. Then I decided to re-write it while editing today and this was the end result. Whoops!

While Emmy and Jasmine were at work together, both currently working on a new musical, Daveed and Anthony decided to band together to take care of the three kids. Daniele, Callie, and Michael were five now and were all in the same kindergarten class. The two couples tried to get the kids together at least once a week, and they regularly watched each other’s kids so that they could still have date nights and some child-free time.

On this particular Saturday, Daveed and Anthony decided to take the kids to the local park where they could run around and get some energy out. The park also had a playground where they would be able to play on the jungle gym and swings for a while before heading home for dinner.

Daveed and Daniele arrived at Anthony and Jasmine’s apartment around two, after a long and messy lunch of mac and cheese and fruit snacks, the only things she would eat when Emmy wasn’t home. Anthony opened the door to reveal Michael running around the apartment in just his underwear while Callie was playing quietly in the corner with her dollhouse. It never ceased to amuse Daveed how different the twins were. He sent Daniele over to play with Callie and then made his way over to Michael and tried to convince him to put on some clothes. After about fifteen minutes, Michael was finally dressed and the group made their way down the street to the park.

As soon as they arrived, all three kids joined a game of tag with a few other kids who were already playing. Daveed and Anthony took a seat on a nearby bench where they could chat while still keeping an eye on the kids to make sure no one got hurt. After about twenty minutes of tag, Daniele and Callie came over to ask if they could go over to the playground now. They called for Michael and made their way over, the girls heading straight for the swings while Michael ran for the sandbox when he saw there was a dump truck that no one was playing with yet.

After a little while, Daniele and Callie decided to head over to the jungle gym to practice their gymnastics. Their were some older kids hanging out there too, but they stayed on the lower bars like Anthony had told them to so they weren’t worried. Daniele was showing Callie the new flip she had learned in class when one of the bigger kids came over to them.

“Are you babies done yet?” she asked, her hands on her hips, glaring at Dani and Callie. “Why don’t you go play with the baby toys over there?” she pointed at the baby swings across the park.

“M-my Papí says I can p-play here if I w-want!” Callie retorted, her small voice wavering as the older girl stared her down.

“Y-yeah! D-daddy said we could p-play f-flips!” Dani added, moving to stand next to her friend.

“Well, only big kids can play on the bars. Prove that you’re big kids and we’ll let you stay,” another girl added.

“Fine!” Daniele shouted, climbing up the ladder to the higher bars.

“Dani! Papí told us not to go up there!” Callie called after her, looking back towards Anthony and Daveed who were busy talking and didn’t notice the altercation their daughters were in.

“It’s fine, C! We’ve been up here before! C’mon!” Danielle called from the top of the ladder.

Callie hesitantly made her way towards the ladder and began climbing up after giving one more glance towards her father. When she reached the top, she couldn’t help but feel proud of herself for making it up so high. She could see the whole playground from up here. Michael was still in the sandbox, currently dumping sand down another kid’s shirt. She could see Anthony and Daveed, still on the bench, unaware that their daughters had climbed up higher than they were supposed to. But before she could get too comfortable up there, the older girls were back.

“Now you gotta do a flip up here,” the older girl said, demonstrating by flipping herself backwards so she was hanging by her knees, “Your turn,” she said as she flipped back up.

Daniele hesitantly adjusted herself on the bar and then helped Callie adjust herself. They squeezed hands and then let go as they flipped back. Daniele felt her legs slip off of the bar, and the next thing she knew, she was on the ground, searing pain in her left arm.

“Dani!” Callie called as soon as she realized what had happened, “Hold on! I’ll be right there to help you!” she yelled to her as a tear slipped down her cheek.

“Here, I’ll show you the fastest way to get there,” the older girl said before pushing Callie off the bar, laughing as she fell to the ground next to Daniele and then running off with the rest of the older kids before they could get caught.

Callie hit the wood chips below with a thud. The pain was instant and all she could do was scream. Anthony heard her and he and Daveed went running, shocked to see both of their daughters lying on the ground below the jungle gym. Daveed could tell just by looking that Daniele had broken her left arm, the swelling and bruising already setting in. Callie was in even worse shape. The broken bone in her leg had pierced her skin and she was bleeding. Anthony was using his sweatshirt to stop the bleeding while calling an ambulance. He told Daveed to call the theater and have Emmy and Jasmine meet them at the ER. Michael had noticed the chaos and the crowd that had formed and made his way over. Daveed kept him turned around while simultaneously cradling Daniele so that he wouldn’t see his sister’s injury. After he reached the theater and confirmed that the girls would meet them at the ER, Anthony had him call Stephanie to pick up Michael so he wouldn’t have to be at the hospital with them. He explained to his son that he was going to have a special sleepover with Auntie Steph and that he’d get to watch movies and pick whatever kind of take out he wanted for dinner.

After what felt like an eternity but in reality was probably only a few minutes, the ambulances arrived to take the girls to the hospital. The EMTs quickly splinted Daniele’s arm to keep it stable on the trip. They took a bit longer with Callie because they had to bandage her wound before they could splint her leg. When they finally arrived at the hospital, they put the girls in a shared room because they had been crying for each other the whole trip. They were both given pain medication so they were super sleepy and a little loopy when Jasmine and Emmy arrived. Both women were in a frantic state, clearly having gotten quickly changed out of costume and jumping into an Uber as soon as they got the call.

The girls were both taken back for x-rays, Jasmine having to go with Callie who was convinced that she was being taken away from her parents forever. Fortunately, Daniele’s arm was a clean break that would heal with just a cast. She chose purple, to match her new sneakers, and was excited to have all her friends draw on it at school on Monday. Callie, unfortunately, was going to need surgery to realign her bones and place several screws. Anthony and Jasmine were nervous, as was to be expected, but they were grateful to be at a pediatric hospital with a world renowned orthopedic team who they felt would do everything they could to help their daughter heal as quickly as possible.

Daniele was allowed to go home after her cast was put on, so she said goodbye to Callie and wished her good luck with her surgery. Emmy promised that they would come back to visit the next day once Callie was recovering and that seemed to calm the girls down a bit. The Diggs family made their way home, leaving Callie and her parents to prepare for the long night ahead of them. Despite the heavy pain medications, she was still in a significant amount of pain, which the doctor said was to be expected with her injury. Her surgery had been booked for 7am the following morning, and she would be unable to eat all night, so they tried to come up with some different ways to distract her both from hunger and pain all night. Luckily, the hospital didn’t have a restriction on visiting hours, so Cynthia and Mario came over around 9 with a big bag of supplies they had picked up from the apartment: pillows, blankets, dolls, art supplies, books, stuffed animals, movies, the iPad, and Anthony’s laptop. They also grabbed changes of clothes for all three of them, toiletries, and phone chargers. Stephanie had also stopped by the apartment and grabbed anything she would need to take care of Michael for the few days they were expecting to be in the hospital with Callie and a few days after so she could recover at home in peace.

Around 2am, Callie was awake and crying from pain, Jasmine doing her best to hold her without hurting her leg while they waited to hear back from the doctor about giving her more pain meds. Jasmine put Lion King on for her, one of her favorite Disney movies, and was singing along to some of the songs, quietly kissing her head, trying to calm her, to no avail. Callie was just whimpering at this point, too tired to fully cry. Anthony excused himself from the room and Jasmine assumed he was going to go beg the nurse to page the doctor again.

Twenty minutes later, the nurse came in with more pain meds for Callie. Jasmine thanked her and the woman offered her a small supportive smile in return. Jasmine was so grateful that Callie had a nurse who was so attentive to her needs and was helping to make sure she was as comfortable as possible until she had her surgery. With the additional medication, Callie quickly fell asleep. Jasmine noticed that Anthony still hadn’t returned, so she texted him to see if he was okay. When she didn’t get a reply, she decided to go look for him, hoping Callie would stay asleep for a little while.

She found him crying on a bench in the family waiting area. She quietly slipped next to him and wrapped him in a hug, rubbing steady circles on his back to help steady his breathing.

“Bubba, match my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Good job. Keep going,” she coached him, feeling his breathing begin to regulate, the tension being released from his body.

“My fault,” he muttered into her shoulder, his voice wavering from tears.

“What do you mean, Bubba?” she asked, holding him so she could see his face.

“It’s my fault she’s hurt. I shoulda watched her better,” he said, turning away, unable to look her in the eyes.

“Bubba, look at me,” she said, turning his face so she was looking at him, “I know how hard it is to watch both of them at once. Especially somewhere like the playground. She’s gonna be okay. Let’s go back in there with her before she wakes up again looking for us.”

The next morning, Callie was brought down for pre-op around 5:30. By 7, she was pretty doped up from the medicine the anesthesiologist had given her, but she was excited that when she woke up from her “nap” her leg would be fixed and she would have a purple cast to match Dani. When she was wheeled back to the OR, Anthony and Jasmine were led to a waiting room, where both of their mothers were waiting already, along with Cynthia and Mario. They all waited together, taking turns comforting Anthony and Jasmine until a nurse came out to tell them that Callie was out of surgery and should be waking up shortly. She explained that one parent could come sit with her now and that the other could join once she was fully awake. Jasmine followed the nurse back and took a seat next to her sleeping daughter, admiring how peaceful she looked for the first time since they had arrived at the hospital.

A few hours later, Callie was back up in her hospital room surrounded by her family. Everyone had come upstairs to see her once she was moved back up and they all brought gifts. Jasmine’s mom had gotten her a new Barbie, Anthony’s mom got her a stuffed pig, her current favorite animal. Mario and Cynthia had stopped at the American Girl store and gotten a set of crutches and a cast so her doll could match her. Stephanie brought her a box of her favorite cookies, and Michael had drawn her a picture. She was still a bit drowsy from the anesthesia and sore from surgery, but Callie was grateful to be spending a day surrounded by her family who cared about her so much.

#Daveed Diggs #emmy raver lampman #daveed x emmy #Anthony Ramos #Jasmine Cephas Jones #anthony x jasmine #janthony #janthony fics #Javi writes #Family Drabbles

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chokememrstark · 5 years

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Make Me Bad (Part 5) - Winterironspider

Words: ~ 1,7k

Summary: Tony knew the nature of Spider's and Winter's relationship, but actually witnessing it second hand gets to him in various ways. When Spider suddenly starts making advances to him too, however, he's more terrified than excited at first.

Warnings: criminal!peter, criminal!bucky (winter), psychiatrist!tony, manipulation, partners in crime, dark past, underage, murder, violence, winterspider, starker

Note: Sorry this one took so long! I hope you enjoy some more for this!

[read on AO3]

After finding out a bit more about both Spider and Winter, Tony kind of begins to understand why the two stick together the way they do and why Spider was willing to risk getting caught to make sure Winter wasn’t left behind when Tony freed him. He doesn’t fully understand it, probably because imagining a brainwashed assassin in his 30s and a 12 year old being on the run together seems to cause his brain to malfunction, but it’s clear that they are not just acting. Whether or not Winter brainwashed the kid after meeting him Tony can’t say, but it surely doesn’t look like it from what he can tell.

During the next day, Tony helps Spider tidy up the place, which collected quite a bit of dust after over a month of being abandoned, and they even free part of the wardrobe for Tony, who doesn’t really have any clothes at the moment and has to borrow ones from Winter, but he’s glad about the space he gets. They will get him some clothes to change soon, but it’s not urgent, as both Tony and Winter wear similar sizes and even though Winter’s clothes are a bit too big at times, they fit and are enough for the time being.

The second night, Spider doesn’t even seem to expect Tony to come to bed with them. He simply wishes him goodnight and climbs up the ladder, making the other actually believe he can sleep peacefully. As it turns out though, Spider is in a much better mood that night and it doesn’t take long before Tony hears very obvious and explicit noises coming from the bed. He gulps and pulls the blanket over his head, but there’s no way to muffle the noise completely.

Tony just lays there eventually, listening to Spider’s moans that are slightly muffled through a pillow or blanket, but still perfectly audible. It’s weird and it’s making him feel very awkward because he knows they are aware of the fact he can hear them, but obviously don’t seem to mind. What’s worse, though, is the fact that the sounds the boy makes are in no way appalling. In fact, Tony notices quickly that just listening to them makes him hard and he doesn’t like it at all.

When there is finally silence again, Tony sighs in relief and forces himself to think of car crashes and dead puppies to kill his erection before turning around and trying once more to sleep. This time, he succeeds, but those gorgeous and pretty moans Spider made follow him into his dreams and it’s as much torture as it’s a delight.

There is a certain tension in the air the following morning and it’s pretty clear both Spider and Winter know exactly that Tony heard them the night before, but neither of them addresses it. Tony offers taking care of the dishes after breakfast just to have something to do and when he finally comes back to the living room, he finds Spider laying across Winter’s lap, book in hands and the man’s fingers entangled in the boy’s hair.

Tony decides to take a shower to have some time for himself, which takes around half an hour, but when he comes back and sees the other two in the same position he frowns. There’s something rising in his chest that he quickly identifies as jealousy, even though he has no right to even feel this way. It’s very disturbing and Tony doesn’t like it.

“Is there anything to do?” he finally asks, simply because just sitting around was never something he enjoyed doing. Winter turns his head and looks at him, while Spider doesn’t even pulls his attention away from his book.

“We need some firewood,” Winter says and shrugs, eyes piercing through Tony as if to challenge him to go occupy himself with that. “Axe is in the shed.”

Knowing that he had the choice between chopping wood and watching Winter and Spider this close, Tony nods and decides to go with the wood. It will hopefully take his mind away from the other two for a bit.

It’s almost an hour later and Tony already piled up quite an impressive amount of wood - at least for his terms - when Spider suddenly walks over to him, seemingly happy and cheerful.

“You wanna take a break?” he asks with the sweetest voice and smiles at him. “I could need a hand cutting stuff for dinner.”

Tony nods and puts the axe back into the shed, washing his hands before joining Spider in the kitchen. Since he can’t spot Winter anywhere, he asks about him and Spider smirks.

“He wants to get a new laptop,” the boy tells him as he shoves over a chopping board, a knife and onions. “He doesn’t like silence, says it makes memories come back and such.”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Tony says, but doesn’t go into detail. It’s a common thing present in people with PTSD and similar mental illnesses and traumas, so he’s not surprised.

“He’ll be back later, but I figured we still need to eat, right?” Spider smiles as he works on chopping pepper bells himself for what is going to turn out to be the side dish to rice and chicken. “You want some wine to go with it?”

Tony thinks about the offer for a moment before nodding. A glass of wine won’t hurt after all, right? Spider seems to be happy about the response and goes through the cupboard for rice while Tony finishes up the onions.

When the food is done, both of them decide to sit on the couch to eat, simply for comfort, and Tony quite enjoys how it turned out and how well the wine matches with the flavors.

“You’re pretty good with this,” he says, giving Spider a smile. “Did you learn that yourself or did Winter teach you?”

Spider swallows down his bite and chuckles into his hand. “He taught me some things, but most of what I know I learned from books and videos,” he admits cheekily. “It got boring eating only the same things after a while, you know?”

“I guess that gets pretty annoying, yeah,” Tony grins and takes another sip from his wine. “If you want to, I can show you how to do some pasta dishes my mom taught me. She loved cooking a lot.”

“Really?” Spider asks, his eyes sparkling at him. “That would be awesome! Can we make it a surprise though? I want to make sure Winter won’t suspect anything.”

Tony laughs and nods with a grin. “Nothing easier than that,” he says with a wink. “I can also show you how to make homemade ice cream. It’s really easy actually.”

“I love ice cream!” Spider laughs happily and puts down his plate before hugging Tony tight. “You’re awesome!”

Tony takes the compliment without questioning it as it’s really lifting his mood and once they are done they clean the dishes together, making the whole ordeal last no more than ten minutes. After that, though, there’s not much else to do.

“Come, I’ll show you the area!” Spider eventually suggests, grabbing one of Tony’s hands and pulling him up. Tony can’t really fight against the boy’s eager and follows him outside, which leads to a walk through the surrounding forest that lasts for over an hour. Spider seems so happy to show him everything, including the lake he loves swimming in whenever he can and the clearing where a family of rabbits lives. They don’t see them that day, but Tony doesn’t mind. It’s still nice and they have a good time before returning to the cabin.

In the evening, Winter does come back and actually has a new laptop that he asks Spider to set up - Tony figures he can’t do it himself and he’s not wrong with that. While Winter takes a shower, Spider and and Tony set the laptop up, Tony not even asking how they have such a strong internet connection out here before he makes sure Netflix will run smoothly on it.

They watch a movie together that evening before going to bed, some horror movie Tony doesn’t like much, but it’s better than complete silence, he figures. It’s a bit of a template for how things are going from then on, something Tony gets used to rather quickly. They will have dinner, then watch a movie or a few episodes of a show Peter wants to see and then go to bed. Nothing special, nothing dramatic.

That is until Tony notices a change in Spider’s behavior, something that only shows when they are alone at first, but quickly happens all the time and with Winter being there, it really starts making Tony extremely uncomfortable.

From the first day already, Tony knew better than to try and get between Spider and Winter. It’s never been a problem, not until Spider suddenly begins actively seeking his company in a much closer way than Tony is used to. The boy will lean against him whenever he can, brush his hands over his arms, hook his foot in with his legs under the table - all things that look innocent at first glance but that clearly aren’t.

Tony tries to stay rational and not give into those attempts, but the more he ignores what Spider does, the more determined the boy seems to become. It’s not uncomfortable at all when they are alone and Tony finds himself allowing the boy more and more freedoms during those times, but when Winter is there, things are completely different and Tony does his best to gently deny Spider’s advances in any way possible, which unfortunately only fuels the boy to try even harder.

There is only so much Tony can take and only so long he can ignore Spider’s attempts at getting to him. Eventually, he gives in partially, at least when they are alone, and Spider is so excited, he immediately crawls into Tony’s lap and starts kissing him.

Despite his fear of Winter’s rage, Tony simply can’t resist the boy forever. He knows he shouldn’t do this, but it feels too good not to and as long as they only do it when they are alone, things should be fine. Or at least he hopes so.

#winterironspider #starker #winterspider #make me bad #myfics #myedits

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icantlose · 5 years

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“Ya wanna hear about my mama, huh?” He reaffirms, folding both arms over his chest while leaning up against the nearest wall. “I’m sure she appreciates the curiosity -- she was always a massive attention whore.”

“Mom was born into a family of five, she’s the middle child of three kids. I’ve got an uncle and an aunt living somewhere, but honestly, I couldn’t even tell ya what they even look like ‘cuz I haven’t seen ‘em since I was a pup. After her mom and dad divorced, she dropped out of high school and began workin’ at a movie theatre in Corneria City. According to my grandma, she did real well there. It didn’t take her long to climb up the corporate ladder and eventually she became the theatre’s advertising and promotions manager. She turned the place around quick, she created a few morning children’s matinees for stay-at-home mothers who had kids that weren’t old enough to go to school. She frequently held coloring contests for the kids and had other giveaways, games and raffles that handed out free movie tickets and rejuvenated local interest in that theatre. She was doin’ real well there, but her success definitely had a darker side to it. She worked almost every day of the week, and would frequently work double shifts. Bein’ so damn overworked brought her to alcoholism. My grandma said she’d use it because it would help her wind down and fall asleep after a long shift, but very quickly it got worse. Her and her supervisor started gettin’ real close and after work, they’d frequently go out to drink to relax and prepare to end their night.”

“This is about where she met Jack.”

“Eventually, goin’ to get a few drinks with the boss turned into goin’ to full-on parties with the boss. And during one of said parties, mama met her knight in shining armor, Jack O’-fuckin’-Donnell. She met up with him and they hit it off quick. Two seasoned drinkers fallin’ in love each other at some party would be a romantic story if not for the fact that neither of these two idiots can hold their liquor. What was a blossoming romance turned into a nightmare, but my ma was so devoted to this guy that she wasn’t about to walk away. Workin’ all day, partyin’ all night and gettin’ little sleep started wearin’ on my mom and to combat this, Jack started feedin’ her speed. Doin’ drugs started helping her improve her work life, but soon people around her started to find out what was goin’ on. She was unwilling to give up the drugs, because if she did, she’d have to stop partyin’ at night so she could get some real sleep and function like an actual person and that was bad because it meant she’d have less time to be with Jack. She chose Jack over her loved ones, and as her problem grew worse, less and less people wanted anything to do with it, which meant Jack had more and more of a control over her. She ended up movin’ in with Jack and they continued their destructive lifestyle.”

“As ya can expect, it all came to a head and she was hospitalized. The movie theatre didn’t exactly have a choice in the situation and had to let her go for her drug abuse. After she was discharged, she had nowhere to go but down. Havin’ moved in with Jack and without havin’ a job she was required to show up for, there was nothin’ stoppin’ her from bein’ an irresponsible piece of shit: she was free to drink all day, every day. This was, apparently, a situation as ugly as it sounds. My grandma says the apartment they lived in was a mess. It smelled like stale cigarette smoke, marijuana and urine, there were empty bottles of booze everywhere, the walls were sticky, the laundry and the dishes were never done. All that was ever in the fridge was more alcohol, grandma described the stove’s surface to be completely covered in old food that was caked on with layers of grease and grime on top of it. She said the microwave was a disaster, with an orange stain that looked sticky and would get moist anytime anybody would use it. With nothing ever gettin’ done, and Jack the only one bringin’ in money, the relationship started gettin’ ugly. Arguments broke out hourly, sometimes shit would break, sometimes they’d get physical. Grandma said it went like this for about a year and a half before my mom finally came back home, tears in her eyes and her bags packed. She’d been threatenin’ to leave him for a long time and my mom was overjoyed when it finally happened...Of course, this wasn’t the end of the drama.”

“Mama was pregnant.”

“With me on the way, my grandma worked her ass off to get my mom on government assistance, which afforded her a new place to live. Several job interviews were arranged. She bombed most, sometimes she wouldn’t even show up. The few times she actually did get a job, she’d figure out how to fuck it up quickly. I was told one job was lost because she fought the manager over the pants she was wearing. Apparently she wasn’t told about dress code on her first day and instead of going home to change, she got argumentative and was promptly fired. My mama was supposedly goin’ through both drug and alcohol withdrawal durin’ this time, since she was pregnant with me. She was really ill at the time and spent most of her pregnancy in the emergency room. She was dehydrated as hell because she would vomit almost profusely. By this time, she was gettin’ real depressed because she missed Jack, she was unhappy with where her life went, and she wanted her vices. She’d hardly eat, she was always sick and unfortunately, the doctors had to induce labor four weeks early because of how distressed I was by the complications.”

“After I was born, my mother just completely checked out. Her depression worsened and she completely stopped bein’ a person. She locked herself in her room all day and left my grandma to care for me. My grandma would attempt to get her to mother me, because she wanted a bond to grow between us two, but her emotional state wouldn’t allow it. My grandma was alone to raise me for a while, before Jack’s best friend entered the picture. Redd Reed was Jack’s best friend and he wanted to help out my mother because apparently he wasn’t happy with how Jack handled the situation. At first my mom didn’t trust Redd because of his friendship with Jack, but real quick she began to rely on Redd’s involvement and my grandmother appreciated him taking some of the weight of the responsibility off.”

“Time went on and instead of combating her depression in a healthy way, my mother returned to drugs. This time she started using harder stuff and it completely changed her. She was erratic and unpredictable, she was aggressive and she’d often get mad at me for no reason. I remember there were days when my grandma refused to let me see my mama, and it would upset me. I didn’t understand the situation, all I knew is that I loved my mom, and when I couldn’t have her, I wanted her even more. It was times like that when I liked havin’ Redd with us. Because he always knew how to make me feel better.”

“It seemed like.. the older I got, the less of those around us I saw. Like I said, I was just a pup when I last saw my aunt and uncle. Eventually, Redd stopped showin’ up too. I started seein’ less and less of my grandma, too. The more my mom used, the more alone I started realizin’ I was. As I got older I started spendin’ less and less time at home, until finally, when I was sixteen, I lied about my age and enlisted in the Cornerian Army. I was immediately enrolled in Corneria’s flight academy and I’ve never looked back, since.”

“I haven’t seen my mama in decades--actually I don’t even know if my mom is still alive, or if she finally kicked the bucket. I got a chance to speak with my grandma once, back during the Lylat Wars. She was old and tired and she told me she just... gave up on her daughter. She said she regrets it entirely, but my mom just wasn’t interested in helping herself and her mom just got tired of givin’ her everything she had only to get spat on in return.”

“My mom’s got a sad story. She let someone consume her and completely change her into a whisper of what she once was. Accordin’ to my grandma, my mom had a lot of aspirations. She wanted to be a model, she wanted to be a singer, she learned how to play the guitar and she could draw really well, too. She was constantly seeking new avenues and she was always learnin’ new things. Then after she met Jack, it all just went straight to hell. She let him consume her. He was like a parasite, he got under her skin and completely ruined her from the inside out. Their relationship ended in an ugly and very violent way. She went from bein’ a motivated person to someone who can’t stand to look at herself in the mirror. After she discovered she was pregnant with me, she kept me out of pure spite. She didn’t want me, she knew she was in no place to care for a child. But she wanted to keep me anyways, just to give Jack O’Donnell the middle finger. I was never her child, I was nothin’ more than a tool to her. A tool for those around her to enable her vices, and allow her to wallow in her emotional turmoil, a tool she could use to rise above her abusive ex, a tool she could use to rake in pity-points and have people live her life for her. My mother was a pathological liar and she was a drama queen. She fed off of attention and often exaggerated her story to gain sympathy. She stopped growing genuine bonds with the people she had in her life, her relationships instead tools to serve her purposes and nothing more. I got tired of the person she was, and I got scared of the person I was becomin’ by stayin’ locked in her prison.”

“I don’t regret walkin’. Even if it ultimately cost me my eye.”

#INCOMING TRANSMISSION || ASK #CAN’T LET YOU DO THAT STAR FOX || MEMES #Hey! Be quiet! I haven’t finished telling my story yet! || HEADCANONS #tw drug abuse #tw alcoholism #tw abuse #tw child neglect #tw drugs #tw neglect #HOLY SHIT THIS GOT LONG #jesus christ sorry for the novel #so i was going to go into further detail about whether or not she's still alive #but honestly i think i'll leave it on a cliffhanger #just because of how long this got #I base Wolf's mom on someone I know irl #so don't come at me if you hate this story because i don't care #long post

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avonleaace · 6 years

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Here is another shirbert fic- posted on AO3 and under the cut! , I hope you all like it!! <3 I love any feedback!!

It was winter, and magic was in the air at Avonlea. Snow fell softly and houses were warm with roaring fires. For many it was a chance to see their families, and indulge in good food.

But not so for the students at Avonlea School. The winter was no excuse for poor academic performance, and the students were to attend school every day including Christmas Eve. Miss Stacey had tried in vain to convince the school board that a bigger holiday was necessary, but she had no luck.

And so, two days before christmas, Miss Stacey found a solution for the students’ failing moods.

Mistletoe.

Climbing on a step ladder, Miss Stacey hung the foliage in the classroom doorway with a bright red ribbon. It was the end of the school day, and Anne was the last to leave.

‘What are you doing, Miss Stacey?’ asked Anne, pulling on her scarf and gloves.

‘Hanging mistletoe,’ said Miss Stacey, ‘I thought it might just bring a bit of fun to Christmas Eve.’ Miss Stacey descended the step ladder and folded it away.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Anne, standing on her tiptoes to touch the mistletoe, ‘What is the point of it?’

‘You mean to say you have never been exposed to mistletoe tradition?’ Miss Stacey laughed. She often forgot how much Anne had missed being raised in an orphanage. ‘The idea is, is that when two people end up under the mistletoe together, they must kiss otherwise they are unable to move from the spot.’

Anne’s mind immediately went into overdrive. She remembered back to spin the bottle, when Charlie refused to kiss her and everyone called her a freak. Cole wouldn’t be around to rescue Anne this time.

Anne’s cheeks coloured. ‘But surely you could just walk away?’

‘Ah, you could,’ replied Miss Stacey, ‘But I do believe that would not be in the spirit of Christmas.’

Anne rose early on Christmas eve. To avoid getting caught under the mistletoe, all she had to do was be the first person to arrive and the last to leave. She bounded down the stairs whilst braiding her hair and took a piece of toast to eat on her way to school.

‘You’re up early, Anne of Green Gables,’ remarked Marilla. ‘Anything interesting planned at school today?’

‘With Miss Stacey as our teacher, things are always interesting!’ Anne avoided eye contact and bundled up her school things. ‘I really have to go Marilla, so see you this afternoon!’

Marilla laughed as Anne ran through the snow and out of sight. She really was something strange. Marilla felt a rush of affection for Anne. She may have not originally wanted a girl, but Anne turned out to be something that Marilla and Matthew sorely needed. Laughter and joy followed Anne wherever she went. Marilla’s life was so much more full because of it.

As Marilla cleared up the breakfast things, she noticed a slate left by the back door. In her rush, Anne must have forgotten to take it with her. Marilla picked it up. She knew that Anne would be unable to complete her work without it, but also knew that Anne was far too proud to walk all the way back to Green Gables.

Marilla strode out to the barn with the slate, knowing that Matthew and Jerry were working inside.

‘Jerry,’ called Marilla, ‘Would you mind running an errand for me?’

Anne reached the classroom about half an hour before class was due to start. Miss Stacey was unlocking the door when Anne arrived, snowflakes in her fiery hair.

‘You’re here early,’ remarked Miss Stacey, ‘and I think I may be able to fathom why.’

Anne betrayed nothing on her pale face. ‘It is never too early to start learning, Miss Stacey.’ Anne proudly strode into the cloakroom and hung her hat, scarf and coat on her hook.

A feeling of dread seemed to pool in Anne’s stomach. Nervously, she glanced up at the mistletoe and quickly ran underneath. Anne sighed with relief when she reached her desk.

She was safe, for now.

Oh, how Anne wished Cole was here. Anne knew her capacity for messing up, and knew that it was inevitable at some point. She could just picture herself stuck under the mistletoe with Billy Andrews or some other awful boy. Anne couldn’t decide which was worse, having to kiss him, or him calling her a freak until she left in shame. If Cole was here, he would have come to help her. She didn’t resent him staying with Miss Barry, but Anne missed him terribly.

Anne resurfaced from her thoughts when she heard the classroom door open. A gust of icy wind made Anne squint, but when her eyes refocused her breath caught in her throat.

Gilbert Blythe was standing in the doorway, under the mistletoe. He had snowflakes in his curly hair. He was wearing his black woolen coat, and shrugged it off as he noticed the mistletoe hanging above him. A good deal taller than Anne, he didn’t have to reach to touch the pearly berries. His cheeks were faintly pink from the cold.

As soon as his soft hazel gaze met Anne’s, she hurriedly opened her books. It made a loud thunk against the table. Anne cringed. Why did she have to be so … awkward?

Gilbert, noticing all of these things, walked up to Anne with a small smile and a twinkle of mirth in his eye.

‘Good morning, Anne.’

‘Good morning, Gilbert,’ said Anne, far too loudly. Her fingers fumbled as she knocked her chalk onto the floor. If it were possible, Anne’s face turned redder that her hair.

‘I can get that,’ said Gilbert, already reaching down to grab the chalk. He rolled it in his fingers. ‘Are you feeling alright?’

‘Perfectly well, thank you!’ said Anne. She reached out for the chalk and took it. Anne was acutely aware of the exact moment their hands touched. Then she felt annoyed at herself for noticing it. Anne did not have a crush on Gilbert Blythe.

‘What brings you here so early?’ asked Gilbert. ‘I thought your extra time with Miss Stacey was put on hold around Christmas time?’

Anne briefly considered making up a story involving a runaway horse and a nighttime adventure in the woods. Something tragical. It seemed unfortunate to pass up such an opportunity, but she knew that Gilbert would see through it immediately.

‘I must confess… it was to avoid the mistletoe.’ said Anne.

Gilbert could have teased her no end about this, so Anne was very grateful when he didn’t.

‘Fair enough… ‘ said Gilbert, ‘I must say I am fond of all our classmates, but not fond enough to warrant a kiss.’

‘Exactly!’ said Anne, happy to be understood. She just didn’t fancy kissing a person without any prior consideration.

A small smile spread across Gilbert’s face. ‘How about we make a bet? I bet I can make it to the end of the day without being kissed by anyone.’

‘You have no chance!’ laughed Anne. ‘You won’t be able to leave. Ruby Gillis will wait under the mistletoe and you will be trapped in the classroom until you both die of old age!’

Gilbert laughed. It was a clear and joyful sound, and it warmed Anne right down to her toes.

‘I think I can find a way around all of that. I will win this bet.’

‘And what do I get in return?’ asked Anne. ‘If you lose the bet?’

‘I think we will be able to decide on that if I actually lose, Anne. Because I won’t.’

Gilbert winked at Anne as Miss Stacey called him away to his extra work. Anne felt her cheeks colour, but also a rush of gratitude for Gilbert. Apart from the Carrots incident, he was never out to embarrass her, and could sometimes, occasionally, make a good friend. Anne smiled dreamily out the window. Then she chided herself for smiling dreamily out the window.

Anne had to stay vigilant if she was to hold Gilbert accountable and avoid any mistletoe incident herself. This christmas eve was shaping up to be an interesting one.

The first Mistletoe kiss of the day was when Diana arrived. Anne had watched with interest as possible victims narrowly missed each other under the doorway. The din of chatter in the classroom grew louder as more people arrived. There was a lot more giggling than usual. Unbeknownst to all of this, Diana was still on her way to school.

Diana Barry was a hopeless romantic. She was always quite entranced by the stories where a prince marries a commoner, just because he loved her. And so when Jerry Baynard called her the most beautiful girl she had ever seen, in French no less, Diana could not hide the fact she was a little interested.

Diana was still thinking of that day, as she did when she was in a romantic mood. (Extremely often for Diana). She arrived at the schoolhouse, removed her cape in the cloakroom, and took a fateful step under the mistletoe.

It was at this moment that Jerry Baynard arrived, with Anne’s forgotten slate under his arm.

‘Bonjour Diana!’ smiled Jerry, tipping his hat. Diana beamed back at him and automatically stepped back, making room for him under the doorway.

Anne watched all of this with rapt interest, a grin spreading across her face. Usually she would call out to Diana, but today she waited for the oblivious couple to notice the mistletoe over their heads.

Diana, ever observant, was the first to notice. ‘Jerry, look… ‘ said Diana, pointing upward at the mistletoe.

The room had fallen silent, and everyone waited to see Jerry’s reaction.

‘Mistletoe … ‘ said Jerry, staring in wonder. His gaze snapped back to Diana. He hooked a decisive arm around her waist. ‘Merry Christmas!’

And then he kissed her.

The entire classroom erupted in applause. Ruby burst into happy tears, and Miss Stacey looked up from her books with an expression of mild amusement. The pair pulled apart, seemingly just noticing the large audience. Diana giggled, and Jerry’s face was pink.

He passed the slate on to Diana, sharing a look, and then hesitated a moment. He planted another soft kiss on her cheek. ‘Au revoir, Ma chérie,’ said Jerry with a wink. He then left without another word.

The class immediately started to chatter, even louder than before. The boys would really have to up their game if they were to compare to the finesse of Jerry.

Anne took Diana’s arm as she sat down at the desk. ‘That was the most romantical thing I have ever witnessed, Diana!’

‘Wasn’t it just!’ she gushed, passing over the slate. ‘It was entirely different to spin the bottle, even though I thought myself to have a little experience in these matters.’

As Diana continued to talk, Anne felt her thoughts shift once again to Gilbert. She caught his eye again across the classroom and wondered if he had ever kissed someone like Jerry kissed Diana. An image of him and a faceless girl under the mistletoe appeared in her mind. Anne felt a seed of jealousy in the pit of her stomach.

‘Anne? Anne!’ asked Diana. ‘You look angry! You don’t like Jerry in that way do you? I knew I shouldn’t have kissed him! It’s just that I always thought you liked Gil-’

‘No!’ interrupted Anne. ‘I think of Jerry as a brother, and I absolutely, positively do not like Gil-’

‘Settle down class!’ called Miss Stacey. ‘I think that is enough excitement for now, and we really should get on with the lessons.’

As Miss Stacey began her lecture on biology, Anne glanced over at Gilbert. He was watching her, and for once Anne did not shy her gaze away. She tried to put a challenge into her look. I bet you can’t win this bet, she seemed to say.

You wish, replied Gilbert’s look. Then he smiled.

The second mistletoe kiss of the day was slightly less romantic, but still sweet. Billy Andrews and Josie Pye met under the mistletoe at morning break. Both Anne and Gilbert had remained in their seats as to not be caught out, but watched with wrapt interest.

The pair seemed to awkwardly talk, until Billy leaned in and quickly kissed Josie. Josie looked delighted. Billy retreated outside, and Josie passed by Anne’s desk.

The dreamy smile was swept off Josie’s face as she saw Anne. ‘What are you looking at?’ snapped Josie.

‘Nothing!’ said Anne. ‘Well, just that kiss. It was … sweet. You deserve to be happy, Josie.’

Josie looked baffled for a moment, and then smiled. ‘Thank you Anne. Merry Christmas.’

Anne smiled back. It was as though a wall had come down between them. For the first time, Anne had the feeling that they might be friends.

Lunchtime brought the alluring promise of a snowball fight. The classroom was abuzz as the students pulled on their coats and scarves to brave the cold once more. Anne was in two minds. She didn’t want to brave the mistletoe, but a snowball fight on christmas eve sounded like spectacular fun. Gilbert noticed her dilema and laughed at her predicament. Anne made a face back.

A solution came to her as she watched Diana put on her mittens.

‘Diana!’ called Anne, ‘Won’t you escort me through the mistletoe?’

‘Hey!’ said Gilbert, ‘That wasn’t apart of our agreement! You said we had to avoid being kissed!’

‘That’s your problem, Gilbert Blythe. It was only you who made such a promise.’ Anne laughed at the disbelief on his face as she linked arms with Diana. They paused in the doorway and Anne kissed Diana on the cheek. ‘Merry Christmas!’

Not wanting to be outdone, Gilbert dashed through the doorway when an easily distracted Ruby was making a snow angel outside.

‘Nicely done,’ commented Anne, ‘Although I don’t think you would be as successful in a snowball fight against me.’

‘Is that a challenge?’ teased Gilbert, smiling at her.

‘Possibly,’ said Anne coyly, playing along. She had to admit, she was always able to converse quite easily with Gilbert. The pair took the stairs together, and strode out into the powdery snow. Gilbert immediately closed his eyes and tried to catch a snowflake in his mouth. This was a classic mistake, especially pitted against an opponent such as Anne.

Without warning, Anne dashed behind a bush and hurriedly formed a snowball in her hand. Gilbert glanced around, unnerved. ‘Anne?’ he asked, ‘Where are you?’

His answer was a snowball, perfectly aimed to hit him right in the chest. Anne laughed, aiming once more. This one narrowly missed his head.

‘Anne!’ he laughed, ‘You have to at least give me a chance!’

Anne emerged from her hiding place. ‘Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you did I?’

Gilbert revealed a snowball in his hand and sent it flying at Anne’s head. She ducked. ‘Those are dirty tactics, Gilbert Blythe!’

It was sometime during that snowball fight that Anne Shirley-Cuthbert had a realisation. She loved the snowflakes in Gilbert’s hair, and she loved to hear him laugh. Anne (maybe) had a crush on Gilbert Blythe, and maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing.

The snowball fight had no discernable winner, and ended when Miss Stacey called the class back inside.

Gilbert and Anne had reached something of an agreement, and checked for the coast to be clear before dashing under the mistletoe, one by one. The school day had almost finished and Gilbert had almost won the bet. Almost.

When class finished, Ruby Gillis sat herself under the mistletoe and refused to move. She was obviously waiting for Gilbert, and she explained her reasoning to an exasperated Tilly.

‘He will just have to kiss me if he wants to leave. You got your first kiss in spin the bottle, and it clearly isn’t fair!’

Anne would have found the whole situation extremely funny, if it weren’t for that flicker of jealousy. Anne didn’t want Gilbert to kiss Ruby.

‘A challenge.’ remarked Anne to a Gilbert. ‘How are you going to get out of this one?’

Gilbert smiled but put a finger to his lips. ‘Like this.’

Gilbert edged backward and made sure Ruby was looking the other way when he opened the classroom window.

Anne laughed. ‘Creative! I’ll give you that!’

‘I am an innovator,’ announced Gilbert, as he squeezed himself ungracefully out the window. He landed quietly in the snow and looked back up at Anne, who was leaning out of the window.

‘Merry Christmas, carrots,’ said Gilbert softly.

Anne smiled and felt no anger at the old nickname. Anne and Gilbert were well and truly friends now, and she thought it best to put those childish quarrels behind her. Their friendship was much more important.

‘Merry Christmas, Gilbert,’ replied Anne.

Gilbert hesitated, as though he wanted to say something else. But then he didn’t. He nodded at Anne, and turned away, traipsing through the thick layer of snow.

Still watching his retreating back, Anne closed the window. Anne could not imagine away the regret she felt at his leaving. If only she had said something, or done something. Gilbert meant a lot to Anne, and there was no use pretending she wasn’t drawn to his warm hazel eyes and incredibly kind personality. Anne tried to cheer herself up. It wasn’t like Gilbert was leaving for eight months again. Anne would see him within a few days, and they would remain good friends - especially after today.

When she finally turned back to the classroom, even Ruby had left. Anne must have been standing at the window for longer than she thought. Her classmates had all left to see their families - it was Christmas Eve after all.

Anne gathered up her things. She tied up her slate with her books and chalk, and swept her gaze around the classroom. Nothing seemed out of place.

For the first time, Anne allowed herself to stand under the mistletoe. At least the foliage was pretty. Anne could picture herself as Princess Cordelia, with a bough of mistletoe for a crown. The back door was still open, and Anne closed her eyes to feel a snowflake fly inside and melt on her face.

‘Anne?’

Anne didn’t need to open her eyes to know that Gilbert Blythe, of all people, was standing in front of her.

‘In my glorious escape, I forgot my coat,’ laughed Gilbert awkwardly. ‘I thought you would have gone home by now.’

‘No,’ replied Anne, still with her eyes closed.

‘Are you just contemplating?’ asked Gilbert. He took a step forward, drawn to Anne without knowing why.

‘I am imagining.’ Anne finally opened her eyes. The clear blue met Gilbert’s hazel. ‘Imagining that this day had gone differently.’

‘How so?’ Asked Gilbert, taking another step closer. He could smell the flowery scent that surrounded her now.

Anne didn’t reply for a second, not breaking Gilbert’s gaze. Anne was always known to be the freckled one, but Anne could notice a few pale freckles on Gilbert’s nose. She wondered what it would be like to touch one.

Gilbert admired Anne. She wasn’t pretty, she was beautiful. Her coppery hair shone with a silver quality because of the white light reflecting off the snow.

The pair stood there for a minute, but it could have been hours.

‘Gilbert, look up,’ said Anne.

The mistletoe hung directly over their heads.

‘Anne, I’m sorry,’ said Gilbert immediately, ‘I know you don’t want to kiss anyone, but nobody is here so we don’t have to if you don’t-’

‘Gilbert,’ interrupted Anne, ‘I don’t mind. I would like to … kiss you.’

Gilbert stood in shock. Of all the things he expected Anne to say, this was not it.

Anne’s face fell. ‘Unless you don’t want to kiss me?’

‘No!’ cried Gilbert, far too loudly. He cringed at his own awkwardness. Why couldn’t the words come out right?

Anne didn’t seem to mind, and she laughed softly. They both laughed until their laughter was spent.

They finally made eye contact again. Gilbert slid a shy hand around Anne’s waist, and Anne felt her heart beat a little faster.

Anne reached up and took hold of Gilbert’s collar for support. Gilbert thought his heart would beat out of his chest.

Gilbert looked down at her rosy pink lips, and met Anne’s gaze again.

They both leaned in, closer, closer …

Anne was surprised that his lips were incredibly warm. She felt the soft pressure of his lips on hers, and warmth spread throughout her body.

Gilbert couldn’t think. His mind was filled to the brink with Anne. Her smile, her eyes, her small frame, her hair and her lips. Gilbert didn’t know her lips would be so incredibly soft.

After a few moments, or maybe a lifetime, the pair broke apart.

They said nothing, both lost in a dream, lost in each other.

Anne was the first to break the silence. ‘I think you lost the bet.’

Gilbert laughed. ‘I suppose I will just have to make it up to you.’

‘I don’t know how you could do that. We won’t even see each other until after the new year,’ said Anne, ‘Maybe another kiss?

Gilbert smiled, a glint of humour behind his eyes once again. ‘Maybe next time I see you. Now might be a good time to tell you that Marilla invited Mary, Bash and I for christmas dinner.’

‘wHAT?’

#anne with an e #anne with an e fanfic #anne with an e fanfiction #shirbert #awae #anne x gilbert #anne x gilbert fanfiction #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #shirbert fanfiction

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mdomroe-blog1 · 5 years

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TecKed Out

OUTLOOK

Everyone has their own personal favorite social media influencers, whether that be Youtubers like, Keaton Milburn, Fitness Bloggers like Tammy Hembrow, or top models like Hailey Bieber. These three famous influencers have three main characteristics in common. They are tall, skinny, and blonde. Growing up I had a great childhood, I was carefree and never had a second thought about the way I looked. In later middle school when I became a part of the social media world these things changed. I started to see the differences that I had from other girls my age and noticed I never could compete with some girls.

[Keaton Milburn is a 21-year-old social media influencer, courtesy of AZ Foothills.]

I’m not here to tell you that skinny blonde girls need to be exterminated from society or to tell you to stop using social media. I’m writing this blog to raise awareness of future implications extreme social media and technology usage could bring to the next generation of young adults. Compared with other developed nations, Americans are more likely to have a higher amount of screen-time than almost any other western society. According to Common Sense Media, American youth, ages 8-18 spend an average of nine hours using any source of media. Instead of living an active lifestyle and learning lifelong skills, we are training our youth to live behind the screen while emphasizing the importance of technical literacy in the workplace. Brianna Crowley compared the older generation to be more of “digital immigrants’” rather than “digital natives”. However, we are not preparing the “digital natives” for the real world, we are teaching them to live like lifeless computer-oriented zombies. Employers are more inclined to hire someone with both computer and communication skills, however CLIMB professional Development and Training ranked strong communication as the top answer. As a society we need to be conscientious of the negative impact’s technology can bring, so we can work toward a well-rounded lifestyle.

[This illustration shows this woman’s struggle to detach herself from social media. (Thrillist)]

MENTAL HEALTH

In 2014 Nielson performed a study to show the negative effects technology has on the developing teen brain, this study showed how technology has negative effects on sleep patterns, self-confidence, social skills, emotions, and personality in teens. Nielson highlights the negatives of social media as a whole, rather than demonstrate what a person goes through on a more intimate level, which is so important to acknowledge. As technology has risen, personal hatred towards one’s own body became extremely prominent. Girls and boys saw true differences between their bodies and ones of famous influencers, which then made teens try and work towards a more “likeable” image. Teens will do anything to fit in, going anywhere from posting scandalous photos to starving themselves, because that is what their favorite celebrity does. The Girl Scouts Research Institute found that ½ of every teen women wish they were as skinny as fashion models. I think it is horrible to see how many girls are affected by social media, if they weren’t subjected to mass amounts of edited content then maybe it would be easy to differentiate between what is real and what is fake.

Body image is something that usually has a negative connotation. When you’re a teen you have so many different things to worry about. Teens stress about the craziest things, personally I have stressed about how my new perfume smelled for hours. I think with just simple posts a teen can completely misconstrue the meaning behind the initial post and work-up their emotions in response. Our brain has been rewired since I was a kid. According to Stephanie Hertzenberg; from Beliefnet, there is a direct connection between your brains ability to process a large influx of information, and the ability to retain information. This recent catastrophe is referred to as “popcorn brain”, and if the brain is subjected to a large amount of stimuli for long periods of time, then the brain will no longer retain large portions of information.

Not only does over indulgence of social media lead to poor cognitive function it also is a main trigger of anxiety and depression. It is so easy to see posts on your feed and compare the amount of likes you receive to another young teen, but while some of us just see that like as a number others take that number to heart. In 2017 the Child Mind Institute conducted a study that shows 92% of teens use or own a smartphone. The Child Mind Institute also found that in half a million high-schoolers depressive symptoms have increased 33% in a five-year span. In that same time teen girls experienced a 65% increase in suicide rates. Technology is a great thing and allows for millions of people to connect from all over the world, but when people feel bad about themselves after going online then why should we promote its use. We should not let cyberbullying be something in this world that could trigger someone to take their own life. Jennifer Mills; a renowned Canadian Psychologist speaks on body image and says teens "… felt worse about their own appearance after looking at social media pages of someone that they perceived to be more attractive than them...". Many are quick to see negatives within this quotation; however, I believe we need to not see it as a negative but see it as an opportunity to change young tech users outlook when on social media. Instead of viewing it as a competition, we need to teach developing youth that it is a form of finding information on others.

[This photo symbolizes how she sees herself based upon others words, and how they stick on her (Social Media Effecting Body Image).]

TECHNOLOGICAL INNOVATIONS

We have seen our society move up the ladder with new innovations, with large technology companies constantly working towards releasing the newest update. Apple is the leading tech company in the world and is a great example of a company with a fast turnover rate. Within the last decade, we have moved into the realm of smartphones. With technology at our fingertips our citizens live a very efficient lifestyle. You can completely live a paperless lifestyles if truly necessary, but that may lead to a dependence on any given device. Women and men are constantly on popular modes of social media like YouTube, Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook. If our society is on average spending nine hours on a device, then a large amount of that time is spent on social media. Constant time spent on social media updates teens on the newest tech trends being released, this inclines people to buy more and more products that have very little differences. Zac Hall exemplifies the fast technology turnover rate, by showing how every September Apple releases a completely new model, then just makes small adjustments and rebrands throughout the year. This marketing scheme is what makes Apple and other companies so successful, however they do not show how the consumer is constantly updating to stay hip to cultural trends.

[This is a chart that shows the large increase of price on Apple products (Phillipine Peso.]

PERSONAL REFLECTION

When I was a freshmen in high school, I was completely naïve to all the mean girls in school and what their words could do. I was a pretty shy girl and did not really get into deep conversations with “the cool kids”. One day I had class with this beautiful popular girl named Rachel and she was seated in my table group. I was pretty excited to be in a cool table group, and for her to even know my name. A few weeks went by and I thought Rachel and I had really hit it off on multiple occasions. Little did I know that she was purposefully manipulating me for pure enjoyment. I had found out that she posted a photo on her Snapchat story of me wearing shorts with white paint on the butt. This white stain led to many sexual jokes that I was not expecting nor wanting.

In conclusion, although Rachel and I do not talk anymore her words still linger with me to this day. I feel that without the monumental tear to my self-confidence I would not have grown to be a strong independent leader. I am currently writing this from my hotel room where I am staying in Nashville. I was selected to attend a Leadership Conference here and I truly think back to that time where social media destroyed me, and how I have grown from that experience. Overall, I believe technology has allowed us to transform society and grow into what we are today, but without proper guidance it can go extremely bad.

[These are unfortunately the very old shorts that I got made fun of for when I was so young. Ironically, I brought them to wear to bed.]

[This is me and Jacquelyn Kelly pictured above at the Leadership Conference this past weekend.]

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wineschool-blog · 3 years

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Wines for Beginners

https://j.mp/2WjWbgb For those of us in the wine trade, it’s hard to remember what it felt like to be a beginner. The nerves. The uncertainty. The fear of being judged. Being new to wine can be stressful, but it doesn’t have to be. In this article, you’ll find the best wines for beginners. In other words, these are the wines you are guaranteed to enjoy. Table of contentsLearn to Love WineStarting SweetWine RecommendationsWine Buying Tip: Less is More!Hitting the WhitesBest White Wines for BeginnersThe Bitter Truth about Red WinesLight Red Wines for BeginnersGo Big or Go HomeHeavy Red Wines for BeginnersFinal ThoughtsMore Tasty Places Learn to Love Wine The first thing to keep in mind is that not everyone starts in the same place. For example, maybe you grew up in a family that enjoyed wine, or your culture has a long history of pairing food with wine. Or maybe you didn’t drink a drop of alcohol until you turned the legal age. Either way, this article is going to save you loads of unnecessary stress. As a new wine drinker, this guide will help you navigate wines and recognize your own preferences. If you prefer, you can check out our Online Wine School for upcoming wine classes. You can also check out the National Wine School for wine certification programs. Starting Sweet Where you start with wine really depends on your diet. Is dessert your favorite meal? Is a day without chocolate a day not worth remembering? On the other hand, if you have a sweet tooth, your first wines probably should have a little sugar in the mix. In wine-speak, we often call these wines “Off-dry.” There will be people who ridicule you for liking sweet wines. Honestly, screw them. Every wine culture –America, France, and Italy– started with a love affair with sweet wines before they got a handle on the dry stuff. The goal isn’t to ignore the sweet stuff but to rise above its powerful grip. Wine Recommendations Moscato D’asti has low alcohol, bubbles, and a hint of ripe peaches and orange blossom. This is not only a perfect wine to start with, but a wine even a wizened old expert like myself loves. There is nothing better than a Moscato D’asti with extra-spicy food. When buying this wine, make sure to steer clear of any wine that says “Moscato.” The “D’asti” means it’s the real deal, from the Asti region of Italy. Demi-Sec Vouvray You might be surprised to know that this somewhat obscure wine has inspired quite a few folks to begin their wine journey by taking classes at Wine School. Vouvray is a small region in France that produces a range of white wines. They list the style of wine on the label. “Demi-Sec” means semi-dry (which is synonymous with Off-Dry). Alsatian Gewurztraminer. Who knew that the French like a bit of sweetness in their wines? The grape Gewurztraminer is fun and spicy. However, it often tastes like ginger and lychee. The French region of Alsace tends to leave a little sweetness in these wines, which works well with their hearty cuisine. Zinfandel This is red wine and a great place to start if you prefer leapfrogging over white wines. The sweetness here will come across as super-ripe plums and maybe even milk chocolate. (There is a pink Zinfandel, too, but it’s best to skip that one!) Wine Buying Tip: Less is More! To get a little sweetness in your wines, don’t spend too much. Lower-priced wines — below $15 — are much more likely to have residual sugar, especially from California. Why? This price category is full of wines for beginners! Most people buying these wines are budding wine lovers, so the styles fit your palate. There is no shame in spending less, especially when you want a tasty wine. Hitting the Whites Now that you know how delicious wine can be, it’s time to challenge yourself. Staying in the sweet realm will limit you from experiencing some of the most enchanting wines in the world. (Plus, wine is a lot healthier without sugar.) The next step in your wine evolution should be tasting dry white wines. When talking “dry,” we mean a wine without any residual sugar. The goal here is to have wines that don’t venture too far into the earthy spectrum –no smells of a barnyard or wet dog, please!– and keep flavors fruity and super-delicious. A word of caution: The most noticeable difference will be the tartness you feel on your tongue. Sugar hides the bright flash of acidity, so you may have to acclimate to that sensation of freshness. But, it will be worth it. Best White Wines for Beginners Italian Prosecco These fresh and fun bubbles are a crowd-favorite. This is a style very different than French Champagne and a lot more affordable, too. The bubbles are bigger and softer, and the flavor is a mix of citrus and minerals. The wine is very food-friendly, especially for appetizers. Sauvignon Blanc from Marlborough, New Zealand The perfect event “white.” If someone you know is a white wine drinker, chances are the first wine they fell in love with was a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. These wines are zesty, mouth-watering, and filled with delightful tropical fruit aromas. Once you try Sauvignon Blanc with goat cheese, you’ll become an enthusiastic white wine drinker, too! The Bitter Truth about Red Wines There is nothing worse than drinking a wine that tastes like a bitter pile of dirt. Maybe it even turns to sandpaper in your mouth. For a beginner, that may lead you to conclude that wine isn’t for you. The truth is, many things about wine are wrapped in preferences and experiences, but our preference for bitterness is genetic. Therefore, how your palate reacts to bitterness will determine how much you enjoy this sensation in your wines. You will only find this type of bitterness in red wines. It is called “tannin” and comes from the skins and seeds of the grapes, and it gives red wines their color. White wines are not fermented on the skins, so they don’t contain bitter compounds. When starting off drinking red wines, it’s best to start with red wines low in tannins; that way, you won’t turn yourself off before you begin. Light Red Wines for Beginners Bonarda from Argentina One of the most slurpable grapes to ever end up in a bottle of wine is Bonarda. However, if you are going to try a red wine for the first time, this is the one I recommend. We are talking big fruit and little to no bitterness. In the States, it’s a rare but inexpensive bottle and worth seeking out. Beaujolais from France. This wine is made from the Gamay grape. (Wines in Europe are usually named after their place, not the grape in the bottle.) Gamay is a super-juicy fresh red wine that is delicious by any metric. Go Big or Go Home Another step along the way towards your wino-fication is to go big. But, unfortunately, most wine drinkers don’t realize that booze acts in a similar way to sugar. After all, simple sugars are just booze waiting to happen. Higher alcohol has numerous effects on how wines perform on your palate. First, it gives wines a rich mouthfeel. Second, it masks flavors in the wine. Third, it will make the wine taste sweeter; most alcohols –even the poisonous ones– taste sweet. The net effect is a wine that is much easier for a new wine drinker to enjoy. Heavy Red Wines for Beginners Petit Sirah from California. This grape has been grown in northern California for a few hundred years and is one of the biggest wines in the marketplace. The booziness of this bottling is so deep that it often tastes like strawberry jam. So, of course, you’ll hear the term “jammy” to refer to wines like this. Shiraz from Barossa Valley (Australia). The grape Shiraz also goes by the name Syrah. This is a wine that is very different depending on where it comes from. In France, this wine tends to have the whiff of road-kill. The opposite is true for Shiraz grown in Barossa Valley in Australia. The Aussie style is filled with notes of blackberry jam and chocolate: a delightful choice for novices. Grenache from Spain. This is one of the oldest grapes globally, and there is a reason why: big and boozy wines have been popular for millennia. Grenache is a particularly huge wine, even when it’s affordably priced. (FYI, it’s called “Garnacha” in Spanish.) Final Thoughts Think of these suggestions as a step ladder towards becoming a wine connoisseur. You start with sweet wines, move on to white wines, low-tannin red wines, and finally to full-bodied red wines. This is only the start. Give yourself a year to work your way up the ladder. Enjoy each rung, and only climb upwards once you are ready. More Tasty Places If you want to expand your selections beyond these recommendations, I have a few suggestions for you. Places like Germany, Austria, and Italy offer many delicious white wines that will surprise and delight the new wine drinker, especially if you keep your budget reasonable and your mind open. Until you become a more experienced cork-master, I’d suggest limiting your red wine picks to New World regions such as the United States, Chile, Argentina, and Australia. These regions tend to offer rounder and fruit-forward red wines that will minimize bitter sensations. Once you have explored these wines and flavors, come back and learn more about wine! Tasting Classes Wine Tasting Cheese Pairing Cocktails Food Pairing Wine 101 Articles Wine 101 Wine Tasting At Home What is Wine? Blind Tasting Wine Wines for Beginners Essential Wine Terms Wine Books Wine Phrases for Beginners By Keith Wallace https://j.mp/2WjWbgb

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infuseddopamine · 4 years

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26 and feel content (maybe for awhile)

It’s been awhile. Nothing I want to sort out actually in the past months. I usually write when my mind scattered.

So once in a while, I’m gonna write things when I’m in a good mood and have things sorted out aaaand I got nothing to do amid this corona. It’s a #coronawriting!

Lately I feel content with what I have now. I think things going on on its right track. Love, Career, Money, Peers, and Health (?), well, I rarely get sick lately lol.

So since I’m not that kind who likes to brag around, let’s brag things to myself with my writings.

Love

After the hurricane in June 2019, my relationship with Woof is getting so much better. Somehow I think the hurricane makes us get back on the healthy track. No drama, just enough healthy jealousy, and the most prominent part, we’re not co-dependent anymore, though in the first place he’s never co-dependent, I’m the one who was co-dependent.

Here’s why I can get out from that co-dependent behaviour. That moment when we had a break makes me realise that I am my own self. I don’t need anyone to stay by my side to prove how worthy I am and those who stay with me stay because they’re attracted to my worth, not because I’m begging them to stay. No more begging someone to stay, they need to choose to stay with me because they want to.

Before the big storm happened, I think we developed an unhealthy relationship which about to sink even without that bitch came around. I tried too hard to catch him, somehow I suffocated him with my unintentional nags. And he also got too pre-occupied with his new life (he got into a new job and new colleagues that he likes so much) and his plate had got too full for me to be included in there (?).

Woof is trying so much harder now. He’s trying his best to be with me. I really appreciate his effort to show how much he loves me and also to prove himself that he’s worthy to stay by my side. Well, part of it maybe he’s still feeling guilty. Let’s just take advantage of it, no one gets hurt tho. Love you! And I hope we can stay by each other side until we got super old and go to our retirement home together yet still enjoy each other company. Amen.

Career

I’m so grateful that I took a big leap at that moment. I like my current job, my colleagues, my boss (who’s about to leave, so sad), my clients, and especially the new things I learn each day in my current job.

Things are super great, my boss and clients are very satisfied with what I do. My boss said it’s the first time ever for the past years that this client ever said they’re satisfied with our job. Even my boss got hijacked to my client’s company, to the division that I handle, while my client’s other division cut their contract to us. It’s a valid evidence that the division that I handled is the only one that works and actually makes my boss looks awesome. But I tried not to got a big head. Somehow, I tend to work even harder, to not let them disappointed. My inner child is still a people pleaser, lol. One day I might got a mental health problem because of this.

Beside that, I also got to implement the things I learned in my current job to my own business. So, even the job that I have now is in line with my business now. I can just copy and modify it a little, since my business is still too small. But I just feel so grateful for this.

While my current business is still too small and I think I wrongly choose one of the partners to join the business, but I hope for the best that it still can going bigger and my partner can change her bossy and don’t-want-to-get-her-hand-dirty behaviours. Amen.

Money

I have savings now! I can pay an annual rent for an apartment, invest a little, have a liquid money for unpredicted urgent matters, and also buy a designer bag (with installment of course, how come I can get everything at one time).

I still need to manage my wasteful behaviour tho. I still buy unnecessary clothes every month, but now I only buy one or two things and it has to be something I can still wear for another 10 years.

Woof also said that I have this lavish lifestyle where I buy stuff just because it’s expensive even if there’s a cheaper option, funny right. I just realised that after he said that to me. It is true tho. If there are two brands of tissues for example, I will choose the more expensive one, because I always think pricier product has a better quality, even if it’s not proven so. I just like the idea that I can buy a good quality product. That’s one of mindsets that I need to improve.

For the next financial plan, I hope that I can have a bigger savings & investment and letting my money growing itself so I can have a financial freedom. Amen.

Just-right Peer-pressure

I think things are going great also with my friend. Sometimes jealousy still come in my head that some of my friends are doing super great with their career. But no, I don’t get jealous with my married friends, I know I’m not there yet lol.

But I realise it’s not something that I need to dwell about. Comparing yourself to your peer will never be enough. Even if you got a very good career, you will always compare yourself with those who has even cooler career, especially those with privilege backgrounds. Of course they’ll get there quicker since their ladder are so much higher since they were born. The education they got, the lavish lifestyle they have since they don’t need to pay any more money for housing, cars & transportation, and even designer bags, it’s just incomparable with my situation.

I can simply compare myself to the unfortunates but it makes me uncomfortable because by then I should give my money to the unfortunates. Since I don’t give much, I like it better to just ignore the idea that there are someone has so much worse situation than me, to make myself not to feel guilty. Capitalism is my new god, sorry. I only give things to those whom I love.

Beside that, I think I need to focus on myself path. I need to find my own path.

Some people are doing great with their career but take a side their love life. Some people have no other choice but to put their career above else because they don’t have other things to be spared their focus on. They might find love when they got the chance to do so, or choose to expand their focus on that later. That’s their path.

Some people are doing great with their marriage life, even if their career is still not in good track, they still need to live under their parent’s house and got monthly money from their parent to pay their kids need. But that’s the path they got. It’s not that they will stuck there forever, they will grow on their own way.

Some people stuck on a big stone, they do not move anywhere for awhile. But they can unstuck themselves if they find the right way to climb that stone or to turn around and to find another path, so they can move forward. It’s their path.

My path is something that I create myself, not sure if it’s intentional or not. But one thing for sure, my path is not that unique, so I don’t need to feel bad about it and to think that I took a path to failure.

I took a path where I don’t really study hard that I got a mediocre first job, so I develop a career path myself, not by promotions from my company. I took a path where my previous job maybe makes me had a career stuck for awhile, but I develop myself to have a certain standard to work and to live my life. My first job might make me not having much progress, but it creates a situation where I have enough savings (because they got me to save double pension funds, where can you find another company that makes you have two pension institutions?), so I can start my own business with enough capital even when I have this reckless spending money since my young age.

I took a path where I somehow always have a boyfriend, so I don’t get to do much interesting single life things. But because of that, amid corona, I don’t feel lonely, because I have him by my side. I don’t even get to worry whom I’m gonna marry when the society forces me to get married. I can simply say that I already got my man and we just need to wait the right time and enough money to have our wedding.

So my next plan is to stay have this mindset even if I got left behind, I believe I have my own path and I don’t want to feel sorry about it ever again. Amen.

Health

I tried my best to decrease my sugar intake now. And since I got fat easier due to my age now, I also examine what I eat more thoroughly. I also work out and religiously go to wellness studio to have a good body. My body is my temple (?). I tried to avoid unhealthy lifestyle because I don’t want to pay much money when I got sick in the future. Well you never know in the future tho. But at least I tried. I still eat junk food and trans fat tho. Hopefully I can change it to healthier diet. Amen.

Now I’m tired writing, it’s already 2 hours I write this thing I guess. I’m hungry and gonna make beef curry with rice. Ttly if I got the time and effort. Can I get an amen for all my prayers above?

#amen

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fughtopia · 7 years

Link

The Compensated Psychopath**

The famed Swiss psychiatrist Adolf Guggenbühl-Craig, Jungian author of The Emptied Soul, believes that many psychopaths (a.k.a. sociopaths) who walk among us are often those who hold upstanding positions in society. Adolf Guggenbühl-Craig calls them "compensated" psychopaths.

Unfortunately, psychopathy showing up in places other than a prison or mental hospital is an extremely serious and all too common social problem, partly because just one compensated psychopath can so adversely affect the lives of so many unsuspecting, trusting people.

These psychopaths can be economically and emotionally (if not physically) "socially dangerous" — capable of unbelievably appalling acts. In 1941 Dr. Hervey Cleckley discussed the "partial psychopath" when he talked about "incomplete manifestations or suggestions of the disorder" in psychiatrists, physicians, businessmen, etc.

"Compensated" psychopaths were described as the subclinical psychopath or subcriminal psychopath by the famous Dr. Robert Hare. These doctors are all talking about the same problem — psychopathy.

Pure psychopaths really do exist, but even so, they are very, very rare. It is the vastly more common so-called compensated, or partial, psychopaths (Adolph Hitler is an extreme example; see link 3, below) who are the far more insidious, and pervasive, social problem.

Hervey Cleckley (best known for co-authorship of The Three Faces of Eve), a pioneer in the field who provided the first coherent, thorough description of what he called the "psychopath" (and the "partial" psychopath), wrote: - Although they occasionally appear on casual inspection as successful members of the community, as able lawyers, executives, or physicians . . . . [t]he true difference between them and the psychopaths who continually go to jails or to psychiatric hospitals is that they keep up a far better and more consistent outward appearance of being normal.

"Partial" Psychopaths

Regardless of whether they are characterized as compensated psychopaths, partial psychopaths, subclinical psychopaths or subcriminal psychopaths, these psychopaths cause others to suffer immeasurably from their own psychopathy, and conveniently for them they do it without a trace of their always nonexistent conscience. Dr. Robert D. Hare, the world's foremost expert on the psychopath, has described psychopathy as “a socially devastating disorder defined by a constellation of affective, interpersonal, and behavioral characteristics."

Particularly characteristic of the psychopath are shallow emotions, the utter absence of empathy, guilt, or remorse, glibness/superficial charm, manipulativeness, inconsistency, deceitfulness/lying and a grandiose sense of self-worth.

Lacking any genuine remorse, psychopaths also lack the motivation to change. It's generally thought that not only do psychopaths not get better with treatment, they actually get worse because they learn how to better manipulate the system, as well as the clinicians who try to treat them. According to Robert Hare, "Administrators actually took it to mean that not only are they not treatable, but if they're going to be worse, let's do everybody the service of not treating them." Dr. Hare believes in developing a good treatment plan; there just isn't one yet.

The term Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) was originally meant to replace the charged (and not clearly distinguishable) terms psychopath and sociopath to describe psychopathy, but Dr. Hare argues convincingly that ASPD and psychopathy are in reality, by their actual definitions, describing different disorders. The incidence of ASPD has been estimated at 3% in males and 1% in females, while the rate of psychopathy is about 20% to 50% of the rate of ASPD. With 300 million people, the United States therefore has a range of roughly 1.2 to 3 million psychopaths within it's borders in 2006, and because there are fewer than 100 (clearly dangerous) serial killers, this suggests that about 1.2 to 3 million other socially dangerous psychopaths, existing on a continuum of varying degrees of severity, are wreaking their havoc in countless other devastating and socially dangerous ways.

The Psychopaths Are Winning

Psychiatrist Hervey Cleckley, in his seminal work The Mask of Sanity (1941), which first put together the characteristics of psychopaths, noted that psychopaths are "apparently sane, often dynamic . . . almost always seductive . . . impress others with their sincere motives and positive intentions and wind up causing great institutional and personal harm. With an unexplainable capacity to engender trust, even in experienced and cynical observers, these people create chaos . . . The single most powerful diagnostic test was his own willingness to cash their checks . . . Charm, a quick sensitivity to the unspoken needs of others, and a certain flexibility with the truth are woven into a personal charisma that entrances."

As psychiatrist A. J. Mandell noted, "Cleckley speaks of the psychopath's immunity from anxiety, extraordinary poise, sense of well-being, and remorselessness."

Psychologist Robert Hare, in his classic book Without Conscience: The Disturbing World of the Psychopaths Among Us (1993), states: -

Psychopaths are social predators who charm, manipulate, and ruthlessly plow their way through life, leaving a broad trail of broken hearts, shattered expectations, and empty wallets. Completely lacking in conscience and in feelings for others, they selfishly take what they want and do as they please, violating social norms and expectations without the slightest sense of guilt or regret. Their bewildered victims desperately ask, "How can we protect ourselves?"

Dr. Hare notes that the psychopath "can use words any way he wants. If you catch him lying, he'll just shift gears and go on as though nothing had happened."

To explain why people are so easily taken in by these superficially charming and socially adept, but socially dangerous, psychopaths, in Without Conscience Robert Hare quotes from William March's The Bad Seed (1954): -

Good people are rarely suspicious: they cannot imagine others doing the things they themselves are incapable of doing; usually they accept the undramatic solution as the correct one, and let matters rest there. Then too, the normal are inclined to visualize the [psychopath] as one who's as monstrous in appearance as he is in mind, which is about as far from the truth as one could well get . . . These monsters of real life usually looked and behaved in a more normal manner than their actually normal brothers and sisters; they presented a more convincing picture of virtue than virtue presented of itself - just as the wax rosebud or the plastic peach seemed more perfect to the eye, more what the mind thought a rosebud or a peach should be, than the imperfect original from which it had been modeled.

Robert Hare recently said, "The majority of people and therefore workplaces are easy prey, because we still want to believe that people are inherently good. We don't really want to believe that such people exist." So it is that Dr. Hare, the world's best-known expert on the psychopath, concludes that the ultimate problem is — "Us!"

By contrast, writer Henry Lloyd-Roberts concluded by re-framing the issue from the opposite perspective in "How to Spot the Office Psychopath": -

. . . These ‘qualities’ are fundamental in helping them [psychopaths] climb the corporate ladder:

They can be manipulative, arrogant, callous, impatient, impulsive, unreliable, superficially charming and susceptible to flying into rages. Further redeeming features include a fondness for breaking promises and blaming colleagues when things go wrong. It is their single-minded focus, however, that helps them to achieve their corporate goals.

According to Professor Hare, who led the research: -

“Wherever you find money, prestige and power you will find them. The most important thing is to be aware you are working with a psychopath. Then you are in better position to deal with them.”

The fundamental characteristic of all psychopaths is having no conscience and consequently lacking any empathy with their fellow man. Small wonder then that they seem to particularly thrive in industries where a little ruthlessness goes a long way, namely business, law, politics and the media.

A Garrison Keillor-type might call such people well-compensated psychopaths, but like I said, they're winning!

Intro To Psychopathy: Links -

Click the links below to learn more about compensated (partial) psychopaths & psychopathy generally: - 1. The New York Times > Magazine > Psychopathic C.E.O.'s (registration is free) 2. The Psychopathic or Sociopathic Personality 3.**The Compensated Psychopath - from The Emptied Soul - Adolf Guggenbuhl-Craig 4. Incomplete Manifestations or Suggestions of the Disorder - Hervey Cleckley 5. Discussion with Adolf Guggenbuhl-Craig and James Hillman 6. The Emptied Soul - Adolf Guggenbuhl-Craig - excerpts 7. Quotes about Psychopathy 8. Without Conscience - Robert Hare — book review by Muriel Fraser 9. Psychology Today: Predators - from Without Conscience - Robert Hare, Ph.D. 10. Snakes in Suits - Robert Hare and Paul Babiak — pre-publication lecture review 11. All about Dr. Robert Hare - Expert on the Psychopath - What is a Psychopath? 12. The Mask of Sanity - Hervey Cleckley, M.D. - excerpts 13. Discussion of Psychopathy Traits - The Mask of Sanity - Hervey Cleckley 14. The Psychopath - Special Report on Psychopathy 15. Official Culture in America: A Natural State of Psychopathy?-L. Knight-Jadczyk Related Psychopathy Links . . .

#psychopathy #psychology

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valiumvallley · 3 years

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How to Avoid League of Legends Tilt

Guides

How to Avoid League of Legends Tilt

Tilt impacts all of us – even the professionals – and it can do serious damage to your ELO if you play League of Legends under tilt. That’s why it’s important to avoid League of Legends tilt at all costs.

This blog post aims to answer three key questions regarding League of Legends tilt hopefully helping you avoid becoming tilted in the future. We’ll start with explaining what tilt is, then we’ll move onto the symptoms of tilt before finally looking at what you can to do avoid becoming the next toxic Riven main.

So, unlike Team Siren, let’s get started.

What is League of Legends Tilt?

We can’t learn how to avoid tilt if we don’t know what it is.

Tilt is a term which originally comes from gambling (specifically poker) where a player is playing badly because of unlucky draws and minor mistakes leading to frustration.

This mixture of frustration with a feeling of unjust leads to more poor decisions and larger mistakes which causes the player to go into tilt further.

When we want to apply this to League of Legends tilt it’s very similar. Imagine you are playing League of Legends and you feel it’s unfair because a mistake cost you the game which you had no control over. Maybe a team mate decided to AFK or someone unskilled on the enemy team is fed.

This leads to you getting angry and then you lose focus so you start to make your own game changing mistakes. We’ve summed up League of Legends tilt in an easy to read diagram. Each time you go around this circle the tilt will only get worse leading to more losses and a cycle that is hard to break.

Sounds Terrible – But am I on Tilt?

You can’t avoid League of Legends tilt if you don’t know what tilt is.

Don’t worry though – there are some easy to tell signs when you are going onto tilt. Here are some of the major warning signs you are about to enter into a League of Legends tilt.

You Could be on Tilt if you’re making Irrational Decisions

When you play against a troll pick, like Blitzcrank mid, you’ll probably go into the game expecting to win. Unfortunately something happens and you’ll end up losing your lane, your sanity and end up on tilt.

You went into this match up expecting to win, I mean he is a Blitzcrank mid after all, and you can’t accept the crushing defeat he’s handed to you with his big robotic hands. Unfortunately after some nice grabs and a couple of jungle ganks later you’re currently 0/10 against this guy and your ready to run into the enemy tower constantly.

After a frustating game and a quick stop at the keyboard store you queue back up and all of a sudden you get a great idea.

What if I play Blitzcrank mid

If this situation feels familiar to you then you’re probably on a tilt (or some other substance like alcohol). Playing Blitzcrank mid is not a good idea and it won’t help you win – you just had a bad game. Accept this and move on. This situation isn’t just unique to champion picks either. The same can be said for poor dragon decisions or silly warding mistakes. If you played against a team that seriously focused the dragons and you lost hard it doesn’t mean you should only focus on the dragons in the next game. Keep your focus on the game, use tactics that work for your team and don’t make any irrational decisions based on previous experiences.

You’re Tilting if you’re Trolling or Flaming

The cornerstone of a League of Legends tilt is flaming. You’re trying to play your lane but you start to feel the rage build up inside. Before you know it your hands move to your keyboard and you’ve insulted your teammates mother. It spirals out of control and after the innevitable all chat begging for reports the games over and you’re left staring at a defeat screen.

No rational or happy person is going to start telling their teammates how much they suck. If you start to flame your team after every mistake they make then you’re going to be adding to the problem, not solving it. Just focus on improving your own game and encourage your teammates.

The ‘feeder’ in the top lane doesn’t need any more hate (even if he’s playing Riven) – he probably feels bad enough already. By flaming the guy you’re only going to cause him to go into a League of Legends tilt too. He’ll then carry his negative attitude into his next game and probably flame again. Eventually the whole community ends up flaming faster than a fire in 1666 London.

Do everyone a favour and follow these two simple tips. If you feel yourself getting angry then:

1) Mute everyone in the game and focus on your own gameplay.

2) Make sure you don’t queue up again until you’re calm.

You’re on a League of Legends Tilt if you’re Expecting to Lose

How can you expect to win if you go into each game expecting to lose?

It’s never my fault, always rubbish teams.

This is the classic sign of a League of Legends tilt. If you feel like you’re going to lose and what’s the point then why bother queueing? Just stop playing until you feel more positive. You could go outside, Read a book, play another game or just log into a League of Legends smurf account and have a relaxing normal game.

By going into a game expecting to lose you’re going to make stupid mistakes and have a short temper. As soon as something bad happens in this game you’ll simply sigh and say: “Here we go again” and continue to play without a care in the world. While playing without caring can make the experience less stressful it’s not going to help you climb the ladder.

It’s not Skype… Typing more than Playing

League of Legends requires you to only use your left side of your keyboard.

At no point should you feel the need to put your right hand onto your keyboard and start talking.

People on a League of Legends tilt tend to spend more time flaming and typing in chat then actually playing the game. If you can’t help yourself then you could mute all the other players and focus on yourself only. This way you can improve your own game. The fact is you’re not going to change someone elses playstyle so don’t bother trying.

If you’re really struggling you could remove all the keys from the right hand side of your keyboard – although we don’t actually reccomend you do this.

Focusing on others in Champion Select

Have you ever just come out of a bad game where your jungle picked an out of flavour (or even meta) champion and did nothing only to go into the next game and have a different guy pick the same champion?

While we admit it’s uncommon to see two Heimerdinger Jungles in a row, it can happen. The problem is you’re going to attribute your previous loss to the Heimerdinger and instantly assume that, since there’s another Heimerdinger, the end result will be the same.

You can either say; “Omfg We just had a Heimerdinger and he sucked. GG we lost.” or you could just think; “Hey this guy is playing the same champion as the other guy – maybe he can use him correctly”. Here’s a tip (and a spear behind it): The second one is a much better way of thinking.

If you are comparing your teammate’s champions to previous games then you are probably on League of Legends tilt and you should start to focus on your own game. Oh and in the unfortunate situation of having two Heimerdinger Jungles in a row: just dodge.

You’re going to lose less LP, not effect your MMR and save yourself 30 minutes. You can even use the 5 minute time out to exercise.

I’m on League of Legends tilt – What do I do?

If you find yourself in the situation above then firstly: don’t worry. League of Legends has a tendancy to tilt most people and League of Legends tilt doesn’t mean you have anger issues.

Tilt affects everyone and you can only have a limited patience before competitive video games will eventually start to annoy you. Once you’ve accepted your tilt it’s time to take action. The quicker you take action the less damage the tilt will do to your MMR, mental state and keyboard.

If you are in a game and you start to experience tilt then you should put on your favourite song, mute your entire team, and focus on making improvements. Set yourself little goals like aiming to get 30 CS without dying or pushing a lane to get a tower.

If you find yourself on tilt after the game then you should not queue up for any more games. This will only cause you to go into a worse League of Legends tilt.

Ways to Beat League of Legends Tilt

If you want to stop tilting then here’s some of our top tips.

Play Another Game – Try a different game for a bit. League of Legends is a fast paced and stressful competitive game which leads to a harsh atmosphere and blood-thirsty community. Relax with a simple game like Minecraft or Bejeweled before queuing again.

Play with Friends – Everything is better with friends. Avoid arguments and the luck of the draw in the team raffle by playing with friends that won’t feed or troll. You’ll also be aware that tilting in front of your friends is going to damage your friendship and embarrass you.

Exercise – It’s a proven fact that physical exhaustion will increase your mental fitness. The release of endorphin also make you feel better and make you play better when you come back. Just let your heart rate settle first.

Watch YouTube or Twitch – You can relax on the internet by watching your favourite tuber or streamer. Just make sure that if they are playing League of Legends you focus on their own game and not their team.

Clean your Area – Cleaning can make you feel great (through exercise) and give you something to do to help you calm down. Coming back to a clean desk will make you feel ready to play and give you a fresh start.

Talk to a Friend – Whatever voice program you use (We personally love Discord) talking to a friend can calm you down. Tell them your terrible experiences and laugh together at the misfortune you’ve had. After a quick rofl you can return to the game with a smile on your face.

Sleep – Sleeping can help you de stress and avoid League of Legends tilt. Throughout education its recommended that you get a good nights sleep after a revision session to help solidify what you’ve previously learnt. When you’re trying to climb the League of Legends ladder a nap will help refresh you as well as cement your new knowledge.

Act on your Triggers – You should by now already know what triggers you. If it’s abuse or flaming then simply mute them without replying. If troll picks are more your tilt then simply dodge. Whatever triggers you – there’s always a sensible solution without going into a League of Legends tilt.

If you want any extra advice on how to stop tilting then here is a fantastic post by UnrankedSmurfs on what to do to stop League of Legends tilt.

Did you tilt too hard and find yourself banned?

Get to Level 30 Instantly with a LoL Smurf

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