#I already found that pretty interesting and even saved the line considering what their assigned roles are in the game

[fragmentedblade]

Fu Xuan also has that master/apprentice thing going on for what she's telling. The concept is also closely at the core of why she wants the position of general so passionately

[therenlover]

The Boy With The Easel (A Young Artist!Helmut Zemo x Reader Oneshot)

(Hey! If you end up enjoying this fic, it’s the first chronological part of a new fun expanded AU I’ve created with @creme-bruhlee​! Their fic Bliss is part of the same timeline and takes place about a year after this one, so you should check it out!!!)

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Tags: Meet Cute, College AU, First Meetings, Coffee Date, Artist!Zemo, Embarrassment, Awkward College Kids Falling In Love

Rating: T

Warnings: Very Vague Mention of Sexual Content, Swearing, Zemo Says The Word Daddy In Reference To His Father and The Reader Thinks It’s Kinda Hot

Word Count: 7000~

This fic has been crossposted to my AO3!

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                                    The University of Novi Grad

                                                 Fall 1996

Mornings in Novi Grad could be beautiful if you knew what to look for.

Sokovia was… different from America in many ways. From the language to the scenery, you often found yourself adrift in the strangeness of it all. There had been nothing quite as old as the buildings in the historical district of Novi Grad back home, no towering grey behemoths serving as a reminder of a bygone fight against Soviet invasion in the memories of your childhood. Still, though, there was beauty in the strangeness nonetheless.

From your tiny room in the Helena Lyudmila International Scholar’s dorm, for instance, you had a perfect view of a large campus courtyard hosting a statue of the donor by the same name. She was some royal who had invested in education a few hundred years ago, and by the looks of her metal likeness, she had been quite pretty. The sight of her shining in the early morning sun was one of the things that made uprooting your whole life seem worth it in the end, no matter how silly that seemed.

There were other small comforts that you had found beauty in during your first month attending your prestigious university, too.

You found beauty in the way the sunlight streamed over the rooftops like the opening to an Oscar-winning film. In the sound of traffic below and the overcast skies above. Sandwiches from corner stores, wildflowers growing in the median of the road, cups of the worlds best black coffee served steaming by scowling attendants at the cafe; Everywhere there was something small and kind and just familiar enough to relish in, more than able to distract you from the stress of living hand-to-mouth in a country where you didn’t even know the language. It made it all worth it.

That being said there was something else too…

Someone else to be specific.

The campus tended to run like clockwork. The same groups of students would walk past your window to their classes, the same professors would get their coffee and lunch at the little cafe across the square, and every weekday morning at 8 am on the dot, easel boy would set up his palette and canvas and paint the same bustling street.

He was talented, that you couldn’t deny. Even from the 6th floor, which was a considerable distance away, it was possible to admire the detailing and consistency with which he painted. His talent wasn’t when kept you captive at your window in the morning, though. Though you were sure his art was beautiful, he himself was a thousand times more stunning.

All dark eyes and dark hair and dark clothes, he parted crowds with his piercing gaze alone. He was always dressed like the protagonist of some awful artsy film. Massive argyle sweaters, untucked button-ups, corduroy jackets, and flare bottomed pants that must have survived his father’s wardrobe from the ’70s… his style was as close you could get to atrocious while still being impeccable as possible, and that wasn’t even getting started on the smudged black liner always present under his persistent gaze. You had never had the pleasure (or embarrassment for that matter) of meeting him in person, but you were sure that you would have had the same awed and slightly frightened reaction if you ever did. He could have been plucked entirely from the pages of some awful romance novel.

You were well and truly smitten with the idea of him.

If you looked at your morning routine through the eyes of a stranger, you’d consider yourself odd for your strange obsession with him, but you didn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t an obsession. You never overstepped your bounds. He was simply pleasing to look at and so you did. That didn’t constitute as obsessive, right?

Even if it did, you weren’t causing any harm.

Easel boy, as you had come to refer to him, was simply a tool you used to ground yourself in your new and frightening environment. Nothing more. If you ever met him, you would surely hate him from the short interactions you’d seen him have with strangers. They never ended well. He would remain an unattainable, attractive ideal in your mind until he eventually faded away into a funny memory you’d share with your kids one day.

Until then, though, you would watch him from your window before your morning classes and refused to feel guilty about it. So, that was that, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

On the morning in question, you had woken up a little late and in a foul mood. In preparation for a test in your foundations of algebra course you had spent the better part of the night pouring over formulas while your upstairs neighbor’s bed slammed repeatedly into the wall and floor. Though you were sure they were having an excellent time, you were most definitely not. It all culminated in you missing your original alarms and despite the fact that your first class started at 10, you were exhausted, furious, and not looking forward to missing breakfast to finish the assigned reading you had put off the night before. The only thing keeping you from throwing in the towel and just giving up was the promise of seeing the painter.

So, when he arrived for the day at 8 am sharp, you were positioned at the ledge by your window, textbook in hand with a mug of instant coffee at your right. It was like a breath of fresh air.

As usual, he retrieved a small pack of cigarettes from the back of his eternally paint-stained jeans only to bring one to his lips and light it quickly. He always smoked before he worked, and just like always, he took an extra cigarette from the pack to tuck behind his ear for later. Then, he got to work setting up his easel and the small stool where he set his palette.

Pulling tubes of acrylic, brushes, and pencils from his well-worn messenger bag, easel boy flipped out the kickstand without any problem and set his thick, pre-primed canvas on the worn metal. You watched in fascination. Art had always seemed so unattainable to you. Instead, you were drawn to the more academic. The man before you, though, created beauty with an ease that had evaded you all your life, and it had you both jealous and entirely intrigued. Slowly, you reached down to take a sip of your coffee as you let your eyes drift back to your reading.

Learning about ancient Babylon was far less interesting than watching him, though.  

When you next looked out the window and away from your work the handsome artist had created his base sketch already. How did he do it so fast? You assumed it was practice. He had been drawing the same 3 buildings every weekday morning for at least a month, so after a while, it must have been second nature to measure out the lines and put things into perspective. You smiled. He tended to have that effect on you.

The process was repeated until a little before 9:30. You would read a few paragraphs then look up to watch the painting progress from a sketch to a full-fledged work of art. It was good today from what you could see. The colors were a bit more muted than usual, but that was only on account of the awful, dreary overcast sky that threatened to dump rain on the city at any time. Overall, you would have considered it a masterpiece. Easel boy didn’t seem to think the same.

He regarded the painting with a sort of begrudging satisfaction that bordered on disappointment before he pulled the second cigarette from behind his ear, lit it, and began the process of packing up his materials. You finished the last of your coffee watching him do so. Smoking, well, smoking tobacco at least, had always been a vice you had avoided and yet you often wondered what it would feel like to take a drag of one of his cigarettes after it had been between his lips. Then, the magic lifted.

He folded up the flimsy easel, tucked it away with his materials back into his messenger bag, hoisted the stool under one arm and the painting under the other before taking off at a brisk clip down the street away from your window. You watched him until he was out of sight.

You were snapped from your concentration by a knock at your door.

“Y/N,” a heavily accented voice called, sending you scrambling for your bag, “If you are not outside in the next 15 seconds I will break down your door,”

Shit.

“Coming, Sasha!” You wailed. It took about 10 of those seconds to grab your backpack and shove your textbook inside, an extra 2 to check your appearance in the mirror- you looked slightly disheveled, but it was the best you were gonna do after the night you’d had. Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing anything important. You didn’t need to be dressed for a date -and you were opening the door for a quick save at the 14th second. Your door was safe for another day.

Out in the hall waited Sasha Balandin, arms crossed and grey eyes piercing in the flickering light of the terrible overhead fluorescents. As a fellow international student, you had become fast friends with Sasha. He was a little rough around the edges, and definitely didn’t take your bullshit, but he was a rare friend. “I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” he griped. You tried your best to look apologetic. “Don’t do that,”

“Do what?” You asked, closing and locking your door behind you as you began walking down the hallway.

Sasha huffed. “Do not pretend you were not too busy ogling that painter in the courtyard to hear me knocking on your door,” His Russian bluntness was on full display now as you shook your head in mock disbelief.

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something like that!”

“It is not an accusation if it is true,”

“There’s no way you know for a fact that I was watching him again,”

“But you were. This happens every week,”

You sighed, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I was,”

Taking the stairs in twos, Sasha sighed. “You are too soft, Y/N. Besides, you have said so often that he seems like an asshole. Why do you continue to get all mushy at him out the window if this is the case?”

“Because… well, because…” for a moment, you floundered in search of an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete freak, but you found that there really wasn’t one. It came down the one small factor. “He’s just really hot, okay?”

The look Sasha gave you could have killed. He kept his mouth shut, though, choosing to let his silence shame you more than anything else did. It worked. For the entire trip down the stairs and the mile-long walk to your lecture hall, you felt the weight of shame heavy on your shoulders. Or maybe it was just your backpack. You didn’t know which you’d prefer. He did start speaking again eventually, going on about some party you had missed in favor of studying, but the feeling never left. Even as you sat down for your lecture it was still at the forefront of your mind. In fact, you were so busy thinking about your crush on easel boy and the problems with it that you barely paid attention to the professor’s rehashing of the Epic of Gilgamesh.

Your error only hit when the professor flipped the PowerPoint to the final slide.

“Before you go, I want to remind you that you have a paper on the importance of Enkidu in the Epic is due at the beginning of class this Friday. The details and requirements should be listed in your syllabus. Class dismissed,”

Fuck.

Friday was only two days away.

You were so screwed.

The problem was, you didn’t have a spare copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh just lying around your dorm room. Usually that wouldn’t have been an issue, the professor for your current history course used English for her slide because her particular history course was specifically for first-year international students. Unfortunately for you, though, you hadn’t been taking notes. Instead, you had been daydreaming about how it would feel to have easel boy blow his cigarette smoke in your face and then subsequently scolding yourself for having thoughts like that about a total stranger. In a terrible twist of fate, the professor only held office hours after her last classes on Mondays and Fridays, so even getting the information from her then was off the table. Dread began to pool in your stomach.

Any other student would have been able to cut their losses, rent a copy from the library, slog through it in a night, and write the damn essay even without the help of the classroom slides for context. The only problem was all the books in the library were in Sokovian, and you still barely knew how to order a coffee correctly. Reading the language in a full Cyrillic alphabet would just be impossible, especially for a book as stupidly old as the Epic of Gilgamesh.

In short, unless you could get your hands on a copy in the next day or so, you were absolutely, well-and-truly fucked.

Sasha was quick to find you as the hall cleared out, waiting near your seat as you packed away your notes. “That was all bullshit, no?” He asked, but the second he took in your slightly panicked expression he stopped short, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply. You knew what he was going to say before he ever said it.

“Something is wrong. You were not paying attention. Were you thinking-”

“Yes. Okay? Yes, I was thinking about him,”

He shook his head slightly. “I am concerned for you,”

“Who isn’t?”

Despite his usually stoic demeanor, that made Sasha huff out a soft laugh. “You got yourself into this mess, Y/N, you will get yourself out somehow,”

Your jaw dropped as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started making your way towards the door. “You’re not gonna help me?”

“Though I would love to be helpful, you forget that my English is poor. It will do me better to read the book in Sokovian myself than to use the information from class,”

Oh, yeah. You winced. “Sorry, Sash’”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged as you walked out onto the lawn, chilled to the bone by the wind that whipped in every direction.

A storm was brewing. It might not fully take hold of the city for a few hours yet, but it would make the walk to your evening class absolute hell if the rain fell as hard as it had several weeks prior. You could only hope that it wouldn’t start until after you had walked home. Your odds were looking slim, though, based on the way you could already hear thunder clapping in the distance. After a moment you hit the edge of the sidewalk where your paths would diverge.

“Good luck with the paper,” you offered weakly.

Sasha replied with a sharp, “Good luck with your crush,” and then he was off in the opposite direction without another word. Sasha was blunt like that, never overstaying his welcome or lingering when he didn’t need to. There was something enviable about it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to simply say things as they were without an unnecessary sugar coating to save face and spare feelings. It lingered on your mind for the whole half-mile walk to the campus bookstore. Speaking of which...

There was only one place where you might possibly find an English copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh. It wasn’t the big student bookstore, most of the textbooks there had been in Sokovian, Russian, or German and you hadn’t even tried to set foot in their actual book section. No, your only hope was the tiny hole-in-the-wall bookstore you had stumbled upon during move-in. It was only about half a mile away from your dorm from any of your lecture halls, so you often found yourself wandering inside when you had time to kill. They were one of the only stores you’d come across that sold anything in English, magazines included, so despite the fact that the young cashiers rarely spoke your language you often found that the back shelves of that tiny shop kept you from going mad.

Now, they might also be keeping you from ruining your GPA.

You could only hope. If anybody could save you, it was them.

Ducking in through the small doorway, you were greeted by the soft ring of the bell above your head. The attendant at the register simply regarded you with a polite nod. You had seen her there before and she knew you barely spoke a lick of Sokovian, so she didn’t attempt a pleasantry. Instead, she simply let you wander through the entrance and into the towering bookshelves, passing a few other faceless shoppers on your way towards the back. You were grateful for her nonchalance.

If there was anything worse than feeling foolish for not knowing Sokovian, it was being talked down to in perfect English by a Sokovian citizen. Most interactions left you wishing you’d actually taken anything away from your high school French class other than emotional trauma from your teacher and a caffeine addiction. Damn America and its terrible public-school language programs…

The path to the English classics section was one you’d walked many times since discovering the book store. It was right in the very back corner of the shop, tucked away where the city natives wouldn’t have to address or see it. You had snagged a copy of Pride and Prejudice a few weeks back, so you knew exactly where to search. The only problem was slogging through every single book on the shelf in search of the one you were looking for.

Your eyes scanned the wall.  

Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh…

Gilgamesh!

On the 6th shelf up sat one small copy. Score! You were saved! As you reached up to grab it, though, you were met with yet another roadblock. The shelf it was on was juuuust a little too high for you to reach. Oh, come on…

You hopped a little, extending your hand up as far as it could go, but your fingers just barely brushed the spine. Somewhere behind you, you could hear footsteps. Then someone coughed to suppress laughter. The shame was plain on your face. As your flannel rode up and you stretched up in one last desperate attempt to grab the book when suddenly someone, you assumed the same person who had been laughing at your misfortune, spoke.

“They have stools, you know,” he said, accented voice thick with amusement. The English surprised you, but you assumed they used it for your benefit. You were in front of the English language books after all. Besides, the shame of it all kept your mind from questioning it too much. “For reaching the top shelf,”

Of course they had stools.

If your face hadn’t already been burning with embarrassment it definitely was now.

In a split-second decision, you decided playing dumb was the only way you could walk out of the situation with any dignity left at all, so you plastered on a confused smile and spun around to greet the stranger. “Really? I had no cl-”

You stopped short.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’d know those paint-stained jeans anywhere.

There, with his hands in his pockets and the most self-important, thin-lipped smirk you had ever seen, was easel boy in all of his cocky, intimidating, hot glory. Had you really noticed how hot he truly was before? It didn’t feel like it. Not now that you’d really seen him close up and reveled in the way his dark eyes hypnotized you with their smudged liner that felt borderline obscene. You could smell him too, all charcoal and turpentine and cigarette smoke. If you had it bad before when he was just a blurry ideal out your window, you were completely and utterly smitten now.

He regarded you with a sort of practiced annoyance, and yet there was a strange softness to it that you hadn’t found in many native Sokovians, especially ones that saw you as the stupid, bumbling American wandering blindly around their country.

“Would you like my help?”

“Huh?” You were so lost in his eyes that you couldn’t even focus on his question.

“To reach your book. Would you like my help?”

“Oh!” With a brisk nod, you stepped away from the shelf to make room for easel boy, “yeah, I’m just trying to grab that one there. The, uh, Epic of Gilgamesh,”

In one swift movement, he was stepping right beside you to easily reach up and grab the offending piece of literature. The closeness of it all nearly sent you into a tailspin. That wasn’t even mentioning the way your heart thudded just a little faster when he finally handed the book to you, his calloused fingers brushing against your own. You barely find a grip on your brain strong enough to thank him through the fog of embarrassment and attraction. Eventually, though, you managed to choke out a placation as your eyes explored the cover of the book.

“Thanks for that,”

“It was no problem,” he shrugged. He didn’t move though, still standing just inches away from you. When you looked up from the book you found his eyes were still on you, watching intently as if he expected something from you. The answer to what he actually expected was a mystery but you could tell he wanted something. When you didn’t speak, he spoke for you. “So, The Epic of Gilgamesh? That’s definitely a bold choice,”

You looked up at him sheepishly through heavily lidded eyes. “It’s not a choice at all, actually. I’m only buying it so I can write an essay,”

“Ah,” Something about his tone was almost disappointed as the conversation stalled.

You quickly changed the subject to the first thing you could think of.

“Your hair is really nice!”

“My hair?”

“Yeah… your hair,”

Smooth move, dumbass.

Easel boy’s expression seemed to soften once more as his signature grin crept back onto his face. “Thank you, I grew it myself,” Between his accent and the way he was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive, you weren’t exactly sure how you hadn’t had a heart attack yet. Still, the attention was nice, even if it was bourne out of you repeatedly embarrassing yourself in a never-ending cycle of fuckups. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair. “I like your shirt. Very American,”

Silently, you cursed yourself for not taking a few extra seconds to pick out a better outfit when you woke up. Standing next to him, even while he was dressed in his paint-stained jeans and undone button-up, you looked like a wreck in comparison. He didn’t seem to be speaking from a place of judgment, though.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was being nice, but that couldn’t be the case… could it?

“Maybe it’s just that I haven’t met very many Sokovians that are fond of America, but I’m not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult,” You joked. It was a bit sarcastic, the lilt of your voice masking your deep insecurity, and to your surprise easel boy laughed. He really laughed. From your place beside him, you could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him as he shook his head.

“It was definitely a compliment,”

Oh.

Your heart skipped a beat.

That was a new revelation.

You steeled yourself with a deep breath. Fuck it. It was now or never.

“I, uh… I’m Y/N, and you are?”

He regarded you once again with that strange expression of expectation. “What?”

“I asked for your name,” you repeated, and yet he still stood, slightly dumbfounded, staring down at you with that same expectant expression from earlier. For a moment, you almost thought he expected you to know it already. That fact was quickly glossed over when he moved to rub the back of his neck with his hand, eyes drifting down to the floor.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m not very good with people. My father thought college might help me finally connect with my peers, but I don’t think he expected that I was the problem, nor do I think he expected me to pick a degree in the arts,” Suddenly, he paused and stuck out his hand to you. “I’m Hel. It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,”

With only a moment of hesitation- because wow, your name had never sounded more right on someone’s lips -you took his large calloused hand in your own and shook it gently. His palm was warm, his fingers lingering on your own for just a moment even as he pulled away. It wasn’t much, just a soft brush against your flesh, but it sent a flash of heat and liquid confidence through your chest.

“Is that short for something?” Your eyes met his in the soft yellow glow of the overhead lamps. Seeing him like this, so up close and personal, he looked a lot more human than he had from your window. Sure, he was imposing. Underneath the initial harsh facade, though, was something softer and almost poetic. You weren’t an artist by any means but if you had been, you had no doubt that he’d be your muse.

“It’s short for Helmut, but only my father calls me that, and only when he’s cross, which, unfortunately, is most of the time,” he chuckled, “Besides, it’s an old man’s name. It doesn’t suit me,”

The words left your mouth before you knew what you were saying.

“Well, it’s better than calling you easel boy,”

Shit.

Today really just wasn’t your day, huh?

In the split second where you were mourning your chances with the most stupidly handsome guy who had ever shown any interest in you, you almost missed the way Helmut’s eyes lit up at the admission.

“Easel boy?” His voice was teasing, but not demeaning. That didn’t do much to ease your mortification, though.

“Is there any chance that I can get you to forget I said anything?”

“If you already have a nickname for me when we’ve barely met, I think you already know the answer to that question,”

His knowing smirk was enough to get you pleading. “You can’t just let me off the hook this once?” you begged, scrubbing a hand across your forehead in a desperate attempt to get away from his piercing gaze. The things those brown eyes did to you could be classified as obscene… “I will genuinely do anything if you don’t make me explain myself right now Hel,”

Hel quirked up an eyebrow. “Anything?” The way your stomach turned at just one word from him was both terrifying and extremely exciting. It felt like a promise. Without hesitation, you nodded. That made him smile. “In that case, get coffee with me today?”

Once again, you were rendered speechless.

“My treat,” he added, “unless you’re not interested…”

“No!” Your answer left your lips embarrassingly fast, “Or- yes? No, no, I think I meant no. No; I am very interested. Yes; I would like to get coffee with you,” There was a hint of shame in your words, but only a hint. After the day you’d had already, there wasn’t very much there to be ashamed of. Still, that same pit of dread began to open up in your stomach as you mulled over your choices.

Thankfully, Helmut continued to take it all in stride. “Wonderful! Is there anything else you’d like to do here before we go? It’s best we leave soon if we want to beat the rain,” He offered up his arm as he spoke like some sort of Disney prince. It was, by far, the cutest gesture you had ever been lucky enough to receive.

You linked your arm with his without hesitation. “As soon as I pay we can get going,” He was warm. It radiated off him in waves just like the warm hints of tobacco and wintermint that seemed to seep from his skin and clothes. With that, you made your way to the front desk as Hel shot you a sly smile.

“Who said anything about letting you pay?”

True to his word, he didn’t let you pay for a single thing for the rest of the afternoon.

The two of you made your way up to the cashier together, and Helmut only separated from your side to grab his wallet before you could grab yours. He then spoke in rapid-fire Sokovian to the lady at the register and pulled what could only be described as a wad of Sokovian koronas while you set the book on the counter, and from the looks of it, she seemed more than pleased with the two of you. Who wouldn’t be, especially when Hel seemed to insist that she keep the excess? In the end, after the book had been wrapped nicely in a paper bag and deposited in your backpack, Helmut held the door open for you like some sort of gentleman and followed you out into the grey afternoon.

Then, you were off down the street on Hel’s arm, pushing through the wind and the biting chill that had settled in the air.

“So, you don’t sound like a big fan of your dad,” you asked, half laughing as you attempted to broach conversation once again.

Helmut groaned beside you. “My father is a menace who is unable to understand that some people want more in life than to sit behind a desk all day making phone calls. In fact, most of my family is the same way. The only reason I haven’t completely cut them off and changed my name is the money,”

“I assume you get a lot of it if it’s worth sticking around someone you hate so much,”

“Never ask a man about his net worth,” he chuckled, gently elbowing you in the ribs, “but yes, I’m very comfortable. I have my own apartment just far enough away to be considered off-campus with my own car and as much money as it takes to keep me happy and getting good grades; Daddy makes sure of that,” The word daddy was a deep sneer, barely there in the wind, but something about it sent butterflies through your stomach. Well, that was never something you thought you were into… “Little does he know, I’m not here to make money. I’m here to find inspiration worth my time while out from under his thumb,”  

You snorted softly. “Artistic and rich? You’re just ticking all the boxes, Hel,”

“Good for me. Would offering help on that essay of yours endear you to me further?”

“Absolutely,”

The next 5 minutes you spend discussing the Epic of Gilgamesh. Surprisingly, in one of the first stokes of good luck you’d had all day, Helmut seemed to be one of the only people on earth who knew plenty about Enkidu off the top of his head. When he was the one lecturing you in his smooth, heavily accented timbre it was so much easier to pay attention to something so very tedious than when you heard it from your aging and often monotone professor. In fact, you were so enthralled by his retelling of the tale that you barely noticed you’d made it all the way to the cafe that sat across from the international dorm.

If you didn’t consider Hel to be smart as a whip and twice as clever as he was smart, you would have thought it was a coincidence. It couldn’t be though. No, there was no way anything was a coincidence with Helmut around. You shot him a smile when he opened the door for you and ushered you inside.

“You know Hel,” you muttered, “I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you initially let on,”

He shrugged. “You’re American, so it’s unlikely you live anywhere else and I wanted to make the walk home easy. It’s supposed to rain, you know? Besides, despite the… interesting waitstaff, they make the best pastries in town right here in this cafe,”

“Did you mean it when you said you were paying?”

“Absolutely,”

“Then I can’t wait to try one,”

The two of you were seated quickly (you assumed it had to do with the waitress finding Hel as hot as you did, because you caught her looking at him from behind the counter and whispering excitedly in Sokovian to her coworker at least twice over the course of the meal) and the conversation flowed easily as you waited on your coffees and the deserts Helmut insisted on splitting to let you try. Millefeuille, pear tart tatin, chocolate devil’s food cake, and a towering plate of apricot kołaczki awaited you, and they kept you sitting and talking and snacking for over an hour as you really got to know each other. The more you learned, the more you fell in love with the man across from you.

Over the course of the afternoon, you learned that Helmut was majoring in studio art while minoring in psychology just because it interested him, he hated the Beatles almost as much as he hated Freud’s theories on women, his favorite color was purple, and he spent most of his free time reading or getting high off his ass in his massive studio apartment in what you now knew was one of the most expensive areas in the city. He, in return, sat at rapt attention across the table as you gushed about your life in America, your reasons for going to university in Sokovia, your favorite books, and the ridiculousness that was trying to pass college-level classes in a country that seemed to avoid English at all costs.

Eventually, though, you did touch upon his nickname.

“I just thought it was really interesting that you did the same thing every single day, no matter what,” you explained, grabbing one of the last kołaczki from the plate and ignoring the powdered sugar that stuck to your fingers, “and by watching you… I don’t know, I guess it kind of felt like I had another friend who’d share breakfast with me in the morning if that makes sense,”

Hel nodded, swallowing his last bite of chocolate cake. “I understand completely. It can be lonely, coming to a new place without any friends or connections, but you were brave enough to take the leap. I admire that,” He brought his napkin to his lips before crumpling it and setting it one of the now empty plates before him, “But I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed that you didn’t watch me because I’m attractive,”

You nearly choked on your pastry. “Well, I wouldn’t say your pretty face didn’t help…”

The grin that spread across his face was heartstopping. He grabbed a napkin from the little holder next to the two of you and grabbed a pen from one of his pockets as he spoke. “In that case, you should join me tomorrow morning. Bring coffee if you can, I never have enough hands to bring a cup for myself, but even if you can’t bring some, if you want to come and watch me work I’d be more than happy to have a companion for the morning,” he paused for a moment, flustered, “or every morning, for that matter,”

“That sounds like a deal,” Your cheeks were hot, but not from embarrassment this time. No, it was anything but, because here you were across the table from a kind, attractive, intelligent Sokovian boy with money to spend and time to spare for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud too. He wanted you back, after all. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than he should, and even more plainly in the way he wrote his phone number in bold blue ink on the napkin and signed it with a doodle of a heart before passing it across the table to you.

“I’m going to go pay,” he said quietly while standing, “but I’ll be back in a second to walk you out. Alright?”

“Alright,”

There was something strangely similar to sorrow sitting in your chest when you watched him walk away. The sight of his ass as he went made up for it, though. Once he was obstructed by other patrons, you turned your attention to the napkin in your hands. Hel’s handwriting was neat as far as artists’ handwriting goes, but it still held a sort of looseness in its curves, a freedom in the way the numbers had flowed effortlessly from his pen. You popped the last kołaczki in your mouth as you admired the blue ink before devouring the final bites of pear tart and millefeuille. How had you gotten so lucky to have someone like him giving you his number and buying you pastries? You pondered the bizarre nature of it all until Helmut returned.

You stood quickly, folding the napkin and putting it away in your pocket. “Ready to go?”

“If you are,” he replied. In an instant, you were standing beside him again as he opened the door for you. The wind was even stronger now, strong enough that his loose hair whipped wildly around his forehead from the force of it. You couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance.

He caught you off guard as he walked you across the street. “You have such a pretty laugh,”

It was like you were seeing him again for the first time. You fiddled with the strap of your backpack as you got closer and closer to the door to your dorm. “Thanks. I’m pretty fond of your laugh too,”

Then, you were there, just two college kids standing awkwardly before your first departure.

“So,” you said before you could stop yourself, “when I tell my one friend all about this afternoon after my math class tonight, should I say it was a date?”

Hel’s cheeks flushed pink. “You can call it that, if that’s what you would like it to have been,”

“I think I would,”

“Good, good,” he let out a little chuckle, “I’m glad. Would you… would you consider going on another? I promise I have much more to offer than just small talk and tips on where to buy the best pastries,”

Looking into his brown eyes, so full of uncertainty and hope, you knew you couldn’t have denied him even if you wanted to. Still, you weren’t going to give in to his advances without a little bit of taunting. It made it fun, a game to be played where, hopefully, you both would win big in the end.

“That depends,” you teased, letting your lower lip catch between your teeth, “what do you have in mind?”

Helmut shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, pensive. “If you want to, we could go to my place and I could actually show you all of the paintings I’ve been working on while you watched me. The view from the rooftop is lovely too. We could have dinner up there while looking out over Novi Grad. I have to warn you, though, it’ll probably be takeout. I’m an atrocious chef,”

Slowly, a brilliant smile spread across your face. “Does Friday work?”

The smile Helmut shot back was as bright as every star in the night sky and even more enthralling. “Friday is perfect. Can I pick you up at 7?”

“As long as you come in that fancy car you were talking about,”

“Then it’s a deal,”

“Well,” you turned away, walking up the steps towards the door before turning back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hel, and I’ll bring coffee. Have a good night,”

“You too, Y/N. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that,”

With that, he gave one last short wave before turning on his heel and pulling out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. You watched him walk away until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Only then did you enter the punch code and race up the stairs to your room.

Your back was pressed to the door of your dorm room the second you had shut it, your hands clutching at your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your heart from beating right out of your ribs. The second you were in the privacy of your own place, your cool facade had melted away to reveal just how much of a wreck you really were.

He had invited you over to his apartment.

He liked you.

Easel boy really, honestly liked you.

No, not easel boy. Helmut. Hel.

Hel liked you, and he invited you over to his apartment, and you had plans to meet him with coffee as he painted the next morning.

You smiled softly under the fluorescent lights and pulled the book that had brought you together from your backpack. It seemed so unassuming now, just a fresh paperback with an unbroken spine, but in reality, it was so much more than that.

Hel.

It was such a nice name. You liked it a lot.

Now you couldn’t wait to see what else you liked about him too.

------

a/n: I have been so excited to start sharing this AU with you guys, and it’s finally here!!! If you liked this fic, I once again will direct you to Bliss by @creme-bruhlee​ because that’s technically next in chronological order for this AU. I hope you enjoyed!!!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @your-pixels-are-showing , @shit-post-things , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus , @halefirewarrior , @janelongxox , @rax-writes , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​ 

[emmys-grimoire]

Lesson 57 analysis + 58 predictions

It's less exciting than anticipated, probably.

tl;dr Summary

We start asleep, but overhearing Satan + Belphegor plotting to prank us. You can choose how to surprise and foil them. They're just here to tell you breakfast is ready. Belphegor finally rewards you with the star of diligence: MC is one star away from completing the exam and earning their sorcerer's license.

Lucifer is eager to make MC a full-fledged sorcerer because he could use them to ward off Solomon's advances, which apparently he's still making. Asmo tells us that Solomon is very picky, and driven, when he's choosing who to pact with.

And he's apparently very adamant about getting Lucifer.

The others note that Mammon and Leviathan are acting unusual, and they clearly are very distracted. We decide to ignore the strangeness for now and answer Barbatos's summons to Hotel Corvo.

And guess who is also being summoned!

We arrive, and Diavolo informs us that there's an evil phantom now haunting the hotel. Not just any ol' phantom, though: a bogeyman.

Apparently they're pretty tough and might have the upperhand against demons. They take the form of what their victims' fear most. They put several hotel guests in the hospital.

We find out that the reason why Mammon and Leviathan are being so weird is because they know they're responsible for the bogeyman being in Hotel Corvo: they went wild with Crowe upgrades and summoned it accidentally, then ordered Crowe to teleport it to Hotel Corvo after it transformed into Lucifer and scared them out of their wits.

Obviously, Lucifer's not happy! Barbatos assigns him to "fix" the problem. The brothers want to leave Mammon and Leviathan to do it on their own, but of course we can't have that.

Diavolo also seems keen on joining, but Barbatos turns on the scary fake smile and Diavolo relents.

Then the others show up! It sounds like it wasn't a planned get-together, but Solomon is eager to make the best of it. He wants to make our quest to banish the bogeyman MC's final trial.

Simeon is initially reluctant, but MC convinces him to join.

And then we're off down a creepy hallway in the hotel. The lesson ends on a cliffhanger as the creature at the end of the hallway suddenly attacks us.

Don't worry, Lucy will save us, probably.

This is the start of the trial of humility.

Analysis

Barbatos's Plan

Probably the most noteworthy thing about this lesson is how clearly Barbatos is setting all this up, even though he has no visibly obvious motivation to do so. He's summoned everyone to the same location under different auspices and he's making sure Diavolo isn't around. We still didn't get any insight on what he and Lucifer talked about, but I think Lucifer's being deliberately steered by him in this direction, too.

Since this doesn't seem to be something he's coordinating with Solomon, it leads me to believe he's either doing something to foil Michael's plan or he's setting up some kind of trap for the guy. For whatever reason, he doesn't want anyone else to catch on just yet.

Simeon's reluctance to stick around and help us is also noteworthy: he probably has Michael plans on the brain, and his intuition is probably trying to warn him. Alas, he can't say no to you.

Also, the BG being a bunch of doors and keys probably means something. Barbatos's room has multiple doors which lead to multiple places, I think: can't remember if they're just portals to different parts of the three realms or different points in time, but if I was a betting gal, I'd put my money on the latter. It doesn't look like his room (it looks like an old hotel), but I wouldn't be surprised if these doors lead to "flashbacks" similar to the ones we ran into back in the fake House of Lamentation.

The Bogeyman and Lucy's fears

It's implied that the bogeyman has powers that may make it difficult for demons in particular to cull. It sounds something an angel might be effective against, though, because Solomon insists Simeon accompany the group just in case "things go south". Though Simeon seems unsure if he can actually be effective against it.

Who do you think is stronger than Simeon, who is an archangel who was once a seraphim? He could just be downplaying his power, too: he's less threatening that way.

The bogeyman also has the ability to take the form of whoever or whatever his victim fears the most: we discover that Mammon and Leviathan fear Lucifer the most when they initially summon it.

This trial is 100% going to involve Lucifer facing what he fears the most. My guesses: it'll be either Father or Michael. They can do the former if MC doesn't necessarily see the same form Lucifer sees (they likely fear something different)... but if whatever form the bogeyman takes is noticeable to everyone observing it, then it's going to be Michael because I don't think the devs are going to give God a tangible form for reasons.

Why Lucifer could fear Michael? Simple: not only was Michael the one capable of bringing him low during the Great Celestial War, but he may know Lucifer better than anyone. All his strengths, but more importantly, all his weaknesses. Lucifer fears being exposed as flawed and imperfect, particularly by those he considers his lessers. It's also not the first time he's expressed something akin to fear re: Michael.

Another possibility is Lilith. He could fear facing her after failed to protect her. That'd be difficult to manage on-screen, though, for obvious reasons. They haven't given Lilith a canon appearance yet and it's in their best interest not to because they've been using MC as the Lilith expy in the Celestial Realm flashbacks.

Whoever or whatever it is, it'll be fun.

Solomon and his pacts

Another thing this lesson did was remind us that Solomon really, really wants a pact with Lucifer. We found out a couple lessons ago that his whole motivation behind forging a pact with Asmo was his interest in Lucifer.

Up until this point, Solomon has been pretty upfront with his desires and usually backs down when they deny his request to make a pact. He asked Belphegor back in Season 1, and he hasn't brought it up again after he was rejected.

This doesn't seem to be the case with Lucifer, though. His rejections have been ignored.

He's being unusually cavalier about this whole situation so maybe he would try to manipulate the current situation to wring a pact out of Lucifer, since he hasn't been deterred yet and something needs to change in order for him to get what he wants.

I don't know. Lucifer might be his blind spot, and something he wants badly enough to step over the line, so to speak. Why he wants Lucifer so bad is another head scratcher, but it could very well be because just because the guy is incredibly powerful.

Or this is just another red herring meant to make us suspicious of Solomon again. I guess we'll see.

Predictions

We have only three lessons left, and they set this lesson up as the lead into the climax, which is going to be later than where it was in season 2. But it can't afford to happen much later. 58 will give us the first half of the climax at least, and I won't be surprised if it wraps it up entirely in one lesson so we can have both 59 and 60 to say our goodbyes. It'll feel pretty rushed otherwise.

Michael's showing up in some capacity. I'm much more willing to bet on a face reveal now than I was at the beginning of the season: we haven't heard anything from him directly since the first flashback -- not even another chat -- and he hasn't even officially introduced himself yet. But we've been hearing all about him this season, and they've made it a point to let us know he's working on something behind the scenes. It feels like most of this season was softening the ground for his arrival, and he'll drop in to get us hyped for the next season.

I think we're headed back to the Celestial Realm, baby!

Luke's not with us at the haunted hotel, so he'll likely remain oblivious about what happened during the Great Celestial War until next season. Simeon's not gonna fall because he'll probably need to be our tour guide, and we have a bunch to explore about his background, too.

I was hoping we'd get some kind of conflict with the Sorcerer's Society as a part of the completion of the exam but I'm not sure if they can fit all that in now. Kind of disappointing: trying to smooth things over with them sounds much more interesting than Mammon + Levi just letting out a literal boogeyman. I don't think they're using their story themes as effectively as they could be. It's just Levi's tech going awry again, like it always does.

How I'll rate this season will depend entirely on what the climax actually turns out to be, but so far I'd rank it higher than season 2 but lower than season 1 because of the re-used tropes. Stop teasing us and just give us meaty conflict already.

[allygodot]

Taking Accountability

My name is Adam, but people online call me Coffee. I’m a 27 years old graduate of Chicago Law School living in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I am a heterosexual Christian, but am an ally to the LGBT community. My main interests are Ace Attorney, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. These are all things my followers should know about me, so why am I telling you this? Well... what if I told you it was all a lie? I’m sure this is coming as a shock to a lot of you, and I sincerely apologize to everyone I’ve hurt with my deception. It is my hope that this post will clear up any misconceptions that have been spread about me, whether I spread them myself or otherwise, and that in the future there will be no animosity between us. I don’t expect to be forgiven nor do I deserve it, but if there is one thing I learned from my time in the church it is that all I can do is ask for mercy and hope for the best. But first... I think an explanation is in order. If all that isn’t the truth, then what is? It all starts in college, that nebulous period of my life that everyone keeps asking about and I keep bringing up. Before I went to university, I had always been completely unremarkable. I had always had the kind of fair weather friends who enjoyed my company, but never felt to invested in me. Combined with my status as a middle child, I always felt like I had something to prove to get people to like me. I would say and think whatever I needed to for them to stick around another day, and I’m sure you are familiar with what that means for teenage boys. I acted immaturely because it was what was expected... and anything outside of that was looked down upon it even forbidden. I never thought much of it at the time, but I realize now that I wasn’t allowed much self-expression when I was always trying to conform to their standards. Everything changed when I met him. My assigned college roommate, Anton, was everything my years of conditioning had taught me to distrust. Despite his tall stature, he was emotional and sensitive... even vulnerable. Even so, he wasn’t afraid to be unabashedly himself. The first thing that struck me as unusual about him was his clothing... he almost always wore pastel pink or yellow and I hardly ever saw him without his long, checkered scarf. His nails were always painted with a clear, glittery polish, and I don’t think he ever skipped a shower in his life. His hair was always soft and smelled like strawberry even at a distance... all this to say he immediately struck me as fruity so I wanted nothing to do with him, at least initially. Despite his kindness to me, I would always respond with either the cold shoulder or open scorn, which only amplified the more I learned about him. I discovered pretty quickly that he was a furry, since one day I came home from a day of classes to find a decapitated pink cat head on our couch. He patiently explained the whole culture to me while I glared at him skeptically, but he didn’t seem bothered at all. He even brought out his paws and tail and told me he was saving up for a full suit despite my open disgust. Looking back, I still have no clue why he put up with me during that time. Another curious aspect of Anton’s life was his addiction to a certain television series called “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.” His room was filled with merchandise from stuffed animals to figurines, and I had nothing but disdain for the tacky and embarrassing decoration. I was afraid that if I ever brought a girl over to our apartment she would notice and make all sorts of incorrect assumptions... I couldn’t handle the embarrassment. I tried on multiple occasions to convince him to hide them in a secret box or something, but he always just smiled and shook his head. I even tried to sneak into his room and collect all the ponies for donation once, but he had anticipated this and hid a playful trap for me... I reached forward to grab one of his overpriced statues and immediately got a face full of multi-colored snakes. I was livid of course, despite it being my own fault for trying to pawn of his collection in the first place, but he wasn’t even phased by my tirade. I suppose he was 6’5” and I was (and still am) only 5′7″... but still, I had at least expected him to be somewhat apologetic if not fearful. Instead, he just laughed and told me I should watch the show with him sometime. I obviously had no intentions of taking him up on his ludicrous offer... until he promised that if I didn’t enjoy the show, he would move all of his ponies into a case that he would throw a big curtain on whenever I said the word. I reluctantly agreed on those conditions, positive that this was a bet I couldn’t lose. I still remember that night like it was yesterday. He lead me into the pony chamber and sat down on his bed, taking out his laptop to pull up his favorite episode. It was “The Canterlot Wedding” two part season finale, and although I initially protested that I only agreed to watch one episode, I eventually relented once he reminded me what the prize was. I was hesitant to sit beside him on his bed and lean over his shoulder to look at the small screen, but he assured me that it didn’t bother him at all. I wasn’t particularly concerned with how he felt about it... it was more so my own pride I was worried about. Nevertheless, I sat through the whole episode with him despite myself. Although I was disturbed by the tendency for his long and curly hair to gravitate into my mouth while I rested my cheek against his shoulder, I found the episode to be surprisingly enjoyable. The song in particular surprised me with it’s musicality... by the end of it I didn’t want to leave, but I was far too embarrassed to admit that to him earnestly. I told him I was interested in the show purely for the songs and that it could benefit my studies as a music major, but that he still had to uphold his end of the bargain since I was by no means enjoying it. He just smiled and put on another episode, and before I knew it the sun was rising outside his window. I realized just how tired I was and turned to tell him I would be going to bed only to discover he had fallen asleep. I began to suspect that he must have been asleep for several hours, letting the auto-play functionality do his job for him while he rested up for his exams. Although I was scandalized, I was impressed by his tactical prowess... he had managed to trap me in his room, since I couldn’t move from my spot without disturbing his slumber, and he didn’t even have to be awake to do it. Begrudgingly, I spent the rest of his room, until eventually the faint aroma of strawberries lured me into the world of dreams... This arrangement continued for quite some time. When I got home from my classes, Anton would ask me if I wanted to watch some My Little Pony with him and I only agreed so long as he put the curtain over the cabinet next time I asked. He always obliged whenever I asked him to conceal his collection, but eventually I stopped asking for him to do so and only reminded him not to break our contract before every episode out of habit. It became a ritual for the two of us to do this every night, and even once we had finished all of the episodes we would just watch them again. I found that I was becoming endeared to this eccentric man... and as much as I tried to resist it, I couldn’t help but feel my heart swell a bit in my chest whenever he would run his fingers through his hair or tighten his scarf around his neck. I told myself it was nothing... but it wouldn’t remain that way for long. I don’t know what possessed me, but one night I thought I would get to know Anton a little better. I started by asking if he was single, which to me seemed like an innocuous question, but the very fact I was asking seemed to amuse him. He told me that he was having trouble finding a guy who wasn’t immediately turned off by all the ponies, and I made sure to snidely comment that he shouldn’t be going out with guys anyway even though it made my heart skip a beat when he said that, as well as mention that if he would just give up his collection there wouldn’t be an issue in the first place. I don’t know what I was expecting, but he asked me the same thing: how was my love life going, especially considering my new hobby? I couldn’t help but get flustered and start making excuses. I told him that there was no shortage of girls lined up to date me, but that I just wasn’t ready to make a commitment yet. I spun a whole story about how a girlfriend would only hold me back... I almost forgot that the standard that Anton accepted was completely different from my old teenage friends. He wasn’t impressed that girls were apparently lining up to get a piece of me... he just seemed amused that I thought such a thing was realistic, much less desirable. He didn’t understand that compulsive need to lie at all... he thought it would be better if more guys admitted that they were vulnerable. That was the first time I’d ever heard someone say something like that... I suddenly felt extremely exposed, and before I knew it my eyes were full of tears. My first instinct was to cover my face with my sleeve and hide my shame, but he was already firmly gripping my arm and holding it in place. He told me that I didn’t need to hide anything from him. He asked me if there was anything he could do to help me... and so for what felt like the first time in my life, I told the truth. It was supposed to be just to try it. I wasn’t expecting to actually enjoy it, I just thought that if I got it out of my system all of the unnecessary feelings would finally stop tormenting me... but all they did was grow stronger. I kept telling him that I was still looking for a girlfriend and that once I got one this whole arrangement would end, but eventually I realized that there was no point in lying to myself anymore. I wasn’t ever even sleeping in my own room anymore. I hadn’t so much as glanced at any dating websites in weeks. I was committed, whether I wanted to admit it or not... and I didn’t want to admit it. I only wish that I had told him how I really felt when I had the chance... One of the many things we started to share, which seemed the most inconsequential to me at the time, was a webpage. Anton was the owner of a small subreddit dedicated to My Little Pony fursuits, and he asked me if I would be willing to help him moderate. It wasn’t something I felt qualified to speak as an authority on, since even as I became more open about my love for ponies I still didn’t really feel connected to furry culture despite accompanying him to several conventions, but I was willing to do basically anything just to please him. My job was mostly to stop people from publicly “yiffing,” and although it was a grueling line of work it wasn’t thankless. Anton was a poet with words of affirmation. Many of the compliments he paid me were certainly undeserved, but they motivated me more than anything else ever had... but I got too zealous. There was a certain user on the server who for the sake of protecting privacy, we shall call XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX. As a member of the subreddit they were of course a brony and a furry, but what made them stand out was their dedication to the Flutterdash ship. They were constantly posting couple’s cosplays of themselves dressed as Rainbow Dash, but the Fluttershy in each picture was always different. They were also exceptionally sociable and aggressively tried to make friends with everyone on the tiny subreddit... Anton and I included. I wasn’t so keen on pursuing another friendship that could very well ruin my reputation, but of course Anton was immediately taken with the idea. The two of them exchanged contacts and hit it off instantly, and I started having trouble sleeping at night because he was awake in the early hours of the morning texting his friend in another timezone. He always paid me just as much attention as always during the daytime, but once he saw that his new friend was online he would crawl out of bed to go converse with them in another room. He was trying so hard to be considerate of me, and perhaps it was selfish for me to expect that I would always be able to sense his warmth and scent beside me while I slept... but at the time I was blinded by jealousy. One fateful morning, he excitedly woke me up to tell me that XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX had gifted him tickets to a major convention, and that the two of them were planning to cosplay Flutterdash together. He apologetically explained that he would be gone for a few days since the convention was halfway across the country, but sensing the disturbance within me he assured me that he could probably convince his friend to let me tag along as Applejack... she was always my least favorite. It didn’t matter what Anton said to encourage me, because I was never going to accept any consolation until this threat to our sacred relationship was eliminated. I had to find a way to get rid of XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX by any means necessary... In a fit of rage, I whipped out the ban hammer and beat my rival to death with it, metaphorically speaking. It was a blatant abuse of my privilege as a moderator and I am ashamed to admit it now... but at the time all that mattered was covering up the evidence. I knew I had to come up with an excuse for why I had banned them, so I added a new rule to the subreddit: Flutterdash was prohibited. The news was not met with acceptance from the other members of the community. To some more in the loop with the situation, it was obvious that I had only banned XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX because of a petty personal dispute, but others saw it as nothing but an unfair rule. I was accused of being biased towards other ships like Flutterchord or Appledash and that I needed to accept other people’s ship preferences, or even that I was homophobic and couldn’t handle the thought of lesbian characters in my favorite show. Chants of “mods are gay” could be heard across the subreddit from all sides of the debate, and everyone was rallying for Anton to remove me as a tyrannical moderator. Sound familiar? I can’t help but notice some similarities between my situation and Mo the one over at Kristahlia Week... maybe that is why the drama captivated me so.  Anton tried to reason with me, bless his heart, but at this point I had completely devolved back into my screaming teenager mentality to cope with all the rejection. He was obviously disappointed in me for what I had done but he had no reason to believe it would ruin us... he couldn’t have handled it better. It really was my fault that things happened the way they did, but I refused to take accountability. What I told him still haunts my conscience to this day, even six years later. I told him that I never loved him, and that I was only using his companionship to fulfill my carnal desires. I told him that I didn’t care about what he did with his life as long as he didn’t do anything that kept him away from me. I even told him that I still thought he was disgusting and embarrassing. And the worst thing is... in that moment I meant every word. I was so selfish... I genuinely forgot that I loved him and treated him like he only existed to serve me. My actions were truly despicable and I deserved to suffer for it... and I did. For the first time, I saw Anton cry. I should have been there to comfort him like he did for me on that fateful night, but instead I let him run out of the house to go suffer by himself. By the time I realized how horrible I was acting, it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. I came home the next day to discover all the ponies in the apartment finally gone... isn’t that what I had wanted? My moderator status on the subreddit had been stripped away, and I had been banned by all of the members of the group on nearly every social media platform. Another classmate later informed me that Anton had transferred to a different college... and that was the end. I have no idea what happened to him after that, but I can only hope he is doing well. Instead of taking this as an omen that I should improve my behavior, I began to become even more bitter than I was before I met Anton. I acted like my relationship with him was just an experimental phase that was doomed to fail from the start, and soon I was denying that it ever even happened at all. I convinced myself that the problem in our relationship was that I wasn’t supposed to be with men, and so I began to insist that I was straight and aggressively seek out relationships with women just to prove it to myself. I also started searching for strict moral codes that could give direction to my life... which is when I found the Church. I was attracted to their beliefs because they gave a very clear outline for how someone’s life should go and promised ultimate happiness to anyone who could fulfill the requirements, so I began to obsess over meeting those requirements. I wanted a Christian wife that could bear me many children not because that is how I wanted to live my life, but because that is how other people wanted me to live my life... and all I wanted was for others to tell me I was doing something right. The congregation was distrusting if me at first, and although they never said it to my face I know it was because they were aware of my past. Hardly a woman would come near me, and looking back on it I can’t say I blame them. The ones who were desperate enough for a husband to give me a shot were quirky repulsed by my egotistical behavior, which certainly didn’t help my reputation. Throughout all this, I still somehow told myself I was the victim because I didn’t want to admit that I had become the villain again. For a long time, the only person in the parish who would willingly hold a conversation with me was Lana. She was a fellow member of the choir and a devout believer in God, but she was often judged by the rest of the congregation for being an open lesbian despite her faith. She tried to convince me on several occasions that I didn’t have to perform any sort of identity to impress anyone and that I should “just be myself,” but I insisted that I knew what I was talking about. Eventually, she decided my well-being wasn’t her responsibility and gave up on trying to reason with me, but nonetheless she still treated me more kindly then many of the other churchgoers. I believe that my “dark past” is what drew Gabriella to me in the first place. She likely hoped that we could act as covers for each other until she figured some way out of her situation, but unfortunately I was too far gone to be of any help. I convinced myself that she was really in love with me and that she would be walking down the aisle soon enough. Whether or not I was really interested in her or just interested in what she represented I’m still not sure... but she truly was a wonderful person who didn’t deserve to have to suffer through my baggage. When she left me I was truly devastated... so much so that I even began to go through another crisis of belief that I recorded on this very blog. All I have to add is that I no longer bear any resentment towards Lana or Gabriella, and only wish them the best of luck. My relationship with Krissy began almost immediately after my breakup with Gabriella. I was desperate to regain the status I supposed that I had lost along with my girlfriend, so I latched onto the first woman who showed me any sort of positive attention. Her death and my downward spiral are all well-documented on this blog. I didn’t want to blame myself for her passing as well, so I developed a conspiracy to rationalize the whole ordeal. I even tried to act like a completely different person to try to keep the blame as mentally distant from myself as possible, but that didn’t work either. In the end, this is my cross to bear alone. So that brings us to now. What will become of allygodot? The truth is, I don’t know and quite frankly I don’t think that is the most important thing right now. I realized last night when I was looking at that art of Diego and Godot as Happy Tree Friends characters that I desperately wanted to be anyone other than myself... it really opened my eyes to the level of repression that had been burdening me since the incident six years ago. I realized that if I wanted to change, sitting around and thinking about how things could hypothetically be different isn’t going to do anything. If I want to make progress and truly become a better person, I’m going to have to act better, not just tell myself that I am. From now on, I will be defining myself on my actions and not my beliefs, as wise man once said. I hope that soon, I will have become a good enough person to meet Anton face to face again... I still love him after all these years, and even though I expect that he justifiably won’t want anything to do with me anymore, I still think that it is a guilt that needs to be resolved. If I ever come back to this blog, it’ll be as a different Adam to the one you thought that you knew. It’ll be as the Adam I’m trying to become... the true Adam that I know exists deep within me... Not allygodot, but as proudgodot. My name is Adam, but people online call me Coffee or Godot. I’m a 27 years old former music student living in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I am bisexual. My main interests are Ace Attorney, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

[allegra-writes]

"Lights Up" part I

Peter Parker x SHIELD Agent!Reader

NSFW

Warnings: And there was only one bed!!

Peter must deal with the aftermath of what Mysterio did, but he's not alone: Nick Fury and Pepper Stark have a plan, one that includes you, Peter and the tropical desert island of Eroda.

Series Masterlist

His lungs were on fire, his legs burning with the strain, he didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to go on. The sharp pain piercing his side was disconcerting, he used to be familiar with it, he remembered as much, but he hadn't felt it in years, not since the spider bite. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had gotten so much as winded just from running, but he had been at it for hours now, ever since he had ditched MJ and his suit in that dingy alley in hopes of Peter Parker being a little more inconspicuous than Spider-Man. 

But by then, everyone in the city knew his face, and in the age of the internet and smartphones all it took was one single snap, one tweet, one livestream, to find himself surrounded by an angry mob, screaming for his blood, like something out of an old horror movie. All they were missing were the pitchforks and torches. There was nowhere to hide. 

So he ran. 

And he kept on running, but even he couldn't run forever. At least not without eating anything, the calorie deficiency starting to take a toll on his super-metabolism, causing him to become dizzy, his reflexes slower. 

That was probably why he didn't realize his mistake until it was too late, until he reached the intersection and found himself surrounded: He had been ambushed, led like a lamb to the slaughter. He came to a halt, turning around, looking in vain for a way out, but the circle they had arranged around him was a tight formation, he was either going to have to fight his way out or shoot a web and swing away and he could kiss goodbye any chance left at keeping his identity secret after that…

"Looks like we caught ourselves a spider, guys!"

"Not so brave now, eh boy?"

Peter cursed internally. There was no other way, falling into stance, he braced himself for the fight. But before he could make a move, he saw it. A car, a rather distinctive one, heading straight their way, and it wasn't slowing down. If anything, it seemed to speed up the closer it got to the crowd, forcing people -including Peter- to jump out of the way to avoid being run over. 

"Get in!" 

He didn't need to be told twice, jumping into the passenger seat, the car speeding away before he even got to close the door completely. You stole a glance at him. He looked tired, maybe a little pale, but uninjured. You sighed in relief. He was there, you had gotten to him on time. He was safe.

Safe and openly gawking at you.

"Y- y/n?" 

You flinched,

"Yeah, not my real name" You took your eyes off the road to give him an apologetic look, "Sorry 'bout that"

"Then who are you?" His voice was steel. So much for being grateful for saving his ass, then…

"I'm agent 16 of S.H.I.E.L.D's Special Service. I was assigned to protect you" You threw him a side-glance, "and a little 'thank you' would be nice"

Well, that explained the uniform and you driving Item 20-25. God, he was so stupid! Of course you were a spy, why else would a girl like you even give him the time of day? The pretty girls at his school weren't nice, not to him at least. But now it all made sense, down to the very first time he saw you, beaming at him as Mr. Warren pointed at the empty seat beside him. All the times your hands brushed in class, fingers lingering on test tubes and books a couple of seconds longer than necessary. All those little touches, all the secret looks when you thought he wasn't watching, it was probably all part of your mission. Probably just to get close to him, to gain his trust. After all, you had demonstrated you weren't truly interested in him when you turned down his invitation to prom. 

He had cried afterwards. Not much, not like at Ben's funeral, or when Mister Stark… No, definitely not like that, but he had shed a couple of tears that night. 

He had lost sleep and appetite over you. Lost hours daydreaming about you, about the fruity smell of your hair, wondering what your strawberry lipstick would taste like. But the truth was, after all this time, after all that staring, all that pinning he didn't know anything about you, did he? Not even...

"Can you tell me your real name?"

"You don't have the clearance for that"

You replied, turning to face him. And maybe he ought to fasten that seat belt after all, or shut up and stop distracting you from the road, cause you were still going too damn fast and breaking all traffic laws known to mankind. Mr Dell's shocked, appalled face after your driving test flashed through his mind.

"Spider-Man has a level 6 clearance" he protested.

"You need a level 9. At least." 

"I thought 9 was the highest level" Gods, his frown was adorable.

You just smirked and made another turn, driving through an entrance and a ramp that hadn't been there a second ago. 

"We're here" You announced, killing the engine. Peter didn't move.

"Where exactly is 'here'?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D's Manhattan headquarters"

You got out of the car, rounding to his side and pulling his door open, then closing it once he had gotten out. The gentleman in him protested it should be the other way around, he should be the one opening doors for you and helping you out of cars. It was absurd, of course. There, with you in that black catsuit, thigh holsters on both your legs, walking like you owned the place there was no mistaking it: You weren't y/n, his school crush; you were a highly trained special agent, escorting him through the premises.

… Pretty familiar premises, actually. 

"Avengers Tower? S.H.I.E.L.D bought Avengers Tower?"

"It was a donation, actually" you explained as the elevator's doors opened to the Stark Memorial Garden, an open garden as majestic as it was massive, located right in the heart of the building.

"A donation? But wh-"

"Peter! Oh thank god!" A relieved voice and the clicking of hills on the stone path interrupted him.

"Mrs. Stark?" Peter let himself be crushed into Pepper's chest, closing his eyes, the tears he hadn't known he was holding back starting to fall as soon as he felt safe in her embrace.  

If Tony Stark had been like a father to him, Pepper Potts-Stark was a mother trough and trough. She had tried to step into her husband's role of a mentor for Peter, knowing fully well she couldn't ever replace him or occupy his place; but she would be damned if she allowed that giant Tony shaped hole on that boy's life to go unattended, to bleed out or fester. The kid had already lost so much, almost every parent figure he had ever had. And she knew what that kind of loss could do to precocious boys with too big hearts, had seen it first hand with Tony. 

"Mrs. Stark I'm so- I'm so sorry"

"Shhh" She said soothingly, "It's not your fault. You're going to be ok, I promise. We'll figure it out" Pepper sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. 

"Pete! Six!" 

Peter broke the hug just in time to see a little dark haired meteor jump into your arms. He watched, stunned, as Morgan clung to you. He knew once upon a time she had been an outgoing, confident child but ever since her father's death she had grown timid. She didn't open up easily to strangers, Peter being a rare exception, and even that had been solely because of the stories Tony used to tell her about her 'super big brother' adventures. She had developed a sort of hero worship for Peter that only rivaled the one she felt for her father. For her to be so friendly towards you had to mean you had spent a considerable amount of time together, and Peter remembered the tales you used to tell in class about the adorable little girl you babysat sometimes. 

"You did it! You found him!"

You smiled at her.

"Told you I would, Morgs. And I always keep my word" He watched you squeeze her again in your arms, he could tell you cared about the kid, probably even missed her while you and him were in Europe. But the sweet reunion was short lived, as soon another voice, more stern, resonated through the garden.

"In our line of work, I'm not sure that can be considered a good thing"

You gasped in mock trepidation, making Morgan giggle and Peter smile despite himself.

"Uh-oh! We've been caught!" You passed the still laughing kid to Peter and stood straighter, trying to sober up. Peter could see the corners of your mouth twitch as you greeted, "Director" 

He gave you a nod,

"Agent. Parker, Mrs. Stark. Good, now that everybody's here, we can get a move on"

Without waiting for a reply, Nicholas Fury started walking again, leaving everyone to scramble to follow.

"I know this seems like the end of the world, Mr. Parker, and I'll admit the situation isn't ideal," the intimidating man punched a code into a hidden panel and another elevator opened. "but our main priority right now is your safety. We'll treat this like any other blown cover, following the same protocols we follow when any of our agent's identity is compromised: Immediate extraction and relocation of the agent into a safe house, with an armed escort for protection, of course" He explained as everybody climbed in.

"You're sending me away with a bodyguard?" Peter sounded less than pleased and you couldn't help the pang of sympathy. You didn't like to be pulled off the field either.

"I understand how that could be uncomfortable for you," it didn't sound like he particularly cared, though, "so perhaps it would be less unpleasant with an element you're already familiar with. Agent 16 here is going to be your companion"

"What does that means, Six?" Morgan turned to you, still perched onto Peter's torso, like a baby koala.

"It means I'm going to babysit your brother instead of you, for a while…" You threw the brunet boy a wink and his protests about not needing babysitting died on his lips. It didn't sound so bad, actually. Being cooped up with you in some secret location for an indeterminate amount of time.

"How long would we be gone?" 

"As long as it takes for the director and me to fix this" Pepper spoke with the authority only her seemed to possess, the one that could reing in crazy geniuses dash heroes and master spies alike. Fury could only nod in compliance.  

"What about May?"

"She's with Happy, already on her way to the lake house" 

Peter still looked unsure, but Pepper smiled, eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint surprisingly similar to the one her husband used to have.

"Don't worry, Peter. You'll love the safe house. I know Tony and I did…"

…

Leaving Morgan at the launch bay had been the hardest part. Her tears soaking Peter's t-shirt as Pepper tried to pry the fabric out of her little hands, were enough to break his heart. She didn't want to let her big brother go, probably terrified he wouldn't come back, just like her father. Far too perceptive for a six year old kid, she understood Peter was in trouble, in danger, and she was scared.

Peter was scared too. 

How could he not? He might be naive but he wasn't stupid, he knew that no matter the outcome of whatever plan Mrs. Stark and Fury came out with, his life as he knew it was over. 

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry" Your earnest voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts, "For lying to you, for what Beck did, for everything."

Peter stared at your profile, something he seemed to be doing a lot that day. Who was he trying to kid, he did a lot of that everyday. It actually seemed to be the only normal thing that remained, the one thing that seemed to stay constant as the world shifted and changed around him. He should be mad at you, he knew that. He should feel betrayed, hurt, and he did, a little but it was hard to stay angry at you. Even when you were partnered at school and you failed to do your part in the projects, he used to have trouble not forgiving you the second you flashed those doe eyes at him. 

He sighed,

"It's not your fault, any of it. About the lying, you were only doing your job" It wasn't your fault that he had been dumb enough to fall in love with a girl that didn't even exist. "And as for Quentin… that definitely wasn't your fault"

"My job was to protect you. If I had done it right, none of this would have happened" there was a slight catch in your voice "I should have realized he was a fraud, I should have told Nick as soon as I started having doubts about the guy, I should have stopped him before he stole E.D.I.T.H; I should have-" You turned away, pretending to get engrossed in the navigation controls of the Quinjet.

"I should have found that video and stopped it from reaching the news" You finished, voice finally under control, but still not meeting Peter's eyes.

"I was the one that literally handed E.D.I.T.H to him" You felt his hand cover yours over a lever, and looked at him in surprise. He found your eyes, a soft look in his that made your insides fill with butterflies, "He tricked me too. Do you blame me for that?"

"What? No, of course not!" 

Your indignation on his behalf warmed his chest.

"Then why blame yourself for the same thing?" 

He had a point. Luckily, you were saved from having to answer him by a blip in your instruments.

"Looks like we're here" You commented instead, initiating landing maneuvers. 

"Where is here, exactly?" He peered out of the windscreen, into the darkness of the night, trying to get a look. And who knew, with his super senses maybe he could. 

"Somewhere in the middle of the Pacific. An island, apparently, a very isolated one..."

"So you've never been here before either?"

"No, this isn't one of S.H.I.E.L.D's safe houses. This one is Mrs. Stark's" 

"Oh" Peter smiled for the first time since leaving NYC, "It must be really cool then"

"Yeah, I imagine it is" You smiled back

The house was not how you imagined Tony Stark's safe house would be like. For starters, the wooden construction wasn't even a house, a bungalow would have been a more appropriate title. The one-room little shack stood semi hidden by palm trees on the beach, and you knew the island was probably beautiful, but you couldn't see much in the moonless night.

Inside there wasn't much to see either, just a queen sized bed, a cupboard with a chest of drawers and a recliner by one of the windows. Ever the gentleman, Peter had offered to take the recliner, but you had rolled your eyes and pointed out the bed was big enough for the both of you. 

"I don't know why we're so surprised" Peter's voice reached you through the bathroom door, where he was changing into his pjs, "I mean, we've seen the Lake House and, sure, it's very luxurious for a cabin but that's what it is: a cabin"

"Maybe" You replied, flopping on the bed. At least it was comfy "but they have FRIDAY over there. Here we barely even have electricity"

Peter stopped in his tracks as soon as he walked into the room, and you pretended not to notice the way his eyes lingered on your exposed legs, your tiny cotton sleeping shorts not covering much at all.

"It's just, I can't possibly believe Tony Stark didn't installed any defense system on his safe house. I mean, you knew the man better than I did, but doesn't it strike you as a little… odd?"

"Huh? Ye-yeah, I mean, I…" You could see his cheeks turn red. God, he was adorable.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming to bed?"

He choked on his own spit, and you had to suppress a giggle. Maybe, just maybe, he truly did forgive you for lying to him. Maybe you still had a chance.

…

Peter couldn't sleep. He could feel the heat coming off your skin through the small distance separating your bodies, your perfume invading his nostrils with every breath. Being so close to you in the dark was torture and yet he couldn't bring himself to get up and go to the chair on the other side of the room. He was pinned to the bed, mesmerized by your sleeping profile, enthralled by the way your chest rose and fell with every deep, steady breath. Irrevocably and inescapably drawn to you like a moth to a flame, too scared to move, too afraid to disturb your dream.

Because it appeared to be a very good dream. He could see the blush spreading from your face to your neck, all the way down to where the neckline of your tank top obscured his view. He could hear your breathing starting to quicken, feel the temperature of your skin rise. He could smell you, sweet and enticing. Beckoning. 

Your lips parted, letting out the most captivating little sigh in the history of mankind, and his eyes zeroed in the movement, his tongue darting out to wet his own. 

Peter felt his blood rushing south and was disgusted by himself, he felt like a creep. What kind of psycho got off of watching a girl sleep? Yet he couldn't bring his eyes to avert their gaze. 

He needed to get out of there, give you some semblance of privacy, as your hips started to twitch minutely, seeking a friction they wouldn't find. You let out a soft whine and he screwed his eyes shut. 'Come on Parker, get a grip on yourself' he thought, trying to gather enough strength to pry himself from the bed, to pry himself from your side. He was about to, he truly was, when it happened. 

You rolled over, half trapping him under your body. And it wouldn't have been hard for him to escape if he wanted to. But he really really didn't want to. The voice inside his head telling him it was wrong was growing weaker and weaker with every pretty noise leaving your mouth. Your hot breath was searing against the skin of his chest and he both cursed and blessed the instant he decided to forego wearing a t-shirt to bed in the sultry island heat. 

"Peter" You murmured in your sleep and his heart stopped. You were dreaming about him. You were panting and burning up for him, and he knew it didn't necessarily mean anything and dreams were not real life, but your legs fell open, one knee on either side of one of his, and he could actually feel your warm wetness through the thin fabric of your sleeping shorts and his threadbare plaid pajama pants and fuck!

Whatever last trace of logic might remained in his brain flew out the window as you started rubbing yourself on his thigh, finally finding the friction you so desperately needed. His hand went to your waist to stop you, but it ended up aiding you instead, sliding to your lower back, pressing down and releasing rhythmically, rocking you against his leg harder. 

He glared at the traitorous appendage, but how could he reproach it it's betrayal, when you were moaning so sweetly? He wanted to commit those sounds to his memory, to tattoo them on his brain to play over every night when he'd found himself alone on his cold bed, one hand around his length and the other over his mouth to stop himself from yelling your name at the ceiling, as he had so many times before. 

You breathed out his name again, and his free hand went to his pelvis, of its own volition. He palmed himself over his pants, but that's as far as he would let himself go. He refused to be the guy who jerked himself off next to an unconscious girl. 

A new wave of moisture left your core, soaking his skin through the fabrics. 

"Fuck!" He cursed softly, head hitting the tall headboard as he threw it back.

"Peter?" 

He froze. No. Oh god, please no...

To be continued...

[collectivefandomstuff]

Hey mom! I’m stressed at 1am, any advice? I’m having trouble in school via studying sometimes it feels like we’re going from 0 to 100. And I need better study habits, do you have any advice? Bc sometimes it feels like I’m so afraid of failure that if I do study to my full potential (sounds weird) I feel like I loose the excuse of saying oh I got a bad score bc I goofed off. Like if I actually do all my effort to study and do bad, then is there something wrong with me??

(A/N: this answer is so long I almost feel ashamed to post it. I’m very sorry everyone. Anyway, if you’re looking for the concrete tips they’re at the end :) )

Hey :)

This doesn’t sound weird at all because I’m the exact same way. This way of thinking is actually more common than you’d think, and is often a part of the cognitive profile of perfectionism (btw, perfectionism isn’t that apt a name but I digress. Also, this way of thinking doesn’t mean you’re a perfectionist.). Anyway, I know a bunch of people who’ve experienced this, and the common factor isn’t fear of failure, but rather what it is you think you’re failing at. For example, I once told my therapist that I was super stressed over a bunch of stuff and I also had a paper I had to get done, and he asked me what would happen if I didn’t turn it in on time and I was like “academically? nothing. mentally? I wouldn’t be me anymore.” And that’s the stitch.

The people I know who struggle with this are often (though not exclusively) girls, and often people who’re pretty smart. They spent their childhood being told over and over that they were gifted, intelligent, and good at school. And back then, that was easy to live up to. They danced through the first few years of school without any issue, and enjoyed it a lot. They did their homework, understood stuff, and were usually “good kids”.

Now, we’re always growing and re-shaping our sense of self, but the foundations are lain when we’re children. So, when people around you keep identifying you as a smart/good student, then we start identifying ourselves like that too. Especially if it is being reinforced by your actual achievements. And then, suddenly, getting good grades isn’t about doing well or working hard, it’s about identity. It’s about who you are at your core. Thus, the stakes become infinitely higher. If you fail at a math test that you really studied for, then that means that you don’t have what it takes, and that means you are no longer yourself- the intelligent kid who’s good at school. A test might not be that anxiety-inducing, but losing your whole sense of self is. So, in that case procastination makes a lot of sense, because as long as you don’t fail while doing your best then you never put your identity on the line.

(This also applies if failing at school has become synonymous with being a failure, i.e. if you’ve been taught that doing well academically is the only way to be a successful/useful person in society, or if academic success has merged with the idea of a happy future so it feels like failing autmatically leads to an unhappy life. Essentially, mental structures that lead to a misconception of the stakes involved in a single exam/paper/task.)

That said, I do have some more practical things to say here. First off, sometimes we’re in a situation where we can’t do our best and that’s okay. I’ve failed exams, tests, papers, you name it and I still have my degree in the end. It’s never the end all of things.

Now, my own biggest freak out like this came when I started uni. My first paper I went completely insane and procrastinated like crazy, and I failed. And then the though crept in “what if I can’t do this? What if this is it. I can’t handle higher education, even if I try my hardest?” The anxiety was... big bad and mad.

I should say for this next part that my therapist once told me that I have a strangely aggressive approach to handling anxiety. Moving on. I sat down and said to myself “what is worse, to try my hardest and fail or half-ass it and never be able to live the life I want?” Since the answer was pretty obvious, I got to it. I had about 5 weeks until the next exam, and I sat down and planned every single hour until then. I studied for that damn test like I’ve never studied before, and whenever I felt anxious I would tell it to FUCK OFF and focus on the task I had planned. I didn’t allow myself to think beyond that first planning session, I just did what was next on the agenda. What am I supposed to do right now? read these 10 pages? Ok.

I’ve had two exams during my studies where I failed (the second due to the situation I was in) and ended up in this spiral. And here’s the funny thing: I have a small number of courses in uni where I got a higher grade. They include 1) courses that I found extremly interesting and 2) those two courses.

Okay! I know this is already so fucking long but I want to give you some actual tips too. Number one is obviously to plan. Take a whole day, sit down and plan the next month. Consider all your assignments, when they’re due, what you need to do to study, how long that’ll take and when that is done most efficiently. Plan everything in your calendar. Give yourself enough time for each task that you can do it even if you’re not super super focused. Do not study outside these hours. When you’re done for the day you’re done for the day. This way, there’s a clear, reachable end to each study session and you don’t feel as compelled to postpone tasks. When you sit down to study, don’t worry about the other stuff you have to do, or other subjects that you haven’t done yet. They’re all in the plan, all you have to do is what is in front of you. As long as you keep doing that you’ll make it. (If the plan goes to shit for some reason, take a day to plan a make a new one. It happens).

Some things to consider:

Different subjects are best studied in different ways. I used to set aside 15-30 minutes every day in high school for Italian, where I’d sit down and read the chapter we were working on out loud. I didn’t even focus that hard, I just did it every day- the chapter and the glossary. I STILL remember some sentences from that book. Math is best done in longer stretches, but not too long. 1-2 hours preferably. Think about how YOU work. Do you best read a textbook in one go or in increments? Do you learn better in a coffee-shop or your room? Silence? Music? This can also change depending on your subject. Plan accordingly.

For reading, time your reading speed for the book. Read a page at normal speed and clock it, then multiply that by the pages you need to read to see how much time you’ll have to plan for. Round up to give yourself room for spacing out.

Plan for breaks. Think about your normal need for it, but the uni standard is 15 minutes for every 45, making an even hour. Find a break activity that’s has a specific end, for example making some more tea/coffee and snacks and doing some stretches, or maybe playing one race in mario kart. Avoid things that you can get stuck doing beyond the alotted break time.

Buffers. For every five hours or so, plan one hour of buffer time. This is time that you can use if something takes longer than expected. If you do everything as planned, this is surprise free time! :D If you have a long study session, plan 30 minute buffers every two or three hours to be used for extra breaks and to keep panic at bay. Buffers will save your life.

Make a chart with different tasks and have little boxes that you get to fill in with fun colours when you’re done. If you have to read 100 pages, do a bar with ten boxes, that way you can see your progress visually.

Plan for days/evenings that are free. Plan what you’re going to do those days, like “movie night with X”, “play videogames and eat cupcakes”, “take a long bath and read a good book”. That way, you use your free time well and can use those days and evenings as incentive.

Prioritize your work. If you have too much to do, make a list of what’s most to least important and focus on doing the important stuff first. This includes studying tasks. What’s more important, reading that text for the third time or really understanding integrals?

Drink lots of water and eat sugar. It’s brain food. I usually bake before an intense week. That way when I feel myself going down I can go get a cupcake instead of taking time to make something to eat, or worse- try to soldier through which never works.

I hope this helped a little at least :) Good Luck! I believe in you! 💙💜

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

tell me you care

request: 60 62 and 74 with Joel edmundson or Matthew tkachuk

prompts: “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t care.” & “Hi.” - “Get away from me.” & “You’ve been crying, I can tell.” / numbers 60, 62, & 74 off of this list with Matthew Tkachuk.

summary: first impressions are important to you, but Matthew somehow finds a way to bounce back.

warnings: none

word count: 2.9k

You were, by all accounts, a likable, friendly person. You always wore a smile on your face and got along with just about every person you met. Of course, there’s always a few exceptions. Your grumpy old neighbor who had heard your music loud late at night once and decided to hold a grudge. A few of the girls at your old high school who resented you for not giving them the time of day. One of your professors, who seemed to have a personal vendetta after you forgot to turn in an assignment late. 

And then there was Matthew. 

Your relationship with the curly haired hockey player was something else entirely. He was cocky, which to be fair you could handle, because you were friends with other hockey players on the Flames, but it was borderline arrogance that made your skin crawl. He teased you relentlessly whenever you were in the same room, which, once again, wouldn't be a problem if he actually showed some kindness every once in a while. 

Long story short, you and Matthew did not get along very well. Like, at all.

Which also seemed to be a source of amusement between his teammates, and it seemed to be their personal mission to get you and Matt in the same room as often as possible just to see how you’d react. 

“Noah, I’m pretty sure whatever it is, you don't need my help. You’re pretty capable.” You joked, following your friend’s large frame into the kitchen. You were at a house party, thrown by Matthew himself, though Johnny had been the one to extend the invitation to you. You had considered not even going, but then Johnny had said something about how he wanted to make sure he spent as much time with him as he could before they got too busy with a push for the playoffs, and, really, how could you say no to that? 

But you had seen Johnny twice in the entire night, and only spoken to him once. He had been with Matthew, and you weren’t in the mood to start a fight, so you kept your distance. You found residence at the pong table, making friends with the people there and hung out for a while until Noah approached, saying he needed help getting something in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, but it’s more fun if you come.” He said with a grin, one that should have been your first warning to turn and run, but you were just tipsy enough to overlook it as you walked into what was essentially a trap. Standing in the kitchen awaiting your arrival was not only Johnny, but Matthew and the usual gaggle of women that trailed after him 

You weren’t blind, you knew Matt was attractive. Curly hair, handsome grin, tall with broad shoulders—you definitely got the appeal. But then he did things like open his mouth, and you wondered just why those girls stuck to him like they did. 

Matt didn’t even see you enter at first, too busy chatting with one of the girls to notice you. But then Johnny called your name with a cheer, raising his drink in your direction and opening his arm for you to tuck yourself into his side.

And Matt genuinely might have given himself whiplash with how fast his head snapped to face you. 

“Where have you been?” Johnny teased, squeeing you obnoxiously tight before letting go. 

“Playing pong.” You explained with a shrug.

“How bad did you lose?” Matt cut in, and for a moment you spotted the mischievous glint in Johnny’s eyes as you rolled yours, not even bothering to turn towards the boy who had spoken at first. When you finally turned, you were surprised to find that Matt had separated himself from the girls, but they were still nearby. 

“What makes you think I lost?” You knew you shouldn't have said it, should have turned back to Johnny and asked him how much longer he planned on stay or told Noah off for tricking you into coming into the kitchen. But instead, you took Matt’s bait and met his smirk head on. 

“Well, you’re in here instead of defending your title of champion.” His arms were folded across his chest and his attention was solely on you, and it was devastating that even though you could feel your annoyance at him growing, you couldn’t help but silently acknowledge how attractive he looked.

“I’m taking a break, my partner needed to use the bathroom and Noah said he needed help with something.” You found yourself explaining, though the petty part of you considered just ignoring him. Knowing Matt, though, he probably would take that as he had been right, and there was absolutely no way you were letting him think that.

“Who were you playing with?” He questioned, and he sounded like he was genuinely interested but you were certain he was working some kind of angle, trying his best to try and get under your skin. With your brows tugged together in confusion, you gestured across the open floor plan apartment to the guy you had been playing against. 

The guy was already looking at you, and when you made eye contact, he sent a wink in your direction. You smiled back at him, before he was blocked from your line of sight by a broad chest. Over Noah and Johnny’s laughter, you realized that Matt had physically moved from one side of the kitchen to the other, just to stand between you and your decently handsome pong partner. 

“What are you doing?” You crossed your arms over your chest and raised a brow, spotting out of the corner of your eye as the girls Matt had abandoned from his previous spot huffed in annoyance. 

“I don't want you flirting at my party.” He explained, all traces of amusement void in his tone. You rolled your eyes, and the only thing that stopped you from gesturing to the women who were waiting for him to pay attention to them once more being the fact you didn't want them to think you were rude. 

“Oh, you really don't get to decide that.” Your response, coupled with the way you were clearly waiting for him to try and argue his case, had him spluttering for a response.

“No—not like that, I just meant—” He started, but was mercilessly cut off by one of his teammates barging into the kitchen.

“Hey, Chucky!” Rasmus cheered, swinging an arm over his shoulders as Matt still floundered for a response. 

“Saved by the bell.” You muttered, rolling your eyes at Matt and smiling at Rasmus as you passed. 

An hour and a half had passed in peace. You had been hanging with Noah for the entire time, until about five minutes ago when a girl caught his attention and you shoved him in her direction with an encouraging smile. Surprisingly, despite it nearing one in the morning, there were still quite a lot of people in the apartment, and all at once it felt stuffy. 

You slipped out onto the balcony and were alone for two minutes, tops, before the door opened behind you. You didn’t turn at first, too captivated by the nighttime view of Calgary. But you did feel the person lean against the railing next to you, and it was a voice you were certain you could recognize anywhere.

“Hi.”

“Get away from me.” You snapped, tired from a long day of classes and your buzz had long since worn off. 

“You're so sweet, you know that?” Matt’s sarcastic tone was obvious, but when you turned to look at him he was grinning. It wasn't his typical devilish smirk, it seemed genuine. “What’re you doing out here by yourself?” If he was being civil, then you could too. 

“I needed some air.” You shrugged, turning away from him and leaning backwards against the railing, craning your head sideways to look at him. “I think I’m going to head out, though?”

And it was like a switch had been flicked, all traces of his typical annoying personality vanished, and it was as if you guys didn’t usually bicker whenever you were in the same room. 

“I’ll go with you.” He said easily, as if it wasn't the first time he had offered something like that. You scoffed, raising a brow in his direction. 

“Not a chance, Tkachuk.” 

“Not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter.” He clarified with a chuckle, only grinning wider when you rolled your eyes. “It's way too late, I’m not letting you get in an Uber alone.” 

And, okay, so maybe he wasn't as big of an asshole he you had originally thought. 

“You can’t just leave your own party.” There was a hint of amusement in your voice, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment. It was strange, usually you couldn’t wait to get away from Matt, but the simple fact that he was thoughtful enough to not want you to get in an Uber alone had you starting to see him in a different light.

“Yeah, I can. Johnny was going to crash here tonight so he can watch the place. Nobody will even notice I’m gone.” You wanted to protest, to argue that his fan club of women that he had somehow managed to lose in the crowded party.

But then he grabbed your hand and tugged you inside, his free hand ordering the car to your apartment. His tall frame was able to spot Johnny through the crowd, and he made his way over to him. Johnny had been in the process of crossing the room, so Matt was able to catch him by himself.

“Hey, we’re heading out but I’ll be back soon.” Matt told Johnny, gesturing to the door over his shoulder. Johnny’s gaze casted over Matt, then to you, and down to where your hands were still connected. 

“Stay safe, you two.” Johnny was clearly hiding a grin, and without your permission a blush bloomed on your cheeks. Matt didn’t notice, thankfully, and tugged you by your joined hands towards the exit. 

It was silent between you and Matt the whole ride to your apartment. It was a little strange, how he didn't let go of your hand until he was opening the car door for you. What was even more strange was how you found yourself wanting to reach back out to him once he settled in the back beside you. 

But, you stayed quiet, hands in your lap and stared out the window. Once the car turned onto the street your apartment was located on, you decided that you needed to say something.

“Uh, thanks, Matt.” You spoke quietly, turning to face him. He was already looking at you, a genuine smile on his face. The car pulled over, and Matt was climbing out and holding the door open for you before you could even think to reach for the handle on your side. 

“Don’t worry about.” He was standing on the sidewalk, hands stuffed into his pockets as he shrugged. It was hard to believe that the man standing before you was the same that not only an hour before you couldn’t stand to be around. But he had shown you the side of him you had only heard about from Johnny and Noah, the sweet and caring side. You bit your lip, contemplating your next move, unable to get yourself to just turn around and go inside. 

If anyone asked, you would tell them alcohol was the reason why you did what you did.

You pushed yourself onto your tip-toes, one hand placed on his chest to brace yourself and the other on his shoulder to keep him still as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. You smiled subconsciously at the way his scruff scratched your lips. 

For seemingly the first time in his life and definitely since you had met him, Matt was at a loss for words. His jaw dropped a bit, a slight blush creeping up his neck. 

He watched as you retreated into your building to make sure you got there safe, and only when you were half inside the door did you turn to face him once more. 

“Get home safe, Tkachuk.”

After that night, things seemed to shift between you and Matthew. Time spent with him was filled with more laughter and less annoyed glares, though you were pretty certain that you still rolled your eyes at him just as often. He had shown you his softer side, and it was like you saw him in a different light. He was still a pest, but he was more endearing than obnoxious.

And then you and Matt started spending time one-on-one, and it was becoming increasingly clear that before when he would say the things he did, it was only because that was his personality. He acted like that with everyone, you had even showed up at his apartment while he was FaceTiming his parents and caught him chirping his dad. 

He had introduced you to his parents that night, and that was when you started to feel the shift on your relationship with him. How things weren’t so platonic between you, the way your heart raced whenever he tugged your legs across his lap while hanging out on the couch or how you found yourself wanting to text him whenever something good happened. 

But you shoved that part of you down, and tried to carry on as normal. Which is why you agreed to go on a date, and one date led to two, three, four, and that’s how you ended up crying on the couch by yourself one night. Your phone was still open, his ‘sorry, this isn't going to work’ text mocking you as the device sat on the cushion next to you. 

You felt stupid for crying over this guy, it wasn't as if you felt any real feelings for him, heart already occupied by a mop of curls. But your day had been stressful, and even then it sucked being dumped by a guy you thought things might have worked out with.

Someone knocked on your front door, startling you enough to drag you out of your thoughts. As you stood, you wiped the tear tracks from your face to try and seem presentable, knowing your puffy face and bloodshot eyes would give you away immediately. 

Though, you forgot all about how bad you must have looked when you spotted the person standing on the other side of the door. Matt barely had time to register your appearance before you flung yourself into his arms, a hug which he easily returned. 

He didn’t say anything, just lifted you off the ground a bit to carry you inside the apartment and shut the door with his foot, keeping you out of sight of the prying eyes of your neighbors. Eventually you had to pull away, but he gently cupped your jaw, not letting you get far away. You felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze, knowing that he was searching your face for any signs of what could have explained your behavior. 

“You’ve been crying, I can tell.” He said so simply, and it clearly wasn't a question, but you found yourself nodding anyways. He moved you both so you were sitting on the couch, and pulled you into his chest. His hand was rubbing comfortingly up and down your back, effectively soothing you. “Why?”

And so you did, starting from your day sucked from the moment you woke up to the text you’d received ten minutes before his arrival. When you told Matt about the guy, he tensed up underneath you, and you felt his hand momentarily still on your back. 

After a while, Matt had turned on some show and the two of you were silently watching without having separated. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you worried that maybe he could feel it from your position. 

“I know we haven't always gotten along.” He started after a while without conversation. Your head tilted up to try and gauge where he was going with this, but his gaze was set in his lap, where he was toying with the hem of his shirt. “But you’ve gotta tell me you feel the same.” 

“Matthew...” You trailed off, so caught off guard by his confession that you couldn’t even form a response. He must have taken your silence as a bad response, because suddenly he was shifting so that he met your gaze. The seriousness in his expression took the wind out of you, and you couldn’t find it in you to voice how you felt. 

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t care.” He pleaded, continuing you before you could get a word in edgewise. “Tell me I'm not the only one that feels this.”

And still, you couldn't get any words out, too many thoughts running through your head to pick one and send out into the world. So instead, you cupped both of Matt’s cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips before he could interpret your silence as notice for him to leave. 

You didn’t want to pull away, but you did need to breath and the whole situation had taken the breathe out of your lungs even before the long awaited kiss. The two of you simply grinned at each other, though after a moment you couldn’t resist a chirp.

“You could’ve given me a minute to respond, drama queen.” 

[devintrinidad]

So since you’re working on a Cancer driven story. I’m going to ramble about the semi popular reverse role au where 3802 is the WBC and 1146 is the RBC. I’ve only seen some (really good) fanart (by the same blog that did fanart of some of your stories!) and read one or two stories on it. But today some stuff hit me and I want to try to make hc’s on how that’s a thing.

For starters In this verse some things are switched around. The whole shock incident happened already. I wanted DB5963 to be around and the shock incident wouldn’t propel 1146’s character development any since I see him as being already RBC.

Anyway 1146, 2001, 4989, 2048 and 2626 are all RBCs (I’m kind of thinking Esinophil too. If only because I wanted her to still be 1146’s close childhood friend. Or Idk, maybe she can be a cell who grew up to be a young Macrophage so she’s still someone he knows since childhood even if it’s not the same. But whatever).

On the flip side, 3803, 5100, 4201, PO1076 and 4201 are all WBCs. 

1146 is pretty much a perfect RBC. He’s experienced. He’s always savvy about routes and knows his way around the body so well he doesn’t even need to carry a map. He’s brave and relentless in the face of danger. He knows how to maneuver around bad areas so often times he’ll recklessly run past bacteria and figure out how to use his environment to his advantage. He’s seen as a great role model of a proper, if not a little extreme, RBC.

3803 is still a little fresh. She gets easily flustered about sudden calls for help in areas she’s unfamiliar with. She’s a bit absent minded with her weapons and sometimes might drop her sword (I’m inspired from CAW Black where the female WBCs all have swords instead of knifes. In this verse just for fun, guys wield daggers, girls wield swords) which her friends are always finding and giving it back with various ranges of amusement to anger born of worry. It’s not that she’s a horribly clumsy. 3803 is a good weapon user. But she’s more into the hand punching to leg kicking to bite ripping flesh combat. Sometimes in the heat of the moment she’ll surprise her enemy by going ape on them and then surprise herself when she realizes she lost her weapon somewhere.

And yeah she still gets lost easily and often is found helpless stuck in walls while transmigrating.

Before I go into the rest, I’ll go over the others: 5100 is 3803’s main mentor in the squad. She’s both supportive and faithful to helping 3803 grow. But she also worries and acts more protective since their line of work is more dangerous. She calls 3803 on the radio several times a day and if 3803 doesn’t check in fast enough, she panics. Her and 1076 are the typical brute warrior WBCs. They stick to protocol and do what’s expected of them. They’re typically always a duo so they have excellent teamwork. But 5100 displays her best teamwork with 3803 when the two are in berserk mode at it’s best.

5963 is a new addition that came with the armada of RBCs. He quickly established himself as the unofficial leader of the squad without any fuss from anyone. His positive and relaxed demeanor makes him easy to work with. However he’s the most experienced so he’s no softy on the battlefield. He’s brutal and can scare any non immune cell watching into fainting.

4201 is the newest recruit to the squad. She came sometimes after the shock incident so she wasn’t there to witness the end of the world. She’s a prodigy in her knowledge of Bacteria weakness multiple forms of self defense. She knows protocol like the back of her hand and is above average in nearly all areas. Her biggest weakness is that she gets easily defeated in overwhelming situations and will lose her nerve if there’s a enemy she thinks she can’t win against. She’s assigned to shadow 3803 around her big moment of realizing she has a lot to learn from 3803 is when Cancer shows up. Beyond that she usually partners with 3803 for patrols. Also she dislikes the Killer Ts and finds a lot of them obnoxious but is professional enough to never let that interfere with work.

Also 4989 is the RBC who is always trying to invent better ways to transport packages. One time he slingshot his oxygen delivery into a 3rd story window and nearly knocked the poor Normal cell out. 

Anyway, 1146 met 3803 while on the job. She was stuck in the wall and desperately calling for backup on the radio. Everyone was busy so 1146, having pity for the pathetic WBC, came over to pull her out. Before she could even thank him, he was one his way barely giving her a glance. 1146 wasn’t one for gossip or prejudice. He respected the immune system for what they did and had no ill will. But he was a professional and never had any reason or interest to interact with, much less be thanked by, them. He was a good guy but he wasn’t in the mindset for making friends with other cell types. 

The weird WBC however didn’t think that. She followed after him asking for directions to the lungs. If this was any other WBC, 1146 admits he’d feel a little nervous since immune cells, from his pov, typically only interact with you to protect you or slay you if you’ve become a threat (1146 is experienced enough to have seen the latter happen to a few of his brethren). But this weird WBC came off as so unusual and weak he wondered if even a platelet could take her. The impression got worse when a Killer T and his squad showed up to mock her for her weakling status and how she was probably going to die and get the RBC killed with her.

It made him wonder if he should worry about his life or hers more.

He showed her to the lungs and parted ways. Determined to make his delivery on time so he could help out 4989 later with his double shipments as promised. Along the way the Bacteria shows up and 1146 distracts it from chasing other RBCs by throwing himself in harms way. Thinking this is it, he determines at least he made the delivery and saved some other RBCs. 3803 pops up at the last moment. Tumbling from the ceiling in a rather ungraceful way. But she doesn’t care. She’s just grateful she made it to the right vent this time!

3803 attacks the bacteria to defend 1146 and all other RBCs. She slashes away and nearly gets her head cut off a few times. 1146 uses the time to warn off all other RBCs, but can’t help but linger nearby to see if she’ll make it. When the bacteria is about to kill a wandering cell, 3803 goes berserk and ditches the sword and starts ripping into the monster. It’s the goriest thing 1146 has ever seen. 1146 sees the sneeze capsule and calls 3803’s attention to it. She gets the idea and pushes the bacteria to the spot and manages to push the button and save the day. She thanks 1146 again for his help and then starts doting on his injured hand by wrapping it up in bandages. Much to his surprise since she’s the one covered in gashes and ooze. She asks if they’ll meet again. He doesn’t think so. But he makes sure his goodbye is a little warmer then the last two times. He gives her his handkerchief so she can wipe her face and see a little better before parting ways.

That’s how the first meeting goes.

Some more hc’s.

3803 is a berserk beast. It wasn’t always apparent but one day when her favorite platelet, Leader Chan, got threatened. She went absolutely savage and all out. She will channel all her determination to win into a primal rage that has other WBCs respecting her more after that. Say what they will, she has that protective instinct and willingness to never give up down down to near perfection.

1146 will retrieve her weapons when he finds them and give them back to her. He often worries someone won’t pick them up for her or she’ll forget to find them if her signal goes off. If he doesn’t see her with her sword after a battle, he will automatically start looking for it.

Despite 3803 being the WBC, 1146 eventually becomes VERY protective of her. Almost overprotective. He helps her when she’s lost no matter what. He always checks out allyways to make sure she’s not stuck. He always helps her find her weapon. He immediately shuts up any ungrateful Normal cell or RBC that makes fun of her or acts rude in a very cold manner. Even if she’s not around to hear it.

One time he saw Killer T yelling at her after a fierce battle with Influenza. He was scolding her harshly for getting herself injured being so soft when saving a Normal cell instead of being more vigilante. If she wasn’t so useless she could do both easily. Her eyes start to water and she apologizes a lot and promises to do better. She runs off and before Killer T can react, 1146 is up in his face and very calmly asks him to never yell at her for trying to do her job the best she can. 1146 then coolly leaves Killer T stunned that some punk RBC just scolded him in a calm rage without any fear. Killer T and 1146 still have a unusual relationship in this verse (1146 is savvy enough to know Killer T can yell all he wants but he can’t hit him).

3803 will often tag along with 1146 during his deliveries and he teaches her all the routes he knows and how to better navigate. He comes to really enjoy it and gets a bit disappointed when she has to run off during one of her stories about her day.

NK cell first befriended 3803 in this verse solely because she seems to piss off Killer T so much (Killer T actually does respect her growth a bit and care about what happens to 3803 as a fellow immune cell. Yelling harshly is partly his way of caring. But her antics still annoy him). 3803 considers NK to be the coolest immune cell in the body (after 5100 or tied). NK gets flustered yet pleased with this attention and acts like another big sis to her.

1146 will wipe her face for her with handkerchiefs if she gets too much guts on them. 

Cancer meets both 1146 and 3803 the first time around while they on walking together. She doesn’t realize he’s a cancer cell until much later. She spends almost the whole day protecting both of them from germs and Cancer appreciates 1146’s company and 3803’s kindness to other cells. When Cancer dies, 1146 approaches to pay his respects and 3803 (who landed the final blow, much to everyone’s surprise) ends up crying over him and devastated over his fate and loss of their friendship. Cancer falls in love with 3803 for being so different and unusual. He also vows to talk with 1146 again in hopes he’ll find the answer to his questions about life and destiny. 1146 is disturbed by both revelations (3803 didn’t get Cancer’s love confession to her. 1146 did and dislikes it and also how much Cancer made him think about life in ways he didn’t want to).

Uhm that might be it for now.

 ~~~~

Okay, where were you when I wrote Transmigrating Universes? XD OTL

Hahahah! Look at all of this head canons and snippets of what could really be a wonderful, well written au! Seriously, I love how you included the different relationships among characters and how they would have adapted as different cell types! Special spotlight on 4989 because he would definitely be that one innovative red blood cell while the rest try to get him to use more traditional, and standard regulated dollies. 

But, of course, the real star of the show is definitely 3803 and 1146. I love how you reworked the first chapter/episode here. It goes to show how differently they would react to different situations, how they would have adapted, and ultimately, how their relationship would evolve. Although different, there is still that sense of platonic/romantic relationship that is based on true friendship.

And that whole Cancer bit at the end,,, hahaha!

Thank you so much for the delightful, in depth analysis! It was truly inspiring and terrific!

Thank you and I hope that you have a wonderful day! :D

[snacc-noir]

The Idiot Effect

(Marinette the Flirt AU) 

AO3

Summary: 

It starts as a game about their mystery love interests.

“He’s really smart. I’m sure he’ll pick up on it one day.”

“Oh really?” Chat goads. “Then for them to realise, let’s see who can flirt better.”

Yeah... turns out there’s a lot more to realise.

(Or the fic where Marinette’s a ruthless flirt, Ladybug and Adrien are dense, and Plagg can’t stop laughing at everyone)

Notes: the fact that a few actually wanted this crack mess is concerning, and it seems some have brought “expectations” so i’ll kindly ask you to leave those at the door. thank you!! (and there’s more chapters coming im so sorry)

-

Listen.

Marinette stuffs up but when she stuffs up it’s with class, alright? When there’s a problem, her own or not, she fixes it because that’s just what she does. She spews garbage and has the composure of a flailing eel trying to stand upright – but she’s a pillar source of entertainment for it. She’s a normal girl, with a normal life (except for the superhero thing), so excuse her for trying to be adventurous once and a while.

Adventurous, flirtatious; whatever.

She’s made it to school two minutes after waking up before and was recently (6th Grade Graduation) voted “Sweetest Classmate”, so yeah, she’s quite up there. And ever since (unwillingly) sprouting the wings of a brave superheroine she’s tried her hand at a bit of confidence, despite those continual dignity stuff ups she’s played off gracefully (the tripping happens no matter what, she can’t control that, okay?) The Guy may be the son of a famous fashion artist—that has, in fact, recognised Marinette’s talent and sent her self-esteem higher than Chat’s puns make her want to throw him—and is entirely out of her league,

But see, usually that would cease her pursuits, if not for, you know, the fact she’s an epic superhero and he’s the biggest snack she’s ever seen.  

Kindness? A literal angel? Most wholesome grace?  

A model?

As if she’s not flirting with that.  

She shivers remembering the ignorant days (half a school day) where she was under the idiocy that Adrien Agreste of all celestial beings had the tenacity to be an entitled jerk with an inheritance long enough to rival the list of times Dupain-Cheng had sliced from Chloé’s lips through the years.  

And yeah, that couldn’t have been further from the truth, but genuinely, genuinely, flaws and all, Adrien Agreste is the sweetest being she’s ever met.  

That she’s stuffed up her chances with, countless times.

But she’ll work on that.

Chat Noir knows how to flirt. He’s not too relevant – her miraculous partner in battle, black suit clad teenage girl idol, the best friend she’d kill herself and everyone she knows for – you know, the least of importance right now. But she’s got to admit, he has some good ones when she’s suited up. Only difference between him and her is that on Ladybug, it’s all fun and games with no meaning. But with Adrien,  

she’s serious.

(Most of the time. The lines are pretty eccentric.)

She loves him. It’s whatever. She doesn’t know if he loves her back but she’ll make it work. He can’t pick up a hint for his life — causing completely no progress— but the way her indications of affection propel over his halo is just a spanner in the mission to conquer his heart; a mere stain to the golden-hearted persona she adores so much; so much as a friend, too.

Because, you know,

“We’re friends,” Adrien tells his capped bro as though the suggestive nudges up the courtyard would lessen, an attempt that fails, because an arm is slung around him instead in such a buddy-buddy way he knows is saved for interrogating or persuading purposes.

“You didn’t hear what she said to you?”

How could he not.

He didn’t mind. If anything, he found it humorous. “Yeah, she’s just messing around like that.”  

“Mmmhmm… sure,” Nino says in a way that totally isn’t assuring. “I don’t even have Alya telling me we should share a locker to hide in during an akuma attack. And we’re dating.”

“That’s because Marinette’s joking around. Since we’re friends.”

“Since you’re soulmates. ”  

“Mmmhmm…” he mocks, cheek twitching, “sure.”

One-hundred percent sure, according to Marinette the next day.

It’s some chemistry lesson half the class doesn’t pay attention to because they’re overreacting (ha) to their assigned lab partners, and Adrien’s fine since he’s paired with Good Friend Marinette. And although he doesn’t like her like that – after all, Ladybug’s a thing – she seriously is lovely company without so much as an awkward fence (excluding the way she stumbles heading to the bench) to hinder their bonding (haha).  

Because, for those in the back, they’re just friends.

She’s funny and kind and all that, talented too – class rep, master of the arts, always doing things for others. Her confidence is mystifying but not unappreciated. In fact, having a crush on her would baffle him since she’s so out of his league (he says, dressing up as a cat and going after a superhero) , or at least impossible considering how much she’s definitely kidding with her flirtatious behaviour. No matter what Nino says.

The equipment clinks on the benches as his partner sets up. Distracted by Chloé whinging about Alya for a lab partner, he’s oblivious to the manner about how Marinette scoots next to him.  

“Look at us together. I bet we were paired because we have so much chemistry,” she says, out of nowhere, and yet completely expected at the same time as he turns back. “I guess we just work so well together.”

His lips tickle, but he sterns himself by moving an elbow dumbly, knocking a small beaker of water so the contents spill across a ripped page of discarded notes. Her old work fuses to the bench as the ink bleeds and they watch. “Apparently not.”

Marinette cracks a grin. “You suck.”

“You suck.”

“You—”

The lesson is a blast.

Marinette doesn’t know how someone can get any more dumb. Or is it dumber? Whatever. They’re tied for English, anyway (“The A + stands for Adrien plus Marin—” “Shut up.”). And she knows it’s not her who’s the dumb one because, you know, you need to have the supremacy of a genius to have the flirtatious skills she can dish out, possibly a degree of some kind.

Adrien’s smart, but he’s not—

He’s not there sometimes. It’s because of her absolute lack of progress (and she knows the lines are just Too Good for her to not be at fault here) that she often wonders if retreating to the long-abandoned pink-cheeked and shy character would’ve made things any more obvious.

Not that she thinks they can.  

“When we get married, I shots the left side of the bed.”

Seriously.

“You’re only getting the prime bed spot if you take the most dishwashing days,” he plays along, musing irresponsible blond tuffs with the towel Kim’s tossed him as he slinks from the locker room. “That includes Sunday morning. Saturday nights are major guest nights.”

His lacrosse game couldn’t have gone better, even if Nino and Alya were babysitting and didn’t attend. He scored most of the goals and the pride warming Marinette’s expression as she greets him is what tops the cake. He still hears Alix, Kim and Ivan chatting jubilantly of their win as the door swings behind him.

“You’ve obviously thought about this before.”

Adrien snaps the towel at her, purposefully missing, but water that’s been tipped on his head spurs from it and Marinette’s composure is quelled as the assumption of sweat drives her over.  

“You wish.”

Boy does she ever.

They break into step down the hall. Adrien pats down his arms and side-eyes her. Her blue pools of comfort are already beaming at him.

“I did that good for a marriage proposal, huh?”

“Yep!”

He does little to hinder the bashful chuckle.  

“And you touched my shoulder twice yesterday. That’s sixty-eight percent more than usual according to Max.“

“That doesn’t mean we’re married, Marinette.”  

Her lips quirk. “Totally does.”

tagged 💕:

@aplayfulplatypus @wegan97 @soap-lady @poisonouscephalopod @woodsbeyond1 @spartanxhunterx @laadychat @mochegato @gelana-12 @heldtogetherbysafetypins @galaxiesanddaisies @melicmusicmagic @legallyspawned @aarushi-03 @purple-people-eaters-productions @gothfoxx @glassesandcardguns @princess-of-fangirls @mewwitch @emeraldpuffguide @johnlockfeels @kittyynoirr @aryamanbose @paintedbirdsong @trubel43 @lulumatthews

[kaibutsushidousha]

Which servant did you choose when playing Extra? Also, I'm curios to know if you think there are any other servants that would be interesting to see if they were summoned by Hakuno in Extra? Or maybe servants tht would be compatible with them other than Nero Tamamo Nameless

I went with Tamamo in the first playthrough and then Nero. I’ll save Nameless for Record because hopefully the game will be playable there. CCC was at least good enough to make me play all Servant routes.

As for other potential Servants for Hakuno, we already know compatibility got them with either Nero, Tamamo or Nameless, 3 anti-heroes. The former two being people fully dedicated to their close personal connections (even if in Nero’s case she feels a close personal connection to all Roman people) in almost complete disregard to morality or external circumstance. The latter is a wholly kindhearted person forced to kill others to survive. The parallels with Hakuno are pretty clear, especially with Nameless. So, running along with this line, we get:

Billy the Kid

This is one of weaker picks because I feel like it overlaps with Nameless a bit too much, as a sorta decent person turned brutal murder by the violent environment of their era. But like Hakuno and unlike Nameless, Billy is completely open about he considers himself an evil person. Normally I’d think a self-proclaimed evil partner (I’m thinking Drake or Moriarty) would encourage Hakuno’s worst habits, but I think Billy can work because we’ve already seen him on Lostbelt 1 taking this role of someone who makes the harsher, crueler calls for a kind and naive Master who still isn’t ready for it. Despite parroting Hakuno’s “I’m evil, actually”, I believe he wouldn’t encourage Hakuno to deny their own good nature. Instead he would encourage them to be rootin’, be tootin’, and by God be shootin’, but most importantly, be kind.

Miyamoto Musashi 

Same reasoning as Billy. The two had an entire conversation about in Anastasia. Also this one overlaps with Nero even harder than Billy overlaps with Nameless.

Yan Qing

Same reasoning as Billy and Musashi, this time without any real evidence. 

*Okita is another candidate for this same reasoning but I’ll keep her out of the list because her dynamic with Hakuno would be too much of a repeat of her dynamic with Kanata.

Dr. Jekyll

Another person trying really poorly to cope with a murder they’ve committed, but completely unlike Hakuno, Jekyll desperately tries to deny his evilness by framing as a separate side of himself completely alien to the gentleman doctor. I’ll admit I picked this one just for the potential Hakuno has to help Jekyll grow instead of the other way around.

Arjuna

The anti-Jekyll. Identical to Hakuno on how their characters are defined by committing war crimes once and never getting over it. Anyways, they are both actually really good people and have stubborn enough personalities to force each other acknowledge the good in themselves.

Ashwattaman

Fitting with how Yuga Kshehtra plays it itself as a CCC sequel, Pepe is a character designed to be extremely similar to Hakuno. So much so that I consider Ashwattaman to compatible with Hakuno for the exact same reasons he’s compatible with Pepe. Ash is a man who choose to embrace his flaws as hard as possible to maintain his grasp on his identity. He identifies as rage itself and aims to be the angry voice of indignation for those who feels like they don’t have the right to be angry. He’s there just to support people resigned to the cruelty fate forced upon them, and Hakuno is just as ripe of a partner for that as Pepe, so let him yell at Hakuno’s enemies in their stead.

Nagao Kagetora

Like Jekyll, I’m picking Kagetora just for Hakuno’s potential to support her, not the opposite. Kagetora’s backstory can easily be framed as a darker take on Hakuno’s character arc. They were both forced into situations where killing was necessary, but instinctively knew that killing is wrong. Hakuno pursued this dilemma incessantly for the first half their game until they found a satisfactory answer. Kagetora, on the other hand, just asked her family questions and got responded with a “You don’t have to understand, just follow this moral code to a T and you can look human enough even you don’t have a clue what being human is about”. Hakuno’s struggles to rationalize his own morality would clash heard with Kagetora’s whole deal and force her to make attempts to genuinely understand who she is and how she’s supposed to behave.

Nezha

Nezha is the best I can get in terms of a polar opposite to Hakuno. Hakuno sees themself as an evil person while remaining so concerned about the blood in their hands that it composes their entire character motivation. Nezha seems himself as a good and virtuous hero while constantly suggestion every problem in front of him should be solved with violence. Like with his self-proclaimed father above, the dynamic would a lot about Hakuno forcing their Servant to question things they were ok with not understanding, but I think the relationship here would be more balanced than it was with Kagetora.

Nightingale

You probably knew this was coming. I’ve talked about it before. Pairing Hakuno with unambiguously good people is not the best, yeah, but this is a valid exception because she’s my favorite Servant a character directly connected to CCC’s development background and themes, a solid match to Hakuno’s description of an ideal person, and someone exactly as self-destructive as they are. She’s easily my first pick for an additional Hakuno Servant and is only not the first on this list because I didn’t want to open with the odd one out.

Sakamoto Ryouma

Another match to Hakuno’s CCC description of the ideal person. The self-destructiveness is also there, but in a weirder and less direct way than it is with Nightingale. Again, I shouldn’t be assigning them unambiguously good people, but Ryouma is balanced by Oryou’s chaotic energy and the second half of this list already devolved into “characters I like a lot”, so why not.

On the subject of characters I like a lot, Arash fits just as well as Nightingale and Ryouma, but like Okita, he’s off because the dynamic would be too much of a repeat of his dynamic with Elsa.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 5 (Mafia AU)

Summary:   So where was Blue while Rus was off getting kidnapped and how did he end up with Red, anyway?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warnings: Some violence. A wee bit of unwanted touching and some innuendo.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

~~*~~

Read on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was barely afternoon and Blue was already tired. He’d spent the morning coaxing a variety of flowers in their garden into bloom, gently forcing them to quickly travel through their growth cycles until they were ready to be cut and added to a bouquet.

Normally, their garden had a rigid schedule to keep from pushing the plants too much; stimulated growth could only go so far, after all. But losing most of their stock was forcing Blue to abandon it. Using so much magic in such a short amount of time was exhausting and when Blue parked in their assigned spot, the elderly van wheezing to a stop, he took a moment to sit in the sagging driver’s seat, ignoring the spring pushing through the cheap vinyl to poke at his coccyx as he closed his sockets for just a moment.

There really wasn’t time for a rest. Papy was waiting on these flowers, likely working hard since this morning readying the baskets for Blue’s delivery. There were funerary floral arrangements to be made, birthday gifts, romantic gestures, and every one of them added desperately needed profits back into their coffers.

Rest would have to wait. Instead, Blue pawed through the glove box, past the yellowed owner’s manual and an odd collection of fast food napkins to find a granola bar in its depths. Tastelessly stale, the chocolate chips cast in a white haze and Blue ate it anyway, chewing without tasting. It would help revive his magic and he’d be able to paste on his sunniest smile for Papyrus when he got inside.

His little brother was working so terribly hard, so many long hours on his own. Blue’s soul was so tight with pride, it felt as if it were ready to explode and shower his Papy with it, even as he kept the underling guilt hidden away, tucked back where his brother wouldn’t have to deal with it.

This was his fault. Papy shouldn’t have to deal with the brunt of the stress. He’d abandoned his own faint hopes for college to help Blue with the business, worked hard without a fuss. He learned to make flower arrangements from bouquets to corsages, how to run the registers, how to smile and charm their customers into buying more than they intended. This was Blue’s dream, not his, but he’d thrown himself in entirely, and Blue didn’t want him to know about the bills rubberstamped in red ‘past due’ ink. He didn’t want Papy to worry about their dwindling savings.

The insurance money would help, quite a bit if the representative he spoke to yesterday was correct, and they only needed to last the few weeks until it came.

A little hard work hadn’t dusted him yet, Blue told himself as he got out of the van and retrieved the first heavy bucket of cut flowers; lilies, for the funeral arrangements. A few weeks more wasn’t going to do any harm.

When he got to the shop door, for a moment Blue didn’t understand why it wouldn’t push open. Then he realized the open sign was off, the door was locked tight. The shop was closed, on a Friday afternoon when all the lovesick swains got their paychecks and were ready to pick up flowers in hopes of a romantic weekend and they’d be purchasing their bouquets elsewhere because his shop was closed.

Later, Blue would be ashamed his first instinct was largely irritated; had his silly brother forgotten to leave the door open for customers, they did have some stock! But that was not for more than a startled second, long enough for him to see the broken mug scattered across the stoop.

He leaned down to pick up a shard of the plastic, absently noting the tremble in his hand. It had been his brother’s favorite travel mug, a silly thing he’d gotten it at the thrift shop, leftover from some Halloween or another. The skeletons that danced around it would dance no more, the piece Blue held had lost its legs, and he took very little comfort in the fact there was no dust on the broken pieces because there was a single splotch of redness, a near-perfect circle of dried marrow.

Someone had hurt his brother, Humans, perhaps the same ones from yesterday and how had he ever believed in his naiveté that Humans would welcome them to the surface with open arms.

“now thems some pretty flowers you got there.”

Startled, Blue turned towards that voice, ready to tell them with as much forced politeness as he could muster that they were currently closed, and would the police even come if he called them, would they even care, who else could he possibly—

Then he caught sight of who spoke, and his soul felt as if it froze right in his rib cage, icy fingers digging in and oh, his little brother was in far worse trouble than Blue could have ever guessed.

He’d never met the Fells, neither on the Surface or below it. The Underground was a big place and the madscrabble life they’d grown accustomed to in Ebott did not lend itself to making new acquaintances. Not that Blue frequented the sorts of places where one might meet the Fells. No, he’d never met them, but he knew them by reputation. Thugs, whispered along the gossip-line, loan sharks, racketeers, even murderers said the quietest rumors, though not for very long.

This one could only be the older brother, Red. He stood only a bit taller than Blue and nearly twice as broad, with little resemblance past the fact they were both skeleton Monsters. His teeth curved into a jagged, shark grin, unlike Blue’s blunted smile and his eye lights were the burning crimson of an ember. His dark expensive suit with its rich scarlet shirt boasted of handsewn silks, and the fingers holding his cigar were circled with gold rings whose stones were too garishly large to be anything but real. His other hand was tucked into his pocket, oddly threatening for its nonchalance. Flanking him were two large Dog monsters, white on white ties and shirts, and Blue was suddenly struck by the absurdity of it all.

His little flower shop along with his brother had somehow been transported into some ridiculous Godfather-esque alternate, only proved by Red exhaling a billowing cloud of smoke as he said, “but it looks t’me like you’ve got a lil’ trouble bloomin’. lose somethin’? or mebbe someone.”

Inappropriate laughter bubble up, choked away, and Blue heard himself say, “I suppose I did.”

Red nodded as if Blue had offered not a stream of wisdom, but an entire glistening fountain. He started pulling his hand out of his pocket and Blue tensed, angel-only knew what thoughts about guns or knives shooting through his mind. But that hand was empty and Red only plucked one of the lilies from the bucket, running a razor-tipped finger along the satiny petals.

“Are you here to help with that? My…my missing person?” Blue asked at last. Not that he wanted to, he didn’t, but his options were few, any choices dwindled away. There was no one else to ask and with every second that went by, the danger his brother was in could only be growing. This had something to do with yesterday, Blue was sure of it, and he couldn’t even imagine what sort of trouble his sweet, funny brother had gotten into to cause all this.

Rumor had it Red never broke his word, that he had a twisted way of keeping it, a monkey’s paw wish. But for his brother, Blue would have bargained with the devil incarnate.

He wondered if he was.

“could be,” Red said idly. He twirled the flower stem between his fingers. “you got quite the green thumb, dontcha.”

“Yes?” Blue agreed, warily. He’d heard that before when they’d first come to the Surface, and his refusal to grow drugs had been a costly one, losing him possible allies. He wondered dismally what conundrum he was about to be balanced on for his brother’s safety.

“hm.” Red gave the lily a considering sniff, “might have to see if we can drive your posy sales a lil’ better, after we get past this oopsie daisy.”

Blue didn’t know what that meant but he was sure he wouldn’t like it.

“tell ya what,” Red gave him a conspiratorial wink and a finger gun, as if they were close pals and not a known criminal chatting with a simple florist, “me and the neighborhood watchdogs here, we’ll take care of it. you hang tight and we’ll get your bro back to you.”

Blue didn’t ask how they knew it was his brother. He didn’t ask a thing. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and said, “No, I don’t think so. I’m coming with you.”

That earned him a deep frown, “baby blue, i think mebbe you didn’t hear me so good.”

“I heard you perfectly well,” Blue told him and didn’t bother with any astonishment over what this…this person might know or not know about him. Nicknames and whatnot were not important. Papy was. “And I don’t care. I’m coming with you and I’m staying until I see my brother.”

A low growl came from one of the Dogs, silenced instantly when Red held out a hand. Those jagged teeth curved into an unpleasantly wide grin, “you think so, eh. and if i say no?”

It was not particularly difficult to work up some tears, they’d been hovering thickly beneath the surface the moment Blue found that broken coffee mug. He let them loose now, wailing as loudly as he could, “How can you leave me like this!” Fat droplets rolled down his cheeks, huge sobs gasped out, “and with a baby on the way?”

Red froze, his cigar drooping in his teeth as his grin fell away so abruptly Blue half-expected it to shatter on the stoop with the remains of Papy’s coffee mug. All around them the people on the sidewalk who’d been previously been looking discreetly away were abruptly watching with avid interest, aghast and greedily outraged as Blue wept loudly, one hand pressed against his apron to his belly over their nonexistent child. A few people were shuffling their feet as if considering playing the hero, weighing their odds against a cruel wealthy ex-boyfriend and his friends casting aside a tiny pregnant clerk.

“get in the fucking car,” Red muttered. He tossed the lily on the ground, trodding on it as he turned to do the same. Blue tried not to see the mangled flower as a metaphor and followed, hopping through the open door that one of the Dogs closed firmly behind him.

He settled into the enormous leather seat, buckling his seatbelt to at least make it more difficult if Red decided it might well be easier to simply shove him out of the car on the next block.

Not that Red seemed to be considering it. He was rummaging through a small bar installed in the side door, pouring a finger’s worth of what was probably very expensive whiskey into a crystal glass, knocking it back in a single gulp. He poured another then settled back in his seat with it, crimson eye lights targeting Blue.

“you got some balls, kid,” he grumbled. It almost sounded grudgingly admiring but there wasn’t time to worry about that.

“Can you promise me you’ll get my brother back to me? Safe and sound,” Blue hastened to add.

“sure, toots. we’ll get your bro back in mostly one piece,” Red said. He grinned again, all jaggedly sharp teeth as Blue’s gorge rose, purring out, “nah, he’ll be all safe and sound. got someone on it right now, and not one of the usual mutts, neither. he’ll get your bro. meantime, we got some things we can discuss, you and me.”

Blue lifted his chin defiantly. He’d known what he was getting into. If there was a price to be paid for saving his brother, Blue would offer his own soul on a silver platter. But there was no reason for Papy to know. “I’m sure we do, so long as it’s a private discussion between us.”

Those crimson eye lights gleamed and Blue could very nearly hear the invisible chains of fate closing around him. “good boy. now, let’s talk about you, baby blue. how’s business?”

-fin

Read Next Chapter

[detroitbydark]

Crossed Connections: Part II

Characters: Tech x Togruta!Reader 

Warnings: None

Summary: Everyone experiences exhaustion. Some handle it differently than others.

You can read the first part here

Tech swore he’d seen something as the transport had skimmed the tree line in an attempt to cruise under Separatist radar. A dark shape, springing from through the deep red treetops, attempting to keep up with the Havoc Marauder. 

That’s how Hunter found himself an unwilling student to Tech’s lecture on Anaxes’ native fauna.

“Did you know fyrnocks typically roost in tree canopies? They’re almost entirely nocturnal and are incredibly light sensitive but they don’t sleep underground.”

Hunter nods vacantly, knowing that once Tech started on a topic it was best to let it run its course. Wrecker and Crosshair were both asleep in the cargo bay. It was upto one of them to keep their brain occupied while his battery wore down. 

Even exhausted, Tech’s mind never seemed to slow, jumping from one topic to the next. Exhaustion only seemed to bring to surface the more obscure things he fixated on. At least he wasn’t focusing on languages this go around. 

Last mission Wrecker sat with him for over two hours as he’d slipped in and out of Shyriiwook. Wrecker, never to be confused with an intellectual, had smiled and nodded to his young vod before he’d finally burned through enough energy to pass out over the ships console.

“It’s thought that the species as a whole springs from a single mother entity.” Tech looks up to see if Hunter was still listening “it’s all very fascinating.”

Tech types away at the small datapad secured to his vambrace. “There’s even some chatter about them being linked to the dark side of the Force. Can you imagine? I mean, from what I understand of the Force-“

“Tech” Hunter interrupts gruffly “save it until after debrief with Commander Cody?”

With a flip of the wrist, the younger clone closes the pad. “Of course Sarge, just thought it was interesting” 

“It is but we’re all running on fumes at this point. Not sure any of it is sinking in.” He taps at his temple and Tech nods.

“Understood.”

“Plus, we’re only a few klicks away from base and I need you to organize your part of the debrief.”

Tech nods before flipping the datapad back open and beginning to splice together the data he’d collected during recon.

------

You’ve been on Anaxes for two weeks. It still felt foreign, sleeping in the depths of the caverns the base had been built in and around was seriously beginning to mess with your internal clock. No windows to show you night or day, no warming from the sun or cooling as twin moons rose into the sky. You’d never been so thankful for your chronometer. It was hard to sleep as you adjusted to the new environment. While it left you exhausted you also had yet to be late for your shifts already up before you chrono had to wake you. You’d consider it a win.

You were weary of seeing clones on the edge of death, mangled and passed off to you like they were no more than broken droids, only their brothers and a few of the generals seeming to worry about their well being. It wasn’t right. You’re heart hurt and while the other staff had either their clone brothers or other civilians to cling to you seemed to be left to your own devices, as if everyone else could just sense that you weren’t like them. Like on Kiros.

Your people believed only the strong survived. If you couldn’t keep up the Togruta left you behind. Your belief in the value of life made you an outsider within your own tribe. You believed life needn’t validate itself to matter. Simply existing in the first place gave it meaning.

It was a highly unpopular opinion.

The sheer number of casualties you saw roll in daily was another change from your post on Coruscant. Generally, by the time you’d seen the troopers there they’d been stabilized and needed supportive care. Anaxes brought you the worst of the worst straight from the front lines. The GAR was taking mass losses, entire squads destroyed in the blink of an eye without warning. You’d lost count of the number of Clones who’d taken their last breath in your presence. You’d never experienced anything like it on Coruscant and your training had done nothing to truly prepare you for the crushing feeling each loss brought to you and the rest of the medical staff.

You swish your mug around before bring it to your lips taking another swallow of caf. It had gone cold long ago, forgotten when the last emergency had rolled through the doors. You fantasized about a hot mug of it to soothe your throat. You kept up a steady stream of talk when you worked.  Your patients always knew exactly what you were doing and your colleagues knew exactly what you were seeing. You’d heard some other medics comment on how annoying it was but you were never going to be accused of not communicating effectively, not when troopers lives could depend on it.

 A side effect of hours of talking were often a scratchy, dry throat and a hoarseness that silenced you for the rest of the day. It was ok. Outside of the medbay you were never really sure what to say. Your confidence in your professional skill did not cross over to personal affairs. 

“Y/N?” It was one of the clone medics, Kix, from the 501st. He was amiable enough and seemed easy to get along with the few times you’d worked together.

The empty mug was set aside, to be forgotten till a later time when desperation drove you to more of the swamp water that sat bubbling bitterly in the break room.

“I’ve got a squad coming in off a recon run. They’re due for a once over so the powers that be are going to send them down after debrief.” Kix looked on edge as he spoke and you cocked your head trying to figure out what he was saying between the lines.

“You want me to do it?” You knew how to do what he was asking, you just weren’t sure why he was asking you of all people.

“Uh, the boys in 99 don’t much care for other clones.”

That was a new one.

“I can do it Kix” you nod reassuringly. “Don’t worry, ok?” A knot was beginning to tangle in your stomach. You brush off the feeling and try to give the clone your most reassuring smile. 

Clones that didn’t like other clones? You hadn’t heard of such a thing outside of the Coruscant Guard. 

Those guys were dicks.

Kix seems relieved, running a hand over his face roughly “I owe you. I’ll have them sent over to Exam 3 when they’re done?”

“Make it 5” you correct “they’re still getting blood off the floor in 3 and 4”

-----

Crosshair is spitting mad by the time The Bad Batch is dismissed from Cody’s debrief and Tech can’t figure out why. He just had to acknowledge that  pissed off was simply the sniper’s default setting. Tech figures he’s mad no one was willing to take the bait and give him the fight he was looking for.

To his left Hunter seemed as relaxed as Hunter could be, ever vigilant eyes scanning the halls as they traveled. 

Per usual, Wrecker was all smiles (if maybe slightly menacing ones) as they entered the lift down to medical.

Tech was pleased. He’d been told the intel would be useful. No one had insulted anyone. No punches had been thrown. It all seemed pretty good as far as he was concerned. All they had to do now was do a quick medical check and they were good to go for at least a solid day of rest before their next assignment. he falls in behind the others while they queued into a single file in front of him, each dipping into the room in turn for their scan. Hunter is in and out before Tech can blink, same for Crosshair. 

Wrecker was never the best behaved for the medical staff. He just didn't like medical. Tech couldn't blame him.  Hunter and Crosshair wait for a few minutes, making sure they weren’t needed to calm the big man down, before the excuse themselves to the small barracks the four of them called home.

Tech uses the wait to browse the holonet for anything that might pique his curiosity and bookmarks a couple things to look into once he could crawl into his rack.

When Wrecker pops out of the exam room with a sucker tucked into his cheek some twenty minutes later without any shouting following him, Tech takes notice.

“It’s stormfruit, man” Wrecker hums around the sucker “I like this one” He tips his head back toward the exam room as one big mitt cuffs Tech on the shoulder, knocking him back a step as he passes by. 

Tech doesn’t bother to take his helmet off when a bright voice calls “Next!” 

He’s greeted by the sight of a dimpled Togruta smiling up at him from her spot on a stool.

“Hey you must be…” she glances quickly at her datapad resting on her crossed knee “Tech?”

The voice is exceedingly familiar but he doesn’t know the face as she motions to the table. His feet stutter step as he moves further in the exam room, taking a seat on the table the composite of his armor clanks loudly. 

“Long day?” The medic asks and he nods, eyes narrowed as he rifles though his mental files. He knew that voice.

“You're not gonna give me trouble like the last one, right?” She starts, “it took me half a dozen lollys to convince him to let me scan him. I’m starting to think he played me, ya know?”

He nods again.

“You don’t talk much do you? Nexu got your tongue?”

Tech huffs quietly, flipping his visor up to view her without the incandescent screen in the way.

“I think you're the only person that’s ever said that.” He chuckles.

She beams at him, squinting and searching his face.

“Yeah? I won’t complain about being your first.” She teases before her cheeks, already a rich color, flush brightly. When she smiles nervously he sees the quick pearly flash of her incisors. He liked the way she smiled at him. It makes his stomach flip in a vaguely familiar way.

That’s when the data points come together. The realization hits him.

He’d often wondered what Grutababy looked like, curiosity only reaching a fever pitch after their conversation on the comms. He’d lay awake at night, while his brothers slept and try to piece together what she might look like, cursing himself for never once asking for a picture. 

His mind would run through the many sentient species he was familiar with as he’d try to place the voice from their lone conversation to it it had become a game. Twi’lek, Mirialan, human… Togruta?

It makes sense now, her profile name. Grutababy. Really it shouldn’t have taken a genius level IQ to figure that out. 

He watches her lekku sway gently as she moves through the room. Her skin, somewhere between red and pink, reminds him of a sunset he’d once seen on an outer rim planet, the name of which he’s since forgotten. 

The white markings of her people cross from one temple to the other, circling her eye like a mask. Others travel in soft swooping lines from the outer corners of her eyes down, crossing at plump lips and fading out at her chin. A small diamond shaped mark rests above each brow. 

Her eyes are a pale, icy blue. The overall effect is… stunning. 

She was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined (and he’d tried).

“This may sound weird-” she hums” her fingers fumble for her scanner, nearly dropping it off the counter. Frowning, she taps it against the heel of her palm when it refuses to turn on.

Once. 

Twice.

Three times.

Tech winces, wants to tell her that there was no evidence that treating a device like that would make it work. On the contrary it would often-

The scanner buzzes to life and a triumphant smile lights her features.

“Like, I was saying, it may sound weird. I just get the feeling….”

Tech swallows hard.

She lets out a nervous laugh and waves it off, “Nevermind, ignore me. Not enough sleep or caf and I’m imagining things”

Something akin to disappointment filters through his chest as she rubs the back of a montrail nervously. He wonders if he should tell her? She interrupts his train of thought with a deep breath and the moment has passed. She's all business now as she adjusts the scanner in her grip.

“So Trooper, how about we get your scan done and you can go get the sleep that I’m not.” 

[therainroguefanfiction]

🎃 Frightful October Act VI, #18 ~ Stranded (Izuku Midoriya)

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Romance

Word Count: 4,458

Pairing: Reader x Izuku

World: Boku no Hero Academia

Author’s Note: So um, not sure what the hell happened here lmfao I’ve been writing these out on paper and then typing them on the computer to post. I start writing and just keep going until I feel I’ve found a good stopping point. This single fic was 10 pages long, front AND back. I had to cut so much stuff out and shorten it drastically, and it still ended up being okay 4k words. I don’t know what to say, man lol I hope ya’ll enjoy this!

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“We’re having a school trip tomorrow,” Aizawa announced boredly as he passed out two sheets of stapled paper to each student. On one sheet was a series of four islands and information about each one, while the second sheet was a permission slip. “The Quad-Peak islands have been steeped in mystery for two decades. This all began when four women planned a four day trip to the islands and never returned home.”

A murmur broke out through the class.

Aizawa ignored it, returning to the front of the room. “Recently, four foreign diplomats were out fishing near the islands when the vanishes without a trace. You will be working in pairs to discover what happened to them.”

You hummed thoughtfully as your eyes scanned the paper. ‘Four islands. Four women. Four days. Four diplomats. Four is considered bad luck because it can be pronounced like the word for death. It’s completely baseless, but many people fear the number, so much so that a lot of buildings don’t even have a fourth floor. Is this mere coincidence? Maybe a setup? A test? I need to get some information from Seven about this.’

“Sensei?” Momo raised her hand. “How will our partners be chosen?”

Aizawa didn’t open his eyes as he sat behind his desk. “All Might already chose the pairings. They will be announced before we leave tomorrow.”

Izuku glanced over his shoulder at you, praying to whatever gods he could think of that you were made his partner. He had been crushing hard on you since the day you saved him from a group of thugs trying to rob him. When he came to U.A. and found out that he was in the same class as you, he felt so incredibly lucky and vowed to get closer to you, but you were a loner and he was awkward and shy.

The bell rang and you gathered your things, heading over to class 1-B. Students gave you strange looks as they left the room, but you ignored them, approaching your best friend. Seven glanced up at you, eyebrow raised.

“I got a job for you if you’re interested.”

His lips curled up as he stood, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Can I cover over to your place?”

“‘Course. I’m running low on funds this month so I’m glad you don’t want me to buy dinner this time,” you stepped out of the room, Seven falling in step beside you.

He scoffed. “You spent it all on soda and video games, didn’t you?”

You coughed, turning your head away from him.

With a chuckle, he bumped his shoulder against yours. Seven stood at five-feet-six-inches with blonde hair and rust-colored eyes. The thick square glasses he wore were patterned with a white tiger print.

The two of you didn’t hang out much at school, so as the two of you walked down the hallway, bantering back and forth, the rumor mill at U.A. began to churn. All it took was one person to propose the question, ‘Are they dating?’ before it started to make its rounds around the school. Just like a game of telephone, by the time it reached Izuku, it had been molded into something completely different.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

As soon as Seven stepped into your apartment, he dropped his bag and tackled the black cat sitting on the couch watching the TV. You sweatdropped as he crushed the cat to his chest, scratching behind his ears and cooing at him.

“Let go of me, you cretin!” The cat in question was your older brother, Shun, whose quirk, ‘Panther’, turned him into a black cat when it manifested. Shun snapped his golden eyes to you. “Control your friend!”

You cleared your throat. “Seven, we have work to do.”

He frowned, not releasing his grip. “What is it?”

“I need you to look up a story,” you explained about the trip and everything Aizawa had told you. You pulled out the permission slip, setting it down on the coffee table. “Can you sign this, Shun?”

Shun wiggled free from the boy’s grasp, his eyes never leaving him as he refused to put his back to the boy. He slapped his paw down onto the slip, angrily. “Why should I? You always let this cretin come here and abuse me!”

“It’s not that bad, Shun,” you commented, quickly looking away when he snapped his glare toward you. “Anyway, Seven provides really valuable information but he won’t help without a little… motivation. Isn’t it your job as my big brother to help me any way you can?”

“Don’t you play the big brother card on me, Y/N!” Shun snapped. “I am not a pet for this cretin’s vain amusement!”

While you and Shun argued back and forth, Seven took out his phone, holding it firmly in his hand. His eyes widened as lines of blue code scrolled by, giving his eyes the appearance of an LED screen. His quirk was ‘Digitizing’. As long as he touched any device connected to the internet, he could quickly search and access any information across the globe. Firewalls and traps were completely useless against him.

“Come on, it’s not like I bring him here every day.”

“Show some respect for your elders!”

“I’ll make you some pan-seared tuna for dinner.”

“Oh my god my mouth is watering just thinking about it – O-Oi, don’t try to bribe me!”

Seven closed his eyes, clearing his throat. “The articles are all real. Furthermore, there have been numerous incidents that have been kept out of the public eye. They were sealed behind some pretty heavy security. The number four was present in every single report.”

Your brow furrowed. “What is the significance of these islands and number four?”

He shrugged. “That’s for you to find out, I guess.”

You glanced at your brother and he sighed, “Hand me a pen.” Groping around your bag, you handed him one. He held it between his two paws and signed his name. “You better be careful. I won’t forgive you if you don’t come home!”

You smiled softly, kneeling down in front of him as you leaned forward on the table. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring you home some fresh-caught fish, okay?”

He huffed, looking away, but the twitch of his ears told you that he was excited about the idea.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

“Look, there they are!”

The four islands were just in sight across the horizon. They were arranged in a diamond shape, each island representing the four points of the diamond. The ocean spilled into an underwater cavern that was positioned in the center. Each island was huge, expanding in all directions for several miles.

A rickety wooden dock had been built in the sand of the first island. The sand expanded back until it hit the tree line where it changed to dirt. Tall trees lined the edge of the sand, towering high into the sky. The first island gently sloped up out of the water, steadily rising until the fourth island hovered high above the water.

Aizawa waited for everyone to settle. “This is not a vacation, this is a mission. Your job is to locate the diplomats and bring them back safely. This isn’t a competition.” He sent a pointed look to Bakugo who scoffed. Aizawa gave each student an earpiece before assigning them to one of the four islands.

You glanced over at your partner, Izuku. “Ready to go?”

He gave you a hesitant smile, his cheeks warming. “Let’s do it.”

You trudged through the thick sand, feeling it being kicked up as you walked – you had to pause at the tree line to dump it from your boots before continuing. The fourth island was directly across from the first so the two of you headed in a straight line, dodging low hanging branches and thick roots that jutted out from the ground.

After a twenty-minute trek through the trees, you heard feet pounding the ground. Bakugo rushed past you, sending you a grin over his shoulder. He and Hagakure had also been assigned to island four and, of course, he had to be competitive.

Your eyes widened and you yelled for him to stop, but he only moved faster. Cursing, you pushed yourself forward. “Bakugo!”

“Huh?! The fuck are you yell – ” his words were cut short when the ground beneath his feet gave way. He went tumbling over the edge toward the whirlpool in the center of the islands.

You cried his name, diving to the earth. Your hand caught his wrist, but the ground beneath you was giving away and he was too heavy for you to lift. The feeling of falling rushed over you and you used your momentum to kick him. It was just enough for him to grab the ledge, being helped up by Izuku.

Because of the height of the fall, you sank far down into the water, getting trapped in the rushing current. You tried to break free, but it was too strong and it dragged you deep underneath the islands.

Izuku’s eyes scanned the water, waiting for you to resurface. He pressed on the earpiece, but it refused to connect. “Kaa-chan, is your earpiece working?”

The blonde snapped out of his shock and pressed on the earpiece, but his wouldn’t connect either. He shook his head, cursing as he ran a hand through his hair angrily.

Izuku bit his lip, weighing his options. “Kaa-chan, go find Aizawa-sensei. I’m going after Y/N!”

“O-Oi!” But it was too late. Izuku had jumped into the swirling water below.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

A groan passed your lips, eyes fluttering open. Darkness surrounded you, your wet clothes sticking to your body like glue. Your head throbbed and your body felt like you were encased in ice. It took some effort to sit up and take in your surroundings. ‘Is this a… cave?’ your eyes fell on your partner, half of his body on the rock while the other half was dangling in the water. “Midoriya!”

His face scrunched up as you pulled his body onto land. Green eyes met yours and he sighed in relief. “You’re okay, thank goodness.”

“I am, but what about you?”

“I think so. Nothing is hurting other than my head.”

You tilted your head, curiously. “Why did you jump after me, Midoriya?”

“W-Why?” his cheeks grew warm, a welcome feeling against the coldness he felt.

You smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. When we get out of here, I’ll kiss the other cheek,” you promised, holding your hand out to him. “Let’s see if we can find a way out of this place.”

The circular cave was large, the ceiling towering above you. Half the cave was flooded with water which opened up to a bigger water source. You could try to get out that way, but it was impossible to tell how long the water went on for. If there were no air pockets, you risked drowning. There was also a strong current to consider.

“Y/N-san, over here.”

You approached the greenette, finding a thin beam of light coming from a crack in the wall. Your fingernails dug at the crack and the rock shifted. Izuku put his fingers beside your own and, together, you tugged the black rock away from the wall until it broke free, falling to the ground with a thud. You could hear the sound of water dripping in the background as the smell of moss invaded your nostrils. The path was long and dark, and you had to lean over to avoid hitting your head.

At the end of the path was another crack of light, brighter this time. The two of you pushed the rock as hard as you could and it fell backward with a thud, filling the path with firelight.

The hole opened up to a circular room with three other holes on different sides. In the center of the room was a pile of paper and magazines lit on fire, the flame dancing across the walls. Empty candy wrappers and chip bags littered the floor.

More importantly, three men were pressed against the wall, ready to strike.

You held up your hands in surrender and the man in the middle wiped sweat from his brow with a dirty handkerchief. “You’re the foreign diplomats that went missing a few days ago, right? We were sent here to find you.”

The men exchanged a look, the middle man speaking up. “My name is Beralt Smith,” his gray hair was messy, standing on end as if he had run his hands through it several times, eyes the color of aquamarine.

“I’m Y/N, and this is my partner, Izuku Midoriya. We’re students at U.A.”

“U.A.?” The man on the left repeated with wide eyes. He was short and plump, his brown hair circling a bald scalp. His eyes were black and beady. Bowing at the waist, he said, “Zachary Qi, it’s a pleasure.”

The man to the right was thin as a pole, round glasses covering mousy brown eyes. His hair was the same color, matted to his forehead with sweat. “Franklin Henry,” he spoke softly, his eyes trained on the ground.

“Wait, where is the fourth diplomat?” you questioned.

The men exchanged a sad look before Beralt spoke up, his voice reflecting the sadness in his eyes. “Benedict Kirkland was bitten by a snake shortly after our boat capsized and we arrived on the island. We did everything we could to aid him, but he succumbed to the poison. He was gone by the time the sun had risen.”

“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Midoriya bowed in respect, you doing the same.

“Thank you.”

“How did you come to find yourselves in this cave?” you asked. “Maybe we can use that route to try and escape.”

Zachary pointed toward the hole on the left, facing North. “Through there is the entrance to this cave. We hid there when a sudden storm rolled across the island, but it’s been completely sealed off by debris.”

You frowned. ‘I think I’m starting to see why these islands are considered cursed land…’

“I’m sure you’ve already checked the other two paths, as well,” Midoriya murmured, thoughtfully. He was determined to come up with a plan to get everyone to safety. He refused to let these men die.

“We did, but it would be best if you checked for yourself in case we missed something.”

You and Midoriya exchanged a look before you examined each pathway, searching for any small chance to escape. To the north, the entrance was blocked by large rubble that wouldn’t move an inch.  To the east was a dead end. And to the south was a small room, barely big enough to fit a single person. Your eyes narrowed at the high ceiling, squinting in the darkness. It was faint, but you could see a light near the ceiling.

Midoriya saw it too as he stuck his head into the room. “Do you think we can reach it?”

“I don’t know, but we have to at least try.”

He nodded as the two of you switched positions. He kneeled down, motioning for you to stand on his shoulders. You did as he indicated, using the wall to steady you. He slowly stood up, gripping your ankles. Standing on your tiptoes, you reached for the light, but it was just out of reach. With a grunt, you lifted your foot, digging it into the wall as best as you could.

“Be careful.”

You climbed the rest of the way, slipping a few times on the mossy stone. Your fingers gripped the ledge and you heaved yourself up and over, fingers digging into the stone. A burst of cold, fresh air hit your face. It was a small cave entrance!

“Y/N-san?” Midoriya’s voice reached you.

You leaned your upper body over the ledge. “It’s open up here! But… how do I get you guys out?”

“Try looking around for something that can act as a rope. But don’t go too far, and be careful!”

You nodded, crouching against the low ceiling as you headed for the low light coming from the entrance. Your breath came out in puffs of air, the temperature lowering as the sun faded across the horizon.

Eyes scanning the area around you, you took notice of a tall tree, its bare branches curling out as if it were reaching for something. Near the top, a thick vine had fallen from the tree beside it, wrapping around one of the branches. You could only hope it would be long and sturdy enough to help.

Activating your quirk, ‘Infernarrow’, a flaming bow appeared in your left hand. You grasped the bowstring and pulled back, a flaming area materializing as you did so. The arrow soared through the air, easily splintering the wood as it pierced the center of the branch. It came tumbling down, loudly cracking the other branches in its way before falling to the ground with a loud thump, the vine falling around it like a snake.

You untangled it and headed back to the cave where you tied one end to a large stone behind you. Laying on your stomach, you peered over the edge again. Midoriya was still there, body shaking as he wrapped his arms tight around his body. His worried expression changed to relief when his eyes met yours.

“I found a vine. It should be thick enough to hold up.”

“I’ll go get the others!” he ducked back into the tunnel, reappearing moments later. Franklin was going first so Midoriya wrapped the vine around his waist. “Put your feet on the wall and hold tightly to the vine. Y/N-san will help by pulling you up,” he glanced up at you and you nodded. “I’ll be here to catch you if you slip,” his bright smile seemed to ease the older man’s fears, but he was still shaking like a leaf.

You sat up, heels digging into the ground as you gripped the vine tightly in your hands. You weren’t nearly as strong as All Might or Midoriya, but you were far from weak and determined not to let the men fall.

The vine pulled taut as he started to climb. He honestly wasn’t that heavy, so you were able to steadily pull him up until his shaky hand gripped the ledge. With one hand still gripping the vine, you extended the other to grab his wrist, helping him up and over.

“I might need your help with the other two,” you said softly, glancing at him as he took a breath.

He nodded, undoing the vine from his waist and throwing it over the ledge. “I-I’m not very strong, but I’ll do my best!” he kneeled beside you, gripping the vine above your hands.

Beralt was up next. As Midoriya wrapped the vine around him, he clapped his hands and took a deep breath. “Now it’s time to see if those rock climbing lessons were worth the money!”

Your body shifted forward at the sudden weight but you pushed yourself back, pulling slower than you had with the previous man. Franklin’s arms were shaking, veins looking like they wanted to burst through his pale skin.

Beralt’s fingers gripped the ledge and Franklin grabbed his arm. Through gritted teeth, the man said, “No disrespect… sir Smith, but… maybe you should… consider better… eating habits!” he gave one final tug and the man heaved himself onto the ledge, breathing heavily.

He huffed, looking embarrassed. “Zachary is the one that snuck all that junk food onto the boat,��� he threw the vine over the ledge before settling on your other side, hands wrapping around the vine. “He’s also heavier than I am, so prepare yourselves!”

The third man’s weight did concern you and you briefly wondered if the three of you would be strong enough to pull him up. If you did drop him, would Midoriya be able to safely catch him? Or would the older man’s weight crush the boy without remorse? That thought worried you and you flexed your fingers before resuming your grip on the vine, eyes shining with determination.

Zachary started to climb, making the three of you lurch forward at the sudden weight. The heel of your boot slid before getting stuck in a crack in the rock. You used this to your advantage, putting most of your weight on that side.

“I… can’t -” Franklin’s arms gave out and he fell forward at the sudden lurch of the vine. Both you and Beralt lost your grip but you gripped it again, the vine sliding through your hands at an alarming speed, burning the skin. You winced in pain, your stomach turning. Zachary cried out in fear and you could picture Midoriya being crushed.

“Damn it, STOP!!” you screamed, clenching your hands as tightly as you could, pushing yourself back with your legs. The vine came to a stop and the two men quickly grabbed it, taking some of the pressure off of you. With every move, your hands screamed at you, but you ignored the tears stinging your eyes.

Finally, Zachary reached the ledge, being grabbed by the back of his shirt by Beralt. His face was red, tears staining his cheeks.

Your hands were stinging and burning simultaneously, but you held the vine tight, biting down hard on your lip to try and distract your mind. Midoriya was heavier than Franklin, but much lighter than the other two, so Beralt did most of the lifting. You were thankful because you could feel how your grip had weakened considerably. You felt so thankful when Midoriya pulled himself up onto the ledge.

Midoriya took a breath as he kneeled in the cave, suppressing a shiver. “For now, let’s try and build a fire to keep warm. We can try to find our way when the sun rises.”

“I’ll go look for some wood,” you announced, leaving the cave. Darkness covered the island, the wind nipping at your damp clothes like hungry vultures. It felt good on your hands, though, that felt like they were on fire. You didn’t want to be near Midoriya right now because you knew how much of a worrywart he was – he’d freak out about your hands and the two of you had more important things to worry about.

You weaved through the trees, returning to the branch you had broken with your quirk. The spot was hidden behind a thick trunk of wood, but you only had to lean back to see the faint outline of the cave. You kneeled on the cold grass, holding out your shaking hands. The skin was dark red and was beginning to blister. There were small beads of blood, growing bigger when you stretched the skin.

‘I should wrap them up, but then he’ll definitely notice…’ you sighed. ‘I can’t even use my quirk with my hands like this,’ you cursed, throwing your head back to prevent the tears from falling.

The crunching of leaves alerted you to Midoriya approaching and you quickly flipped your hands over, nearly wincing as the skin rubbed against your clothes. He rubbed the back of his neck, face burning. “You… did a really good job back there, Y/N-san.”

You smiled up at him. “It was a group effort. I doubt I could have done it without their help…” you subconsciously flexed your hand and hissed in pain.

Midoriya noticed. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry!” A breeze whipped around you and you shivered. “I am cold though, so let’s hurry up and get that fire going!” with a grin, you tried to pick up the branch but a wave of pain went through your hands. You tried to hide it, but Midoriya was watching you closely.

He knelt beside you, gently grabbed your wrists. His eyes widened when he saw them. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. And it’s not even that bad…” you mumbled, not meeting his gaze. He ripped the fabric of his hero costume, exposing his knees. “W-Wait a minute, Mido -”

His warm smile made you pause as he ripped it into strips. “We need to cover them so they don’t get infected,” he gently wrapped it around your hand.

“Sorry for the trouble,” you sighed, looking up at the dark sky. “When sensei first mentioned this place, I found it weird that the number four kept coming up. Online, a lot of people speculated that this place is cursed and I think I’m starting to believe it.”

He hummed, beginning to wrap your other hand. “I don’t know much about curses, but I do believe we make our own luck. Even if the world is against us, I believe we can still come out on top as long as we work hard and never lose hope.”

You watched him as several emotions flickered across his face.

His eyes met yours with a fierceness you had never seen from him before. “That’s why I want to… tell you how I feel. I really like you, Y/N-san, a lot. Will you please go out with me?”

“Midoriya… no, Izuku,” you rested the back of your hand against his cheek and smiled. “I would be happy to,” he smiled so brightly it lit up the darkness. “For our first date, what do you think about an island getaway?”

He laughed as he stood up, bringing the branch with him. “I vote for a warmer first date.”

As another breeze passed through the trees, you suppressed a shiver. “Agreed…”

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

You knew that, in the fall, the sun rose in the East, so when the sun started to rise, you had your bearings. The five of you walked for hours until the sun started to set once more. With a stroke of luck, you faintly made out the light of a flashlight sweeping the trees and the sound of a familiar voice calling your name.

All Might found all of you, radioing back to Aizawa and the others that were out searching for all of you. He led the way toward the ship, the three diplomats following him closely as they geeked out about getting to meet the number one hero.

“Do you remember what I said, Izuku?” you asked, softly.

His brow furrowed in thought and you chuckled.

“We found our way out of the cave,” you kissed his left cheek. “We found the diplomats,” you kissed his right cheek. “And we’re on our way home,” your claimed his lips with your own.

Despite his burning cheeks, he pulled you closer to his body.

Maybe he was right after all. Maybe you did make your own luck.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

[kookadoodle]

moonchild, don’t cry (Pt. 1)

PLOT: Getting an internship at the local marine hospital gets you close to a dimpled boy and his bottlenose dolphin.

PAIRING: Namjoon x reader GENRE: fluff, angst, animalrescuer!AU WARNINGS: injured dolphin WORDCOUNT: 3k A/N: inspired by dolphin tale and joonie’s love for sea animals x

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Taking a summer intern job at the local marine hospital was not your idea. It was your uncle, who offered you the internship in front of your parents, and the three of them quickly agreed before you could even begin to decline. That is how you find yourself with an almost fully booked summer. You thought that you were going to spend the holiday lying around on the beach with your friends, but apparently, you will be feeding fishes and cleaning aquariums instead. You are not exactly thrilled about it to put it nicely.

You park your bike and lock it up before you dare truly looking at the place. The strong harbor scent is already present, and you just know that by the end of the day, you will be smelling like fish. The place is fairly big with white exterior paint and blue marine lettering. It looks clean but used and actually surprisingly vacant. You hope that you did not get the time and date wrong when you walk up to the front entrance without a face in sight. However, when you pull the door, it opens, and you can walk right in. You enter a wide and open room that stretches down two hallways on both sides with a front desk centered between them. It is quiet, and still, you are the only person around. The walls are painted white but with blue waves at the bottom part that matches the color of the floor to illustrate the ocean, and the salty scent from outside is present in here as well. There are posters up of several types of sea animals and relevant information about the hospital, among them, a few certificates that prove the legitimacy of this place despite it looking a bit rough around the edges. You are not sure of where to go, so you choose to wait around for another minute as your uncle had told you that you would be met when you arrived. Before the minute is up, you hear someone coming down the hallway on your left. A tall guy steps out, dressed in black long-sleeved swimwear and hair dripping from its light brown tips down onto the floor beneath his feet. At first, he seems a bit frazzled, but when he meets your eyes and smiles at you, he emits a comforting calmness. “Y/N?” he asks as he steps closer to you with a kind look in his eyes, gesturing that he knows who you are. You nod at that, figuring your uncle must have sent him. “Welcome, I’m Namjoon. I’m sorry I made you wait but we have had quite a busy morning,” he grins apologetically. “Oh, it’s okay,” you smile as you shake his warm yet moist hand. It is expected, considering his line of work. “Follow me,” Namjoon says and heads back the same way that he came, now with you at his heels. “Normally, I would show you around first, but right now, we kind of need all hands on deck,” Namjoon explains as he rushes through the rooms, looking back at you once in a while to make sure that you can keep up with him. You do not get to see much of the place other than the few fish tanks that you pass since you focus on what he is telling you. Luckily, he makes sure to not lose you by adjusting to your pace as well. “Sure, but why? What’s going on?” you ask interested as it seems out of the ordinary. The two of you reach a pair of glass doors that lead outside, and Namjoon opens them up, so you can pass through. He leads you out into the back of the aquarium, where the outdoor pools are. The area is closed but the only roof is the clouded blue summer sky above. “This morning, an injured dolphin was stranded on the beach, so we took it here to rescue it,” Namjoon explains, still being a bit ahead of you. “We aren’t that many working today, so we all have to help out. You can just watch, of course, don’t worry,” he adds, looking back at you with a reassuring smile. Soon the small above ground pool comes into view. The rest of the workers are there, two in the pool and two more beside it, looking down into the water. Your uncle is there too. As you get closer, you realize that the two workers in the pool are actually supporting the injured dolphin as they carry it around in the water, holding it from both sides. Your uncle notices you then and smiles. “You’re here, good,” he says calmly as he sees the two of you approach. Namjoon is quick to take off his sandals and climb into the pool to take over for one of the workers. He reaches under it carefully and they shift the dolphin’s weight onto his forearms to support it. The dolphin looks quite young, but it must still weigh too much for one person to carry it alone. You stand next to your uncle and merely watch as Namjoon and the other worker walk around in the water with the limb dolphin in their arms. “What happened to it?” you ask your uncle as you watch it with saddened eyes. Your uncle sighs. “She was lying on the beach this morning, wrapped in rope from some fishing gear that had cut into her skin. Luckily, Namjoon found her just in time for us to save her,” he explains. The fact that Namjoon did not take credit when he explained the situation to you tells you a lot about him. From the serious look on his face, you can tell that he cares more about the dolphin’s well-being. “How is she doing?” you ask. “We took good care of her, so she’s already doing better, but she is very tired and needs time to heal,” your uncle explains. “She can’t swim on her own right now, so we need to help her,” he adds to that. You nod in understanding as you watch from the bittersweet sidelines. “For how long?” you ask, looking at your uncle’s worried face. “It’s too soon to tell,” he says, frowning at the sight of the bottlenose dolphin in his pool. This was not at all what you had expected today.

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Most of your first day is spent watching the employees of the place do their jobs, seeing to the animals that are staying in their care. Originally, you have been assigned to Namjoon as your mentor, but taking the out-of-the-blue task that he is busy with, you end up following a few different workers around to see the place and get a feel of what kind of things, they do here. Some of it lives up to your expectations, and some of it does not. You had expected the cleaning and the feeding, but when you see the workers’ direct contact with the animals, you are left a bit surprised. The animals all generally seem to be thriving here, and they light up when they see their caretaker friends coming their way. It already changes your view of this place, thinking that you would like to have that impact on the animals as well. However, one thing keeps coming back to your mind. You keep thinking about Namjoon and the rescued dolphin outside by the pools. How are they doing? Is there any progress? you question in your head along with a thousand other thoughts alike them. You worry despite not even having been here for very long, and as soon as you get a break, you make your way outside to check on them and feed your own curiosity. Reaching the above ground pool, you soon have a clear view of the dolphin and its current helpers. It seems that there has just been a switch, since Namjoon is stepping out of the pool and bundling up the bottom part of his shirt to twist it, making water drip onto the ground beneath. During the act, he looks up and meets your eyes, smiling friendly at the sight of you and showing off a pair of dimples in the process. “Y/N, how are you doing so far? Did they show you around okay?” Namjoon asks concerned, and you wonder if he feels a bit guilty about neglecting you on your first day. You merely smile in return. “Yeah, everyone’s been nice, and I got to meet some of the animals, so I’m doing good,” you answer relaxed, wanting to ease his worries. He nods, seeming happy with your response. “Have you eaten anything yet? I’m heading towards the cafeteria to get something myself, so you can come with me if you’d like,” Namjoon then offers as he steps into his sandals that lay by the side of the pool. He makes his way towards you, and as he looks at you, you nod. “Sure, I could eat,” you smile and turn to walk beside him as the two of you head inside. The cafeteria is not far away, and you do not talk that much, but it is okay. The whole atmosphere here is very relaxed and comfortable. Namjoon shows you the different foods and treats you yours as a welcoming before you sit down together at one of the tables. Being a small and local business, it seems that the employees control their own schedules and breaks, so it really is just the two of you in the cafeteria right now apart from the ones cleaning around you. You sit across from each other and as you screw off the lid of your juice, you clear your throat. “So, how is she doing out there?” you ask before taking a sip. The question causes a sigh to leave him and a light frown to dust his face. “Well, considering it’s still pretty early, I think she’s doing okay. She won’t really move that much, but her breathing is steady and calm, so I think she knows that she is being taken care of,” Namjoon explains. His tone is serious, but still light in a way that welcomes your question. He is your acting mentor, so it is only appropriate that he answers these types of things. “I’ve heard that dolphins are pretty smart, so it makes sense that she would know, I guess,” you say, and Namjoon nods. “Yeah, they are intelligent creatures, so I think that she can sense it in a way,” he smiles warmly, seeming to already be attached to her. He was the one, who found her this morning, so you can understand. Saving someone only really feels good if it succeeds, so you get why he is worried for her. Yet from the look in Namjoon’s eyes and the tone of his voice, you have a feeling that she is in very good hands with him.

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

After lunch, you and Namjoon return to the pools to get back to work. There has not been much progress, but you were only gone for about half an hour, so what is there really to expect. Namjoon slips out of his sandals and enters the pool to once again take over for one of the employees. The girl smiles relieved and stretches her shoulders from the slightly uncomfortable position. “Thanks,” she says as she makes her way out. “Hi girl,” you hear him say to the dolphin in a calm voice. You can see that Namjoon does not just hold her, he embraces her to make her feel comforted as she is carried around in the blue water by him. “How are you doing?” he asks softly, making sure to not make any sudden movements or cause stress for her. It is a sweet act, indeed. Just then, he looks up and meets eyes with the guy across from him. “What about you? You should rest too,” Namjoon says to point out the hard work that his coworker has done so far. The guy sighs. “I know, but everyone is busy with something right now…,” he says. “It’s okay to take a break, go get something to eat. You are not worth much in this state, anyways,” Namjoon grins as he expresses his concern. The guy smiles at that yet seems hesitant. “Yeah, well, you can’t carry her alone, so I can’t go before someone takes over for me,” he answers, not wanting to put the whole burden onto one man. It makes Namjoon lift his gaze further to fall on you, and you can see it in his eyes that he wants to suggest you take his place, but he retracts. You figure, he feels bound by the promise that he made earlier, but he should not. You might as well do something, and this seems pretty straight forward to do. “I can take over for you if you want,” you offer, and you catch the brief smile on Namjoon’s face, when he hears you speak the words, he did not dare to say. The coworker looks up at you as he shifts to your direction, and his brows rise. “Really? That would be a big help,” the guy says, and you nod in confirmation. “I should probably change though, but I didn’t bring anything,” you then say, looking down at your regular clothes. “Your uncle is in his office, he can get you something to wear,” the guy states friendly, which makes you turn on your heels. Luckily, they do have some swimwear for you to borrow, and when you return to the guys, you are dressed more appropriately for the task. You climb into the pool carefully, mirroring the way you saw the others do it. The water is warmer than expected, and you feel it surrounding you as you step down from the small ladder into the pool. You have always enjoyed the slight weightless feel and having grown up by the seaside, it makes you feel at home. “You can talk to her a bit first, so she gets a feel of who you are,” Namjoon says to you, and with that, you gently make your way to the dolphin and look at her more closely. She is beautiful, you think. Smooth and shiny with dark kind eyes, but you know that despite the slight smile she wears, she is not nearly as joyful inside. She is worn out and hurt, and it breaks your heart to know that she cannot truly express it. “Hello, I’m Y/N,” you start off in your most gentle tone. “I want to help you, okay, so don’t be afraid,” you explain. You know that she does not understand what you say, but hopefully, she can sense your intentions. With Namjoon’s agreement, the other guy carefully let’s go and makes room for you to take his place. You then look at Namjoon, who nods in confirmation. He does not seem too troubled carrying her alone, but you bet that he would get tired out very quickly if he had to do it over a longer period of time. “Okay, so gently approach her side and place your arms beneath her, so that she can lean onto you,” Namjoon instructs, and you do as he says, moving closer in a calm motion. “Where should I hold her exactly?” you ask as you are unsure of where you can support her weight the best. “Find my hands first,” he starts softly, and you nod while carefully moving your arms underneath her. With a soft touch, you sense around until your palms land on each of Namjoon’s hands. Holding them there as you wait for him to guide you further makes a blush threaten to expose itself across your cheeks. Normally, you would not so easily be affected by a touch like this, but with Namjoon’s warm and inviting nature, it simply feels more intimate in a way. Luckily, you manage to distract yourself from your flustered thoughts. “Then place yours next to mine,” he says. You move them from his hands to her skin, and you watch her reaction to make sure that she is not startled by you. Luckily, she seems to approve. Her grey surface feels warm and smooth yet is of an almost rubbery texture that makes her both soft and robust at the same time. You have never touched a dolphin before, and when you stand here and look at her resting in your arms, you suddenly feel very fortunate to get to. You can start to understand why Namjoon seems so invested in her. “Are you okay?” he then asks, checking in on you as he worries it will be a bit overwhelming, but to his surprise, you are actually fine with it. Excited, almost, to be a part of her recovery even if it is just through a simple act like this one. “Yeah, I’m good. She really is stunning, isn’t she?” you ask, finding her breathtaking, and it puts a smile on Namjoon’s face. “She is,” he agrees, looking at her with adoration. The two of you slowly step around in the pool in a circle-like motion to give her the sensation of swimming that she is used to from being out in the ocean. “Will she make it?” you ask, though you know that he cannot possibly tell yet. “I hope so. I believe in her,” Namjoon answers warmly, and you meet his eyes with a smile that he returns. “Does she have a name yet?” You ask as well, and he sighs. “No, not yet. I haven’t really thought of anything,” he states, furrowing his brows lightly. The two of you think to yourselves to come up with something fitting. Suddenly, you notice a small mark on her tale, shaped into a half-circle, and you gesture to it with a brief nod. “What about Moon?” you ask. Namjoon looks to where you nodded and finds the mark as well, making the connection between the two. “Yeah, I like that,” he says with a soft smile, and with that, you both agree. Moon, it is.

[nikatyler]

Hi :) Do you have any tips for telling a story through your gameplays? Or even starting a legacy challenge?

When I was in the middle of writing this, I realized it’s all over the place and not everything probably answers your question, but they’re all things I’ve learned in my three years of being a simblr and trying to tell stories through this game. I hope at least some of it will be useful 😊 There are currently 2 different ways I approach storytelling. My Rose Legacy is mainly planned in advance with breaks for regular gameplay (but I focus on the story, therefore less completely random stuff happens). Golden Days, aka the gen 4 story I keep talking about but haven’t shown much of, is planned in advance completely (I write it first, then I go in the game to take pictures) and has no true gameplay parts. And then there are NSB and BPR, which are mainly about me having fun with the game. A lot of random stuff may and will occur. I do some planning too, but nothing too heavy usually.

But onto those legacy tips now. Some apply more to Roses, some to my other two legacies. Just get inspired by what you think could work for you!

It’s under the cut!

1. Come in with no big expectations

This might be just a coincidence, but it’s something I’ve noticed happened with all my big legacies. The only intention I had when I started them was to have a good time playing the game that I love. Don’t immediately think “I’m going to make the best founder ever” or “this is it, I’ll never create a better legacy”. Don’t stress yourself too much about it, just have fun. Don’t force yourself to be head over heels about your founder from the beginning, you will form a natural “bond” with them and their family as you play and get to know them better. They don’t have to be the best sim in the legacy, you might like their children more. It happened in all my legacies: I like Ezra more than Amelia, Isaac more than Elizabeth, Roxanne more than Gwyneth and (even though it wasn’t like that from the beginning) Ross more than December.

2. Have a basic idea of what you want to do

I found that I like setting requirements for myself because if I don’t do that, I’ll do what I’m always doing in the game, and well, then it all gets boring so quickly. When you’re playing a challenge-based legacy, you already have these requirements you have to complete somehow. If it seems too easy, just add your own! I’ll be doing that in my grey generation because I’ve already finished a lot of the requirements during the yellow generation, and this one would be too short and easy.

3. Try things you’ve never done before

Step out of your comfort zone! Think about what you’ve never done or explored in the game before: complete some aspirations, master some skills, have a certain number of relationships your heir will have to have in their life, make a rule about how many children your sim will have…have these basic guidelines, but don’t forget to give yourself some freedom too. Which brings me to the next point.

4. Whatever comes your way, roll with it

This is something I’ve been doing a lot in my NSB and it’s so much fun. Your house is on fire? It sucks, but don’t quit. This sim keeps showing up and wants to talk to your sim? Maybe they could be friends…or maybe enemies. Or maybe enemies to lovers! Was your spellcaster cursed? Nice, don’t you dare to exit without saving, challenge yourself and break the curse. Do you get an impulsive need to abduct your sim? Turn them into a vampire? GO FOR IT! Go crazy. Do bizarre things. Act on a whim. Let your sims suffer from time to time. Get inspired by the awful things the game throws at you. You could also make a list of things to do in the game, assign them numbers and then use google to roll the dice. Actually, I think I’ve seen someone make something like this already, but I might be making that up right now.

Basically: have goals, but leave some free space for unexpected twists. It’s like life, isn’t it? You focus on something, but sometimes, you can’t get straight to it. Obstacles happen.

5. And what about story-heavy parts?

If you want to add a part of a story that is less about gameplay, go for it! It can be refreshing. I always plan these parts in advance. Also, if I’m in the middle of a storyline, I usually break the previous rule, meaning that yes, I pretend some things didn’t happen, and yes, I quit without saving when something doesn’t go right. 

A perfect example is when Miracle burned to death while I was setting up another scene. If it happened in a gameplay, I’d be heartbroken, but I’d keep it (and maybe I would get a new, different storyline out of it). But in this case, I was in the middle of the story and I couldn’t just let her die, it would affect everything and I wasn’t in the mood for that monstrous rewriting. (it was in the middle of quads’ storylines and really, I don’t think they’d be in the mood for going on dates right after their mother died, but that’s off topic)

6. If you need to, take a break

This sounds simple, but I’m always surprised how often people force themselves to open their saves just to crank out content for their simblr. Why? You’ll just end up being bored and bitter and very often, you can tell when someone isn’t having fun with their game (or simblr in general). It took me four months to feel like opening the Rose save again. It would be pointless to make myself load it up when I actually don’t want to play it. Remember what I said in that first point: you want to have a good time. If you’re not having it, just leave. Take that break. You don’t owe anything to anyone, and if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, well…they’re the asshole here, not you. You can get burned out or uninspired from time to time, it happens, it’s natural, don’t feel bad about it. Get some rest and then come back - next week or next month, doesn’t matter.

7. Small generations are the best

I learned this the hard way and yet I still find myself breaking this rule so often. Gen 5/6 of Rose Legacy were exhausting because there were just so many sims and so many stories I wanted to tell. I still ended up scrapping a lot of them and I’m not satisfied with it. My tip would be have less children per generation, but write down your story ideas and just use them in later generations. Be patient. In fact, as the time goes, you can develop these stories and get rid of the flaws, so in the end they’ll be better than if you have used them all in one generation!

8. Writing prompts, tags and ask games are amazing

If I develop a character more, I find it easier to get attached to them - and then I’m less likely to quit the save too. I’ve had many pretty sims, but I let them go in the end because they had no depth. You can always develop your sims on your own. No one is stopping you from sitting down and writing all the headcanons you have for them. 

However, what I find more fun are ask games with questions about your OC. Not only you’re challenged to think about something new (these questions can be about awfully specific things, I love when that happens), but you also learn which characters people are interested in or what they want to know about them, and then you can work with that too. However, don’t get discouraged if no one asks anything. It happens a lot and it’s hard to then not feel down, but you’re not the only one. It’s not even that big of a deal when you think about it! (I’m still learning this, by the way, I’m always discouraged when no one asks haha.) I’d suggest that you interact with others. One thing I always try to do is leaving an ask for the person I’m reblogging from - of course, sometimes I just can’t think of anything, but if it’s something as simple as dropping some question numbers, then why wouldn’t I leave them there and just pick a character I like?

9. Get inspired, but don’t become a copycat

This one…inspiration is great, but make sure you’re not taking it too far. I don’t want to draw a line where inspiration ends and imitation/copying begins, as I know that everyone sees it differently and what I’d consider copying someone else would still call inspiration, so basically, I’d just say follow your heart and be nice. Taking someone else’s storyline and just playing it step by step with your own characters is not okay. Also speaking of imitation - imitating a person’s writing style or sense of humor can sometimes be tricky. It comes natural to them, but you’re just trying to be like them and it might show and it won’t feel right. Allow outer sources to inspire you and shape you into a better writer, but stay yourself at all times and you’ll be just fine. 💕 

10. Play for yourself, not for other people

This probably should’ve been the first tip. Do the things you want to do, not the things that are currently trendy in the community. I mean, if you want to do the trendy thing, that’s fine! But if you’re only doing it because everyone else is doing it, well, you’re not going to enjoy it. Same with…let’s say you have a sim and she has to pick between two guys. A typical love triangle. You want her to end up with guy A, you have good reasons why you want her to end up with him, but your followers want her to end up with guy B. Maybe listen to their reasons and consider them, but in the end, you’re the one who’s making the decision. And if you still feel like she should end up with guy A, then just let her. Don’t completely give up everything to please your readers.

I can’t really think of anything anymore, but I think I’ve said enough. I hope it made sense. I wrote most of this on the train so yeah 😅 Also, sorry it took me so long.

[find-the-eyes]

I’ll Try Anything Once: Chapter 24

Written by: ss Edited by: Allegra

That morning, Bob found Paul had already left the flat, which was relieving since he hadn’t calmed down ever since last night. Sleep only came to him after hours of tossing and turning, and even then he still woke up with sweat pooling and heart racing. Not even his presentation in class today made him as nervous as his upcoming date.

Bob had never been one for public speaking, and presentation assignments never failed to make him tremble in his seat. His fidgety demeanor did not go unnoticed by his friend sitting beside him.

“Bob, are you alright? Presentation getting on your nerves again?” Alex asked.

“No...” Bob shook his head for a bit before correcting himself. “...I mean yeah.”

Alex furrowed his brows at this. “Okay...are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Bob tried to reassure Alex. He didn’t want to make a big fuss, especially since apparently Alex had noticed that he wasn’t his collected self today. He had his first ever proper date to worry about; he didn’t need Alex giving him any extra attention. Not when it should be Paul that he was supposed to think about. Sometime during his tossing and turning the night before, Bob had come to the conclusion that maybe he really should bury his feelings for Alex. It was more than apparent now that he and Alex would never become a thing, not with Nick in the picture, but he would still appreciate having Alex as a friend. “Hey, Alex, are you free this afternoon?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was wondering if I could drop Alvy at your place for the evening...?”

This seemed to pique Alex’s interest. He tilted his head in question. “Of course. But why?”

It took Bob a short moment before he could answer. He looked down at his clasped fingers. He was a bit embarrassed, yet he figured if he said his worries out loud it would help him overcome his anxiety. “I’m going out with Paul for the evening and apparently we can’t really bring Alvy with us.”

“Oh?” Alex had turned his upper body Bob’s way now. “Where are you going?”

“The Kelvingrove museum... I don’t think they’ll allow Alvy in though so if it’s okay, I’ll drop Alvy off at your place after class...” Bob bit his lip.

“Sure,” Alex shrugged, expression unreadable. If he thought anything about it, Bob couldn’t tell. But it was good enough for Bob and he could worry less now that he knew he was leaving Alvy in good hands. “I think Nick and Steckrübe would appreciate the extra company.” Bob pretended not to get too bothered by Alex mentioning Nick. He had other things on his mind.

Bob’s presentation went almost flawlessly, much to his surprise. As the class grew nearer to its end, Bob couldn’t even be bothered listening to everyone else’s presentations for the day. He always made an effort to listen to his peers, especially regarding academic affairs, but even talk about Bauhaus couldn’t distract him from thoughts about a certain dark haired man. When class was finally dismissed, Bob quickly said his goodbyes to Alex before they parted ways.

Bob hoped for a bit of time alone at his flat before the date to prepare himself. Maybe change his navy blue tee to a more prim button-down. But the way his key wouldn’t budge meant a key was currently dangling on the other side of the door, which meant Paul was already home. Shit. To Bob’s surprise, the door swung open before he could knock. Paul stood on the other side, all toothy smile with Alvy on a leash beside him. Bob noted the way Paul’s hair was combed tidier and the faint whiff of floral detergent from his crisp shirt.

“You’re all ready,” Bob unconsciously spoke his mind out loud.

“Yup!” Paul said. Hearing—and seeing—how enthusiastic Paul was for their date made the butterflies in Bob’s stomach flutter differently. He noticed the way Paul tried to busy his hands, moving Alvy’s leash to his right hand, a sweep to his already neat bangs, moving the leash back to the left, and then finally settling on putting a hand in his pocket instead. He’s nervous, too. Bob gave a small smile, suddenly feeling better.

“Give me five to change and then we can head over to Alex’s.” The eager nod Paul gave him almost made Bob laugh. After a quick switch to his best shirt and a glance at the mirror to make sure his hair was the right amount of casual messy, Bob was finally ready to head out.

When they reached the familiar front door of Alex and Nick’s joint flat, Bob gave a knock. The door creaked open and a nervous pair of eyes peered out. It was Nick. Bob tilted his head slightly so he could make his face seen by the shy man. He doubt Nick could see anything clearly through a crack that narrow.

“Hey, Nick. Alvy’s here.” The mention of Alvy’s name made Nick’s eyes light up. Still silent as ever, he opened the door to invite them all in. Bob heard the shuffle of footsteps from somewhere inside the spacious flat and soon Alex joined them. “As promised,” Bob passed Alex Alvy’s leash, “Alvy and Steckrübe’s second playdate.”

Nick appreciated the comment and gave a small laugh. After giving Alvy a kiss on his head, both as a goodbye and a good luck charm, Bob and Paul made their way down the stairs of the building. Their steps fell into stride as they headed to their destination.

“So, what were you up to today?” Bob asked, breaking their comfortable silence.

“Helped this lady get her lawn cleaned up,” Paul shrugged. “The pay wasn’t that good but she gave me—Ah, shit!”

Bob was taken aback by Paul’s sudden outburst. Paul had stopped, his face scrunched in annoyance. He quickly gathered himself and looked at Bob the way Alvy looked at Bob when he got caught knocking over the house plant again.

“She gave me some pie. I saved it for the occasion but...guess who forgot it back at the flat...” Paul tried his hardest not to look too gloomy, forcing an awkward grin at Bob.

After spending the entire day feeling on edge and trying his hardest to keep his cool, Bob couldn’t help but laugh. At first a grin, and then it turned into a giggle or two, and he ended up trying to hide his laughter from everyone at the bus stop. Paul’s thick brows were scrunched in confusion. Bob finally regained his composure when he noticed Paul pursing his lips and was looking down at his shoes.

“It’s okay Paul, really...” Bob tilted his head so he could see Paul, who was looking downcast. “I think it was really nice of you to save it for the occasion.”

Paul had stopped bending his head down, but he was still biting the insides of his mouth. “Yeah, but silly stupid me had left it back at our flat.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you...” Paul’s raised eyebrows indicated he didn’t believe Bob’s words, but Bob quickly interjected. “Okay, well, I was, sort of. But it was just...I was just really nervous all day for this so it all just...” he waved his hands, gesturing an outburst.

That managed to tug the corners of Paul’s mouth into a smile once more. “Feels good to know I’m a man worth getting all worked up for.”

Bob rolled his eyes and gave Paul a playful nudge. He silently thanked a higher power for the timing of the bus rolling up to the stop, because he didn’t know how long he could keep up the buddy-buddy charade with Paul the moment he’d said those words. The short bus trip to their destination offered Bob a bit of space to clear his head. He’d thought that once he arrived he would become a nervous wreck again, but he found out that the museum’s inviting presence felt like home, even if Alvy wasn’t with him this time.

As they stepped inside, Bob marvelled at the high ceiling and the displays the museum had to offer. He even almost forgave Kelvingrove for not allowing dogs in, though he still wished for the comforting grip of Alvy’s leash in his hand. He directed his mind and gaze to the hanging displays above them. He had always loved the arts, especially the visual arts. He had spent a lot of his past downtime in London wandering the silent halls of art museums, or turning the corners of an exhibition. Art had always been his place of comfort, and now to spend it with a person he would consider a good friend suddenly made the experience much more riveting.

“Oh, I like that one!” Paul pointed at a particular painting down the hallway. It was a contemporary piece, a painting of wavy lines gradually getting fainter by color. Bob had to agree, it was an aesthetically pleasing one to look at.

“Do you like the more contemporary stuff, Paul?”

Paul hummed before shrugging. “Eh, not really. I mean, I don’t really think about those kind of things. Each piece has its own special feeling and I’m just trying to enjoy it without much fuss...see, like this one here...” He made his way to another painting on the same wall and gestured at a collage piece. The rather abstract drawing was sketchy, the dark thin lines a contrast to the plain white background. “This is also great! It definitely evokes a more...” Paul tried to look for words, his hands moving as if trying to pull the words out of his mind, “a darker tone than the one before. Even though it’s a pretty brightly colored piece.”

Bob didn’t have any comment he’d like to interject. So he only nodded, taking into account how Paul viewed art. Paul went on again, commenting on the pieces they walked past. Once in a while pausing to give Bob room to comment, if he had any. But Bob was too engrossed at just watching how passionate Paul was at talking about art. He was starting to think that maybe the university was blind for turning down someone like Paul. They were inside the museum, surrounded by all these pieces, and yet to Bob the most enthralling thing he couldn’t take his eyes off of was Paul. Paul walking beside him, deep in his own thoughts and openly sharing them with Bob, the art pieces just a blur of color and shapes in the background that further complemented Paul’s boyish profile.

As they trudged their way to one of the corridors, Paul noticed Bob’s prolonged silence. He turned his head to see if Bob was listening, but he found Bob quickly looking away, the tips of his ears red. Paul was about to ask if Bob was still with him or not when Bob stopped in his tracks. His gaze was still away from Paul, but this time it was more focused at an object just a few feet away from them.

“Come here,” Bob walked his way to a plaster statue of a boy and a girl, their limbs intertwined. “This is Paul and Virginia.”

“Ah!” Paul replied in an amused tone. He noticed the change in Bob’s demeanor, the way he stood straighter and his entire face lit up. It was akin to when Bob was talking about art back in their flat just a few days ago, so Paul put on his best scholar attitude and he was all ears.

“This statue was based off Paul et Virginie, a French novel from the 18th century. This piece depicts Paul trying to carry his friend Virginia across the river.”

“Aww,” Paul cooed. “That’s very sweet of that Paul.”

“I’m sure you’re also sweet,” Bob said, only loud enough for Paul to catch a glimpse of it.

“Sorry?” Paul leaned closer to Bob, trying to catch what Bob was muttering under his breath. He swore he’d heard Bob utter his name. Bob himself only half regretted saying the words out loud. He would have liked to stay silent as usual, but he knew he had to be more engaging on his first ever date. He was at a museum with Paul, surrounded by art and with no one to judge them. There wasn’t a more perfect time for Bob to make a move, no matter how small.

“I-I think you’re also...sweet...” Bob’s voice faltered, but he braved himself to glance at Paul before shifting his gaze away again.

“Mate, you’re giving me too much credit!” To Bob’s surprise, Paul looked just as embarrassed as Bob. Bob didn’t know how nice it felt to make someone else fluster under his words, when it was always the other way around. He used this tiny boost of confidence to speak up again.

“I really think you’re a sweet man, Paul! You’ve been a really good friend to me.” And I would very much like for us to be more than friends, Bob almost said. He’d have to save that for a more appropriate time.

“You’re a really important person to me too, Bob. I really don’t know where I’d be without you.” Paul’s words had successfully made Bob’s heart flutter. The butterflies had never really left his stomach to begin with, and now there was an entire garden inside of him and Paul was the person nurturing it. He wished he could hug Paul, or hold his hand, or anything. His entire body itched from the lack of contact he desperately wanted. So they both just stood there smiling at each other, Bob awkwardly hesitating on initiating anything and Paul slightly flushed from the mushy confession.

They decided to keep walking in silence instead, Bob quietly absorbing the art and history artifacts around him with newfound rose-tinted interest. Paul had fallen into step as well, calmly enjoying the art while dropping short comments once in a while. Their comfortable silence was broken when they reached a certain part of the museum.

“Here you go, Bob. Here’s our Greece!” Paul opened his arms, as if presenting Bob with the Greek artifacts on display. They had reached the ancient history aisle. Bob had to laugh at Paul’s cheeky comment, even if it reminded him of Alex. The museum didn’t have that extensive of a collection, but what they had to offer was representative enough of what ancient Greek civilization was like. There were functional tools like household objects and war attire, but there were also objects that served more aesthetic purposes like sculptures. As they looked around, Paul seem to notice a certain pattern with the objects presented to them.

“Why are all the men naked?” Bob did a double take at Paul’s question before realizing that what he meant was the sculptures and paintings on the artifacts. He was pointing at a particular jar-like object. There were engravings of figures that were indeed in various states of unclothed. Bob racked his brain for an answer - he swore they had touched upon the subject of ancient Greece in his art history class. Then he remembered that during that particular lesson he had been too engrossed in staring at Alex to really pay attention to the lecture. Bob’s small frown deepened. Alex was barging on his thoughts once more, and in a way barging on his date with Paul.

Bob was silent for a while, deep in thought, trying to push Alex away from his mind while trying to emit an answer to Paul’s questions. He felt a warm hand press on his shoulder. Paul was giving Bob a pat on his shoulder, a small gesture that was firm in its touch yet gentle in its notion.  

“It’s okay, take your time.”

“Oh! Sorry Paul. I just...I can’t really remember the exact reason why. I think it had something to do with their ideologies...”

Paul let out a small laugh. “Well, when you’re ready you know I’ll be here.”

Even if Paul hadn’t intended it to come out vaguely, Bob still flushed. Once again Bob left Paul’s words hanging, but if Paul took any offense to it, he didn’t show it. Instead, they decided to keep walking. As they reached the main lobby once more, the high glass ceiling showed signs of the sky darkening.

“Well, what do you know. it’s dark already,” Paul said, his eyes to the skies.

“We should get Alvy,” Bob replied. Paul let out a small laugh at this. Of course the first thing Bob thought of was Alvy.

“Right. And pie is waiting back home!”

Bob felt the corners of his mouth tug in relief. Even if he was sad that the date had come to an end, he would soon come back home to his two most treasured friends.

--

Bob fumbled with his keys for a moment before unlocking his apartment door. Alvy, who they had picked up from Alex’s place, bounded inside, barking wildly and hopping up onto the couch. Bob shut the door and locked it behind them. He tossed his keys onto the coffee table and flopped down on the couch. He smiled and scratched Alvy between the ears and under his chin. He was just as happy as Alvy to be back home from an eventful day. Paul reached from behind the couch and gave Alvy a pat as well.

Without missing a beat, Paul slipped off his shoes and made his way into the kitchen. “Pie time? I’m starving,” he groaned. Bob heard the fridge door opening.

“Sure,” Bob replied, his eyes shut. He stretched his arms above his head, making his shirt ride up slightly. Paul paused in the doorway, pie and utensils in hand, and admired the sight before him. He smiled to himself as he tiptoed into the room and poked Bob's exposed belly. Bob shrieked and flailed his arms, nearly smacking Paul in the face. He stared at Paul with wide eyes, which only made Paul giggle.

“Sorry, couldn't help it,” Paul chuckled. He laid the container down on the table and opened the lid. Immediately the inviting smell of the pie made both of the boys sit up straight. Paul grabbed a slice and then pushed the container in Bob's direction. Bob, still slightly frazzled by Paul’s antics, took a slice as well.  

While Paul had gobbled up the pastry eagerly, Bob nibbled at it. Alvy sat at Bob's feet, looking up at him quizzically, hoping to get a taste of whatever Bob was eating. Bob just shook his head and stuffed the rest of the pie in his mouth.

“So, did you have fun today?” Paul asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Bob nodded. “I did. I'd been wanting to go there for a long time.” He reached for a second slice. “Great place to go for a date.”

Paul smiled. “A date, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?”

“Uhhh...yes?” Bob faltered. He felt the familiar rush of anxiety as his heart began to pound.

“Wait, really?”

“Really what?” Bob felt sick.

Paul looked at him seriously. “Like, a DATE date?”

“Yes—I—I mean— Yes?!” Bob clapped his hand over his mouth in horror as he realized what he'd just said. He leapt off the couch, letting his fork clatter to the floor, and ran down the hallway to their bedroom, not even pausing to look at Paul. He slammed the door shut and locked it before he threw himself onto his bed, hugging his pillow as hot tears slipped down his cheeks.

Fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK.

This was not the way it was supposed to happen. This wasn’t how Paul was supposed to find out. Bob’s first date ever and he had already let his true feelings slip. Paul most certainly didn't feel the same way. He would never want Bob now.

I ruined everything.