#tw: brief nightmare sequence

[the-silver-chronicles]

WIP Wednesday + Last Line Paragraph

Tagged by @direwombat @g0dspeeed @inafieldofdaisies and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @cassietrn @chazz-anova @adelaidedrubman @wrathfulrook @shallow-gravy @strangefable @voidika @poisonedtruth @derelictheretic @detectivelokis @josephslittledeputy @vampireninjabunnies-blog @snake-in-the-garden @strafethesesinners @a-rose-in-a-garden-of-weeds @henbased @ladyofedens-blog @little-wolf-seed and @deputy-morgan-malone + anyone else who wishes to join and share.

Here's a WIP of Silva's Hope. And we got some Mary May! This isn't my most polished work so the final result will be a bit different once it's published. WIP below:

Mary May raised a brow at Nadi, regarding the smaller blonde with puzzlement. She finished polishing the glassware, placing it onto the counter with a soft clink.

Setting both arms firmly on the bar, Nadi's brown eyes had to endure the intensity of the barkeep's light blue. She noticed the skepticism, how the Fairgrave woman was running her words through her head, tearing them apart.

However, Nadi didn't waver from her poker face, and maintained the clueless Fall's End overseas nouvelle venue act. Masking emotions was a quality she learnt from Jacob, and later John had given her a few tips on how to hide intentions to get information better.

A pause was heavy between the two, until Mary May finally responded, but with her own question, "Now why do you want to know about a dead girl?"

Nadi smoothed a hand over to her small braid, playing with it as she answered, "Well, like I said, I've been learning so much about Fall's End for a few weeks now... to get a clearer picture on everything that goes about here, you know? But I can't seem to get a straight answer on this Omar girl. She seemed to have a... mixed reputation, non?"

Much to Nadi's delight, Mary May snorted as she shook her head, reaching under her counter to grab a beer bottle.

"Understatement of the century," the barkeeper mumbled, eyes easing the intensity in her eyes. Cagnotte, Nadi proudly thought to herself as Mary May's lips parted to answer.

“Now, so you know, my word isn’t exactly a picture perfect replication of who Elsa Omar was," Mary May stated, opening the bottle and pouring it into a glass for a patron, "Neither does anyone else in Fall's End. We only ever saw one or two sides of her, and that was what she wanted us to see. The closest you’re going to get to an accurate description of her would be from her older sister, but even then, I'd assume her account on her little sister wouldn't be anything but with rose-tinted glasses. What sister wouldn't think their sibling was anything more than the person they grew up with?"

Mary May held a distant look that Nadi pretended to not notice as she thought on her words. The short-haired blond couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. As an older sibling herself, she knew exactly what it was like to view those younger and older than herself in a different light than everybody else. Even when she probably shouldn't have. I'll need Sister Nancy to tell me more about this older sister of Elsa's. Hopefully she's managed to achieve her assignment by now.

"Now with that said,” Mary May paused, tapping her fingers against the wooden counter, “Elsa Omar was a performer, a tricky one at that. I believed her about her fragile bones. Defended her even. Because who would lie about something like that? Probably helped her case that there were times we heard of her getting what should have been very minor scrapes for anyone else but serious injuries for her. Multiple trips to the clinic wasn't unusual for that girl. Felt bad for her, as did everyone else. We were also in awe by her spirit, in spite of the disadvantage she had. I know I was."

Seeing that she still had Nadi's attention, Mary May continued, "I never like to speak ill of the dead. It just... never feels rights when the person isn't around to hear it themselves. But I gotta say, Elsa was, and will always be, one of the most confusing people I have ever met."

Nadi tilted her head, shuffling her stool seat closer to the counter, "How so?"

Mary May huffed, shaking her head with pursed lips and furrowed brows as she spoke, "I just never got her deal. She had a successful business. A family member close by. And got lucky with men and women alike. I honestly thought she was plenty decent until she continued to run her mouth around me. She could be really nice to you. She could be really good to you. She could have even made you believe she was your best friend. Or she could be a self-absorbed, rude shit with an ego that puts John Seed and Guy Marvel to shame. Never hated her, but didn't exactly like her either. Most people though either had one opinion or the other about her, both good and bad. As I said, she was tricky. And quite the actor. I could never tell which facade was her true self. If either was the "real her" anyways. She didn't cause unnecessary problems, or try to get my business shut down, which made me a little lenient to tolerate her. Her sister always got a free pass from me because she didn't bother anyone. Or she was too shy to. Though I chalked it up as someone who didn't have a good handle on their English yet. Never liked making conversation, always keeping things short. Not Elsa though, she talked like it was her way of breathing."

Nadi clasped her hands together and rested her chin on top, supported by her elbows on the bar counter, as she continued to listen to the sinner speak her mind. While the business she owned enabled others to indulge in their vices, Nadi couldn't help but be enraptured by Mary May's words. She could see why John had a small infatuation with the barkeeper. She had an aura of a person who was capable of taking care of herself, a reliable ally who could pull her own weight and someone who was tough. Someone who wouldn't go down that easily. All were admirable traits, and useful too. Not to mention, she was pleasing on the eyes.

Nadi felt disappointed that the other blonde let her Pride vehemently dictate her decisions, rejecting the Father's truth. John's chances to give salvation. Would've loved to see her walking around in Chosen attire, came the intrusive thought.

The image of a beauté like Mary May dressed as a Chosen, just like Nadi's fellow brothers and sisters back at the Veteran's Centre, darkened Nadi's cheeks, and her want for someone's touch return.

Shaking her head, Nadi shooed those tempting thoughts away. Restrain your LUST, Sinclair, a voice, either her own or John's, chided, You already need to resist charming your boss, don't push yourself further into sin by leading others or yourself down that path... again.

"Hey, you alright?" Mary May's voice cut through Nadi's thoughts.

Nadi blinked, and put on a smile before gesturing towards Mary May, "Oui. Got lost in thoughts. Please, continue."

And here is the last lines for La Última En Pie. Nightmare sequences are difficult to write (also trigger warning for child abuse, nightmares of implied child murder and, uh, creepiness):

“No matter where you hide. No matter how far you run. No matter which sinners you choose to sully what little virtue you have with,” Father told her, his grip getting tighter, constricting her breath, “You. Will always. Be. Mine."

Sylvester clawed at his arm, his wrist, his hand. Choking on screams he kept silent. "This isn't supposed to be happening," she wanted to say, so desperately, "This wasn't how this went." Her wide grey eyes stared into the unbothered gaze of whom she shared the colour with. Father drew her face closer to his, as he whispered his promise, "And we will be together in my Garden. My paradise. No matter which form I mold you in."

[tippytanpies]

Thinking about this whole scene again.

[crownofconvergencerp]

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐅𝐀𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑

tennyson is a 28 year old fae from withermore - or, he thinks from withermore, since that’s where he came to those weeks ago. Someone or something has tampered with his memories, as he can remember very little about himself and the life that he once lived. his major abilities consist of manipulating dreams and nightmares to increase his personal strength. 

TW: Memory loss.

If there were tales to be had, stories to be spun about his life, Tennyson surely would welcome it all with open arms. To his seemingly permanent misfortune, however, he cannot remember.

Tennyson woke up beneath a wide oak tree, a light snowfall drifting in the wind, flurries dusting over his body. There was absolutely nothing in his memory - no ideas of how he managed to get to this seemingly unfamiliar forest, where this forest was, and so very little from anything else in the past. His name - Tennyson Warrick - was ringing in his head like a bell, and hurt about the same, the way his head pounded from it. He was pretty certain of his age and birthday, and memories of magic, of the world he found himself in.

But few things about himself came back over the hours he spent trudging through the night, to any civilization he could find. A woman’s face, never sharpening enough to come into focus. Did he love her? What was she to him? A young man near his age - a friend, a brother, a lover? He knew what he was, instinctually - his true name, his abilities, one by one coming back.

Unfortunately with the latter, he was getting flashes of confusing imagery. An exhausted voice begging for peaceful sleep. The sounds of a child crying as he watched from the corner, forcing the sound of growls into an ear. A darkened dreamscape haunted with nightmares of a war. Brief flashes of terrifying sequences that never quite materialized, like a shadow constantly weaving in and out of his peripherals. People he didn’t know in frightening dream scenarious that he just knew he caused… were these real, even so unfamiliar? What kind of person was he before? And worse yet, did he even want to know?

Days of traveling, of staying awake as long as he could - lest he get plagued by his own nightmares - eventually led him to the doorstep of Destarin, to a hostel in the Trade District, spending his nights looking for work, looking for truth.

Looking for any signs of himself.

WHAT ARE YOU...?

species: dark fae. weaknesses: iron, sunlight, dreamwards, holy items, aquaphobia, true name, mental fortitude. strengths: dream manipulation, sleep aid, shadow stepping, heightened senses, illusion. physical description: tennyson is humanoid, with very slightly pointed ears typically hidden under messy curls. there’s a thick scar above his left ear where hair grows a little stranger, a little more wild around the disturbed skin. his irises are a dark yellow with a thick black ring around them and often pinpointed pupils - sometimes they glow in the dark under the right circumstances. tennyson uses a glamor so he looks less scary to others, and can blend in more normally.. additional info: the type of fae that can manipulate dreams and nightmares are on the rarer side. tennyson has a gut feeling that letting on about his abilities could spell trouble, so he keeps it all fairly close to the chest, and glamored up.

tennyson warrick is played by honey and their fc is josh o'connor.

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

Patch You Up

An anonymous commission

***********************

Fandom: Pokémon (Undescribed male character)

Word Count: 2011

Genre: Sickfic, Sneezing, Caretaking

TW/CW: Brief nightmare sequence

***********************

He sniffled as the soup’s steam wafted from the bubbling pot. He was sure that it must have smelled wonderful, but now all its aroma did was make his nose run. Turning to the side, the trainer wiped his nose on his sleeve, the wooden spoon still in his hand. A small piece of tofu dropped to the floor, which attracted the previously dozing Pikachu from the couch.

It sniffed at the tofu, ear twitching, before trilling with delight and taking it in its paws.

“Pika-!”

The trainer turned to see Pikachu clutching its paw to his chest, cheeks crackling. Tears were starting to gather in its eyes.

“Aw, buddy…”

He put down the spoon and bent down to the pokémon’s level, taking the paw in his hands. This wasn’t the first time this had happened - being used to berries and pellets, Pikachu was still learning that you had to wait for some food to cool down before you could eat it.

Luckily, its paw was only a little red. The trainer took a small bandage out of his pocket, applying it as gently as he could. Pikachu didn’t really need it, but it always helped them feel better.

“There you go - snf! All better.”

Pikachu looked at the bandage, then smiled, trilling. It stretched its arms up to their owner, waving its tail. The trainer laughed and picked it up, letting it crawl onto his shoulder and into the hood of the hoodie he was wearing.

He turned back to the soup, which had gone from a simmer to a boil. He slid it off the burner, giving it one last stir before bringing a spoonful to his lips. He blew a few times, but before he could take a sip -

“Hah…hah-!”

Without thinking, he put his nose in the crook of his arm.

“HTSH’CHHHF!”

The spoon’s contents dribbled onto the floor, which were promptly lapped up by Mabosstiff, much to Pikachu’s dismay. It hopped out of the trainer’s hoodie, getting on all fours and arching its back. Mabosstiff only blinked at the angry rodent before returning to its prize. Pikachu’s cheeks sparked, ready to strike. The trainer put his arms between them.

“Hey, don’t - HTSH’SHIIEW! H-Hih-? HKSH’SHIIIEW!”

He rubbed at his nose, which had begun to grow red. He patted his pockets for a tissue, but they had all been used long ago. He stood up and tore off a paper towel from a nearby roll, cringing as he wiped his already sore nose on the rough material.

“ksssssssssh!”

The trainer blew his nose, finally feeling some relief from his congestion. However, it didn’t last long, as his nostrils quivered once more.

“Ugh…snf…”

He put the paper towel over his nose, just in case, and dragged himself to the living room. He fell back on the sofa. By then, Mabosstiff, licking its chops, had settled back on the floor, already snoring. Pikachu was pouting nearby, thumping their tail against the coffee table.

“Hah…!”

The trainer grasped the paper towel to their face, hitching. Pikachu looked up, perking their ears.

“Snnnnf! Hah…hah-!”

Pikachu, beginning to like this new game their trainer was playing, put a finger under their own nose and squeezed one eye shut.

“Pika! Ah!”

The trainer sniffled. “Pikachu, I’b…t-trying to…ah-!”

“Pikaaa…aaaah…!”

“Q-Quit…hah-!”

“Pika…pikaaaa-!”

The trainer sniffled, then sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Guh…lost it. Snf.”

But Pikachu, who didn’t want to stop playing, climbed onto the trainer’s lap, trilling and waving their tail. The trainer chuckled, running his hands through the pokémon’s fur.

“What ab I going to do with you?” he teased, using his thumbs to rub wide circles into Pikachu’s cheeks. Pikachu trilled, squinting its eyes shut.

Suddenly, the trainer’s nostrils flared with new vigor.

“Gah-! HAH-!”

With both his hands occupied and not a lot of time to think, the trainer bent over Pikachu, pressing the pokémon into their chest as the long-awaited sneeze finally came.

“HPSH’SHIIIIIIEW! SHIEEEW! HKSH’SHIEW!”

The trainer groaned, leaning their now pounding head back. The paper towel lay crumpled in their hand.

“Sorry, Pikachu - snf! - snug up on be.”

He blew his nose as Pikachu looked up at him with wide eyes, still a bit dazed. It held a hoodie string tightly in each paw.

The trainer groaned again, shifting to his side. Maybe if he could just lay down for a few minutes -

Pikachu climbed onto his trainer’s chest, sniffing at his face.

“Pika?”

“I’b sorry, Pikachu - snf! - I can’d play right now. Just…let be rest a little bit…”

The trainer coughed, leaning his head on the arm of the sofa. He hadn’t realized how sore he was until he laid down. His head, his chest, his arms, his legs - they all hurt. And though he had put on a hoodie this morning to chase away a chill, it had now become a pounding fever. As much as he wanted to take it off, he didn’t think he could move his aching joints. The trainer felt sweat pooling down his back and beading on his forehead.

A gentle gust of air made the trainer open his eyes. A yellow tail moved back and forth in front of his face, fanning him. He sighed with relief as the cool air washed over him.

He didn’t know how long he had been asleep, or even remembered dozing off, but the next thing his trainer knew, there was a soft growling and snuffling next to his ear.

The trainer opened his eyes to see Mabosstiff’s big brown eyes staring into his. The pokémon barked softly through its chops, using its paw to nudge the trainer’s shoulder.

Trying to assuage it, the trainer reached out a hand to pet its head, but fell short as his energy ran out. Mabosstiff whined, putting its cold nose on the trainer’s cheek.

“What? What do yo-”

He cut himself off with a rough cough. Mabosstiff put its snout under the trainer’s shoulder, supporting him as he tried to sit up. Between Mabosstiff and the sofa, he was able to heave himself up, shivering.

Getting off the sofa, however, was a different story.

Mabosstiff, sensing the trainers unsteadiness, turned around and backed against the sofa. It turned its head expectantly.

After a few minutes, the trainer managed to will himself up, using Mabosstiff as support. His entire body throbbed in pain, but he managed to keep himself upright. Mabosstiff shuffled along with its trainer, waiting patiently for each step.

The pokémon led him to the pot of soup that he had previously abandoned. Luckily, he had taken it off the burner, but it had probably gone cold. Mabosstiff barked through their chops again.

“Do…you want soup?” the trainer rasped.

He took the wooden spoon and dipped a spoonful, then held it to Mabosstiff. Despite having scarfed it down earlier, though, it no longer seemed interested. The pokémon just stared at the trainer, waiting.

Shrugging, he put the spoon into his mouth. The soup was still warm, and the vegetables had just the right texture. At length, he swallowed, letting the warm broth soothe his sore throat. Mabbostiff grunted happily, and began to wag their tail.

Is that what the pokémon had wanted?

The trainer took a small bowl from the cupboard and dipped more soup into it. Then, using Mabosstiff, he went back to the sofa, sipping it. The pokémon sat in front of him, staring at him until he had finished. Once the bowl was empty, Mabosstiff took a quilt from the nearby armchair and dragged it to the trainer between its teeth. The pokémon jumped onto the sofa and draped a corner over its his feet, and the trainer pulled it over his shoulders.

With his stomach full and a warm blanket chasing away the chill, the trainer closed his weary eyes.

“Hello? Hello!”

A darkness had enveloped the trainer, and no matter how loudly he called, the only thing he heard was his own echo. A sense of dread began to prickle in his chest as he turned in circles, searching for something, anything to break the darkness.

“Please! Help me!”

No answer.

Cold sweat pooled down his back, and every hair stood on end. The abyss began to close in on him, its wiry tendrils inching closer and closer.

“MEW!”

The trainer turned to see a beacon of red light flash in the darkness, chasing it back. The light dulled, revealing his Espeon sitting in the distance, tail wrapped around its paws.

“Espeon? Where-?”

Espeon only mewed in response before starting to walk into the inky black. The trainer hurried towards their pokémon, finally able to move. His steps echoed through the abyss as he got closer and closer to Espeon’s red glow…

“Mew!”

The trainer started awake, now staring into a pair of large, violet eyes. His Espeon was sitting on his chest, their gem still glowing. As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, the gem darkened.

“Nngh…thangks…” he mumbled, petting Espeon’s head. The pokémon purred, leaning against its trainer's hand. Espeon wasn’t usually this affectionate. In fact, since the trainer caught it a few weeks ago, it was rare to see the pokémon outside of his room during the daytime.

“HTTTTSH’SHIEW!”

The trainer groaned, patting his hoodie pocket in vain for the used paper towel. Espeon hopped off his chest with a twitch of its tail. The trainer tried to clean his streaming nose with his sleeves, but his smarting nostrils twinged with every rub.

“Mew!”

He turned to see a tissue box floating a few inches from his face, a violet aura surrounding it. Espeon sat nearby, its eyes glowing brightly.

Of course, the trainer knew psychic types could use telekinesis. But Espeon had never done it before now - or at least not that he knew of.

However, with few options, the trainer plucked a tissue from the floating box. And just in time.

“HHPSH’SHIIEW! K’SHIEW!”

He blew his nose, finally able to use something clean and soft to clear his sinuses. Many tissues later, the trainer settled down again, and Espeon set the tissue box down on the coffee table. Along with it, there was a box of medicine, a washcloth, and a few pokémon pellets.

“Pika!”

Pikachu waddled into the room, carrying a half full glass of water. Both his tail and paws were soaked as it left a wet trail behind it. Finally, the pokémon managed to get to the sofa, lifting up the glass to its trainer. By then, the glass was only a quarter full.

But the trainer smiled, carefully taking the glass.

“Thangk you, Pigachu - snf! You did a very good job.”

Pikachu puffed out its chest, waving its tail. Espeon was less impressed, and continued licking its paw.

But they weren’t the only ones who were busy. Mabosstiff had wrestled the trainer’s comforter, sheets, and pillows off his bed, using all of its strength to drag them into the living room. Soon, the trainer was a cocoon of various quilts, blankets, and cushions.

Once the canine had finished, it collapsed in a heap next to the sofa, snoring almost immediately. Espeon hopped onto the sofa and curled up on one of the many cushions. The trainer patted a place in the blankets.

“Cobe on, Pigachu. Up!”

Pikachu looked at its trainer, ears twitching. Then, suddenly, it scurried behind the couch. A few moments later, it returned with something in its paws. It scampered up the mountain of blankets, then held it up for the trainer to see.

It was a small, red bandage - just like the one the trainer had used earlier that day.

Pikachu laid the bandage gently on the trainer’s red nose, smoothing the edges on the side of each nostril. When it was finished, it leaned back, admiring its handiwork. The trainer chuckled, scratching behind Pikachu’s ears.

“Good boy, Pigachu…”

Pikachu trilled, circling a few times before curling up on his chest. As the trainer settled in himself, he made sure the bandage was still on his nose.

Sure, he didn’t really need it.

But, somehow, he already felt better.

[mishibashimori]

Two Of Us || Cecil Stedman x Reader || Chapter 2 (Revised Version)

Synopsis: You are an alien who crash landed onto Earth. You have no name, and no more home to go back to. The Guardians of the Globe have rescued you and brought you to get intensive care under the great Cecil Stedman. In helping out your new home, Earth, will you develop a relationship with the coldest man you know?

General Info: AFAB Gender Neutral Reader, Cecil is Younger in the Beginning and it Will Lead to Current Events, Reader is a Bubbly Optimist, Reader Description is Intentionally Vague so You can Imagine the Alien Species They Are However You’d Like

TW: Verbal and Physical Past Abuse, Failed Pregnancy Mentions, Depression, Self Depreciation, Cannon Typical Violence, Eventual Sexual Content

Specific Chapter TW: (Specifically at the End in a Nightmare) Physical Child Abuse, Failed Pregnancy Alluded To, Traumatic Dream Sequence

—————————

Your healing process was going very well. When Cecil told you he had the best medical staff in the world, he definitely wasn’t lying. The doctors and nurses were very kind, helping you every step of the way, most times literally. You’ve been in physical therapy for about six weeks after healing for a few months, and the amount of support you’ve received is incredible. The wires were out of your jaw now, too, and it had healed up very well. It felt incredibly wonderful to be able to speak again, and taste Earth food— which was admittedly delicious.

Over the months The Guardians of the Globe would come to visit often and cheer you on. War Woman, who you learned is named Holly, started to warm up to you, showing you different exercises that would be good for your certain situation. Apparently she’s been in your boat quite a few times despite being a pretty powerful hero. It was definitely comforting to hear. Dark Wing had similar experiences, too, but he was a bit more reserved. You didn’t mind though, he didn’t have to be social.

Alana, Immortal, and Samson never had a shortage of stories or funny quips, making the whole ordeal a lot more entertaining, certainly. The amount of times you accidentally hurt yourself during PT by laughing too hard were more than you’d like to admit. Red Rush, or Josef, joined in from time to time too, but he was usually busy with other things. It was a shame, because he was quite entertaining when he wanted to be.

The chats with Martian and Aquarus were definitely something you found solace in. Having fellow aliens - one literally, the other more metaphorically - made you feel more welcome in the organization. It helped that they were very understanding of your reservations and anxieties about being in a whole different environment, as they had gone through it themselves.

Even Cecil would drop in from time to time, if just for a moment. Usually his conversations consisted of work, and what the plan was going forward, but there were a few brief, nice moments where the words between you two were genuine fun. You were talking to him now while trying to balance on your wobbly legs, a walker clutched in your hands for support.

“I can’t believe Jell-O,” you chirped, making your way slowly to one side of the room, “it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Cecil was staring at a tablet, tapping away at it busily. He glanced over at you, a slightly amused expression on his face, “you should try ice cream.”

“Do you have some here?” You asked excitedly.

“No, not in the hospital.” Cecil chuckled, “but you can get some tomorrow.”

You tilted your head in confusion, pausing your exercise to look at him, “why tomorrow?”

“You’ll be getting your own room. No more hospital bed.”

“Wow! Really? That’s so kind of— Whoa!” You leaned forward too far in your excitement, your hands slipping from the walker. It clattered to the floor as you fell forward. Cecil moved to catch you, but you caught yourself, flailing your arms frantically in a circle to regain balance. Once fully upright, you gave a small laugh. “I’m okay.” You leaned down carefully to grab the walker but Cecil beat you to it, setting it upright for you to lean on. Looking up at him, you gave a smile. “Thank you.”

He stepped back a few paces and cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable by the sudden closeness. “No problem.” The tablet in Cecil’s hand gave a frantic beeping, catching his attention. He gave a sigh and glanced at you. “I have to go. Me or one of my men will show you to your room tomorrow.”

“I hope it’s you.” You stated, unfazed by Cecil’s startled expression. “I like talking to you.” You’ve noticed humans aren’t as straightforward as they should be, especially with feelings. Unlike your species, they like to dance around subjects, or say one thing and inadvertently mean something completely different. It gave you a headache.

Cecil gave an awkward smile, and you could see his cheeks flush a bit. A sign of human embarrassment, you learned. “You really wear your thoughts on your sleeve, don’t you?”

“But I’m not wearing sleeves.” You responded, puzzled. This only made him laugh, a genuine one you hadn’t heard from him before. “You’re in a good mood today. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, well,” Cecil rubbed the back of his neck, “it’s uh, it’s been a good day.” His eyes sparkled a bit as he gazed at you. A rush of delight ran down your spine. All you could think of was how blue his eyes are.

Seemingly snapping out of a daze, Cecil turned and walked quickly towards the door, looking back briefly to say a short goodbye before disappearing. You stared after him for a moment, smiling, before continuing with your walking exercises.

“It’s huge!” You exclaimed, shuffling into your new home, cane in hand.

“That’s what she said.” Alana jeered, making Cecil roll his eyes. She had decided to come with and check out your new living space, too, after hearing you talk about it when she came to visit the day before.

Your new living arrangements was a rather large room in GDA headquarters, about as big as a full house and complete with a bathroom, kitchen, and bedroom. It was pretty barren though, save for the essentials, and a small bundle of presents on the dining room table. Your eyes lit up and you immediately wobbled over to them.

“Wow, you guys,” you picked one up. It was blue and from the Immortal, with yellow ribbon tied sloppily at the top. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. “I don’t know what to say. I haven’t done anything but cause you trouble, and you’ve been so kind to me.”

“Oh, please,” Alana came up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I’ve known the Guardians for years. I’ve known you only six months and you’re already my best friend.” She gave you a small squeeze. “You’re no trouble at all.”

“We had a choice to bring you in or leave you bleeding, and we chose you,” Cecil chimed in, “don’t be so hard on yourself. You can pay us back by getting better.” He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against a wall, giving you a smile. “Plus, I don’t do so good when people cry so— don’t.” You gave both of them a nod, too choked up for words.

After opening up the gifts, your new place felt more like a home. All of them were from the Guardians: decorations they thought you’d like or appliances you’d need. You had no idea what a panini maker was but apparently Josef really thought it was important, according to his card.

You sat with Alana and Cecil for a while, chatting about different things. It was calm, nice, something you hadn’t had in a long time. Your thoughts drifted to your previous life, to the turmoil, and to how far away it seemed now. It felt almost unreal how good everything seemed to be going, and how kind these people you met were in comparison. A satisfied sigh slipped through your lips and you leaned back in your chair. Suddenly a beeping rang through the room, and both Alana and Cecil looked at their watches.

“Oh shoot, gotta go,” Alana said, getting up and slipping her green stone into her mouth. “Emergency. I’ll talk to you later.” Morphing into her Green Ghost form, she flew towards the door and opened it, rushing to leave the building.

Cecil stood too, walking over to your new fridge. “I better go too, but first,” he opened the freezer, pulling out a carton of ice cream, “I was hoping we could all share, but work calls, as always.” He set the carton down on the table and turned to walk out the door.

“Wait!” You called, unable to control your sudden outburst. Cecil looked back. “Can I help? Or at least come along?” He thought for a moment, considering your words, before shaking his head no.

“Not yet. You will, I promise, but for now just sit tight.” With that he disappeared in a flash of light. Startled, you blinked away the sudden brightness that just assaulted your eyes. That certainly had never happened before. Must be an Earth thing.

With a frustrated sigh you put the ice cream back in the freezer and went to go lay down, drained from all the walking you did today. You were happy with your progress, but at times it seemed to be going so slow. You wanted to help, to be included. It didn’t feel good to be left behind, especially if there was something you could do. It got lonely.

Healing from injuries had been no stranger to you, but before now you had only dealt with flesh wounds, never something to do with bones. It was a whole new experience, and a long, tiring one. Once comfortable in your bed, covers up to your chin, it wasn’t long before your eyelids had grown heavy, and you drifted into a nightmare-filled sleep.

You’d had this one many times before. It was dark, and the iron tang of blood filled your nose. Heart racing, you whip your head around, frantically looking for anything in the darkness. Then, you see him. A tall, lean man with long, beautiful golden hair. He wore vibrant orange and red robes, and a crown the color of the flesh of grapefruit sat atop his head. He’s bathed in a beam of light, holding a young boy by the throat. The boy is screaming, gargling out urgently for help and thrashing his limbs in a futile escape attempt. There are deep gashes in the boy’s legs, arms, and torso, leaking streams of red that pool onto the black floor.

The man stares at you, narrowing his eyes maliciously. “Come here, pet.” He growls, shaking the young boy violently. “Come save him. Maybe your parental instinct will kick in if you see a child in agony.”

Your eyes grow hot and your throat tight as you try to fight your way towards the wailing boy, but some invisible force holds you in place. “Take me!” You screech. “Please, let him go and take me! I’m so sorry! I’ll try harder! It’ll work this time!”

Suddenly, you’re falling. Your heart leaps into your throat as you plummet down into a cold, dark abyss. Invisible knives slice into your side and carve up your face, sending blood spatter upward in a red shower. Weariness dragged at your bones, a soul sucking dread accompanying it. You were dying. Oh, god, you were dying.

“Help.” You breathe out, a pitiful noise in a wide expanse of nothing. “Help.” Your eyes began to close. The fight left your muscles. There was silence.

Then, your eyes shot open.

—————

Disclaimer:

I try to be as accurate as possible to the source material for this fan fiction, but at times I’ll get it wrong. The timelines for the Guardians of the Globe as well as Cecil are not as accurate as they should be but for the sake of wanting to have all the characters in here I fudged it. Just know that I understand not everything is accurate but let’s just try to have a good time regardless!

[alwaysachorusgirl]

Of Wolves and Witches

Pairing: Werewolf!Bishop Losa x Witch!Reader

Word Count: 3088

For: covers the monster square for @adarafaelbarba 's moodboard fall bingo

TW: violence and accidental death via a nightmare/flashback sequence, brief mentions of mental, emotion, and physical abuse, PTSD, and covering up a crime scene

Author's Notes: The Mayans Werewolf AU that no one asked for, but i wrote it anyway. It starts out dark, but ends with fluff, I promise. This is my first time writing for Bishop, so please go easy on me... a big thank you to @itsjustmyfantasyroom for letting me run this idea by her and reassuring me that it wasn't crazy, and for encouraging me to write it.

Tags: @madamsnape921; @prurientpuddlejumper; @thatesqcrush; @welcometothemxdhouse; @raulesparza4eva; @teamsladsandgents; @rosequcrtz

He stormed into your living room, rage storming in his eyes. His aura was a swirling void of red and black. He shouldn’t have been able to break the locks on your front door, he shouldn’t have been able to walk right through your magical wards, but here he was. You straightened your posture and stood your ground, determined to not let him see how terrified you were.

“How did you get in here?”

“Really?” He pulled a glowing amulet from out of his shirt. “Not that hard when you have a little help. Benefits of having hunters for friends.”

Your eyes went wide as you realized what you were looking at. It was an enchanted amulet, one strong enough to get through your warding. You could only hope that it wasn’t strong enough to dampen your powers.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he smirked. “I know what you are. Makes me a wonder what else you haven’t been telling me.”

“Alex, get out! I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

“You little bitch!” he spat back. “You think you can just break up me? You think you can just walk away?

“I can and I did. We’re done, Alex, it’s over. You don’t get to hurt me anymore. It’s not my fault that your fragile, insecure male ego can’t take a fucking hint.”

“Bitch, I’ll fucking hurt you whenever I fucking want to! And I don’t see your little biker friends here to protect you.…”

Then he charged, and suddenly you were on the ground with his hands around your throat.

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!”

You could feel the murderous intent radiating off him, and put your hands on his chest, trying to push him off you, but then you felt the release of kinetic energy through your palms, and Alex was flying across the room. He hit the wall, and you prayed to whatever goddess was listening that the sickening crack you heard was just the drywall breaking behind him. But then his eyes rolled back in his head, and his head lolled to one side, at what could only be described as an “unhealthy looking” angle. His lower body twitched a few times before going limp. He hung there for a moment, suspended in the air, pinned to the wall by your invisible force. Still shaking in terror, you finally lowered your hands, and Alex’s lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud.

*********************

“No!” you cried out, sitting bolt upright on your couch. You were covered in a cold sweat and your whole body was shaking. Your lungs gasped for air and your eyes darted around the room, searching for Alex, but he wasn’t there. You weren’t even in your old house anymore. You held your hand in your hands and took deep breaths. You were in your apartment, in Santo Padre, Alex was dead, and you were safe. The Saturday afternoon sun streamed in through the window, and the TV was still on, a marathon of Guy’s Grocery Games playing at a low volume.

“I must have fallen asleep,” you said softly to yourself, “it was only a nightmare.”

You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and checked the time. It was only 3:30, plenty of time to shower and freshen up before Bishop would pick you up at 6. You stood, and after checking your locks and wards, made your way to the bathroom.

***********************

Despite your best efforts to push them down, the memories of what happened next came flooding back as you stood under the warm shower spray. You had been in shock, understandably so, but you were now exposed as a witch, and had to protect yourself. The logical side of your brain kicked in and you got to work. After verifying that Alex was dead, you had used your telekinetic abilities to rip the amulet off his neck. A quick examination verified that it had only been enchanted enough to allow Alex to breach your magical wards without getting zapped, but not enough to block your own powers. The enchantment was also crude and amateurish, probably done in haste by someone with limited knowledge of witchcraft. He had mentioned having hunters for friends, and you cursed yourself for not sensing that sooner. He hadn’t been one himself. You would have read that in his aura the moment you met him, but you also hadn’t sensed his dark side. The mentally and emotionally abusive and manipulative side, the one that turned violent during an argument when you had tried to call him out on his bullshit and break up with him the first time. You had ended up in the hospital, and when you confronted him the second time, you had friends with you to back you up. And after destroying the amulet, those were the friends you called on for help with your predicament.

The Blood Moon Motorcycle Club was a found family werewolf pack, led by Jack Reynard, a fearsome and intimidating Alpha. But Jack was fiercely protective of his friends and allies and didn’t hesitate to show up with four of his most trusted lieutenants when you called and tearfully explained your situation. They got to work cleaning up the scene and going through Alex’s phone and wallet. They found a business card for an elite and dangerous organization of hunters, and the contact’s name and number on the card matched up with one of the contacts in Alex’s phone. Jack told you to start packing your bags and to make sure that you included any magical artifacts that you had. You would spend the night at their clubhouse under round-the-clock security, and in the morning, they would get you out of town. Anything that couldn’t be packed that night would be shipped to you once you were settled elsewhere. They would dispose of the body; it wasn’t the first time they’d had to do so.

Jack had called Bishop Losa, president of the Mayans Motorcycle Club in Santo Padre, California. Jack and Bishop had served together in the Marines in their younger days, and the Mayans and the Blood Moons were allies as a result of that friendship. The Mayans were another found family werewolf pack and protected Santo Padre alongside the Galindo Pack. The town was a safe haven for all supernatural beings and the humans who lived there were none the wiser.

And now you had been here for six months. You worked in a bookshop owned by another a witch, Matilda, and lived in the apartment above it. In addition to the books, you also sold your homemade herbal teas and did Tarot card readings in the shop. 2-3 times a week you would bake cookies and muffins and sell those in the shop. Your teas were so popular that you now did tea making demonstrations on Saturday mornings. You were thriving but were still plagued by nightmares and PTSD and attended therapy once a week to help you work through your struggles.

And then there was Bishop. At first, the Mayan president and Alpha had been your friend and protector. You had been too traumatized to even think about pursuing a relationship, and so you both denied the unquestionable and inexplicable attraction. The more you got to know each other, the more you were drawn to each other. Two months ago, he finally made a move while the two of you had been outside getting some air at a party at the Mayans clubhouse, asking if he could kiss you. You’d been a couple ever since.

*********************

You had just finished lacing up your boots when you heard the sound of a familiar motorcycle pull up to your building. You ran to the window and looked down to the street. You saw Bishop getting off his bike and removing his helmet. You exited your apartment and ran down the stairs, meeting him at the entrance at the side of the building. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed his lips. His arms encircled your waist and pulled you close.

“Hola Querida, you look beautiful.”

“Thanks, you’re not too bad, yourself, handsome.”

That got a chuckle from the Alpha. He removed one of his arms from around your back, revealing the bouquet of roses in his hand. “These are for you.”

“Bish, they’re gorgeous, thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

“And pass up the opportunity to surprise you? Not a chance.”

“Come on up. I’ll put these in water, grab a few things, then I’ll be ready to go.”

Bishop nodded and held onto your hand as he followed you up the stairs.

************************

You held onto Bishop as the two of you went speeding down the back roads, away from Santo Padre. You loved dates like this: just you and Bishop on the bike, heading somewhere unknown, away from all the stress and bullshit of the day-to-day. His torso felt warm, sturdy, and safe. You could feel the vibrations from bike rattling through your body as you watched the scenery fly by. You’d been on the road for at least half an hour now.

“Almost there, Querida,” Bishop called back. “You’re gonna love this spot, I promise.”

After a few more minutes he pulled off the road and the motorcycle slowed to a stop. Bishop turned off the engine and stored the keys in his pocket. You both got off and removed your helmets. You looked around at the small, wooded area and smiled, breathing in the fresh air.

“This is nice, babe.”

“Oh, this isn’t the spot, “he told you, unlatching the soft fleece blanket and cooler from the back of his bike. He handed you the blanket. He took the cooler in one hand and grabbed your free hand with his other, interlacing his fingers with yours. “It’s this way.”

You walked for a few minutes down a short path before finally arriving at a grassy clearing. The view was breathtaking. You could see everything from your elevated perched; Santo Padre, the valley, green leafy trees swaying in the breeze, fields of wildflowers. A sense of calm settled over you that you hadn’t felt in months. You didn’t jump when Bishop came up behind you and slid his arms around your mid-section, instead relaxing into his touch and leaning against his sturdy frame. Bishop softly kissed your shoulder.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “this is perfect, this place in perfect. The energy here is so peaceful, and so alive. I love it.”

“I’m glad. I was thinking we could eat dinner, watch the sunset? And wait until the stars come out…You can show me all the constellations?”

You turned and slid your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his.

“You would have thought that you were such a romantic?”

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? Gotta maintain my tough guy image, you know?”

“Mmm…your secret is safe with me.” You pecked his lips once, twice, three times, each kiss lasting a bit longer than the rest. When you finally pulled your head away you noticed that the blanket was laid out on the ground with cooler sitting on top.

“Come on,” said Bishop, directing you over to it. You both sat down, and Bishop opened the cooler and started setting out its contents: sandwiches from the local deli, fresh strawberries from the farmer’s market, giant cupcakes from the gourmet bakery, a bottle of beer for each of you, and bottled water. He popped the caps off the beer bottles and handed you one. “Cheers.”

The two of you sat and ate, completely at ease with each other, and the conversation flowed easily. Bishop told you about the day’s antics down at the scrapyard, and you told him about the business plan you and Matilda were working on to expand the bookshop into the empty café next door.

“The theory is, that having a space to sell food and drinks will drum up more business. I can sell my tea and baked goods and do my demonstrations there. We would obviously need to hire some extra people to help, but I think we can make it work. We can’t tear down the wall between the buildings and expand without the proper permits.”

“I’m sure the town will approve whatever permits you need. They’re not going to say to ‘no’ to something that will bring more business into Santo Padre.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the sunsets,” you said, gazing at the red, orange, and purple hues of the evening sky. “How did you find this place?”

Bishop laid down on the blanket and you stretched out next him, placing your head on his chest.

“Me and the guys had just come back from a run,” he began, “Things didn’t go so well, and I was pissed, needed to blow off some steam so I just rode around for a while. Next thing I knew, I was here. I shifted, ran around for a while until my head was clear. I come back whenever I need to get away from everything.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Thank you for bringing me here. I needed this.”

Bishop caressed your cheek with his fingers. “You’re welcome, Querida. I’ll bring you up here whenever you want.”

“Bish, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course, Querida, you can ask me anything,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Can I see you in your wolf form sometime? There’s no pressure, only if you want to…”

Bishop mulled the question over in his head. You had caught him off guard with the query. None of the women he’d ever been with had asked to see his wolf form, not even his ex-wife. These days, he only shifted when it was absolutely necessary. There were advantages to being an older and more experienced wolf. He could shift at will and didn’t have to worry about losing control. But what if you didn’t like what you saw? What if he scared you away? He’d never forgive himself if that happened. Your soft, sweet voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Bish, I’m sorry, forget I said anything- “

“No, it’s okay,” he kissed your forehead, “I just wasn’t expecting that question. I’ll do it if you want me to, but just be prepared, okay? I promise I won’t hurt you, but it might not be what you’re expecting.”

“I trust you completely, and I promise, I won’t be scared.” You looked at his aura and saw the hesitancy there. He was scared. “You’re not going to lose me.”

He cupped your face with his hand and his lips found purchase with yours. He had a way of kissing you that made your mind go blank and get lost in the moment, and you loved every minute of it. You kissed him back with equal fervor, hoping that somehow you were able to convey the trust and faith you had in him. The smile on his face when you broke away seemed to indicate that you’d been successful.

Bishop rose and walked a few feet away.

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused by his actions.

“Shifting is a lot easier without clothes on,” he replied with a wink, beginning to undress.

“I’ll close my eyes and give you some privacy then,” you giggled, shutting your eyes, but occasionally cracking one open to steal glimpses of his increasingly naked form; and damn if you didn’t like what you saw!

Bishop finished disrobing and crouched down on the soft grass. He breathed deeply and cleared his mind, focusing his intention. He felt his muscle start to ripple and his joints and bones shift. It didn’t hurt at his age; it was just slightly uncomfortable. All his senses sharpened. Body hair became fur, his hands and feet morphed into oversize paws with razor sharp claws. Even his teeth changed shaped, becoming longer and more pointed. A few moments later, he stretched and shook out his fur. He looked over towards you, still sitting there with your eyes closed, and cautiously padded toward you.

************************

You could hear the footfalls of his paws, and then felt his large wet nose nudging your arm. You opened your eyes and saw a massive wolf standing before you. His fur was brown and black, with specks of gray in various places. His legs were strong, and his paws appeared large enough to take out a person with one blow. But his eyes, his eyes were gentle, and you would know them anywhere.

“Oh, Bishop, you’re beautiful!”

He sat and cocked his head to one side, appearing confused.

“Yes, you heard me correctly. May I?” You held out your arms to him. Bishop bowed his head and leaned forward, allowing you to embrace him and bury your face in his fur. “Your fur is so soft!”

He put his head on your shoulder and let out a contented groan when your fingers began to massage the spot right between his ears. You giggled at that. “I take it you like that, huh?” Bishop lifted his head and licked your face in response, making you laugh even harder. You massaged his head for a little while longer before resting your forehead against his. “Thank you for letting me see you like this. I love you, Bishop.”

There was suddenly a very naked, human man in your arms. Bishop’s hands cupped your face, his eyes scanning it for any indication that he might have misheard you.

“Bish- “

“Say that again, Querida.”

“I said, I love you, Obispo Losa.”

Bishop pulled you into his lap and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with more intensity and tenderness than he ever had before. Any doubts that you may have had about him not feeling the same quickly melted away. It went on for what felt like forever before the two of you had to pull away and come up for air.

“I love you, too, mi reina.”

You held onto one another like that for while before Bishop got dressed and rejoined you on the blanket. You spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other’s arms and gazing at the night sky. And when a shooting star passed overhead, you made a wish that you could stay this way forever. No more looking over your shoulder, no more nightmares; just you and Bishop, ready to take on whatever the future might hold.

[lilfellasblog]

Tolerable

Summary: Virgil's been accepted by Thomas and the famILY, even after they found out his secret. But will this be too much for them to handle? Or: Virgil has endometriosis, thinks he has to hide it, and that works out as well for him as you think it will.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience.

TW: Past bullying and harassment mentioned, endometriosis, menstruation, this is a sick!fic, painful cramps, unsympathetic dark sides.

Word Count: 2351

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Virgil groaned and curled into himself. Not for the first time, he cursed the Mindscape’s sick sense of humor for not only making him the only trans Side, but also for giving him the period from hell. After researching his symptoms and checking in the Subconscious (he tried not to think about how he could see everything in there), he had discovered he had endometriosis. It certainly explained what he’d been experiencing. He didn’t even want to think about the number of tampons and pads he burned through. Alternating ibuprofen and acetaminophen could only take the edge off so much. The websites he visited suggested some, ahem, all-natural pain remedies, but Virgil was the opposite of in the mood when he was on his period. He felt tired and dizzy and light-headed and nauseous, and he always seemed to get migraines at the same time of his period because apparently God hated him personally.

He ground a fist into his lower abdomen during a particularly painful cramp that felt like his internal organs were ripping each other in half, and kept it there until the pain subsided somewhat. He wasn’t sure why, but pressing his knuckles into the spot where he felt the most pain seemed to help lessen the severity of that particular wave.

Virgil sighed, trying to figure out if he wanted to ask the others for help. He was exhausted, having dealt with this for a day already on his own. They’d all accepted him, including Thomas (thank fuck), but he didn’t know if they wanted to deal with everything that came with him being a trans guy. Yet, now that they knew, even though he’s dealt with this on his own before, being alone feels even harder.

What if they’re grossed out? They weren’t grossed out by me being trans, they seemed sad whenever I had even asked, but this is… yeah. I don’t know, I don’t want to push it. Just as he finished that thought, an excruciating pain ripped through him. He bit his knuckle and held his breath to keep from crying out.

“Virgil? You okay in there buddy? You missed breakfast, so I brought some up if you want any,” Patton offered through the door.

Virgil had to breathe through his nose to battle his nausea at the thought of breakfast food. “Thanks Pat. I’m good, just not feeling too well. I’ll be fine in a bit.” It’ll be manageable in a few days.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry to hear that! Is there anything I can do? Would soup help?”

Actually… “Yeah, I think I might be able to handle soup.”

“One bowl of soup, coming right up!”

“Thanks Pat.”

“Anytime!”

Despite his pain, Virgil smiled fondly. He’s too good for me. Before, if he’d shown any indication that he was on his period, the consequences would be more pain, some kind of humiliation, and a nightmare sequence courtesy of Remus that always lasted so long he’d bleed over.

Virgil rode out the waves of pain, unable to concentrate enough to follow Buzzfeed Unsolved, until Patton knocked on his door again.

“Virge? I have your soup,” Patton called quietly.

“Alri-” Virgil’s voice cut off as he was bowled over by a powerful tearing sensation that left him seeing stars.

“Virgil? You okay in there? Are you hurt?” Patton called, much more loudly this time.

Shitshitshit, I can’t let him see me, he’ll know I’m in pain and he’ll ask why and then I’ll have to tell him.

“I’m worried you’re hurt or unconscious, can you answer me?”

Virgil took a few deep breaths. “I’m here,” he croaked out.

“Oh honey, you sound like you’re in so much pain! Are you okay?!”

Since he wasn’t holding his breath, a pained keen left him against his will.

“I’m coming in.”

Fuck.

Virgil tried to uncurl his body, but he couldn’t find the willpower to counter the pain. As soon as Patton caught sight of him, he quickly set the bowl of soup (with crackers and cheese, Virgil noticed) on the nightstand and rushed over.

“It’s okay, I’m here. What’s wrong? You look and sound like you’re in so much pain!”

The worst of it passed, and Virgil managed to relax his body a bit. “I’m okay, I’m… kind of used to it.”

Patton’s expression darkened. “Did they hurt you again?” he asked, voice nearly a growl.

“No, nothing like that!” Virgil quickly promised. Patton sagged in relief.

“Thank goodness.” Patton frowned. “This has happened before? Do you have a stomach bug?”

Virgil thought about lying for a brief moment, but was too scared of accidentally summoning Janus to risk it. “No…”

He cursed when Patton’s puppy dog eyes came in full-force. “Is it something bad?”

Just as Virgil was about to hedge around the answer, he felt a telltale dampness. “Uh, nothing dangerous for us since we’re Sides, but I do need to go to the bathroom.”

Patton immediately scooted aside. “Okay! I’ll be here when you get back,” he reassured.

Shit. “Thanks.”

Virgil uncurled himself from his position on the bed, then carefully made his way to the bathroom. He cleaned himself up since he had bled over a bit, changed out his pad and tampon. Just as he was about to flush away the bloody water and toilet paper, there was urgent knocking at the door.

“Virgil, are you okay?!”

Virgil was a little annoyed, but knew to rein himself in. “Yeah Pat, I’m good, just about to wash my hands.”

“Sweetie, are you sure? There’s blood on the bed.”

OH FUCK.

“Um, I’ll be out a in a minute.”

Think think think think THINK!! Okay, what can I tell him? I could just fudge the truth a little bit, but that might be too close to a lie. I could just tell him I don’t want to tell him, but he’d be so sad that I don’t trust him and he deserves better than that. Shiiiiiiiiiiit.

Realizing he’d been staring into space, he dried his hands, then went out to face the music.

Patton was studying the comforter that had gotten stained, and looked up and smiled at Virgil as he emerged. “Hey Virge, I was just gonna wash this for you, is that okay?”

Virgil could feel another wave coming on. “Yeah, but you don’t have to.” Let me lie down so I don’t double over in front of you.

Patton waved him off. “Nonsense, you’re sick and I wanna help!”

SHIT. “Okay, I can help get it off.”

“Sure!”

Virgil frantically tugged at the comforter, while Patton calmly gathered it up in his arms. As soon as the comforter was off the bed, Virgil laid down and curled up, hopefully in a way that made it look like he was just lying down.

“Virgil, can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer!”

Virgil assessed Patton. Patton was looking nervous himself, biting his lip and eyes averting themselves.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Patton took a deep breath. “Well, I know you’re in a lot of pain, you’re not feeling well, you said it’s happened before, and there’s blood that you don’t seem too worried about.” He fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to figure out how to ask. “Is there anything I can do to help with… this?”

Virgil sighed. Of course he’d figure it out. “Honestly, the soup is more than what I usually get-”

“What?!” Patton cried.

Oops.

“Um, usually I just kinda deal with it on my own?”

Virgil kicked himself for the devastated look on Patton’s face. “Oh Virge…”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind dealing with it by myself!”

“I know, but you shouldn’t have to! And you don’t have to anymore!” Patton declared. “You’re in so much pain, is that normal? Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Normal for me, yeah, and I don’t think so.”

“Normal for you? Why just you, are you in more pain than other people who get periods?”

Way to put it on the nose Patton. “I-”

“What’s this regarding?” Logan asked as he walked in.

Patton didn’t close the door, shit!! “Nothing!”

“Patton seemed to be implying that you’re in a great deal of pain-”

“WHO DARES HARM YOU?!” Roman thundered, sword already drawn.

GODAMMIT. “NO ONE. Okay, Jesus Christ. Look, I’m fine, I’ve just got the period from hell. I’m sorry you guys found out, I didn’t mean to, I’m fine dealing with this on my own, I know it’s weird and-” Virgil cut himself off at the sorrowful looks he was getting. He sighed. These guys aren’t the Dark Sides, they probably don’t think it’s weird and gross and something I’m doing to them on purpose. “Sorry. Just, I have this thing that makes this harder, I can’t think of the name because I can’t think during this, and I’m fine. I’m just miserable for a week and then it’s manageable. This is better treatment than I usually get, and now I can at least get food. Just ignore me.” Virgil cursed God as another devastating cramp chose that specific moment to be an asshole. He held his breath, but couldn’t stop from curling in on himself. Concerned Patton noises could be heard, and Logan was trying to encourage Virgil to breathe. Roman just stood there, feeling helpless.

Once it passed, Virgil unclenched and took a few breaths. “Sorry,” he panted.

“Please do not apologize. Average menstrual cramps-” Virgil winced. “-have been shown to be at a similar pain level as a heart attack, and it sounds like you experience more severe cramping. If you wish to be left alone, then we will respect that,” Logan stated, agreements coming from each of the other Sides. “But there is still the concern of unusual pain. Do you require pain medication?”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, it helps me not lose my mind, but it can only do so much. I’m on the max dose for ibuprofen and tylenol right now, and I’m alternating them.”

Logan frowned. “This is your pain level even with medication?”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, it’s this thing that starts with an “e”… shit, what is it…”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. “Endometriosis?”

“Yeah!” Virgil squinted. “How the hell did you know that?”

“I’m Thomas’ center of knowledge. Gracious, Virgil…” Logan trailed off. “Has a TENS unit ever proven helpful?”

“A what?”

Logan straightened up. “A TENS unit administers small electrical pulses to pain points or trigger points via electrodes placed on the skin. Research, as well as personal anecdotes, have shown them to be effective in combating menstrual pain. Would you like me to conjure one for you?”

Whatever, worst thing that might happen is it could hurt worse for a few seconds. “Sure, why not.”

Logan closed his eyes, and a few seconds later a rectangular device with a bunch of wires coming out of it appeared. “Would you like me to apply the electrodes, or would you like to?”

The thought of someone touching his bare skin, especially where he was in so much pain, still scared him, even though he knew these weren’t the Dark Sides. “I can put it on.”

No one said anything as Virgil rolled over to his side and placed the electrodes where Logan instructed. He turned back over, blushing slightly and feeling weird. He could feel another bad one coming on, and he hoped that this would work. Logan handed Virgil the unit.

“There are a few levels of electricity. Since this is your first time, it’s recommended you start at 1 and see if you need to increase from there.”

Before the next bastard cramp could come to do its damage, Virgil just nodded and turned on the device, bracing himself for electrocution pain. Instead, the cramps was… not as bad? It still hurt like a motherfucker, but it wasn’t as godawful as it could be. He cranked it up a few more dials, and the pain dimmed to a level he couldn’t remember ever feeling.

His eyes widened as he uncurled and sat up, jaw slack. The pain was still there, and he could still tell that his muscles were freaking the fuck out, but the pain was down so much he could almost ignore it.

So Logan just made my life about a thousand times better. How do I let him know?

“What kind of bullshit wizard magic is this?” Nice, REAL kind of you to say after Logan literally changed your life.

Logan just did his proud little smirk of his and drew his shoulders back. “No magic involved, merely science, and,” he adjusted one side of his glasses. “logic.”

Virgil sighed, still light-headed and dizzy, but the amount of relief that flooded his body without the pain was helping him feel so much better.

Logan frowned. “If you’ll excuse me, Thomas requires my help with a business e-mail.”

Virgil looked out through Thomas’ eyes and Sanders what the HELL. “Yeah, you’d better go deal with that.”

Patton waved his hand over the bowl of soup to warm it. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Virgil fidgeted. “Not to be a stereotype, but I’m currently willing to commit homicide for chocolate.”

In the next moment, Virgil found his lap full of his favorite dark chocolate-sea salt-almond bars.

“I should probably go too, make sure Thomathy gets the tone of the e-mail right,” Patton said regretfully.

Virgil waved him off. “No worries, go do your thing.”

“I’ll keep our brave knight company!” Roman declared.

Patton said goodbye and sank out. Roman and Virgil stared at each other.

Roman broke first. “Soooo, friendo…”

Virgil sighed, putting Roman out of his misery. “I don’t usually feel like being a people, but this TENS unit thing is really helping. I’d be down to play some video games after lunch.”

“Sounds wonderful! I’ll get the game set up!” Roman sank out with his usual flair.

Virgil snorted and shook his head. Thank god for TENS units.

He flushed as he thought to himself, Thank god for famILY.

[novantinuum]

Tides of Renewal (SU one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (Mild TW for vague allusions to past suicidal thoughts.)

Words: 2500~

Summary: Now twenty years old and living on the other side of the country, Steven spends his morning relaxing on the beach, musing about his past, and having a chat with his dad.

Hi folks! This is actually my two-months-late “Happy Birthday, Steven” fic, ahah- amusingly, posted two months late to the day. I’m quite happy with how this short turned out.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

Tides of Renewal

Steven rises alongside the sun, but not by choice.

As he abruptly stirs, jerking onto his side under his tangled blanket, he soon realizes that he has little lingering memory of the nightmare that shook him from his slumber. Nevertheless, his heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s hanging in his throat. There’s feelings, faint impressions— someone’s blood (his, or hers?), Connie’s screams, a bubble of terror boiling from within— but that’s all he’s left with. The young man clutches at his sheets, struggling to catch his breath as is the norm most mornings. Dim light sneaks in between the edges of the curtains, offering a rough estimate of the time.

Once it’s clear his chances of sleeping in have become null and void, he entices himself out of bed with the promise of buying himself a muffin at the local coffee shop later today, a birthday treat. His routine is sluggish, but precise. He uses the bathroom, throws on his swim trunks and a thin cotton shirt, downs the pills he forgot to take last night with a quick swig of water, carefully runs his fingers through his long curls to work out the tangles, and slips his feet into the flip flops he always leaves lying right at the foot of his bed.

The young adult only takes his guitar, phone, and keys with him as he walks the mile distance from his humble studio apartment to the public beach. Around him, the world is at peace. The only sound intermingling with the gentle ebb and flow of the Pacific at this hour of the morning is the chattering of puffins that nest on the large rock outcroppings in the tide pools nearby. The edge of his lip quirks up when he finally crosses that sacred boundary— the sidewalk meeting the shore— and removes his sandals, reveling in the satisfying, grainy texture of sand squishing between his toes. Hah... the beach. Funny, that. All his traveling these past years, from mountains, to prairies, to sprawling suburbs to wooded forest towns, and it only succeeded in deepening his childhood love for the familiarity of saltwater air and tourist-filled boardwalks. Still, the secluded, rustic charm of Haystack Cove is a far cry from the Beach City he grew up in. Different people, different sights, different types of seafood sold at the markets. This place feels like a home all his own, appropriately distant from the Gem influenced settlement he’d left behind.

He crosses the fine grained sands towards his favorite sitting spot, a hefty stone jutting out from the ground, its surface buffed to a glossy finish over the years by the high tides. The water’s still distant this early in the morning, glimmers of sunlight sparkling off of the foam and spray. Yawning, he plops himself down on the stone and lifts his guitar into his lap. He strums a few random chords as a warm-up before settling into an experimental melodic sequence.

As he plays, the early morning breeze teases at the ends of his shoulder-length hair, untied and let free in all its curly splendor. It’s still quite chilly, but with the sun peaking over the horizon behind him and not a cloud in sight, the air’s bound to heat up in no time. Steven inhales deeply, soaking in the salt and light and pushing away the shadows lurking at the periphery of his mind, that twitching, exhausting anxiety that never quite seems to leave him alone these days. Unfortunately, functional does not mean carefree. While far fewer in number then when he was a teen, he still runs into plenty of moments where he’s struck blind by particularly painful reminders of his past, his gem snapping into overdrive in an instant. He’s a bit better at coping in these moments now, and walking himself down from panic attacks, but deep-rooted traumas don’t simply melt away. With that in mind, at this point he suspects he’ll likely have to deal with a mixture of therapy and meds for the rest of his life. That’s fine, though. If that’s what it takes to be at peace. He’s thankfully reached a point in his recovery where he’s more than willing to work for it.

Startling him out of his roaming thoughts, his phone chimes to life, touting the same cheery ring tone he had as a kid. He gently sets his guitar down in the sand and fishes his cell phone out of his pocket, a silent bet as to who’s calling rising within his mind. Sure enough, his dad’s contact photo proudly greets him. Hah— he called it. Steven stifles a giggle as he hits accept and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Dad!”

“Hey, Schtu-ball!” his father chimes from the other side of the country, three hours ahead. He hears a faint shuffle over the line, and then the beginnings of guitar accompaniment as the man begins to sing:

“Happy birthday to you~!”

Dad ends the line with a resounding vibrato, and a few extra jazzy chords for good measure.

“Heh heh, thanks,” he says, bashfully blushing at the attention, and gazing across the loose sands as if ensuring the secret of his birth hasn’t swelled into a nauseatingly public affair like half of his birthdays had since the start of Era 3. “Gotta say, the impromptu guitar solo pushed that to a whole new level. You just get up?”

“Yep! Bright and early. Garnet said you’d probably be awake by now, so I figured I’d call and give ya’ a good greeting to start the day. Lemme guess, you’re down there at the beach already? I think I heard waves.”

Steven’s glance lifts to admire the slowly rising tides, and the promise of each tomorrow that lies beyond. “Hah, you know me,” he says softly, taking a deep lungful of that precious salt-touched air he’s always adored. “I live for the water. Might force myself to go for a swim later before all of you come. Not sure yet,” he says, shrugging as he turns and squints in the wake of the steadily rising sun. “But my therapist said I should probably keep as active as po—“

“It’s your birthday. You do whatever makes you happy, bud,” his dad promptly reminds him, slight concern sticking to his voice. And yes, it’s practically a father’s job to worry, but his chest tightens with lingering guilt for pressing that upon him anyways. Ugh, this is because he said ‘force myself,’ isn’t it?

“Doing my best to,” he lamely offers, hoping it’ll at least end that segment of conversation. He twirls a stray strand of hair around his finger as he scours his memory for something new to offer. Thankfully, his mind quickly lands on the exciting email he received last night. He grins, knowing for sure his dad’ll love this. “Oh, uh- topic change, but I got that last job I applied for, by the way.”

“Oh? The taffy shop one?”

“Yeah! I start on Tuesday.”

“Wow, that’s- that’s awesome! They responded fast, then.”

“Yup,” Steven nods, popping the ‘p.’ “Honestly, it’s nothing much, just stocking and working the register, but it’ll give me some cash to work with.”

Some cash to finally pay for his own food instead of continuously bumming money off his dad. There’s no way he can handle full month’s rent on his own with this minimum wage job, (who on Earth could in this economy), but it might be enough to cover the smaller things. Groceries, electricity, internet. That sorta stuff. Fidgeting on the edge of the stone outcropping, his bare toes dig narrow lines in the sand. He hasn’t really had this discussion with Dad yet, but the mere concept of being wholly reliant on other people steers his mind uncomfortably close to the I’m a Burden Zone. He’d far prefer to feel like he has a stake in the game.

“I know you said you don’t mind supporting me,” he continues in a hesitant tone, twirling his finger through one of his curls, “but I still feel kinda bad—“

“Don’t. I’d rather you not have to stress yourself to the bone about money like I did when I was your age.”

The line shakes for a second. He’s pretty sure he hears the faint clink of a bowl meeting the counter from his dad’s side.

“Dad...?”

“Sorry, bud. Just putting ya’ on speaker. Figured I’d make myself some instant oatmeal,” he says, his voice sounding a bit further away from the microphone. “Goodness, though. Twenty years. That still boggles the mind.”

He gives a soft laugh. “You’re telling me. Could’ve sworn I was twelve just yesterday. And to be honest, it’s... it’s kinda weird sometimes, you know?”

“What is?”

“Being another year older. ‘Cause... well, uh...”

Steven grits his teeth, searching for the most delicate manner in which he can discuss these emotions. The feelings of his past are a really hard topic to dwell on sometimes, even in therapy, and even though he and his dad have long since had scattered discussions about what a poor mental state he was in then, he doesn’t wanna upset him too much.

“There were definitely days I assumed I wouldn’t have a future, or didn’t want one to begin with,” he continues, throat thick. “Back during all the conflict, before Homeworld reformed. And even after that, when I was... you know. And things are better, now, they’re definitely a lot better. But the idea of a ‘future’... even if I’ve got a job, a home, a girlfriend... it’s still weird to think about, I guess.“

There’s a brief silence on the line as this vulnerable admission sinks in.

“Yeah,” Dad replies eventually, clear sorrow in his voice despite how careful he thought he was in phrasing these matters. “I hear ya’.”

With a quick nervous laugh, he scratches at the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing against the thin, wispy strands of hair growing back there. “Geeze, sorry for bringing the mood down so quick. Didn’t even know I had all that on my mind until it spilled right out.”

“No, no! No need for apologies, I’m always here to listen. And in any case, I’m glad you’re in a better place now.”

Steven nods his head to himself in full agreement (momentarily forgetting that his dad isn’t actually here in the flesh to see this response). Sixteen and seventeen really, really weren’t good years for him. And even though he’s put lot of work into himself since then, he can’t help but constantly fear the possibility of relapse. His therapist told him a few sessions ago when he expressed this worry that... relapses into old thinking patterns can be common for people living with C-PSTD, and that it’s important for him to be cognizant of any unusual changes in his patterns and routines so he can quickly intervene with his box of healthy coping tactics, but... geeze. The dark, traumatic destinations his wandering thoughts end up stagnating in when the concept of relapse brushes his mind aren’t fun to acknowledge. It makes him yearn with deafening hunger for a simple switch he could flip, some magic cure-all for his brain that would stop him from having to deal with any of this awful shit in the first place— but of course, cruel universe this can be at times, those don’t exist.

“Speaking of that,” Dad speaks up again after clearing his throat, “how are those new meds treating you? You said last call your doctor was gonna change them, yes?”

“Nah, not change. There’s no need to change types,” he shrugs. “It’s just a dosage shift. And it’s fine, I think. I’ve been on ‘em for a few days, and there’s no problems so far. Brain's been treating me a little better.”

Nightmares aren’t quite as bad.

His energy isn’t totally zapped by noon.

The whirling, panicked trajectory of his thought patterns is a little easier to wrest control of.

All in all, nothing’s perfect, but he certainly feels a good deal more stable than before. Now, if only he can remember to consistently take his meds before he goes to bed like he’s supposed to instead of totally forgetting like he did last night and having to scarf it down when he sees that forsaken capsule in his pill box the next morning. Tsk, tsk.

“That’s real good to hear,” his dad responds to his news.

He flexes his knuckles against his lap, gaze reflexively drifting back towards the welcomed distraction of the tides. “Yeah.”

“Anyways, I, uh...”

“So, party logistics,” he cuts in with an overly cheery tone, changing the topic from his boring mental health crap entirely. “We should probably hash this out now. I know Connie’s planning on dropping around about noon. What’s your guys’ plan? She can probably send Lion to you after she gets here, if you want.”

“Yeah, that’d be best. Pearl said there weren’t any convenient warps nearby. Well, there’s one- but apparently it empties out into an active lava tube. And that’s not exactly Dad-friendly.”

“Aww, you mean you’re not filled with the intense desire to dip your hand into molten lava and shlorp it up like it’s soup?” Steven retorts, only barely holding back his laughter as he thinks of this absurd text thread he had going with Connie a few weeks back, wherein she sent him a video of some volcanic flows and told him, verbatim, that 'despite all logic and reason sometimes I can’t help but look at super viscous lava and think... forbidden s o u p, mmmm.’

“Not particularly, no,” his dad says, sounding thoroughly confused. “I’m- why are you laughing? Is this some sort of weird internet thing I’m not familiar with again?”

He wipes tears from his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. “You, ah- you kinda had to be there, sorry. Anyways, yeah. I’ll have Connie send Lion. I’ll text you right before, how’s that?”

“Sounds great! Can’t wait to see ya’, bud. I’m gonna let you go, now, okay? I can talk your ears off later. Go enjoy your morning. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” he says, grinning. “Bye.”

“Buh-bye.”

Once his dad hangs up he sets his phone beside him on the rock and takes a deep, steady breath, trying to capture the full nuance of each diverse scent in the air. He may just be imagining it, but he swears he’s able to pick out the faint scent of taffy intermingling with the ocean saltiness and the hint of cedar from the nearby state forest. In the end though, whether it’s real or not it’s a welcomed reminder of all the possibility the future holds for him.

He’s twenty now. It’s a brand new decade of life. He’s got a new job lined up, a stable and loving relationship, a supportive family, and plenty of courage in facing the shadows of his past. Sure, so maybe he’ll never know with certainty what will happen— maybe he’ll relapse a little, maybe he’ll still have some bad days sprinkled amongst the good ones— but as he watches the tides flow in to greet him, he smiles... and resolves to just take this year as a renewal of his vow to care for himself as best he can.

[lveclouds]

a/n: an atla au that i’ve been planning to write about for a while hehe and i apologize that this oneshot  jumps around a lot (oops) and it is slightly different from the actual show and wow this is the longest thing i’ve ever written lmao and this is very much raw and unedited so if there are any mistakes, that’s on me fklkflkf

genre: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, forbidden love, doomed love 

rating: pg-15 (see tw)  (i’ve bolded them so they are easier to see) 

word count: 5.4k 

pairing: avatar! reader x firebender yoongi

warnings: a bit of violence, (it’s nothing graphic), light swearing, mentions of family death (very brief and doesn’t go into much detail), mentions of blood (very brief), a nightmare sequence, major character deaths (nothing  too graphic or super violent)

summary: you were supposed to hate min yoongi. after all, he was from the fire nation, and their people were responsible for the chaos that had divided the four nations all those years ago, and for the death of your family. however, no matter how many times you fought, and no matter how many times he got under your skin, you eventually caught feelings, and now the two of you were in a relationship that was never meant to happen. and now, you, along with yoongi, have to face the consequences. 

disclaimer: i own none nothing related to atla (the story, setting, etc) all rights go to nickelodeon and michael dante dimartino, the main creator of this amazing show.  also, originally, the cooling chamber is used for prisoners who dare to step out of line while imprisoned on boiling rock, and they are only rendered unable to bend for a full week. however, i decided to change it because i don’t want to make their deaths too graphic or violent or disturbing, as the show barely has anything like that and i do not want to disturb my readers. 

“he was like fire, and i like water, and we often clashed, but somehow, we managed to fall in love. however, because we fell in love, a grave punishment awaited us, one that would haunt us for the rest of our lives.” 

prologue

min yoongi. the mere mention of his name was enough to make your blood boil and your insides churn with anger and hatred. he was arrogant, hot-headed, and worst of all, infuriatingly gorgeous. messy, raven hair that fell into his eyes, which were dark and piercing, pink lips that always curved into that irritating smirk you despised, perfect cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, and the long scar on his left eye, which would’ve made anyone else look terrifying, but somehow, it only made yoongi even more attractive than he already was, which deeply vexed you. he was from the fire nation, whom you hated with all your heart. they were responsible for the death of your family all those years ago, when you were just a little girl who didn’t know the complexities of the world, nor did you know that you would one day be the one to put an end to the all the slaughter and turmoil. you remembered the day they invaded your village all too well. you had been helping your mom prepare dinner, when, all of a sudden, loud shouts pierced the air, and you heard the crackle of fire and heavy footsteps making their way onto the shore. your father, already armed with his armor and scimitar, rushed outside, yelling over his shoulder for your mom to protect you and your brother. your mother, who was firm and loving above all things, calmly instructed for you and your brother to slip out of the tent if things went bad, to which you agreed to, despite being deathly terrified of what was going to happen. before you knew it, the flap of your tent was blown open, and you felt a rush of warm air wash over you, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, holding back a terrified scream as two fire nation soldiers barged in, mouths twisted in evil smirks. they grabbed your mother roughly by the wrist, who put up to resistance as they dragged her away, and you felt tears fill your eyes. to your horror, your brother, who was only eight years old, ran after your mother, who was looking at him with tears running down her cheeks, silently pleading him to go back inside. her attempt was in vain, as your brother persisted, desperate screams escaping his throat, and you were frozen in the corner, tears freely falling down your face, watching, petrified, as your kind and outgoing and brave brother was dragged away, possibly to his death. after you had managed to calm down, you quickly gathered all you had, which was nothing much, just a water skin that your grandmother had gifted you before she died. despite it being nothing too significant, you still held it dear to your heart. somehow, you had managed to escape, quietly hiding behind ruins of igloos and tents, and escaped onto a boat, not daring to look back at the destruction that the fire nation had caused. and, as you let the boat carry you away, you clutched the water skin to your chest and cried. 

(fin.) 

fast forward ten years later, and you were now eighteen, and you had traveled all around the four nations, being sure to avoid the fire nation at all costs. within the ten years that you had traveled, alone and unarmed, you had managed to discover something: you were the avatar, the one person who would be responsible for stopping the war between the four nations and the only one capable enough to stop the fire nation and their scheme to take over the entire world. at first, you didn’t want to believe it, for you were a poor girl who grew up in a small village in the southern water tribe, and as far as you knew, none of your ancestors were avatars, at least, or so you thought. turns out, your great great grandmother had been a past avatar, a very powerful one at that. you hated to admit it, but you were terrified. after all, being the avatar wasn’t going to be easy, and, to top it all off, you had to save the world from absolute peril. granted, you weren’t exactly experienced in the whole “avatar” thing, but you were willing to try. and, so far, you had been able to improve your waterbending, and had mastered earthbending. now, you were working on your airbending, studying scrolls you had picked up while exploring an abandoned air nomad temple. you were currently staying at a small inn located in a remote village in the earth kingdom, training nearly every day. however, you found it difficult to concentrate, for thoughts of min yoongi popped into your mind, which greatly irritated you. you had had only a few encounters with the arrogant prince to be, but you had come to despise him. you hated the fact that you thought of him, for you could just imagine that stupid smirk on his face if he found out, and for heavens sake, you hoped it would stay that way. every fight you two had made your blood boil, and the sarcastic remarks and teasing only deepened your hatred. you vowed to never fall for an arrogant asshole like him, nor would you ever consider giving up anything for yoongi, not a chance. little did you know that three years  later, you loving yoongi would be your greatest downfall. 

yoongi gritted his teeth in annoyance at the trembling servant before him, trying not to get irritated at his cowardice. “speak.” he grumbled, letting out an exasperated sigh. “i-i ‘m s-sorry your highness, i-i didn’t mean to tell your sister about the a-avatar. i-it just-” it just what?” “i-it was a mistake, your highness.” yoongi sighed. he was exhausted from the countless meeting his father forced him to attend that day, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with such a fool of a servant. “whatever, just don’t let it happen again,now, get out of my sight.” yoongi muttered, waving his hand absentmindedly. the servant nodded, frantically getting up, sputtering out apologies and nearly tripping over his own feet as he exited his bedroom. yoongi groaned in annoyance as he hopped down from the chair he’d been sitting on, stretching out his weak limbs. the meetings had been quite tiring, and yoongi thought he was going to insane from listening to incompetent men ramble on and on about pointless war strategies. ok, yoongi knew that coming up with war strategies wasn’t easy and they were doing their best, but none of the strategies they come up with have succeeded, and yoongi was starting to lose faith in them. yoongi knew he could be a bit hotheaded and a bit arrogant and selfish at times, but he wasn’t heartless, and deep down, he knew that the men were just trying to help with the crisis that was plaguing the world. yoongi sighed and plopped down onto his bed, closing his eyes. he was so tired to the point where he couldn’t even be bothered to get under the covers, and soon sleep came over him, covering him like a blanket. 

y/n scowled, clenching her fists together tightly, her dark eyes full of anger and spite. her beautiful face was bloody and a long scratch was on her forearm, but she didn’t seem to notice. yoongi had been thrown off to the side, clutching his arm awkwardly, and there were smudges of dirt and blood on his face, and his body felt like it was being stabbed with a thousand needles, but all he could focus on was y/n, facing off against the fire lord, rage ablaze in her eyes. the fire lord gave her a once over and sneered. “so, you’re the so called avatar? heh. you look weak, and definitely not enough to defeat me.” y/n’s scowl only deepened, and yoongi could see the ember of a flame kindling in her now open palm, illuminating her features in a orange and red glow. “you killed my family, didn’t you?” she hissed, the flame in her hand getting stronger, sparks flying in the air. the fire lord let out a dark, heartless chuckle. “oh, you mean the powerless and pathetic waterbenders who didn’t even try to put up a fight? ah, well, if you must be so curious, i did kill them. they were imprisoned for a while, and i ordered my soldiers to starve them, and when i got tired of keeping them alive, i took their lives with my own hands.” yoongi stared in horror as the flame in y/n’s hands got bigger and bigger, and her dark eyes glowed with fury, a strong wind lifting her up in the air, and she was now a blue streak against the dark sky. when she spoke again, her voice wasn’t normal, it was almost as if she had been possessed, and that’s when yoongi realized: she had entered the avatar state. suddenly, a fight broke out, and yoongi shielded his eyes from the debris and the smoke that was heading his way, struggling to see. and, when the smoke finally cleared, yoongi’s heart felt as if had been ripped out of his chest. his father was dead, lying in an awkward heap on the ground, and a few feet away lay y/n, her blue dress tattered and torn, her body lifeless. yoongi held back a scream as he crawled over to her body, fighting back tears. her dark hair was messy and strands fell over her face, and with shaking hands, yoongi reached out to brush them away, there were scratches and bruises covering her arms and legs, and the cut on her arm had gotten worse, and then he noticed the piece of metal in her chest, blood pouring out of the wound. yoongi finally let the tears fall, grasping hold of her now cold hands, letting his emotions pour out of him like a waterfall. 

yoongi shot up, his brow coated with sweat, breathing heavily. his heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he felt as if his ears were ringing. over the past few weeks, he had been having recurring dreams of y/n dying in different ways, and he couldn’t understand why. why was he, out of all people, having dreams of her dying over and over again? why? he scowled and wiped away the sweat with the back of his hand. “this makes absolutely no sense. i don’t love her,  nor do i have feelings for her, so why am i having these dreams?” he mumbled to himself, head swimming with thoughts. yoongi shook his head, as if to try and rid himself of what he had just dreamed of. he decided to go back to sleep and not try to think of her, for it would only cause him more confusion. 

(three years later) 

you dodged a flying rock just barely, propelling yourself upwards with air, landing gently on your feet just seconds later, and allowed yourself a quick sigh of relief before turning back to the battle at hand. your bending had gotten better since then, and you were just mastering firebending, the one element you dreaded learning, but alas, as your duty as the avatar, it was mandatory to master all four elements. you were currently locked in a slightly tense fight with thugs from the earth kingdom, who had previously tried to steal your belongings just weeks ago, and as you were on your way to the local market to pick up some food, you were ambushed. luckily, the thugs weren’t too dangerous, and had a few weapons, but not any you were too concerned about. after the thugs were lying on the ground, groaning in pain, you wasted no time in running away, not bothering to look back, just in case one of them recovered. the local market was ablaze with activity, street vendors selling food and other items, such as jewelry and cloth and weapons, and some were even offering to read your palms. you made sure to stick to the stalls that were run by people who didn’t seem to care about the avatar, and those who seemed to just see you as a normal girl, which was enough for you. after all, you weren’t even supposed to be going to crowded public places, as there is a chance that anyone could recognize you, but since you had been to the market so many times and no one seemed to bother you, well, you didn’t worry too much. however, you still kept your guard up, making sure no one was following you and trying not to use your bending without people seeing. you rushed back to the inn you were staying at, making sure to look over your shoulder as you went, feeling your heartbeat speed up a bit. yoongi was lying down on one of the beds, eyes closed, chest falling up and down peacefully, his soft breaths filling the room. “yoongi? are you awake?” he cracked open one feline shaped eye, lips curving into a small smile. “mmm. was just closing my eyes.” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, but just loud enough for you to hear. you bit back an amused smile at the sight of yoongi in a tattered red cloak that was a far cry from the royal garbs he was used to wearing all the time. his dark, raven hair had gotten longer, and the strands were now falling into his eyes, and most of the time, his hair was messy and a bit unruly, but you didn’t mind. you hummed softly as you prepared dinner, which was noodle soup and fish. while you were adding ingredients to the stew, you heard yoongi slide off the bed and walk over to you, his bare feet soundless on the wood floor. strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you couldn’t help but smile in amusement. “you’re finally up, huh?” “i was awake, i was resting my eyes.” “uh huh, and those little snores i heard? those were fake?” yoongi huffed. “shut up, i wasn’t snoring.” “whatever you say, yoongi.” you singsonged. yoongi sighed and let go of your waist, settling down in front of the small table in the center of the room, hugging his knees to his chest. “is the food almost ready?” “yes, your highness.” you teased, pouring the stew into a wooden bowl, steam rising into the air. as the two of you ate dinner that night, yoongi told you stories about his life in the palace, and how he had almost fallen asleep at a meeting because he was so bored. “seriously? and you got away with that?” yoongi shrugged, shoving a handful of rice in his mouth, and you nearly laughed when you saw a piece of rice sticking to his bottom lip, but refrained from doing so because you didn’t want to embarrass him. “they know i barely get any sleep, so i guess they’re used to it.” “why?” “why don’t i get any sleep?” “well, i used to have nightmares, mostly about my father killing me, you dying, and a few other things, and i don’t know, i’ve always been a night owl, i guess.” your heart dropped down into your chest. “what? you ‘ve had dreams of me dying?” yoongi sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “yeah. but i don’t have them anymore. i had them before we fell in love or whatever. we hated each other before, in case you forgot.” “but, i still don’t get it. why would you have dreams of me dying?” yoongi shrugged once again, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “not sure. anyways, don’t worry about it. it was a long time ago.” you nodded, but deep down, you were still a bit doubtful that the dreams were “nothing.” they had to mean something, you thought as you forced yourself to eat another piece of fish. you lay in bed later that night, staring up at the wooden ceiling of the inn, lost in thought. you couldn’t help but wonder if the dreams that yoongi had all those years ago meant something. you weren’t afraid of death, necessarily, as you knew that all life stopped eventually, but you were scared of when it would happen, after all, you hadn’t saved the world yet, nor had you mastered the four elements. you shook away all bad thoughts, silently scolding yourself for being paranoid, and snuggled deeper into yoongi’s side, letting sleep take over. 

the next morning, you awoke to the smell of smoke, and you immediately shot up out of bed, looking around for yoongi, who was nowhere to be seen. a wave of fear washed over you as you rushed to gather your belongings, heart beating wildly in your chest. you quickly put out the small fires that were blazing in the inn, turning the wood to ash, and ran outside. the sight that awaited you turned your blood cold. yoongi was being held captive by fire nation soldiers, hands tied with rope, and there was a smudge of dirt and blood on his right cheek, but otherwise, he looked unscathed, and you allowed yourself some relief. one of the soldiers, a tall and lean man, sneered at you as you got closer. “if it isn’t the avatar. thought we’d never see you, and honestly, i’m quite disappointed. thought you’d be taller, and well, a male.” you felt a surge of anger wash over you, clenching your hands into fists. “what do you want?” “first, surrender now and we’ll consider sparing your life.” “and if i refuse?” “if you refuse, then we’ll kill you while he watches.” you gritted your teeth in annoyance and snuck a glance at yoongi, whose expression was unreadable.  you sighed and slowly put your hands up in surrender, and before you could react, you were pinned down to the ground, dirt flying into your eyes, making you sputter, and you felt a knee dig into the small of your back, and you hissed at the sharp pain that shot through your shoulder. . “what are you doing?! you said you wouldn’t harm her!” yoongi screamed, dark eyes ablaze with anger. “you’d really think we’d spare her? she’s the reason why we’re always getting scolded, and the reason why our people are suffering, so she deserves to die.” “your people are suffering?? don’t you mean our people?” the soldier who was pinning you to the ground let out a bitter laugh. “our people? the fire nation no longer sees you as a prince, for you turned your back on your nation and ran away with the avatar. your father is ashamed of you, and you are no longer welcome in the palace.” yoongi scoffed. “please. i was never accepted by my father, and i got tired of living there, too many rules to abide by. the fire nation is pathetic and my father is a piece of shit. i used to be blinded by the teachings and the values that we lived by, but not anymore. the fire nation deserves to be burnt to the ground, and i hope i get to be around to see it happen.” you watched in horror as yoongi was kicked in the stomach, causing him to cry out in pain, body falling in an awkward heap on the ground. tears welled up in your eyes, and you forced yourself to look away, for you were afraid of breaking down in front of everyone, especially in front of fire nation soldiers, no less. the last thing you wanted was to be seen as weak. 

after a long stretch of silence, yoongi cleared his throat, causing the soldiers to look at him, sneers immediately forming on their faces. “what is it now?” “let her go, you can take me back to the palace and i will receive whatever punishment awaits me, even if it’s death.” your blood ran cold as soon as the words left his mouth, heart dropping down into your chest. the soldier who was holding you down let you go, and you breathed a sigh of relief as the pain in your back subsided. the soldiers laughed, and you felt dread rush over you. “awww, how cute. loverboy’s willing to give up his life for the pathetic excuse of an avatar this girl is.” one soldier said, his tone dripping with sarcasm and mockery. “no, take me instead,  i’m the one the fire lord wants to see dead.” the soldiers looked at each other and almost immediately, satisfied smirks appeared on their faces. then,you were roughly helped to your feet, and your hands were tied with rope. out of the corner of your eye, you saw yoogni looking at you, dark eyes swimming with tears, silently begging you not to go, and you felt a slight twinge of regret, but it was too late: you had already made up your mind. you were willing to sacrifice anything for yoongi, even if it meant inevitable death. you swallowed the bile that was threatening to rise in your throat as you were led away. suddenly, you heard loud screams from behind you, and you whirled around to see yoongi, who had somehow managed to break free from his restraints, the sharp features of his face illuminated by the orange and red flames that he was throwing at the soldiers, who tried to dodge them, but to no avail. even from afar, you could see the tension in yoongi’s shoulders as he fought, dodging fireballs every now and then, sweat forming on his brow. you could only watch as he singelhandedly fought off soldiers from his own nation, anger coming off him in waves. and, just as he was about to run towards you, his eyebrows set in determination, you felt the hilt of a sword slamming into the back of your head, and before the world around you turned to black, you heard a scream of pure agony and distress. 

you awoke in a prison cell, head pounding as your eyes adjusted to the dim light. you groaned as you realized where you were. you had been brought to boiling rock, the most secure prison in the fire nation. the bars of your cell and the walls were made of an indestructible metal, and you immediately regretted not learning metal bending all those years ago. defeated, you slumped down in the corner of your cell, sighing heavily. the fire nation soldiers were right, you thought. you were a poor excuse of an avatar. not only had you fallen in love with one a fire nation prince, but you had also betrayed the values you were supposed to uphold as the avatar by choosing to try and protect yoongi instead of yourself. you knew that the past avatars before you would’ve done the complete opposite, for the sake of the whole world, and you chose to neglect all their teachings and values by trying to save him. you felt tears fall down your face. for the first time since your family’s death, you had never felt so hopeless and scared in your life. you knew that the fate that you had lead yourself to was entirely your fault, for you had chosen to love yoongi and defend him. deep down, there was a part of you that wondered if things would’ve been different if you had not fallen in love with the fire nation prince, but there was also a part of you that didn’t regret choosing yoongi. he had taught you some firebending techniques, and most of all,had treated you like fine china after you had started dating. he had been nothing but good to you since you dated, and you felt like an absolute fool for falling so hard, so quickly. 

you sobbed quietly in your cell, feeling completely helpless and defeated. there was no way you were escaping what was about to come, and you soon fell asleep, dried tears sticking to your face, heart heavy. when you awoke the next morning, you heard a guard unlocking your cell, and you slowly sat up, dread pooling in your stomach. you were led out of the cell and down a long corridor. you were practically shoved inside the interrogation room, which was dimly lit with metal bars in the ceiling, and the guard that was inside pushed you onto a chair, tying you to it with rope, which was rough and itchy against your skin. the interrogator stepped into the room, an old man with prominent frown lines around his eyes, looking at you with utter disdain and disgust. "so, this is the avatar? hmph. seems pretty weak to me." he muttered. you fought the urge to roll your eyes as he stood in front of you, eyes piercing. "did you or did you not kidnap the crown prince?" you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. "kidnap? i never did such a thing, he voluntarily agreed to travel with me." the old man sighed impatiently. "and you fell in love with him, did you not?" you gritted your teeth in annoyance. "and so what if i did?" the old man smirked, and you fought the urge to break free from your restraints and punch him in his face. "well, isn't the avatar supposed to despise anyone from the fire nation? they have values to uphold, and while i don't know much about your ancestors, they would probably look down on you for it." "fine, i did." the old man scoffed. "it's pathetic, really. i mean, the avatar betraying her ancestors for a lowlife prince?" "i'm not proud of it, but i don't regret it." "is that so? well, you definitely will once you freeze to death in the cooling chamber tomorrow." and with that, he exited the room, slamming the door shut behind him. as you were led back to your cell, you felt as if your world had come crashing down. you had been unable to master all four elements, nor had you saved the world from absolute peril. and, once you died, the world would be thrown into absolute chaos, and no one would be able to stop the fire nation from causing absolute destruction.

that night, you sat in your cell, leaning on the wall, thinking about all the memories you had made as you traveled, and the ones you made with yoongi. yoongi, who you hadn't seen since you got knocked out, and who you didn't know was even alive.you knew that it was possible to resent yoongi, for he was one of the reasons why you were now in a prison cell, but you also knew that you were to blame. after all, you had fallen in love with him. despite the fate that was awaiting you the next day, you couldn't help but feel happy that you had lived a decent life, and you had managed to fall in love, even if it was someone you were destined to hate. "i love you, yoongi." you whispered, and you slowly fell asleep, with memories of yoongi in your mind. 

the bitter cold in the room enveloped you like a blanket, and though you had grown up in a village surrounded by glaciers, you had always been covered up in thick clothing lined with fur, keeping you warm despite the harsh temperature. you shivered slightly, rubbing your arms frantically, as if the action would keep you warm. though the cold was unbearable, you were at least grateful you would die slowly, instead of painfully, so at least you could reflect on yourself before you died. you sighed and slumped against the wall of the cooling chamber, feeling absolutely defeated. there was no way you were getting out this time. suddenly, the door to the cooling chamber opened, and someone got shoved inside. the door quickly closed and you could hear the joyful laughs of the fire nation soldiers outside, which vexed you. when you saw who had been placed in the chamber with you, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. it was yoongi, and to your relief, he looked uninjured. “y-yoongi?” you called out, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible, despite the tears running down your face. he looked over at you, dark eyes wide. “y/n?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “w-what are you doing here?” “i turned myself in.” “what? why?” “i couldn’t let you suffer without me. after all, i am the one who dragged you into this mess in the first place. you fell in love with me, and if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here, freezing to death.” your heart broke at how sad he sounded. “yoongi, don’t blame yourself. i was the one who should’ve left, but i couldn’t bring myself to. i neglected my duty as the avatar and now i’m letting thousands, maybe even millions of people die. all because a certain firebender came into my life.  however, i don’t regret falling in love with you. you’ve helped me become a better person and you even helped me how to control my firebending. you also showed me that it doesn’t matter where you come from and that you shouldn’t let your nation define you. and, honestly, at least your face is going to be the last thing before i die.” despite the cold, you could see a faint shade of pink settle across yoongi’s face, and you allowed yourself an amused smile. “since when did you get so cheesy?” “don’t know. guess certain death just does that to a person.” eventually, you died peacefully with yoongi by your side, and while you deeply regretted not being able to fufill your duty as the avatar, you had at least shown that love didn’t come without sacrifice, and sacrifice didn’t come without love, for you would have gladly given up the world for yoongi. 

a/n: omg this was so long hehe but i hope you all enjoyed this! this oneshot took me forever to type up, but i had so much fun doing it! once again, thank you all so much for supporting me always, and i hope my stories can make you smile, or at least feel some type of emotions! 

tagging: @suhdays @softlyjiminie @softguks @jksmoongf @softlypouty @haylo4ever @sweetheartjeongguk @sketchguk @glossyfever @taeramisu @nahfamily @dylanxmin @saintjeonofbusan @mmmikrokosmos @sunkyeoml @honeylovecult @lomlkook @yoongislovecult @daechwitas @yoongismykink @periminkle @thotxuxi @fairyqook​ @moonmintrails @flowerseok  @koophoriia​@onherwings  @ppersonna​  @ot7always​ @koosgrl​  @cest-la-tae​ @minsprings​ @mygsii​ @roguebangtan​ @minniepetals​ @euphoria-vmin7​ @ladyartemesia​ @gguksbby​ @baekhyyun​ @randomkoalablog​ @yoonsgiggle​ @birthofvcnus​

[intothewilde]

⌠ ellie bamber, 20, cis female, she/her ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, GIORGIA WILDE! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in UNDECIDED; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (first edition books, walking in the rain, candy-scented lip gloss, getting lost in a museum, millions of twinkling city lights). when it’s the (sagittarius)’s birthday on 12/13/1999, they always request their CHERRY PIE from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. 

she can’t do shit with knives yet but it’s a great gif, don’t @ me) but DO like this if you want me to hit you up for plots

@gallagherintro​

tw: implied neglect, brief mentions of mental illness and addiction

ok! so giorgia was born and raised in new york city. both of her parents came from extremely wealthy families. her mother was a french socialite and her father was the golden boy of a hearst-like (founders/owners of a distinguished publishing conglomerate) family from connecticut. some of his family members claimed to be descendants of one of oscar wilde’s cousins (a rumor that has yet to be confirmed) and he believed he had it in him to become a literary great himself. he seemingly succeeded, having published multiple best sellers popular with young pseudo-intellectuals. 

giorgia was never sure if her mother had wanted a daughter or a life-size doll. from a very young age she was primed to fit into high society and paraded around her parent’s lavish parties. most of her time was spent with nannies and violin tutors, studying her father’s poetic heroes, and dancing ballet. she was taught how to socialize with society’s elite, but she never felt comfortable doing so. she felt safer hiding behind her mother or sitting beneath the stairs with her nose in a book.

while her mother wanted her child to be pretty and proper, her father wanted someone to continue his family’s legacy. she learned to read when she was four, and by the time she was five, gio was forced to write in a diary every. single. day. (over the last fifteen years she’s filled up dozens of notebooks that live on a bookshelf in her childhood bedroom). she didn’t particularly like her father and she didn’t want to want what he wanted for her. (did that sentence make sense? i hope so). but she did like to write and she was damn good at it. her poetry was published in online journals and lit mags, her short stories won young artist awards. on the outside, she was everything her parents wanted.

but like i said before, gio struggled with the social part or being a socialite, and the life of an heiress was never something she wanted. she didn’t seem to have the right attitude - she was demure and diffident, a textbook wallflower. she was never happier than when she was reading a book or roaming a museum, always curious about the world around her. she never misbehaved or did anything wrong, but her parents wanted her to behave differently. 

their tribeca penthouse always had a certain cold air to it and the high ceilings only seemed to add to the lonely feeling that gio couldn’t escape. her relationship with her parents seemed to become more strained with each passing day. the more she learned about them the more gio realized she didn’t know them at all - the spa retreats her mother went on were really trips to psychiatric facilities and rehabs, and the endless slew of young women her father employed as assistants were all lazily hidden affairs. they never talked about it, if she tried to she was shut down or ignored entirely.

gio grew up wanting to go to nyu. she didn’t know where the dream came from (her parents wanted her to go to vassar or dartmouth) but she loved her home city and something about nyu had always called to her. she was accepted early admission to the gallatin school where she planned to major in an individualized study of creative and dramatic writing.

she loved her freshman year of college. she was finally out of her parents’ home and into a postage stamp of an apartment with an eccentric girl studying theater. she was around people from all over the world and all walks of life instead of the tiny bubble of rich snobs and private schools. she was around people she actually had things in common with. she was still shy and she still found it extremely difficult to talk to people. the easiest way for her to interact with people was to overcompensate for her shyness and be excessively friendly. when she was actually able to talk, she found she had many things to say, and once she started talking it was hard for her to stop.

her roommate was a big fan of movie marathons (in october they watched all of the scream movies, and then all of the saw movies, and then all of the children of the corn movies. that’s twenty horror movies. gio still has nightmares from them). for a few weeks in the fall she had a spy movie marathon. mission: impossible and jason bourne movies, mostly. something about them piqued gio’s interest, and she started reading spy novels, which quickly turned into her writing one of her own. she wanted the protagonist to be a woman for once, and one who’s main personality trait wasn’t tits. her novel, at dawn beneath the bridge of sighs, followed a cia operative and an italia aisi agent who are forced to work together to find the kidnapped daughter of an american diplomat along with the priceless jewelry she was wearing at the time of her capture. (do i know what the fuck im talking about? no!!) 

gio comes from a family of publishers so it was fairly easy for her to find someone who wanted to publish it, but the nepotism ended there, the success was all her own. it was lauded as an impressive debut novel and critics praised her subversion of genre tropes and inventive action sequences. but it stuck out to a select few for a different reason - the heroine used tactics uncannily similar to those used by actual spies, and she used them well. some people were curious as to how the character would handle other situations in the spy world, or really how the author would plan it.

so yeah she got a letter from gallagher, and she thought it was a joke at first. she eventually figured out it was very real (how? idk!) and her curiosity got the better of her. she decided it would be good for research, and that she could go back to nyu if she wanted to. once she arrived at gallagher, giorgia... did not know what to do. she had never been so out of her element, and she felt like she was terrible at everything. but that wasn’t really true, all the things you could study for were things she was actually learning. she became determined to actually do well, and as her first year comes to an end, gio still feels extremely unsure of herself, and unsure of where she wants to focus her studies, but she’s starting to feel like gallagher is the right place for her to be.

personality: she’s very sweet, very earnest, sometimes has a tendency to retreat into herself and get quiet, but she still combats her shyness with an outgoing attitude she learned from her mother that takes her far out of her comfort zone. basically as outgoing as an introvert can be. she tries to see the best in everyone and every situation. emphasis on tries, because she’s a total worrier and is often pulled between the desire to find a silver lining and the fear that something horrible will happen. she will give people more chances than they deserve and let them walk all over her. her self esteem can be pretty low, but one thing she is confident about is her writing (although she won’t tell you because she doesn’t want to seem boastful). art and literature in all forms are her favorite things and she could talk about it forever. she’s the kind of person who tries to learn everyone’s names and once she knows it she’ll say hi to you every time she sees you.

other stuff: she’s fluent in french and english and grew up speaking them equally. (she also knows some spanish, italian, german, and russian from her nannies, but she’s not fluent). she has a deep love for photography, usually bringing a camera with her at all times. she can play classic violin and piano, but hasn’t in a while and is probably rusty, she continued to dance until she came to gallagher and no longer had time to practice. she has a cat named pierre (named after pierre-auguste renoir). she's a vegetarian. she’s basically addicted to fruit. she listens to a lot of sad pop music. her favorite colors are blush pink and forest green. she watches a lot jean-luc godard and wes anderson movies. she’s kind of a sad girl/art ho. she gets crushes on people easily and all the time. she is very impressionable, and seems to experience heartbreak often. she just wants someone to lover her for her, you know? 

wanted connections: (im super fucking tired so im just gonna write some really basic shit but hopefully i’ll edit it tomorrow).

a best friend: it’s not easy for her to make friends but i want gio to have one person she can truly be herself around. a platonic soulmate, if you will.

friends: really just anyone who is understanding of how she’s not always comfortable talking but will also listen if she starts ranting about queer representation in 20th century poetry and plays, ya feel?

big brother/big sister: because she hated being an only child and she really needs someone looking out for her

bad influence: its not hard to be a bad influence on her but someones gotta do it!

good influence: someone who lets her baby ways rub off on them

idk what to call this but a sort of mutual respect with someone she’s had a class with?

idk what to call this either but someone she really clashes with, they just don’t understand each other

people she knew in nyc: she was there for the first 19 years of her life so if your character was there in early 2019 or any time before that, they could’ve run into each other

someone from a similar background who she can just be like... felt with?

hookups/flings: she loves love but love does not love her

an ex: could be good or bad terms idk 

crushes, mutual or unrequited

give me literally anything, the more angst the better!!