#Jane looks so weird without freckles...

[thebladesmithmuses]

Magic anon time !

Jane is transformed into a Koathian, with a power of the mun's choosing, for about three days or ten asks, depending on the preferences

M!A Koathian Jane: 0/10 Power(s): Empathetic Touch. Those with this ability can feel the emotions of others upon touch. The longer the touch, the more intense the feeling. From emotional state to physical health. If left long enough the owner of this ability will not be able to distinguish their own state from the other person.

"Oh!"

[slightlyhopefulromantic]

aaand here's deadlands! it didnt take seven months this time, who cheered?

i'll probably do another post grouping all of my line-ups together, but that's gonna wait for when i do the wyrdwood PCs as well :] more thorough design thoughts/smaller details will be under the cut, but im putting this here so that everybody has to know: their eye shines are all different card suits, except for nate, who gets J for the joker card :]

oxventurers guild | the hobby horses

unlike my other designs where i let everyone have individual colors/palettes, i tried to keep colors more consistent across these designs! the oxventurers guild has the fantasy element and theyre all very different, so the wide mishmash of colors are fine, and the hobby horses all have a lot of dark colors so that keeps them looking consistent together. but for these guys, i wanted a more consistent feel, so i tried my best to reuse colors between each design (especially between delacy and nate ^-^)

silas - ough. my boy. i wanted him to be broad with a strong build, and i hope i pulled that off :D i had so much trouble with his hat that i almost just didnt give him one, but eventually i decided it was better to just. give up and rock with it, even if he looks a bit like a mountie hbjgfjhd and he is wearing cowboy boots, theyre just tucked into his pants because he doesnt feel the need to flash them (looking at delacy, lol). he has spurs on his boots, even though he doesnt ride horses, because he likes the way they jangle <3

garnet - people really liked it when i gave garnet dark roots, so i have decided to always give her dark roots. i like how it looks hehehe and i also like to give her freckles!!! i think theyre cute!!! for the vest, i struggled for a while trying to capture the vibe of jane's vest, because its so so strange and specific in a way that makes it impossible for me to picture garnet without it. i'm pretty happy with where i landed with it, especially the pattern, since i've never tried to make a pattern like that before :3 i dont know why ive been loving patterns so much lately LOL but i will keep riding this wave and regret it later when drawing the designs again

edie - definitely the furthest departure from canon outfits, though still in the right wheelhouse. i just don't like drawing multiple layers of ruffled skirt. i didn't like how my sketches kept looking. i wanted to give her a skirt slit, especially after my friend reminded me about her thigh rifle holster. so today, i stared at a bunch of victorian ballgowns and party city costumes, and then completely redesigned her skirt before i lined these XD and i think it was worth it!! i love the layers and the way her rifle peeks out, and it meant i could show off more of her boots and give them a pretty design :]

delacy - my main thought going into drawing delacy was just. "i need to malnourish this boy" LMAO i refuse to believe that he is eating properly, i just know that he is not. otherwise, i mostly just stuck to the campaign art but scuffed up his clothes a bit. as implied on silas's notes, i very purposefully had his boots be Big. he's overcompensating a little bit :] also sorry i did not want to draw rooster so he just gets a generic handgun. i didnt feel like drawing complicated guns, and i wanted it to be a smaller handgun so that he could be poorly copying edie :') he has no trigger discipline but neither does edie so its fine

nate - that's just nate, baby!!! i think, canonically, he's meant to be a bit. emaciated. but i cant help but just picture him being a bigger guy, i think it fits his vibe better and its more fun for me to draw that way. i like having variety in body shapes, and garnet and delacy already have the rail thin thing down for this line-up. let my old man be fat !!! also. he has a weird nipple because he is transgender. heart emoji

[4veslil]

Can I have a oneshot with Edward and Bella doing house chores and being domestic?

Oneshot | Edward Cullen/Bella Swan | Domestic Bliss

A/N: Sorry this took a while! I sorta had a plan but just went with the flow since that’s what came to mind when I thought mundane, domestic bliss between a couple. I hope you like it! I certain enjoyed writing it! This is sooooo much more fluffy than the usual stuff I write but quite proud of it haha. So, without further ado, ENJOY! <3

★ MASTER LIST & REQUEST INFO ★

WORD COUNT: 1,740

Edward knew Bella tried to hide it, her books comprising of Mary Wollstonecraft, Mary Shelley, Virginia Wolf- obviously Jane Ayre. Bella was a collection of every woman pushing the boundary. While everyone reached for the moon she didn’t mind settling for the stars- hell, he certainly sparkled like one. So when he saw his human girlfriend open the door completely comfortable in a floral apron, bright yellow gloves and messy pony tail, Edward knew she’d given up hiding. 

He wouldn’t say she was a mess, Bella couldn’t be such a thing. She was frazzled at best, her hair having a mind of its own as it waved one side and straightened into a flick on the other. Her cheeks were positively flushed contrasting the snow white skin beautifully, drowning her constellation of freckles in a sunset sky. 

Looking at her reddened state, Edward couldn’t help but notice the wet sheen to the apron and collection of bubbles slowly tracing the contour of her face. 

Yes, she was completely and utterly frazzled. Bella knew she looked a state when she swung open the door to see Edward in all his glory. He had dressed perfectly for a date (that now probably wouldn’t happen). Bella found (after Volterra) Charlie could, in fact, care less for her boyfriend. The list of chores as long as her arm was a testament to that.

She hadn’t had time to put on the make-up Alice had bought her, the dress Esme had gifted her or get her ears pierced for the earrings Renee snuck in her room when she visited. It’d all become complete and utter shambles. Embarrassment coloured her face a bright, strawberry red. Edward was always so human.

The thought inspired her, it was a whip of lightening that spread a giddy anticipation.

“You’ve got something…” Edward smirked as he reached out. His thumb grazed lightly across her skin. He was always so cold but Edward always managed to make her feel warm.

Butterflies erupted in her stomach, fluttering under her skin like a pleasant tickle. If she wasn’t already used to it she’d be weak at the knees. He always knew how to make her fall further and when she hit the ground, he dug out the earth until she was embraced by the warm centre of the world.

“I never noticed” she nervously chuckled, rubbing after his touch.

“Guessing this is another one of Charlie’s schemes?” Edward quirked a brow.

Bella huffed, blowing a stray piece of hair from her eyes, “Oh I know it is. With the amount of stupid stuff he left me to do- who knows, I might be stuck here all evening!”

At the sight of Bella’s pouting, Edward couldn’t help but focus on her plush bottom lip. He could count on one hand how many times they’ve kissed but even if he lost track it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Well we can’t have that? Can we?” Edward teased as rolled up his sleeves.

Bella’s eyes immediately darted to the exposed flesh, still raised over the veins on his forearms. ‘God, is it weird to be attracted to your boyfriend’s arms?’ she internally gushed like a young school girl.

“Woah wait? You’re gonna help me?” She stepped back as he entered.

“Of course, more hands equals more time for our date” Edward shrugged, the human gesture curled Bella’s lips into a coy smile.

“You really don’t have to…”

“Don’t have to what?-“, before she knew it Bella was wrapped up in Edward’s arms, “Spend more time with my beautiful girlfriend in that stunning outfit?”

His laughter rumbled from his chest as her legs swung back and forth with the motion of his steps. So easily he carried her further into the house. Bella knew he didn’t have the strength to kiss like normal couples their age so she savoured when he wrapped his arms around her. He did it with ease like they always belonged- intertwined together.

“Stunning? Who would have thought my grandma’s apron and greasy hair got you going, Mr Cullen”

Finally, he delicately placed Bella down, for a moment she thought she was floating. Once returned to the floor, she couldn’t help but look into his golden eyes- bright like flickering candlelight.

“Well, when you’re the one with the apron and greasy hair of course you’ll be stunning-“ Edward complimented with a shy smile, “I find everything about you beautiful”

Bella was getting a hot flush, that had to be it, it’s all she could think to avoid the embarrassment of blushing like she was. To dispel her gooey feelings she deflected by quickly grabbing Charlie’s ‘#1 Dad’ apron and shoved it into Edward’s chest. She ignored the dull pain in her fingers from the force of it.

“Put this on and help with the drying up, I doubt rich kids like you ever get your hands dirty” Bella sarcastically drawled.

“I would have you know I would help our maid in the kitchen all the time”, Bella snorted aloud.

“Oh yes, of course Prince Edward, whatever you say”

The mock curtsy Bella gave her immortal boyfriend only invited his teasing. In seconds he was gone and back with a scoop of bubbles from the sink in his hands.

Her brow drew in a confused expression before he finally he let a rip. The squeals that excited her mouth were untamed when he expelled the air from his futile lungs. Like snowflakes the bubbles fell over Bella, sticking to her hair and clothes with its feather-light touch.

“That’s not fair!” Bella giggled when he returned with more bubbles, chasing her around the living room with a sly smirk.

They both knew it was silly to pretend she could out run him but their standoff around the sofa left little space in their minds to bother fussing over reality. They were trapped in a bubble that convinced them they were normal, just two humans so in love as they teased one another. They hardly got the time together to flirt like teenagers and chase each other around trailed by the song of young laughter.

“Are-Aren’t you meant to- y’know, help me clean this place, not make it worse” Bella stuttered. Edward always took her breath away but never like this. She was breathless out of unabashed bliss not simply awe-stricken by his unnatural beauty.

This time around Bella noticed the cow’s lick spiking a chunk of his bronze locks, how his awkwardly teeth pressed against his lips when he smiled, how (even as a vampire) he didn’t know what to do with his arms. She felt boring and it was painful to admit she yearned for it. In that life The Volturi, Victoria, The Wolves, Laurent, James- they were just bullies and cliques in a high school so mundane it made Forks High look exciting. Sometimes Bella lost her self in the fantasy.

She felt silly after waking up from those nights. Bella adored the slumber where she dreamt of Edward with warm skin, pink cheeks; the boyish musk of sweat following him.

In her dreams Edward had freckled cheeks- she even imagined a pimple on his chin. Her favourite fantasies were so human and perhaps unattractive to most. But, things like dry lips and heaving breaths trailing behind unstoppable laughter. God, Bella was thankful Edward couldn’t read her mind, how embarrassing it would be for him to know.

‘After all’ Bella huffed ‘Who thought their boyfriend’s arms were his most attractive feature? People would think I’m crazy. They might consider institutionalisation if they heard about my daydreaming that he was sweaty with pimples and dry lips’

“I really wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours” Edward smiled- a small, disappointed one when their game was finally over.

After twenty minutes, Bella had relented. Beating Edward in any game to do with fitness was futile. But she didn’t get too upset, she’d learnt to tone down her competitive streak with the Cullens (for now, while she was human).

“Well, my love, just gotta find out the human way- just like I do with you” Bella jumped to the kitchen, revealing too many teeth as her mouth stretched wide.

“Hey, maybe today is the day you get back in touch with your routes. Be- y’know, human” she shrugged.

Edward shook his head, eyes full of mirth as his teeth chewed on his bottom lip. He made them look so soft, that Bella knew she’d crack a tooth if she tried it. ‘Edward’s mouth came a close second to his arms’, she decided quickly.

“So that’s what our date is now? Practicing for our future domestic bliss?” He chuckled.

“Well, why not? Human or Vampire there’s still gonna be a house to clean” Bella shrugged with a shy movement.

She had given up on the possibility of her face losing its blush, Bella waved the white flag against her body’s traitorous tells. She was a hopelessly readable, not for the lack of trying to resist it.

The date had been left to the back of their minds as they quietly washed and dried the dishes, swept and mopped the floors and fluffed the sofa cushions. Despite the silence, both Edward and Bella, a couple fated to fail because of their natures, found peace in the simplicity. The house was homey, their smiles shy and teasing, their touches unbridled by the violent relationship between monster and man.

It such mundane chores the two lovers felt magic.

They felt everything was as it should be.

[elifanfictions]

Ghosts, Breathing Techniques and Past Tense Dialogues

Summary:

Peter B. Parker has a normal life and a job in a very forgettable scientific corporation. Dealing with grief, anxiety, skepticism and a very much huge identity crisis, he tries to navigate what he is through some weird people who claim to be Spider-Man as well.

His most important question, however, is how a pig has the spider-sense.

chapter 1: stay with me

Peter Benjamin Parker was fed up.

Gwen was dead, his Uncle too and meeting two other variants of himself and then saying goodbye to them too was pretty damn hard, they were like brothers to him now.

He was fed up loosing people he cared about. Since he came back to his universe, he tried to find his MJ. Until now, he didn't find anyone. No Michelles, no Mary Janes. So life went on, kept working for the same old laboratory. Days, months went on until the chief manager said someone would join them as a new colleague, someone called Marius Watson. 

Peter frozed instantly but then he thought: MJ should be a woman, right?

Another month passed by and his bosses said that on a Friday 17th this Marius was starting his internship. The day finally came. Peter went to work early and he saw a very tall, redheaded man in the hall, the brunette wondered if it was his first day, since he looked lost. 

«May I give you some help?» Peter asked politely.

«Ah, yes, I cannot find the right directions for the third floor» the boy voice sounded a bit anxious and relieved at the same time.

Peter smiled, the boy was cute: «You're lucky, that's my way as well» and silence followed him throughout the corridors. As they arrived on time, the chief manager exclaimed: «Oh, here you are Marius!» 

Peter turned around, in disbelief. Is he THE Marius Watson? 

While thinking that was not possible that his MJ was a male person, he went on his assigned place, sweating and fearing himself. 

The chief manager claimed their attention and the shy boy introduced himself.

«He's Marius, everyone» the manager said confidentially. Everyone started to clap and shouting ‘welcome’.

«Actually, I prefer MJ, if it's not a problem, sir» the younger boy corrected. 

«Not a problem by me, kid» the manager agreed. «Peter will be your mentor» he pointed to the brunette man.

That was so hard to process for Peter. He didn't exactly knew what very-old-Peter-MJ was supposed to look like but if it was deep red hair and shining green eyes, well, he was screwed big time.

«Hi, I'm MJ» the younger one greeted. 

Peter in that instant decided to be the asshole so he could distance himself and don't get attached. «Yeah, that's what I heard».

«Oh» MJ didn't hide his disappointment. 

«We better work» said Peter, harshly. «We aren't here to exchange pleasantries».

And they continued to work. Peter felt MJ gaze on him, and he was tempted to talk with the redhead. He stayed silent, clearly not on the verge of whispering to him “hey, you're the love of my life” because it would be definitely be weird and embarrassing.

When everyone finished, Peter was about to go when another colleague invited all of them to eat at the Domino's on the other side of the road. He said: «No, another time».

He stole a quick glance of MJ: handsome, so damn delicate and just now Peter noticed a constellation of freckles above his cute botton nose. MJ green eyes were angry and venomous. He had every reason to be pissed, especially with the silent treatment Peter gave him during the working hours.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

He went home, prepared some instant noodles and decided to watch Rebel Without A Cause. 

His apartment was in a filthy, depressed state with plates still in the sink from a month ago.

He moved to Brooklyn when he secured his job at that big chemical engineering corporation. Peter begged his Aunt May to live at least closer to her, but the elder woman strongly refused.

“I lived all my married life here, Pete. I want Ben to stay with me ‘till the end.” she said, one day, over the phone. “It’s now time for you to build your own nest, darling.” 

His love life lately was 404 Error Pete Not Found. 

Without even noticing, he fell asleep in the middle of the movie, thinking about Aunt May and his miserable life. He woke when someone shook him yelling: «Wake up, Peter, wake the fuck up».

Numbed by the sleep, glimpsed someone dressed like Spider-Man but the colors didn't really match. White, black and pink.

This Spider-Person took of their mask and what he saw was the exact replica of Gwen. Am I allucinating? 

He did something he later regretted: he woke up abruptly and hugged her tightly.

«Where have you been? The last thing I remember was ...»

The girl interrupted him saying: «Me dying? Of course. In every dimension I die. I'm not your Gwen Stacy, so could you please keep your hands away? It's uncomfortable, you know, you're twice my age.»

«Who are you then?» he said, abruptly going far away from this Not-Gwen. 

«Gwen Stacy» she said but then added something more specific, seeing his disbelief and teary eyes: «From another dimension, Earth-65.» She began to moving around, searching for something «I'm looking for Miles Morales, did you by any chance saw him?» her tone was sweet, almost ... in love? 

He studied this girl claiming to be Gwen and how different she was indeed from his Gwendolyne. Besides being an obvious younger version and carbon copy of his dead girlfriend, her style was indeed way different. She had an undercut hairstyle on the right part of her head, on the left her hair strands were magenta and obviously she was dressed as Spider-Man-Like outfit.

«So, did you saw him or not?» Not-Gwen tone was extremely impatient.

«But who is this Miles?» he asked, vehemently.

«He's his universe ...» but then she was interrupted by a ... pig? A Looney Tunes kind of pig, very cartooney, old styled Golden Age of Cartoon type of pig dressed in a Spider-Man suit.

«It's nice to chat with people Gwen, but I'll tell ya we didn't find him anywhere near in this Earth» this creature blurted out. «Who is this man?» asked the pig, wary.

«I'm Peter B. Parker» he said, sighing.

«Another Peter B.? Not gonna lie, this multiverse madness is atrocious.»

«Woah, woah, woah» Peter began to be pissed, to a certain extent. «So you are telling me that there are more other me and other Spider Things?»

«Hey, watch your language, human. I might be a pig but not stupid at all.» he then quickly switched subject and eyed Not-Gwen: «I am going to note Noir. He's strolling the streets like he's on dead or alive public matter, my sister in Christ, he's that dramatic. Is he going with us?» he then asked, pointing to him.

«No» Peter harshly replied.

The pig stepped in front of him, looking from below: «You sure are fun at parties.»

«I don't do parties anymore» Peter narrowed his eyes.

«Oh, I bet.» Peter then turned around to Not-Gwen and said. «Let’s go elsewhere. Miles is not here.»

Not-Gwen stayed silent for about two seconds and then seriously asked: «Why don't you come with us?»

«I don't know who is this Miles Morales guy, to be honest and I don't trust you both.»

«Please.» Gwen glared at him, her eyes full of determination.

Peter thought about it quickly and he snapped, annoyed: «Yes. Yes, YES! Ok.»

Not-Gwen smiled lightly, put her mask on and went outside, as if she was making a way for Peter.

The last thing Peter thought, before being in his Spider-Man suit, was: Fine, we're all going to die.

[grisailledreams]

Dancing Queen::

One (1) person ( @crowtrobotx ) showed interest a single time in this and they’re one of my besties so of course I’m going to shamelessly put it on display and make it everyone’s problem. Also I have no paternal relationship so I’m sorry if this feels weird or stilted.

DANCING QUEEN

Relationship(s): Father/Daughter, Dad!Arthur Morgan x OC Daughter

Tags: Fluff, canon divergence (Arthur ain’t dead), horse girl Arthur Morgan, Arthur gets to be a dad

Content Warnings: None, unless a daughter referring to her father as “Daddy” or Arthur using petnames for his kid (honey, sweetpea, etc.) makes your skin crawl.

Wordcount: About 1300

From the day his little girl pointed at the prancing show horses and gasped, “Daddy, I want to do that,” Arthur Morgan knew he was in for a long road of butting heads with high society without firing a single shot. He’d gone to that show to suss out what kind of horse Jane Morgan got on with best, anyway, but he hadn’t expected getting in the market for something so fancy. Dressage was a rich-people sport and required more than a Tennessee Walker or a paint like he’d anticipated.

Arthur found a Hanoverian breeder at that show, went to take a look at his yearlings, then brought one home for his Jane. A deep bay with long legs, white feet, and a blaze from nose to forelock, Jane promptly christened him Dancer.

By God, Arthur loved teaching her how to ride. Jane began confident where most kids clung to shyness - even Jack. Basics came fast. She flew around the meadow with her long, chestnut braid streaming behind her like Dancer’s tail, her sky-blue eyes dark and small against the breadth of her grin. Her hat kept the touch of the sun from adding to the spray of freckles over her face. Riding was the one time she wore trousers instead of one of her fancy dresses.

When she was a little older and Arthur was a little more rehearsed in dressage, she really tried to keep her movements elegant. She took her form seriously, though her commands came too gentle for her mount to listen. No balance between direction and imperceptibility. The first time Arthur tried to correct her, she’d gasped so loud that he immediately felt bad for saying anything at all.

“But Daddy!” she protested; he loved the way she said it, with the flowery affect that came from the highfalutin city ladies. “I couldn’t possibly be so harsh on Dancer!”

Which made Arthur laugh; Dancer probably had the envy of all of the old horses Arthur kept stabled from his rougher years, the ones who’d had to ride through shootouts and explosions and God recollected what else. He would never know harshness.

Arthur patted Dancer’s long neck. “Not at all, darlin’. But he’s a big fella with a little lady on his back. You have to try a little harder to get his attention is all.”

The tiniest pout plumped up Jane’s lower lip, but she wasn’t one for whining or tantrums. That besides, little lady was his magic mollifying phrase ever since she was old enough to understand what grown-ups were talking about. Jane took a deep breath, and gathered her usual serenity with a tiny nod. Dancer set off at a walk. Arthur caught his daughter’s lips moving, counting the beats of her horse’s gait.

He knew she was already trying to figure out how to make a horse waltz.

Unfortunately, Jane’s natural calm didn’t preclude her from perfectionism. He asked her if she wanted to register with a young ladies’ meet when she was twelve. She shook her head and said no, her transitions weren’t ready. Maybe next time. Six months later, Dancer was favoring one of his legs. She couldn’t put him through a competition in that condition! Every time Arthur pointed out another show coming up, regardless of how small it might be, Jane turned him down. She said she wasn’t ready.

He trusted her to know when the time was right, but Arthur always hugged her a little extra tight and put a little more emphasis on her highlights.

The first time he’d ever held her in his arms, he knew he had to shelter her from the ugliness of the world. By and large, he’d done that. Oh, she’d heard the stories of what he’d done in the van der Linde gang, but she’d always treated them like more of her favorite fairy tales. The Wild Swans, Rapunzel, Daddy the Outlaw. For her sake, he’d gone stra-

…. He’d changed direction.

The feds weren’t after him, anyway.

His princess deserved better than what he’d been doing.

It became his mantra over the years, once Jane turned sixteen and began riding with other ladies. Arthur stood at the fence for her first competition, near the other horse trainers hired for the well-to-dos, very aware of the wealthy merchants and bankers and socialites staring and whispering from their seats. He let Jane pick out a nice outfit for him - a smart blue shirt that he ended up rolling to the elbow, a black silk vest, matching pants - but everyone could spot an old, weather-beaten outlaw a mile away. The handlers didn’t pay him so much mind, he resembled them more than anyone else. One of the orchestra members even asked which girl was his student when he handed in Jane’s set.

“Number three,” he’d replied, grinning. “This is one of her favorite songs.”

As the competition began, he watched the first young lady on his way back; she handled a prettily-dappled Holsteiner to a classical piece Arthur might’ve heard at one of the concerts Jane’s mother used to drag him to back in the day. An announcer reminded the crowd that this girl was last year’s previous winner and had titled her mare in the interim. She had the touch of someone who’d trained for a long time. Good work. Jane was better.

But when he glanced over at the gate where his daughter waited, separated from the general crowd to keep the horse calm and prevent the riders from stealing peeks at one another’s routines, he saw her sitting too stiffly in the saddle and worrying the braided reins in her hands. The rest of her was perfectly presented from head to toe, from the top hat she chose with the brim a little wider than the others to prevent sunburn to the immaculately cut and kept riding jacket. She was just still as a statue and looked ready to crack.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he asked, careful to approach Dancer from a distance; if he touched that brushed-to-a-shimmer coat that Jane had worked so hard on before they went on, she’d get upset.

More than she already was. He saw her painted pink lips moving as if she fought the urge to chew on them. Funnily, seeing her anxious for once made her resemble her mother more than usual.

“I’m alrighty, Daddy,” said Jane, plastering on an affectionate smile just for him. “I… I know winning isn’t everything, but I do hope to at least perform well.”

Arthur squeezed her hands and said, “Hey, you’ve got nothin’ to be worried about, okay? You ‘n Dancer have been workin’ together for years with twice the skill as the rest of these girls. And ain’t none of the others look as smart and ready for their turn as you do.” Which, truth be told, Arthur had worried about in the beginning; Jane had a knack and an artist’s temperament when it came to how she - and, by extension, Dancer - looked, which might have caused problems if she hadn’t also put in the same dedication to the actual riding. “Besides, you’re a Morgan. We’re so good with horses, we got a whole breed named after us. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead, sweetpea.”

The first few notes of Jane’s “Stardust” score strummed out on a guitar. The announcer called her name and number, as well as Dancer’s. Jane closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then relaxed when she released it. Her hand briefly dropped the rein to squeeze him back. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you, too.”

She blew him a small kiss, then turned around in her saddle and straightened out her posture. Dancer picked up his hooves and found the beat of the song without her moving a muscle. Arthur followed and stopped at the gate, propping up a foot on the lowest rail, and leaned forward. He’d never seen a horse do a foxtrot before. The way Dancer seemed to barely touch the ground, he knew Jane belonged in a ballroom like a proper princess.

[achaoticeternal]

willow // r. weasley

RON WEASLEY X READER folklore/evermore series masterlist

Summary: Ron, Harry, and Hermione have always been your closest friends. But as we grow up and people change, how do our feelings change? Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: time jumps and weird flows but it makes sense so that the story can build. harassment. gushy love stuff (gross) A/N: based on the song willow by taylor swift

As the years passed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, students would flourish into adolecense making them young fools for years to come. But as you often quoted to your dear friend Hermione, “We are all fools in love” - Jane Austen.

“Well if we are simply all fools in love, then tell me where is your knight in shining armor?” The young witch teased you as you sat in the courtyard, reading and simply enjoying each other’s company. 

“Oh, please, Hermione. You know me better then to be some dimwitted girl who chases around a boy who is oblivious to her affections. In fact, I feel bad for the girls who do, because if they were a little more patient, they would see that good things come in due time.”

“Really? And which prized author said that?”

“I did!” The pair of you snickered as your attentions drifted around to see if you could spot the topic of your conversation.

The two of you seemed to be the only fourth year girls who hadn’t taken fascination with boys in your year or older. Every day in the Gryffindor Common Room, many girls gossiped about the latest drama that had developed and which boys they swear fancied them. And though you enjoyed chatting with your female peers, you and Hermione had felt quite left out of the crushes and strange romances beginning to blossom.

Well, you both were left out until Viktor Krum swept Hermione off her feet, and you couldn’t exactly be mad at her for it. In fact, when she confided in you about her fling with the foreign man, you were completely ecstatic as you both giggled at how the other girls at Hogwarts would react. Jealousy took quite a toll on many girl, and apparently a few men. 

And even furthermore to Ron’s surprise, both of you had gotten dates to the Yule Ball before Harry or himself could ask you. Roger Malone, a kind Ravenclaw who you had Divination with, had asked you and you did have a wonderful evening. Even if Ron persistently made snide remarks about him before, during, and after the ball had concluded.

However, your fourth year and seemingly most dangerous year at Hogwarts, was quickly coming to a close with the students of Beauxbaton and Durmstrang leaving just a few days ago. The Summer Holiday was coming up quicker than you expected and soon your small group of friends would all be returning to your homes.

“Everything is going to change now, isn’t it?” Hermione asked our group of four after our international peers has departed.

“Yes, but we have each other.”

Once you had stepped of the Hogwarts Express, your parents whisked you away to the family summer cottage so that you could forget the grief of the past year. From watching the trials of the tournament, to puberty, and to loosing a classmate; life was quickly moving forward and your parents began to fear the return of The Dark Lord. 

Yet instead of being caught up with family time and walks along the beach, your mind counted down the days until you would be spending time with the Weasley family again before classes started. You always felt welcomed by the family of gingers and were thrilled that you were invited back after attending the Quidditch World Cup with them last summer.

For the last month, you had been owling your friends weekly, yet you seemed to be sending and receiving owls from Ron every other day. He had never been much of a writer, but claimed in his letters that he was extremely bored with the twins now being of age and not seeing his friends yet that summer.

When it became closer to time, Ron wrote to you saying that the Weasley’s had temporarily moved to a town home in the city, but that you were still welcome to join. He then wrote that his mother had owled your parents about the change and your arrangements to join the Weasley’s before school began.

And before you knew it, you were heading the Grimauld Place.

“(Y/N), darling, its time for us to go!” Your father called down from the bottom of the stairs.

You stomped down the stairs in your new summer clothes, rushing next to your parents at the fireplace. Your clothes and bags had already been sent off and now you’re parents would be sending you off as well.

“Change of plans, dear. We will be join you and the Weasley’s until dinner.”

“Alright, is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, everything is fine. We just have to attend a brief meeting and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

You and your parents arrived in the Kitchen of the hidden apartment without a hitch. Both Weasley parents along with their son, Bill, stood closest to you. From where you stood, you could also see Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Professor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and to your surprise, Professor Snape.

“My heavens, its good to see you, (Y/N). Ron is upstairs, along with Hermione and Harry who only arrived in the past hour.” As soon as you had arrived, Mrs. Weasley had ushered you out of the room and shut the door quickly.

You looked around the dark hallway in order to try and get some idea of the flat you would be staying in for the next couple of weeks. Your gaze moved to the stairs and you began to stalk over to them and slowly make your way up, observing the wall paper and where it started to peel away from the wall. You had made it up the the landing, looking over strange vases and jars. 

Their was a faint whisper that you nearly missed, “Bloody hell.” Suddenly there were foot steps rapidly approaching you, yet your feet remained in place, your body unmoving, “(Y/N)!,” you body turned quickly towards the voice. Ron and you were chest to chest, nearly clashing into each, the red head beaming down at you as he pulled you into the hug. 

Ron had grown quite a few inches over the summer, now making him comfortably taller than you. His once long hair and been trimmed up and framed his face nicely, but still kept a boyish length that matched his personality. His embrace was warm as he pulled you tight to his chest, making your cheeks flush a dusty pink. You took the opportunity to breathe in his scent; cinnamon, flannel, and a crackling fire met your nose. Ron hadn’t completely changed, but he was certainly grown from the boy you had last seen near two months ago. It was new, like the warmth now in your chest.

“Oh-ho, look what we’ve walked into, Fred,” George called out from the end of the hallway.

“The two love birds are reuniting, George, we must not dare interrupt them,” Fred teased, the pair of them now approaching.

Ron had released his grip on you and glared at his brothers, his features showing his irritation, “Will you two bug off?” His freckled cheeks burned a deep crimson, leaving you questioning if it was out of embarrassment or that you two were caught in such close proximity. 

“Don’t be such a git, Fred, now that Angelina has broken up with you, again,” Ginny teased the twin as she approached you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Harry and Hermione are in the other room,” Ron said and whisked you off after departing for Ginny. His fingers intertwined with yours as he he tugged you down the hallway with dull walls.

After reuniting with your friends and the meeting in the kitchen being adjourned, it was time for the group to either join for dinner, or depart. Your parents decided to depart shortly after the meeting and bidding you a sweet goodbye along with a few other members. However there was still quite a crowd that Molly had left to feed. 

Once dinner had concluded after much laughter and discussing the past summer and what this upcoming school year held, people began trickling away from the dinner table. This left just the Weasley family, Harry Sirius, Hermione, and yourself.

“Well, Ron, it is your turn for dish duty tonight,” Molly told her youngest son while levitating all the dishes towards the sink.

“I can help you if you’d like,” You looked to Ron who was sitting in front of him.

“(Y/N), dear, you don’t have to do that. You are a guest here. Ron will be able to handle it.”

“Well, she is welcome to join me by staying in the kitchen or help,” He smiled warmly at you and a new found warmth spread through your chest. Never had such a feeling come to fruition in you.

The rest of the group departed from the kitchen with only yourself and Ron remaining. Wordlessly, the two of you approached the sink. Ron began to wash the dishes, while you jumped up on to the counter next to him. As he cleaned them, you would dry them. It was a nice and soft moment, the pair of you making light conversation.

“It’s just all crazy to me, how much we’ve grown recently. I mean, this summer has felt like years when it’s really been only two months since I saw you last,” Ron handed you a plate as he complained.

“Well why are you complaining? You practically grown three summers worth in one,” you giggled and he lightly splashed the tap water on you. 

“Do I at least still have my boyish charm?” He stuck his tongue out at you as you squealed and upon settling, sent you a wink. You scrunched your nose in response, as you attempted to distract him away from the warmth that spread across your face, “I’m teasing, I’m teasing.”

All the dishes were soon washed, dried, and placed in there respective cabinets all without the use of magic, “You know it’s nice to have you around again,” Ron spoke, placing the final cup into the cupboard. He then strolled his way over to the counter where you sat, leaning his hip against it as he faced you.

“I love my family, but they don’t give me the same sense of home that you do...” By that time, Ron had managed to snake his way between your legs and then counter. His face was mere inches from yours and you create various constellations with the freckles on his face. The pair of you stayed their in each other’s warm presence, not wanting to leave the situation, yet wondering whether to take it further. 

The tension began to feel overwhelming as you began to get lost in whatever feeling was happening between the pair of you. So you tried to rationalize the situation like you always did and pulled him into a close hug. Your arms held tightly around his shoulders as you felt the same temptation to wrap your legs around his waist. He latched his arms around your waist with the same fever, “Would it be completely crazy that you feel like home to me?”

Soon the summer holiday melted away into another year at Hogwarts, except this year presented itself in stranger circumstances. At the end of term, you were to take your O.W.L.S and prepare for a career in the wizarding world. However, there was yet another new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who was interesting to say the least. Hermione has whispered to you at dinner the first night that the Minister himself placed Dolores Umbridge at Hogwarts to spy on Dumbledore. 

And to make things stranger, Dumbledore was barely around the castle like in years before and Harry kept having strange dreams about He Who Shall Not Be Named. Umbridge also refused to teach her students magic through practice and so your quartet had taken it into your own hands to begin Dumbledore’s army. All through the fall term and now into the spring, your ragtag group had successfully practiced and avoided the toad discovering your whereabouts; moreover, your relationship with Ron had started to change since summer and it made you nervous. 

When you confided in Hermione after the events at Grimauld Place and her taking notice to both Ron’s and your body language, she tried her best to put it into words for you. “You have a crush on Ron, (Y/N)! And apparently he fancies you, as well.”

“But ‘Mione, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never really had a crush like this before. And I don’t want him to become a distraction with the O.W.L.S at the end of the year,” You tried to reason out things, and make everything seem more logical like you did with every other problem that had faced you before.

“This is one thing that can’t be control with logic and reason. That’s not how emotions are supposed to be felt,” she giggled as she squeezed your hand in hers. 

“I-I know, but I feel like a...a little pixie. constantly hanging around him and in the way of everything and-”

“(Y/N), I think that Ron prefers to have you around,” The bells chimed outside the castle, “I’ll see you at practice after class.”

“See you,” And with that, Hermione left for her final class of the day and you went about roaming the castle on your free period. 

You strolled around, admiring the ancient castle for all her walls had to offer where you now found yourself in the westwing. You were one of few students your year to be allowed to take a free period because of your academic standing and use that time for study or leisure. 

When you neared the hall where the Room of Requirement was, you placed yourself in a window sill to simply enjoy yourself. You pulled out one of the Herbology books you picked at the library and began reading as you relaxed. Yet the moment was short lived as you heard a voice call your last name.

“(Y/L/N), (Y/L/N)!” Draco Malfoy was strutting down the corridor towards where you were seated.

You jumped down from your ledge, giving him a curious look, “Is there something I can help you with Draco?”

“Why aren’t you in class, (Y/L/N)? You could loose points for Gryffindor for not being where you should be,” He snarled at you.

“It just so happens I have a free period to do what I please with myself, so if you will pardon me-” You snatched your bag, but before you could turn to leave Draco snatched your wrist into his hand.

“You’re a terrible liar,” He sneered, his face inching closer to yours.

“Malfoy,” Ron appeared behind you, his presence jarring Draco into letting you go. You backed yourself into Ron’s chest, allowing him to be your protector from the Slytherin boy. He ghosted his hand over your hips as if he were trying to pulling you further from Draco, “What seems to be the problem?”

“(Y/N) here seems to be skipping class, which is such a shame since she’s supposed to be such a bright little witch. I figure a detention with Umbridge should straighten her back up.”

“Excuse me,” you quipped to defend yourself and Draco glared daggers at you.

“See happens to have a free period mate, so just bugger off, mate,” Ron stepped in front of you to guard you from the predator that was in the form of Draco Malfoy, “Why don’t you go perform your prefect duties where there are actually students skipping classes or causing trouble?”

Draco’s eyes flickered between the pair of you, and you couldn’t tell which of you he disdained more in this moment, “Whatever, Weasley. I knew you were ever a filthy Pureblood, but I didn’t expect it from you, (Y/N). Both of you and your families are disgraces of Pureblood Wizards.” With his final blow, Malfoy stomped off in the opposite way to find his next prey.

Immediately, you let out the breathe you didn’t even realize you were holding, “Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

Ron now faced you, holding your arms with his large hands, as his eyes scanned for any outward physical or emotional distress Draco could have caused you. You knew that Ron wouldn’t hold himself back from throwing the first punch if he suspected Draco has hurt you.

“I’m quite alright, Ron. I’m just glad you found me when you did, before Draco could take me to her office,” you shuddered at the thought of Umbridge and what she had done to your peers.

His hand flew to your face as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His blue eyes gazed deeply into yours, searching for some sort of answering that hid behind his eyes. “Ron-?”

Before you could continue speaking, Ron pressed his lips to yours and you responded just as quick. A strong feeling in your gut assured you that this is where you were supposed to be, in Ron’s arm, his lips connected with yours. Every emotion that every girl had talked about when being around a boy suddenly made sense, and felt more intense with Ron. After what felt like a lifetime, the pair of you pulled apart from each other. 

He offered you a half-smile as he appeared too love struck to form a coherent sentence, “I-I”, you pressed another kiss to his lips as if to bring him back into reality. After all this time, everything seemed right and perfect in this little moment in time. 

It didn’t matter that Umbridge kept sending out her wolves to discover your little army, or if it was only due time till Voldemort made an appearance. Ron was at your side and you were by his through anything that could possibly happen in this lifetime or any other. 

Once you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and giggled, “Is now a bad time to say that I quite fancy you?”

“You’re unbearable, Weasley,” You scrunched your nose and turned, beginning your walk to practice. When you didn’t hear him behind you, you turned to see his standing there with his mouth hanging open. You sighed and offered your hand out, “well, are you coming?”

The red head grinned as he took your hand, taking large strides as he giggled, absolutely over the moon that he had just kissed you and was now holding your hand. The pair of you, hand in hand, made your way to join your friends in the Room of Requirement, preparing for whatever came ahead of you.

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300 followers gift fic: beach episode

instead of taking a writing break i finally finished the crackfic i promised for 300 followers! it’s a little weird and i,, kind of make fun of frank a little too much but i hope you enjoy the silliness nonetheless!

characters: david, dwight, steve, ace, quentin, frank, julie, susie, joey ship: david x dwight warnings: mild violence, mention of blood word count: 6950 (hELP)

David feels his feet hit the ground as he’s teleported into a trial, the fog of the Entity slowly clearing from his mind. He opens his eyes—

—and promptly has to close them right after because bloody hell it's bright!

“Woah! Look at this!” an awestruck voice exclaims from somewhere nearby, and David thinks it's Steve, finally managing to squint his eyes open enough to try to make out their surroundings.

As soon as he does so, he immediately decides he's hallucinating.

He's on a sunny beach. There's waves slowly rolling onto the fine white sand and the sun is shining bright, high up in the clear blue sky.

The only thing that stops David from being sure that he's dreaming is Steve smacking him on the shoulder and uttering an excited “Dude, are you seeing this?” because if he was dreaming he sure as hell wouldn't be here with Steve.

“Where are we?" a voice that sounds much more fitting for his dream pipes up from behind him, and David turns to find Dwight making his way over. "Did—did we escape…?” their leader's tired eyes are wide with hope, and he rubs his arms nervously and—

Holy shit, he's shirtless.

Steve is shrugging and replying something to Dwight, but David's brain can't comprehend anything that isn't Dwight and his surprisingly well-defined, freckled shoulders and the adorable chub around his waist and fuck, David bets his skin feels so soft—

“What do you think, David?” Dwight asks, and David forces himself to tear his gaze away from Dwight’s torso to his face. But then he has those big, brown eyes looking up at him and searching for guidance, like David is even half of the leader Dwight is.

“Don’t seem like a trial,” David manages to get out through the mess of thoughts that is his feelings for the man. “Should look around—you stay close to me, eh?” he urges their leader, despite knowing full well Dwight is more than enough capable of looking after himself.

He takes some comfort in the fact that despite Dwight being aware of that too, the man responds with a nod and a small, if a little shaky, smile.

“Come on guys, hurry up!” Steve calls from a short distance away, reminding David that they’re not, in fact, alone. They follow the excited teen, walking along the shoreline.

As Steve prattles on about how warm it is and pesters them about whether or not they know how to swim, David tries and fails to focus on their predicament and not let his eyes wander.

He notices Dwight is wearing red board shorts with a pizza slice pattern, and tries not to smile. He wonders if it’s something he owned in the real world, or that the Entity made up just for this occasion. Either way, they’re way cuter than they have any right of being.

“Dude, I like the shorts!” Steve’s voice finally gets through to David, probably because he’s looking a little too intently at Dwight’s neither regions, but then he thankfully turns to give David the same treatment. “Yours are… uh, kinda neat too!”

And for the first time David actually takes a look at his own outfit. He hadn’t even realized he was also in swimwear, so used to going shirtless trial after trial. But sure enough, the Entity has put him in dark blue swim shorts, and he snorts upon spotting the cartoony beer pint pattern. He sure as hell has never owned a pair that looks like this, so apparently the Entity is enjoying playing dress-up with them.

“I think yours are cool too,” Dwight returns the compliment and David goes back to glaring at Steve, who grins and shows off his (really fucking ugly, in David’s opinion) striped shorts with pictures of ice cream cones.

Steve, thankfully, doesn’t have time for what would no doubt be an obnoxious reply, the sounds of an argument drifting over to the trio.

“—you should let me do it! I have Plunderers!” David recognizes Ace’s annoying voice before he spots the man, standing over what looks to be someone searching a chest.

“And I have Pharmacy, so shut it,” Quentin’s messy mop of hair appears over the chest when he offers a half-hearted glare at the gambler.

“Nobody wants a dusty old med-kit!” Ace huffs, hands on his hips. “Who knows what else we could find?”

“Too late,” Quentin snarks and finally rips the lock off, Ace sighing in defeat as he opens the chest. “What the… what’s all this?”

“Oi, what’s going on?” David walks up to the duo. “Did’ya find somethin’?”

“Hey, buddy—” Ace greets before David shoves his way past the man, peering into the chest that has Quentin so confused, coming face to face with…

“Beach equipment?” Quentin summarizes, lifting a water gun and a towel from the chest.

“Cool!” Steve has joined them and, predictably, gets excited, grabbing the toy immediately.

“Have you two seen anyone else?” Dwight asks Quentin and Ace, trailing after Steve to join them.

“Nope!” Ace chirps, grabbing a pair of sunglasses and a beach towel from the box. “Looks like it’s just us, unless the rest are… I don’t know, out at sea?”

“Half expected to run into a killer,” Quentin muses. “Guess we got lucky it’s just the five of us instead.”

“Shame it's just dudes. I bet the girls would've—uh,” Steve says, before seeming to realize how desperate he sounds. “Really enjoyed it too…?” he finishes with a sheepish smile.

“Uh-huh,” Quentin deadpans. “I'm sure that's the reason.”

“It's a tragedy the new guy isn't here," Ace sighs wistfully. “I’d pay good money to see him shirtless.”

David rolls his eyes while Dwight, embarrassed, chokes on nothing.

“Y-you shouldn't talk about Felix like that,” their leader stammers, completely oblivious to how David was ogling him earlier.

“Just saying what half of the camp is thinking,” Ace shrugs.

“I wonder if Jane's coming?” Steve seems to realize, glancing around as if expecting more people to pop up out of thin air.

“You're both disgusting,” Quentin snorts, starting to walk away from the group. “I'm going for a swim."

“But we don't know if it's safe!” Dwight calls after him.

"I mean… if I drown in Entity goo, don't come after me," Quentin merely responds, putting on some swimming goggles and making his way to the shoreline.

“I wonder why Quentin’s in a speedo and the rest of us have trunks?” Steve thinks out loud, and sure enough, David realizes he’s right, noticing Quentin’s swimwear when he swan dives into the ocean.

“Didn’t he use to do competitive swimming?” Dwight points out, because of course he would, because nobody knows any of them quite as well as Dwight, because he’s an amazing leader and friend and—

David’s train of thought comes to a halt when he glances around and notices what has to be a crime against fashion.

“I’d rather a speedo than whatever the fock tha’ is,” David snorts, gesturing to where Ace is laying his beach towel, wearing a pair of hot pink swimming trunks with a banana pattern, along with a trashy, bright yellow aloha shirt. Apparently he’s gotten so used to the man’s questionable style that he didn’t even notice the travesty until now.

“Aww, come on David!” Ace grins, taking his jab in stride. “I know you really wanted some pink shorts too.”

“It’s kinda funny that the Entity gave us shorts with our favorite food!” Steve grins while rummaging through the supplies in the chest. “I love ice cream, Dwight obviously likes pizza, and David beer, and Ace—”

“Cock,” David finishes the sentence, eyeing the banana shorts suspiciously, while Ace bursts out laughing, Steve’s eyes fly wide open and Dwight sputters something unintelligible.

“David!” Dwight finally manages to scold him, face red from embarrassment. “You can’t just say stuff like that—”

“Yeah yeah, sorry luv,” David grins apologetically, immediately cursing himself for letting the pet name slip. “’M goin’ for a swim too,” he decides, making his way to the water to try to get his thoughts in order.

David’s never been much of a beach person, not having enough patience to sunbathe and not a huge fan of swimming, either. But he can’t deny the warmth from the sun, even if fake, feels nice, and the soft sand under his feet is pleasant. When was the last time he even walked barefoot?

His toes touch the water and that’s where the pleasantness ends because goddamn, it’s cold! David can’t remember the last time he felt an actual chill, as the Entity seems determined to make sure they’re never too hot or too cold, even the snowy grounds of Ormond feeling room temperature.

But now, David has to grit his teeth as cold shoots through his system just from dipping his toes in. He glances at Quentin, still swimming around without a care in the world, and can’t imagine how the hell the teen managed to dive right in without going into shock.

David glances over his shoulder, wanting to see if someone’s looking at him freaking out over the water like a scared kitten. Steve is still engrossed in pulling out all the contents of the crate, before he hands a bottle of something to Dwight, who squirts some into his hand and starts—lord have mercy—lathering himself up with the sunscreen.

And David is helpless to do anything but stare, seeing Dwight work the creamy substance into his equally creamy skin, starting with his arms and then working it into his chest. He runs his hands down his torso, covering himself self-consciously when the softness around his belly jiggles slightly with the movement, and god what David wouldn’t give to be able to do that for him. He’d work the lotion into the skin nice and slow, taking his time and making sure to murmur how perfect Dwight looks and how good his body feels—

David’s brain does the equivalent of a record screech when his perfect, half-naked angel walks up to Ace, of all people.

“Ace, can you… uh, give me a hand with my back…?” Dwight asks nervously, holding out the bottle of sunscreen, and David thinks he's going to burst a vein from how much his blood pressure rises upon hearing the request.

Ace sits up on his elbows, before looking over his sunglasses with a smirk like the disgusting pervert he is, and David swears that if he lays a finger on Dwight's bare skin he's fucking throwing fists—

But then Ace's eyes meet his and a trimmed eyebrow raises in acknowledgement, still with that infuriating smirk on his face, and David's anger gives way to mortification because shit, what if Ace knows about his little crush?

To his relief, Ace just ends up sighing.

“Can you ask someone else? I'm kind of busy,” the gambler says, flopping back down to lay on his towel.

“Oh, okay…” Dwight says, looking so disappointed, and David’s breath catches in his throat because this is his chance!

“What the fuck, Ace?” Quentin emerges from the waves beside him before he can do anything. “Not everyone has your complexion. Some of us burn really easily,” Quentin scolds, walking up to the duo and no doubt glaring at the gambler. “Come on, I’ll help you,” he offers to Dwight, who returns a grateful smile.

Quentin starts rubbing the cream onto Dwight’s back, and then has the nerve to ask if Dwight can return the favor, so David grits his teeth and marches into the ocean to cool off so he doesn’t end up pile driving the teen into the sand.

He only manages to get deep enough for the water to reach his junk before he instantly regrets the decision, the cold making things shrivel up unpleasantly. He ends up just ducking his head into the water and wading back to shore, hoping that Dwight the others didn’t see him chickening out for the second time in a row.

The others are still engrossed in their own activities, Steve filling up the water gun in the shallows and Ace looking to doze off in the sun, Quentin and Dwight chatting nearby.

And nobody sees the strange group approaching from the treeline behind them.

“Oi!” David calls, getting the attention of his friends and picking up the pace to get to Dwight in case the strangers mean bad news. “Hope yer not lookin’ fer trouble,” he addresses the new group, causing the others to finally take notice of their company.

“Who’s that?” Quentin asks with a frown, taking in the sight of four people, two girls and two guys, dressed in swimwear and one of the boys even carrying a large swim ring on his shoulder. The group’s animated chatter dies down as they seem to notice their company.

“Oh my god, this is fucking typical!” one of the group, a young woman with blonde hair and a plaid bikini, scoffs in offense.

“What the fuck are you guys doing here!?” a skinny man with very questionable choice of swimwear, pastel purple board shorts with rubber ducks, demands.

“Fuck me, is the Entity pranking us?” the other man sighs, dressed in much more bland swimwear with black and white skulls.

“Aww,” the final member pouts, twiddling with her bright pink braid over her pink and black bikini. “Frank, you didn’t tell us there’d be others!”

David’s brow furrows upon hearing the name; it sounds familiar, but he can’t quite place it. Luckily, Dwight is much more of a quick thinker than he is.

“L-legion?” Dwight squeaks, his eyes going wide in fear, and David is now back to full alert because he’s right, they group is definitely the killers, David just didn’t connect the dots because of how normal the kids look.

“What, you gonna scream? Cry?” the leader, Frank, taunts obnoxiously, strutting to the front of his posse. “How about you guys go fuck yourselves and leave the beach to us, before someone gets hurt?”

Dwight takes a step back while David takes one forward, anger bubbling up because who the fuck does this prick think he is—

“Nice swimmies, Franky,” Quentin suddenly pipes up, making David stop in his tracks. “Did your mommy pick them out for you?”

“Tch—” Frank balks, his face scrunching up in anger even as redness rises up on his cheeks.

“He might have lost a small bet,” the pink-haired girl, David doesn’t recall her name, quips cheerfully in response.

“Shut up, Susie!” Frank hisses at his friend, before turning back to point at Quentin accusingly. “Of course you had to bring this waste of space, too!” he seems to direct the complaint at Dwight.

“S-sorry—” Dwight starts.

“Don’t,” David orders, placing a large hand on Dwight’s shoulder and stepping between their leader and the Legion’s. “This arsehole don’t deserve yer apology."

“Oh yeah?” the bigger guy, David thinks he remembers hearing his name is Joey, steps forward to back up his friend. Unfortunately, he doesn’t intimidate David in the slightest, especially not with only an inflatable beach toy as his weapon. “Maybe you should think twice about picking a fight.”

“Guys…” the blonde girl starts, sounding exasperated.

“Come on Jules, knives or not, we can take them. Easily,” Frank tells her, and David notices both Dwight and Quentin tense next to him, preparing himself to dodge a swing any second now—

“Ahoy, ladies!” Steve suddenly shoves his way to the front of the group, offering the two girls a cheeky grin and cocking his water gun against a hat he doesn’t have. “Would you like to set sail on an ocean of—” he falters, looking around the beach in thought. “…Water?”

There’s a moment of silence following Steve’s interruption, the tension in the air effectively disappearing as everyone stares at Steve with varying levels of amusement and disbelief.

“Um,” the pink-haired girl—Susie—comments, regarding the teen skeptically.

“Aww, he’s even more of a dork outside of trials,” the one named Jules—for Julie, right?—coos patronizingly. “Look at him with his little toy!”

“Thanks! You wanna have a watergun fight?” Steve is either completely oblivious to the jab or takes it in stride.

“I’ll shove that fucking gun so far down your throat—” Frank threatens.

“Kinky!” Quentin comments cheerily.

“Oh you’ll regret that—” Frank snarls.

“Children!” Ace’s yell snaps them out of the ensuing argument, everyone turning to face the man who has apparently finally decided to grace them with his presence.

“Ugh, it just keeps getting better,” Julie snarks sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“While apparently you guys had a negotiation with the Entity, we have no idea why it decided to put us here,” Ace explains with a friendly smile, ignoring the snide comment. “So why not try to make the most of it? There’s more than enough room for all of us. We’ll stay out of your hair if you do the same,” he says, giving a pointed stare at David and Quentin.

“Okay!” Susie beams.

“What? No it’s not!” Frank argues.

“Why not?” the girl whines. “I don’t wanna waste time fighting. This was supposed to be our day off.”

“So we gonna beat them up or what?” Joey seems to be getting impatient. “If not, I wanna go swimming.”

“Yeah, same,” Julie agrees. “Let’s just leave them be.”

“Fine,” Frank spits, glaring at each of the survivors in turn. “You’d better stay the fuck outta my sight.”

David wants to argue and he can sense Quentin does too, the teen biting his lip to suppress what would no doubt be a snarky comment. The only thing stopping David from picking a fight is Dwight’s hesitant hand on his arm, a wordless plea to not make the situation worse, and Frank would have to push a whole lot harder for David to ever deny Dwight.

“Looks like we have a deal,” Ace smiles, his shoulders sagging just the tiniest bit from relief.

There’s a silent understanding when the killers start making their way to one side of the beach while Ace motions for them to head back to theirs, and the situation looks to be peacefully resolved.

“Hey, you guys should check out the stuff the Entity gave us!” Steve suggests, inviting them right back over, most likely unintentionally, but it still makes Dwight sigh and David can even hear Ace groan in exasperation.

“I give up,” Ace sighs with a wave of his hand, leaving them to fend for themselves for when another fight inevitably breaks out.

David doesn’t really care if the killers grab some of the items meant for them, but it’s the principle of the thing, and his hands ball into fists while the teens rummage through the chest.

Susie eventually pulls out an inflatable pool toy with a unicorn that says ‘princess’.

“Oh my god, look how cute!” she squeals, holding up the toy.

“I bet it's Dweeb's,” Frank smirks smugly.

That's it, he's going down—

“You take that back!” David snarls, stepping forward aggressively.

“David, please!” Dwight protests.

“Yeah, can you guys not?” Julie sighs, rolling her eyes while procuring a pair of sunglasses from the chest.

“No one's impressed by this alpha male bullshit,” Quentin agrees.

“Not my fault this cocksucker can't take a joke—” Franks starts.

“Yer the one who's too much of a pussy to fight!” David accuses. “Let's go, right now!”

“Guys!” Joey yells. “If you really wanna butt heads, how about we play for it instead?” he asks, grabbing a volley ball from the trunk. “Our team versus yours. Winner gets bragging rights.”

“Oh, we're totally in! Right guys?” Steve, predictably, is all over the game.

David frowns. It's been years since he's played beach volley, but how hard can it be? Especially compared to his scrawny opponent; Frank probably hasn't done a day of sports in his life.

“Fine,” he spits.

“Fine,” Frank smirks.

“I'm in,” Quentin offers.

“Come on, Suz," Julie offers.

“You know I suck at sports!” the girl whines, but obediently goes to stand with the group.

Still missing one member for their teams to be even, everyone looks at Dwight.

“M-m-me!?” he squeaks.

Frank looks like he's about to say something, but is interrupted by Joey shoving the net into his arms.

“Come help me set this shit up,” Joey says with a pointed look and Frank rolls his eyes and complies.

Huh. Maybe that Joey guy isn't so terrible.

“Yeah, who else? Ace?” Steve is doing his best to encourage Dwight. “He’d probably throw his back out or something.”

“I heard that!” the gambler calls from his lazing around spot.

“And I'm sure you're better than you realize!” Steve continues, ignoring the comment.

“But I've never played,” Dwight says, still hesitant.

“You'll pick it up in no time,” Quentin encourages. “You don't even have to do much, we'll cover for you.”

“I don't know…”

“Pleeeaaase?” Steve whines and even pouts, clearly pulling out all the stops. “We really wanna play and if you don't we won't have enough players."

Dwight looks at David, and David does his best to give an encouraging smile.

“Come on, mate,” he says. “You’ll have fun, promise.”

That’s a lie, but David just really wants Dwight to be there to witness him kicking Frank's ass.

“Okay,” Dwight finally relents, looking away from David with a sigh.

Steve cheers loudly and soon enough, they’ve joined the Legion who have finished setting up the net and the game can begin.

It turns out the teams are surprisingly even. Steve and Joey are the best players by far, managing difficult serves, covering for the others and even extending to get shots David didn't even think possible.

Quentin and Julie aren't far behind in skill, not having the precision of their respective team captains but still succeeding in keeping the ball in play.

David likes to think he's better than Frank, but neither of them are doing too well, missing shots that should have hit and even causing the ball to fly out of bounds.

Dwight and Susie are the worst by far, with Dwight landing wet noodle passes at best and mostly just trying to stay out of the way. Susie is nearly actively sabotaging her team, squealing and covering her head if it looks like Steve or Quentin are going for a particularly rough hit.

Steve looks to be enjoying himself thoroughly, and David thinks he tones down some of his shots to prolong the game and give the others a chance. Quentin on the other hand is surprisingly competitive, often aiming for Susie's corner which is their opponent's weak link.

David mostly focuses his efforts on aiming at Frank's face, and from the way the teen keeps snarling and glaring at him, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

The Legion eventually turning against each other is kind of funny.

“Jesus, Frank, you suck ass,” Julie complains, watching the ball fly over the line when Frank hits it at a weird angle.

“I mean I’m not surprised that you guys know how to handle balls,” Frank snarks. “Personally, it’s not something I’d be proud of.”

“Then why did you spend three years practicing basketball?” Susie jokes, making her leader fume.

The survivors' camaraderie on the other hand is high, even as the scores are neck-to neck and adrenaline is running high. Steve takes every opportunity to encourage Dwight when he fails, and Quentin commends him when he makes a good play.

It should maybe make David jealous, but he's just happy to see Dwight smile and enjoy himself. He wishes he had the tact of the two to praise him too, feeling way more comfortable with showing off his athletic skill than actually talking to Dwight.

“Shit—” Steve dives into the sand and barely manages to save the ball after a particularly nasty serve from Julie. He doesn't get a clean hit, and the ball swerves a curve to the left instead of to the right where David was prepared to set it up, narrowly missing Quentin's head.

And then Dwight comes out of nowhere, managing to redirect the ball back into play, and David is so fucking excited he nearly misses the hit, but thankfully manages to get it over the net and Susie doesn't even seem to try to stop it.

“Go Dwight!” she cheers.

“Nice work, dude!" Steve whoops, spitting some sand from his mouth.

“I, uh,” Dwight is clearly flustered.

“That's what I'm talkin' about!” David encourages, smacking Dwight on the back and causing him to stumble forward.

"T-thanks,” Dwight smiles nervously.

“You done kissing ass?” Frank snarks, glaring at Susie.

“Yup, now we're gonna kick yours,” Quentin shoots back.

“Come on guys, 18 to 20! We can do this!” Steve encourages, and everyone gets back into position.

Julie serves again, and Quentin catches it. They get the ball over easily, and Joey raises it. Julie is in position to set it up it, and Frank jumps into the air, and David just hopes he misses the shot—

The ball whizzes past Steve and Quentin in front, and it's going way too hard to land within bounds, so that’s a free point for them—

But then David realizes the trajectory it's on, and time seems to slow down to a crawl as it hits Dwight square in the face with a sickening smack.

And David sees red.

When he comes to, he's on top of a struggling Frank and there are arms trying to restrain him from behind. The voices sound faraway and muddled because of the overwhelming sound of blood rushing in his ears. His arms are held back, so he headbutts Frank instead, and feels a sick sense of glee when he hears the crunch and Frank yelping out a curse.

“That’s enough, man! Cut it out!” a voice he doesn't recognize cuts through the haze, and David snarls, elbowing whoever it is in the gut. The restraint against his left hand gives way, and he's about to shrug out of the hold, ready to beat the living shit out of Frank—

And then he takes a bucketful of sea water to the face and it's fucking cold bloody hell—

“Merda—would you behave for two fucking seconds!?” Ace is yelling at them, angry for being disturbed again, a telling empty bucket in his hands.

The shock from the cold is the only thing that makes David resist the urge to redirect his anger in the form of his fist meeting the gambler's face.

“Steve, take David to cool off and punch a palm tree of something,” Ace commands like a frustrated mother. “And you three, make sure Frank doesn't do something stupid… well, stupider. Quentin, you’re helping me clean Dwight’s face.”

At the mention of Dwight, David snaps out of it and anxiously starts looking around to search for the man in question, soon noticing Quentin crouched by him and Susie anxiously fluttering nearby.

Seeing Dwight's bloody face breaks his heart, but luckily their leader seems to only have a nosebleed, even if the blood running down his face looks kind of gruesome. David hopes he didn't break his nose.

His anger threatens to bubble up again; if Frank ruined that pretty face—

“Okay big guy, let's go!” Steve apparently notices his shift in mood and is quick to drag him off.

David half-heartedly tries to protest but Steve isn’t letting up, and David follows him to the treeline just to get him to shut up.

Steve finds some coconuts and David takes the opportunity to punch one as hard as he can, pretending it’s Frank’s face. His knuckles sting and will probably bruise but it’s worth it, the loud crunch as the shell splits open making him smirk smugly.

When they get back to the others, Steve carrying a lapful of coconuts and David flexing his sprained hand but otherwise successfully calmed down, the others seem to be faring better too. Dwight’s face is a lot less bloody and he’s smiling shakily to something Ace says while holding what has to be a cold towel to his nose. The Legion are huddled near their leader, who’s slowly bruising cheek seems to be making him pout. Even if Joey is holding back snickers, Susie is trying to encourage Frank and Julie is patting him on the back in solidarity, proving that despite their bickering, the group does seem to care for each other.

“Hey, Frank,” David suddenly catches Quentin’s voice and sees a smug smile on the teen’s lips from where he’s approaching the killers. “I bet you can't swim.”

“Can too!” the gang’s leader says, predictably taking the bait and his pout immediately replaced by a defiant smirk. “Wanna race?”

When Quentin just clicks his tongue, pretending to be in thought, David knows Frank is in for a humiliation.

“Sure,” Quentin says, not giving anything away.

David eagerly waits for the two to get in position, a little jealous of how readily they get into the cold ocean water with barely a shiver. Steve gives a countdown, and then they’re off, Quentin effortlessly taking the lead and Frank falling further and further behind.

David doesn't feel the slightest bit bad for laughing, eager for the bastard to get any form of payback. Sadly, it doesn't really have the same impact when the rest of the Legion join in to make fun of their leader.

“You go, Franky!” Julie fake cheers between wheezes.

“Nice doggy paddle!” Joey laughs.

“You can still beat him! …If he drowns?” Susie tries to encourage.

After the race, Steve asks David for his help with cracking the coconuts, and even though David really just wants to talk to Dwight he can’t help but puff up his chest and flex a little from the teen obviously seeing him as the strongest of the group.

Later, the sun is already starting to set and David’s knuckles are even more bruised than before. The pain doesn’t bother him and the physical strain of the day has made him mellow out more than usual. When he notices Dwight sitting by himself by the shoreline, he finally gathers the courage to go talk to the man alone.

It looks like a day in the sun has done wonders for the group, lazy chatter and quiet laughter coming from friend and foe alike, scattered around the beach.

The girls have apparently ended up hanging out with Ace, Susie even wearing the gambler’s ugly shirt to protect herself from the now chilly ocean breeze.

“—and the Oktoberfest outfit, with the undercut? Swoon,” Julie says, doing a fake fainting motion into Susie’s lap, and Ace laughs and Susie giggles and bloody hell, are they still talking about Felix?

A bit further away, Steve and Joey are passing the volley ball in good camaraderie. David catches the end of a silly joke from Steve followed by snorting laughter from Joey, and it does kind of make sense that they’d befriend each other.

In the water, Quentin is still swimming while Frank lounges in the swim ring, taunting him. That is, until Quentin flips the ring and laughs, and Frank splutters and flails and hangs onto it like a lifeline.

David finally reaches Dwight, who doesn’t seem to notice him arriving, staring out over the horizon and looking to be deep in thought.

“Hey,” David makes his presence known, and as soon as those gorgeous brown eyes turn to look at him in surprise, the stupid nerves at the pit of David’s stomach resurface.

“Hi,” Dwight says with a small, tired smile. “Has everyone finally calmed down?”

A pang of guilt shoots through David’s chest at the words, recognizing his own part in creating most of the drama of the day. If he’d behaved himself, maybe Dwight wouldn’t have ended up hurt.

“Yeah,” David says, offering an apologetic grin. “Everyone seems ta be gettin’ along. Never thought I’d see the day we’d be hangin’ out with killers.”

“Hmm,” Dwight hums in though, turning back to watch the sunset. “Some of them are not that different from us.”

Seeing Dwight so calm and rational, David feels even worse for his numerous temper tantrums. He just wanted to protect Dwight.

“’M sorry ‘bout yer nose,” David sighs as he sits down next to the man.

“You didn’t do anything,” Dwight reassures. “I was just… wrong place, wrong time.”

“If I didn’t egg the wank—Frank on, it wouldn’t ‘a happened,” David argues, doing his best to swallow his resentment for the teen in question.

“It’s okay,” Dwight says, offering him a genuine smile. “I know you were just trying to stick up for us.”

David wants to come clean, to say everything he did was for Dwight, even if it only made things worse in the end. But no matter how much of a bravado he usually puts on, David knows he’s a real fucking pussy when it comes to emotions.

“Yeah,” he agrees like an utter coward.

“Thank you,” Dwight says anyway, smiling serenely like the absolute angel that he is, ready to forgive all of David’s dumb mistakes.

It suddenly hits him that Dwight always seems way more calm when they’re alone together, a stark contrast to him fidgeting and tripping over his words when they’re in a group and he’s put on the spot. Conversely, David’s confidence seems to fly out of the window as soon as he’s left alone with Dwight, desperately trying to appear casual while his heart does its best to beat out of his chest.

For some reason, Dwight enjoys and maybe even thrives in his company, and David in turn has never met anyone so understanding of his anger issues. He knows they’d be so good for each other—

Fuck it.

“Actually,” David starts, swallowing a lump in his throat but forcing himself to push through the embarrassment. “I didn’t do it fer them. I wanted to protect you.”

Dwight’s cute face twists in confusion, and David tries his best to keep unwavering eye contact despite wanting nothing more than to run away from the situation and his feelings.

“Oh,” Dwight finally says, and David thinks he catches the beginning of a blush before he averts his eyes. “I guess I am kinda weak, haha.”

“The hell ya are,” David argues. Damn, that’s not what he was going for at all, why is he so fucking bad at this— “Yer smart and determined an’ I really admire that about ya. Yer the best leader we could’a asked for, an’ even though ya don’t need protectin’, I just…”

David falters. He was doing so well, even managing to not put his foot in his mouth, but this is it. If he confesses his feelings, there’s no going back.

He looks up and meets Dwight’s eyes, and as soon as he sees the man who stole his heart look up at him with such blatant hope, he knows he has to try.

“I just care about ya,” he settles on.

Dwight swallows and his eyes search David’s face, and David doesn’t even dare breathe—

“Like… like a friend…?” Dwight croaks out, his voice now unsure and shaky, but he’s not looking away.

“Nah,” David says, shaking his head for emphasis. “Never saw ya as just a mate.”

Dwight’s cheeks flare red and he ducks his head, but David catches the dopey little grin before it disappears from his view.

“I—um, wow,” Dwight chuckles, fidgeting with his hands and not quite seeming to know how to react.

“Whaddaya say, luv?” David pushes, resisting the urge to pull the adorable geek into his arms and snog him silly. “Wanna do this?”

Fuck, hopefully he’s not being too forward. Dwight doesn’t seem like the type to have had plenty of relationship experience, but then again neither has David. Usually, he only had to flex a bit after one of his fights and wait for a bird or bloke to stroll up and make it clear they fancied him.

But those were easier times, and now he’s in a strange world within another dimension with a ragtag group of friends and confessing to a man he’s fallen for harder than he ever thought possible.

“Of course I want to do this,” Dwight mutters, sounding almost offended as he finally looks up at him with a smile. “I just never thought you’d go for someone like me.”

“Wha’, someone as perfect as you?” David smirks, nudging Dwight in the ribs with his elbow and causing a cute chuckle to escape the other’s lips. “Don’t sell yourself short, luv; I got high standards.”

“If you say so,” Dwight relents.

Despite Dwight self-consciously covering the cute rolls on his tummy with his arms, his smile is the brightest David has ever seen. They stare into each other’s eyes in silence, David with a dumb grin and Dwight with a bashful smile, and David feels so stupid that he didn’t see it before.

“Gonna give me a kiss?” David’s mouth says without his permission, the filter between his mouth and brain even more flimsy than usual because of the fluttering in his gut.

“I m-mean, my face is pretty busted up," Dwight stutters and turns his face away. “You probably don’t want to—I look even worse than usual, haha.”

“Bollocks,” David scoffs, leaning to nudge his forehead against Dwight’s temple. “Yer the cutest thing I ever seen.”

Dwight glances at him but still looks unsure, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth in a nervous habit.

“We don’t gotta if ya don’t wanna,” David reassures. “But don’t hold back on my behalf—”

And that’s all he has time to say before a surprisingly eager mouth crashes against his own, the rest of his sentence muffled against Dwight’s lips.

Wholeheartedly on board with the sudden turn of events, David’s arms wrap around Dwight as of their own accord while he hurries to reciprocate. Dwight’s lips are chapped but so incredibly warm, and the enthusiasm with which he goes at it is making David’s heart swell—

“Shit,” there’s a pained hiss against his lips when Dwight tilts his head and bumps their noses together.

“Easy, luv,” David murmurs, tilting his head at more of an angle to avoid Dwight’s injury. He gently coaxes the inviting lips right back in and Dwight makes a sound of approval low in his throat.

Every fantasy David has had about this moment can’t compare to the real deal. Granted, his imagination has always been kind of shit, and there was no way he could have pictured just how amazing it is to kiss Dwight and how perfect he feels in David’s arms. He tastes a tinge of blood when he licks into Dwight’s mouth, but it doesn’t bother him in the slightest, if anything it just eggs him on—

A loud wolf whistle carrying over the beach suddenly reminds him that they’re not alone.

Dwight pulls away much faster than David, turning to face their companions with a sheepish grin and a deep flush, while David lazily turns around to glower at the group.

Steve is still whistling from where he’s joined Ace and the girls, not threatened by David in the slightest. Then, to his annoyance, Julie starts clapping sarcastically and Susie hides her giggles into her friend’s shoulder.

“Ugh, finally!” Ace comments, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation, making David redirect his glare to the gambler.

“What,” David barely hears Quentin’s incredulous voice mutter nearby, still swimming with Frank and with Joey now having joined them.

“Uh. Congrats,” Joey offers, giving them an awkward thumbs up.

Frank, predictably, says nothing, only scoffing in disgust. Which, to be honest, is much more polite than David would have reacted if the roles were reversed.

“What are you—when did you—?” Quentin keeps going, looking so confused it makes even David snort out a half-laugh.

“Well, at least someone didn’t figure it out before these two idiots,” Ace sighs melodramatically.

“Seriously, doesn’t take a genius to notice them eye fucking each other all the time,” Steve grins, and holy hell, David really has been living under a rock if even Steve had figured out Dwight’s feelings before him.

He tunes out the others’ teasing as soon as a warm hand gently grabs his.

“Come on,” Dwight encourages with a playful smile. “Let’s go get it over with.”

His mood instantly elevating, David pulls them to their feet and rejoins their friends with his hand still clasped in Dwight’s. There’s some good-natured banter on their expense but that’s to be expected, and even though David half-heartedly threatens to clock Ace in the face for a questionable joke, he feels calmer than he has in years.

Dwight doesn’t leave his side for the entirety of their remaining time on the beach or when they’re teleported back to the campfire. And even if they have to go through the playful teasing and looks of disbelief a second time, David takes it in stride because he has the person he always wanted right by his side.

It takes way too long to get a moment alone from their nosy friends, but eventually, David manages to pull Dwight away from the camp to pick up where they left off at the beach, this time uninterrupted.

When Dwight breaks the kiss only to look up at David, with his bruised nose and some wetness in his eyes, murmuring that this is the best day of his life, David can’t help but agree.

[schrijverr]

What’s up with that Sims guy?

After the Apocalypse Jon becomes an uni teacher, three students take in interest in what’s up with this weird new professor.

On AO3.

Ships: JonMartin

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~

Time and space moves differently around the Fears, something that could be confusing and strange, but also pretty handy as Jon and Martin had discovered during the Apocalypse. It meant that when they’d turned the world back to normal, banishing the Fears far away, no one had even noticed it had happened.

With Elias, uhm Jonah, gone their ties to the Institute had lessened. However, Jon was still depended on statements, but Martin had decided that being away from it all would be better for him, so Jon was now working part time, while Martin kept an eye on the place.

Which is how Jon had ended up as a professor at a university. He was filling in, because the current professor had gotten pregnant and they hadn’t been able to find someone more suitable than Jon to replace her temporarily.

Jon knew he didn’t have the credentials necessary, but he Knew everything with the help of the Beholding, so he hoped that would be enough to get him through the year.

So here he was, standing in front of a big hall that was slowly filling up with students, who were eyeing him with a mix of curiosity, confusion and uneasiness.

Once everyone had settled down he took a deep breath and started: “Hello everyone, I’m Jonathan Sims and I’m replacing your previous professor until she returns from her maternity leave. I have an oversight of what you all need to know and do this semester, so lets get started with that right away.”

~

Jane looked down at their new professor and shifted in her seat uneasily. He was strange, or at least had a strange aura surrounding him. Jane wasn’t once for judging on appearances, but it was hard not to wonder what the Hell had let a man such at him to this.

He was short, sure, but he wasn’t small and he had a big presence to make up for it. His black hair was streaked with gray, but he had a youthful face that didn’t quite match up, although the tiredness that hung around him seemed old.

Beside that he was also littered with scars. It was hard not to notice the white circles that contrasted with his dark skin, it could be acne scars if they hadn’t been on his exposed forearms as well and so perfectly round. And those weren’t even his only scars, the entire palm on his right had was covered with a burn mark and the open buttons on the top of his shirt exposed a white thin scar across his throat.

So, yeah, strange.

He started to introduce himself and his voice was posh and low, but overall pleasant to listen to, she supposed. This didn’t stop her from exchanging a small look with Jesse, her best friend. Jesse raised her brows at her and the message was received, they were so going to talk about this later.

Later came as soon as they were out the door. Jesse leaned over and said: “Tell me I wasn’t the only one who got a weird vibe from that guy.”

Jane laughed and shook her head and answered: “You weren’t, I mean, this who building is filled with stuffy academics and suddenly this random dude walks in with the scars of a thug? That’s weird.”

Jesse nodded and asked: “What do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t know.” Jane shrugged, “But it seems pretty rude to just ask.”

Jesse sighed, then perked up with a realization: “We could plant a seed in Sams head.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Jane said, mischief bubbling up inside her eyes. They had known Sam since their first year and were pretty close with the guy. Sam was also known for not being the most delicate or observant and unafraid to ask personal questions. If he was curious, he would ask.

“I would.” Jesse grinned back, she tugged her along through the crowd with an: “Come on!”

They found Sam easy enough and Jesse plopped down next to him and started: “Hey, Sam. What did you think of our new professor?”

Sam shrugged and scratched his forehead as he said: “Dressed like every other pretentious asshole in here, posh accent. But seemed to know his stuff. Normal teacher if you ask me. Why?”

Jesse inflated: “Come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t even noticed!”

“Noticed what?” Sam asked with a frown.

“The scars.” Jane said.

“Oh, were they scars.” Sam said, “I thought he had weird freckles.”

“Weird fr-” Jesse began before cutting herself off and asking: “Aren’t you curious why they’re there? I’ve never seen scars like that.”

“And the burnt hand and the scar on his neck.” Jane continued, “Those don’t appear randomly.”

Both looked at her now, heads to the side in confusion. Jane said: “Oh, didn’t see those?”

Jesse and Sam shook their heads. “Well,” Jane explained, “He has this burn on his hand like he gripped a hot burning coal or something and this line here,” she drew on her neck with her finger to signal where it was, “like someone tried to slit his throat. Makes me wonder what he did before this job.”

The three of them fell silent. Lost in thought to what could’ve happened to their new mysterious professor before all of this.

~

The next lesson didn’t clear anything up in the slightest. While they were discussing the 17th century literature circles Sam had raised his hand signaling he had a question. Jane and Jesse, who had decided to sit behind him tensed up. He got called on and asked: “Dr. Sims, what did you do before this?”

Dr. Sims frowned and pushed up his glasses, before saying: “You don’t have to call me doctor, it wouldn’t be deserved. Just Sims is fine, or Mr. Sims if that feels better. And I’m the A- an archivist.”

“Am?” Sam blurted out.

Sims laughed humorlessly and said: “Yeah, part time now.”

Then he went back to the lesson and didn’t acknowledge any more questions about his life. Jane didn’t know how he did it, but he seemed to just know which people had questions about the lesson and which about him.

She walked out the hall with Sam and Jesse, who said: “That wasn’t insightful at all.”

Jane agreed: “Yeah, in what danger would an archivist be that leaves that kind of scarring?”

Sam shrugged and pulled out his phone as he said: “I can Google it.” the he muttered more to himself: “What kind of danger experiences an archivist, cool yeah.”

Jesse strained her neck to look on his screen and asked: ‘Well, what does it say?”

“Nothing much actually. Just a bunch of online archives and stuff.” Sam said.

Jane had a bit of a light bulb moment and suggested: “What if you type in Jonathan Sims?”

“Jonathan?” Jesse asked.

Jane shrugged and said: “It’s how he introduced himself during the first lecture.”

Sam typed in the name and his eyebrows crept further up to his hairline as he read the results of his search. Jesse couldn’t take it anymore and ripped the phone out of his hand, quickly scanning the page and gasping. Jane was now also curious and asked: “Well, tell me.”

She showed her the screen and Jane read the headlines. ‘Explosion at the Wax Museum, two survivors.’ The small excerpt reads: Last night there was an explosion at the wax museum, cause is still unknown, but suspected attack. Two survivors were found on the scene. Basira Hussain and Jonathan Sims, the latter of which is in a coma…

Underneath that is another headline. ‘Attack at the Magnus Institute unearths body of former archivist Gertrude Robinson’ with a picture of a big fire brigade, some police and an ambulance under it, she can vaguely make out Sims getting loaded into the back of one of them.

And lastly a small report into the murder of Gertrude Robinson, listing Jonathan Sims as one of the suspects along with one about an older guy, who was apparently found dead in Sims office.

Jane leaned back and whispered: “What the actual fuck.”

After that the rumors spread over the campus and by the time the next lecture rolled around the whole room was buzzing with nervous energy. Sims took one look around the room and sighed: “You are probably not going to let this go in favor of learning something that will actually be useful. Correct?”

A murmur went through the crowd, they had realized that the rumors had most likely reached Sims, but they hadn’t realized he’d be so straightforward about it.

“Okay.” Sims said, “I am willing to sacrifice ten minutes of my lecture for inquiries, but I will not promise to answer.”

Then he waited. Sam was the first to raise his hand and when called upon he asked: “How did you get the scars?”

Sims thought about it, the class thought he was thinking about how to bring it delicately and thoughtful, but inside Jons mind he heard Martin laugh at him and tell him he was an idiot after Jon had told someone the round scars had come from tripping. In hindsight it hadn’t been a good excuse, so Jon decided that vague was probably the safest way to go and said: “A workplace incident.”

Without raising his hand this time Sam asked: “Did it happen during the attack on your workplace? Why would anyone even attack archives?”

“The Archives are a small place in a big organization.” Jon began to explain, ignoring the fact that the Archives had been the target, “And in the end it turned out to be an aggressive infestation, just an accident.”

“Why your institute then?” Sam asked.

“Depends on if you believe in the paranormal, but you have to excuse me, Mr. Jacobs. It seems you are not the only one with questions.” Sims replied, then he turned to the other side and said: “Yes, Ms. Hendrickson?”

“Did you murder anyone?” she asked, clapping her hand over her mouth afterwards in shame of the question that she had blurted out.

Sims didn’t react to the harsh and accusatory question, just said: “If I murdered anyone, I wouldn’t be here, but in prison, don’t you agree?” then he smiled, but somehow Jane didn’t feel comforted by it.

Jesse spoke up, causing Jane to duck into herself in the hope that she wouldn’t be noticed in her seat next to Jesse. She asked: “Then who murdered them?”

Sims huffed a breath, blowing a strand of hair out of his face in the process and answered: “That would’ve been my former boss, I have to say I’m happy to see him gone and his replacement is more than capable.” he looked at the clock and clapped his hands, making more than a few people flinch. Then he stated: “That’s enough questions, time’s up. Lets get back to the symbolism in poetry during the Renaissance.”

And so life continued with Sims as their professor. There was still something uneasy about him, like he was just a sliver off in a way you couldn’t pinpoint, but felt in your bones.

But he was actually quite nice. Which was weird in itself, since he could be pretty prickly and snappy if he found your reasoning or answer particularly stupid or ignorant and he was generally grumpy, but that changed completely if you actually had a problem and needed help. He would listen and then explain with the things you could understand, it was as if he could look at you and know what you needed to understand. That was also strange, but it was nice to have someone explain so correctly.

He was also a walking encyclopedia. He had fun fact about everything and when they said everything they meant everything. When he noticed Mary had died her hair he said: “I like your hair, did you know hair dye contains over 5.000 chemicals.”

Then when Jamie asked what kind of tea he was drinking he answered: “Lady Grey, it was created by Twinings in the early 1990s to appeal to the Nordic market, which found Earl Grey too strong.”

While discussing Oscar Wilde he commented: “Funny how important this guy is, since he has only published one novel in his life.”

When Kyra stumbled in late telling him the taxi had broken, he replied with: “Well cars have about 30.000 parts, so it isn’t far fetched that something broke.”

The funniest part about it was that it just happened to slip out it seemed. He was also just as surprised as them when something like that tumbled out of his mouth and he always covered it up with a small cough, before ignoring it had happened and moving on with his lesson.

It had become a bit of a game among students to make him say a fun fact. Sims had caught on to it, but he didn’t seem to mind all that much, his lips only tightening the littlest amount and his eyes tiring slightly.

So all in all, after two moths of lessons they felt like they knew the guy. He was nice in a grumpy way, could tear you apart verbally if he wanted to, had a lot of facts and worked part time as an archivist, which was apparently a pretty dangerous job.

Jane, Jesse and Sam had become pretty close to him, often staying after class to ask a few questions about the subject, help clean up, try to pry into his private life. The last thing never seemed to work, but it was fun to try and Sims had never let on that he minded it. He even seemed to enjoy their little chats.

Then one time after class, he suddenly looked up, frowned and stalked out of the hall. Quickly sharing glances the three followed after him, curious what had gotten his attention so suddenly.

They walked through a bunch of the main halls, then through a few quiet corridors until they were much further than hearing range, making them slightly uncomfortable. There was a kid, first year probably, barely an adult still very much baby faced, crying on the floor, knees drawn tight to his chest.

Cautiously Sims approached him and gently lowered himself to the ground. The kid looked up at him with a startled face, but Sims shushed him and gently asked: “What’s wrong?”

There was something off about the words, something compelling. The kid starts to speak, he had a slightly northern accent: “It’s all so different here with the big buildings and large crowds with loads of people everywhere, still I’m all by myself. No one want to talk to the dumbass from north, who has trouble with the tubes, you know.” he sniffled a sad chuckle, “And everything is just so overwhelming and I have no one to guide me or to talk to and I hate it. Then I saw everyone just talking about a party and I know it’s dumb, but I heard them say they were going to invite everyone and someone asked even me, but then they laughed and said of course not and I just couldn’t anymore, so I went here and I cried.”

It seemed he was finished and went back to small sniffles and silent tears. Sims gently put a hand on the kids knee and said: “Did that help?”

“Yeah,” the kid looked at him, “bit cathartic, honestly. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, Edward.” Sims said.

The kid didn’t seem to realize it, but the three silent watchers noticed the kid had never mentioned his name.

Sims went on: “If you like, you can come over to my lecture hall. There are a few older years there, nice people, who I’m sure will want to help you. And a cup of tea.”

Edward rubbed his eyes and said: “They wouldn’t want to talk to me, I’m a loser and I don’t want the to think I’m even more one by telling them what happened.”

“I’m sure you won’t have. They’ve been where you are.” Sims responded, there was a bit of an edge to his voice and they realized he knew they were there and he was right. Jesse had been too brash, Jane too shy and Sam too blunt, it’s what had made them flock together. It was much better now, but they all remembered those awful first weeks. Without saying a word they hurried back to Sims hall.

When he came back they were making tea and lounging around. Jesse greeted him: “Hey, Sims. Where were you suddenly off to?”

Jane pushed her slightly and said: “Don’t pry.” then she turned back, “Want a cuppa, we just put on the kettle?”

Sims smiled and said: “I’d like that, could you make one for my friend, Edward here, as well. I had forgotten I was going to meet him, he’s curious about the Minor course and I thought maybe you could tell him a bit about it. If it isn’t any trouble, of course.”

“Of course not.” Jane smiled, then gestured to a chair: “Here, come sit with us.”

Edward did and later left feeling much better with a few new friends.

Friends, who were beginning to be suspicious about their teacher. They had a lengthy discussion about his knowing stuff and his spooky vibe. But no certain conclusion could be made and they decided that the mission for this year was finding out at least one personal fact about their teacher to prove he was at least somewhat normal.

They didn’t have to wait long. Their classes had been thrown around due to an unfortunate miscommunication. So two classes were switched, causing Sims to teach on Wednesday instead of Thursday for just one week. He looked a bit pale that day, but nothing out of the ordinary. It was the season, so no one spared it a second thought. Until a larger man came through the door after a gentle knock.

He was tall, about 6ft2, and chubby with a crème sweater and jeans. His face was freckled and he wore a gentle smile like it was second nature. His hair was curly and looked very soft, he in his entirety looked soft, you know, like the kind of person you know gives good hugs the moment you see them.

Sims was the only one who didn’t seem startled by his knock, just looked at the man and frowned as he said: “Martin, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry, sorry, Jon.” the man, Martin, said apologetically, “I know you said not to come and such, but I saw you had forgotten your statement and I know how you can get without them, so I thought I’d bring them to you.”

“I was going to read it tomorrow.” Sims said, “It can wait for one day. It’s not like it used to be.”

“Yeah, I know that as well, but we agreed that a rhythm would be good for you and your body to get used to.” Martin replied, holding out a folder.

Sims grabbed the folder and sighed: “You’re probably right, annoying as that may be, but couldn’t it wait till after I was done?”

“No, I’m meeting Daisy to discuss the proper storage of a Hunt artifact and you know how Daisy can be.” he answered.

“Yeah, I know.” Sims chuckled, absentmindedly touching the scar on his neck.

“Besides, I wanted to see you.” Martin said, then he brushed a lock of hair, that had freed itself from Sims’ messy bun, behind Sims ear and pecked him on the cheek. Turning to leave immediately after calling out over his shoulder: “Read it, Jon! And don’t forget to pick up milk on the way back if you want any good tea.”

Martin opened the door and Sims smiled, like a real and soft and dopey smile, as he touched his cheek and yelled back: “I will, say hi to Daisy from me.”

Then Martin was gone and the silence that had fallen over the hall with Martins entrance was broken. Multiple people called out questions and it was a bit of a chaos. It took a few minutes to get everyone settled down again and Sims returned to his lecture as if nothing happened. Sam called out from the second row: “Really, Sims? Nothing?”

Sims shoulders sagged, he had clearly hoped he could get away with it and was sad that it hadn’t worked. He said: “Mr. Jacobs, although I appreciate your interest in my personal life, I hope that I don’t have to explain how normal it is for my husband to come bring me something I forgot at home.”

The hall exploded again, but Sims ignored it all again telling them there were more important things to talk about, for example the lecture, which will be on the exam.

For Jane, Jesse and Sam it was enough. Their teacher was weird and off, but he was nice enough and if someone as soft looking as the Martin figure was willing to marry him, then he was good enough in their opinion and not worth the detective work.

[goldenfawnwriting]

Birds of a Feather- Hawks pic pt 3

Summary: Finch is the pro hero Hawks’ personal assistant. As they get closer in their relationship will romance blossom or be cut down by their jobs? 

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF ASSAULT AND ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT

As Finch prepared for the night out she sighed. Work had become so complicated as she could feel herself developing a crush on her boss. Not only was he attractive, to say the least, he was charming, kind, and all out spoiling her for no reason. It was mildly suspicious but honestly she couldn’t help but love the attention. She just wondered if it would end in heartbreak, or even her out of a job.

She decided to wrap her hair up with the hair pin he got her, smiling to herself as she pushed it into her fawn brown locks. She had changed out of her work clothes and into something more suitable; a cute, black miniskirt, and a peacock green, silk blouse that collared around her throat, the small button at the back of her neck securing it. She contemplated for a moment on what shoes she would wear before deciding on her regular black work heels. They were plain enough to suffice. As she looked in the mirror she wondered if it was too much, the colors too bright. The blouse was one she had gotten as a gift, she couldn’t remember from who, but she didn’t wear it often. She was more for muted earth tones than flashy, vibrant hues. She felt comfortable blending in with the crowd.

She grabbed her small, cross-body bag as she left, locking her apartment door and pushing her phone and lipstick into her purse before getting to her car. The bar she was meeting Asami at was a little more popular than she was used to but she couldn’t help the thrill that sat deep in her stomach. She hadn’t had a fun night out in a while. 

When she finally arrived and parked she looked around for her friend, finally spotting her leaned against the brick of the building, stunning as ever. Asami was her friend since they were in school, she had followed her to UA but unlike Asami, she didn’t become a pro hero. The best she was suited for was a sidekick, and honestly, she just wasn’t interested. 

As she approached her friend she took in her appearance. Her short, dark blue hair swayed around her chin, her silver framed glasses pushed up on her nose. She smiled as she noted they were wearing the same style, black skirt, only Asami sported a tight, long sleeve grey shirt that she happened to recognize as a body suit she had previously borrowed. Her shoes were a cute suede bootie, grey in color with a bit of fringe on the zipper. She looked adorable.

“Kore! I haven’t seen you in forever! You look amazing!”

Finch laughed. they had seen each other two weeks ago. She embraced her friend momentarily.

“Asami, you look better than ever!”

She smiled as Asami lead her inside and to the bar, ordering them fruity cocktails. As they waited they caught up on each others jobs, Asami’s cat, and all the drama in the workplace. This is when Hawks came up.

“So I heard you got promoted to Hawks’ PA. How’s that going for you?”

“Really wonderfully actually. I can’t help but think he’s cute but besides that the works pretty easy, nothing amazing.”

Asami smiled and pinched her cheek.

“Ok, I have to ask, I know you didn’t buy that hair pin for yourself.”

Finch stuttered as she replied, unsure of wether she should tell her best friend. She took a sip of her cocktail before replying.

“Well, uh, he actually got it for me...”

Asami looked at her in surprise before giggling. 

“He’s got the hots for you Kore!”

Finch rolled her eyes and waved her friend off.

“Doubt it, he’s the most popular bachelor in the region, why would he want someone as plain jane as me?”

Asami rolled her eyes at her more than oblivious friend. 

“Kore, you know I’m not the greatest at all that birdie stuff, but I’m telling you, animal planet has taught me a thing or two, and he’s getting you shiny gifts. He’s flirting!”

Finch sighed at her use of her real name and took a big gulp of her drink.

“I just don’t know if I want to act on it since we work together y’know? It would complicate things and I could lose my job, I have security there, I’ve worked there forever, I don’t want to lose it.”

Asami shrugged her off, ordering them shots. 

“I think you're overthinking it honestly. I doubt anything like that would happen. He’s your boss, who is anyone gonna tell? He owns the agency!”

They laughed together and the night progressed quickly.

^^^

Asami’s freckles were twinkling and her face was reddened with drunkness as Finch saw her into a cab and on her way home. She stood on the sidewalk outside of the bar and sighed, admiring her hero friend. Asami was the pro hero Starlight, boasting the wonderful power of being able to manipulate the appearance of starlight to the human eye. Since the sun was a star, she could blind anyone to the light but, her power stopped short of inside work, as the sun was invisible from inside buildings without windows.

Finch looked around slowly. Her world was spinning from the drinking and she sincerely doubted she would be ok to drive home. As she contemplated a cab she noticed a suspicious man standing down the way from her. He was fidgeting weirdly and keeping his head down, making Finch wonder what his deal was. She tried to shake off the weird feeling and decided she would sit in her car while she phoned a cab but as she went to walk towards her car the man moved with her. She swallowed hard, trying to blink away some of her drunkness to no avail. Maybe she was being too nervous?

When the man continued to follow her as she passed the parking lot she realized the hard truth of the matter. This guy was up to something, and she did not want to find out what. She continued to walk, thinking out her options. She didn’t have much combat training and what she did, she had forgotten long ago when she decided hero work wasn’t for her. If she stopped and confronted the guy it could aggravate him more, but if she kept walking she’d soon run out of places to go. She’d be lost, and possibly in more danger.

She used her phone to look at the reflection of the man behind her. She noticed his hands were shoved deep in his pockets and his face was turned down, hiding his appearance from her. She couldn’t tell what color his clothes were since she was looking through a reflection, but she could tell he was wearing jeans, a baggy, simple jacket, and a baseball cap. 

She tapped away on her phone, with no one to text, she was trying her best to make it look like she was talking to someone. In her other hand she was maneuvering her keys to fit between her fingers, sticking out between them, the only weapon she would be provided. 

As the man gained on her she had a sudden thought and tapped on Hawks’ contact, starting to call him right as the man’s hand gripped her shoulder. He whipped her around and grabbed her upper arm with his other hand, pulling her closer to the wall of the building beside her. She yelped at the sudden assault, dropping her phone on the sidewalk as he forced her against the wall, slamming her front into the brick before smashing her hand not once, but twice against the wall, until she dropped her keys. 

“Who the hell are you?!”

She yelled as she let her wings burst open, pushing against the man. He groaned in surprise as her wings moved him off of her and let her whip around to face him. He came back at her though, grabbing her upper arms and pinning her to the building wall.

“Let me go you son of-”

She was abruptly punched in the jaw, and hard at that. She lost her train of thought, her mind reeling from the impact. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure as he grabbed her throat and pulled her shirt up. Her eyes started to tear up from the pressure around her neck before wrenching her knee up into the groin of the man. He let her go, going to his knees like a tree falling in a forest. When she got a good look of the man she realized that he was much larger than her, his arms alone twice the size of her torso and something was weird... Something under his skin was pulsating, the skin on his hands moving with vigor. It was as if he was turning into something else...

She made her get away, scooping up her phone in the rush and fumbling it, almost dropping it again as she realized Hawks was on the other end. 

“Finch! Tell me where you are!”

“H-hawks-!”

She was cut off as she was grabbed around the waist, the man catching her easily and ripping her skirt up her hips.

“Two blocks south of the Oasis bar!”

She yelled in a desperate attempt for Hawks to be able to find her. She wasn’t sure if he would hear her from as far away as her phone was, once again dropped on the sidewalk, but she prayed he did as she took another hit, this time to the mouth.

She felt her lip gush with the new wound and internally lamented for wearing such a nice shirt that would now be ruined. She tried to think her way through the situation and stay calm but the way he was shoving her skirt up and trying to rip off her shirt, she was anything but calm. She threw her elbow back, not knowing where she was aiming but, hoping it would hit the man. 

Luckily it did, her elbow hitting his stomach hard, making him fold over, groaning loudly. She spread her wings again, trying to push him back away as far as she could. She felt something pull in her right wing and squeaked, the pain sharp. As she sputtered blood from her lip she took off again, forgetting about her phone and turning the corner quickly, hoping to run into another popular area.

Her heels scraped against the sidewalk and she turned another corner, slipping and tumbling down, her knees scraping against the sidewalk. She didn’t pause, pulling herself back up and starting to run again when she noted a second pair of footsteps behind her. As she peaked around her shoulder she didn’t realize she was running into an dead end. 

He had cornered her finally and her breathing picked up as she began to really freak out. 

“D-don’t do this p-please-”

“Oh no I’ve got you now~”

He growled, moving in and shoving her to the ground, her head hitting the pavement and a headache blossoming. She groaned but tried to kick at the man as he pinned her down, starting to grab at her clothes again. She screamed as loud as she could for help, feeling her voice become rougher with each scream and her losing energy.

Suddenly, she felt a gust of wind and heard the flap of wings, and just as the man ripped the seam of her underwear, tossing them to the side, he was thrown off of her. She was dazed, looking over to find Hawks on top of the man,  and it looked as if he was beating the ever loving hell out of him. 

It wasn’t long before she lost consciousness.

^^^

When Finch awoke she was still laying on the cold pavement, unmoving and stiff. She blinked a couple times, trying to remember what had happened, when she noticed the red and blue flashing lights. 

“Finch!”

A warm hand grabbed her arm, pulling her up as she groaned. Her knees nearly buckled but strong arms enveloped her, setting her up on a cushioned gurney. Her eyesight was a little blurry but she caught sight of the feathery blonde hair and knew he had came. 

“H-hawks-”

“Hey baby bird, you’re alright~”

He purred, trying to comfort her as he caressed the bruise on her jaw. Paramedics were moving her towards the ambulance and he knew he wouldn’t be able to go with her. She began to weep, her gentle sobs breaking his heart. 

“Hawks d-don’t leave me-”

She sobbed, grabbing onto his arm weakly. He didn’t want to leave her but he wouldn’t be permitted near her if he wasn’t related after she was put in the ambulance. As they lifted the gurney into the ambulance he stuttered. 

“I-I’m her b-boyfriend-”

The paramedic ushered him in quickly, closing the doors behind them. He wondered how much trouble he would get in for that little lie, the commission would find out, he was sure. As soon as the rumor got around he would be screwed, and she would probably be fired. He felt bad but, looking over her injuries made him feel worse. He had a gut feeling earlier that tonight would be horrific and man was he right. 

As they arrived to the hospital and brought her into a room he followed closely behind, even though he knew, the longer he stayed the more trouble he would cause. 

^^^

When they finally were released he walked beside Finch to the front of the hospital. It only took about 30 minutes for them to take her statement and treat her wounds before letting her go. He helped her out of the hospital doors before looking at her. 

“U-uh.. Did you want me to take you home then?”

She nodded silently, she hadn’t said much since after she recounted the events of the night to the police. He didn’t reply, only coming to stand in front of her.

“I’m gonna pick you up now, if that’s ok?”

She nodded again and he scooped her up, her arms going to hold around his neck as he took to the sky. He noticed her give a little squeak but didn’t mention it as he asked for directions.

“U-uh... it’s apartment 206 on the east part of the city.. Sakura street.”

She whispered to him, looking around in awe. This was the first time she had ever been flying. He got them there quickly, stepping onto her balcony before setting her down. Silence fell over them before she finally spoke.

“H-hawks, I know it’s in-inappropriate... but, would you mind staying awhile?”

She asked. He blushed hard, taken aback by her question. He would’ve never expected such a wish from her. He found himself rubbing the back of his neck and contemplating what he should do but ultimately, he gave in.

“Sure sweetheart.”

She opened the sliding glass door and let him into the apartment, turning on lights as she went through. The first thing he noticed was the smell of crisp apples, her whole apartment smelled sweet with the scent, she must’ve had a candle or something. As he followed her through he noticed next how clean she was. Everything was put away and honestly, she didn’t own many nice things. If he had to guess what the nicest thing she owned was, it would have to be the hairpin he gifted her. Not that the apartment wasn’t nice, it was just very middle-lower class. He felt kinda guilty all of the sudden. 

“I’m sorry it isn’t much, you’re probably used to much more...”

She trailed off, looking away. He shook his head at her, smiling. 

“No birdie, it’s perfect!”

He reassured her. She gave a small smile and excused herself to go freshen up, leaving himself to his devices in her living room. As he snooped around he noticed an abundance of throw blankets stocked up in the corner and gave a shy smile. How cute, she tends to nest. Then he made his way into her kitchen and listened quietly to figure out where she was before shyly opening her cabinets and fridge. Half of him was genuinely curious as to what she preferred to eat and the other half of him was just nosy. He did realize pretty quickly that she had absolutely no meat.

When she returned he met her in the living room again, face warm from the guilt of snooping around. 

“You can leave if you want, I know you’re probably a busy man..”

“Oh no, haha! Actually I was just sitting around at home so, I’m not in a rush sweetheart~”

She bit her lip gently and he nearly melted at her expression. Even looking so roughed up she was still beautiful. Her smeared makeup was gone now, only the bruises remaining, and she was wearing a cute pajama set, just a short pair of lounge shorts and a baggy t-shirt. 

“Well, if you don’t have much to do tomorrow did you want to hang out for awhile?”

He nodded instantly but inwardly knew he should be going. He was only going to get her into more and more trouble. She lead him to her couch anyway, turning on the tv and grabbing a throw blanket. 

“You’ve got a lot of those huh?”

She gave a small slap to his shoulder and he snickered, poking fun at her collection of blankets.

“Don’t be like that, I’m sure you do the same thing~”

She murmured, settling down on the couch as a random show played. Hawks pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her. She leaned into him, sighing and closing her eyes before a stray tear ran down her cheek. 

“T-thank you-”

He shushed her, stroking her hair as she began to sob again. He pulled her into his lap and hugged her tightly, wrapping her blanket around her. 

“Don’t thank me Dove, it’s what I do, I’m just glad you thought to call me.”

He mumbled, stroking her hair and combing through it with his fingers, 

“I know it’s been a rough night and you’re probably still feeling a little tipsy. Did you want me to go so you could get some rest?”

She stiffened at his offer and her tiny hands gripped his jacket before weakening. 

“I-if you need to go that’s fine...”

She got off of him abruptly and started to make her way to the back hallway, to where he was sure was her bedroom. 

“Aw, c’mon Birdie, don’t leave me here alone~”

She paused and he saw a hint of a blush on her cheeks from where he was turned around, watching her over the back of the couch. 

“T-then come with me...”

He hesitated for a moment before his brain actually processed what she meant, her wings shivering slightly. When he did finally catch up he couldn’t help but stumble off the couch, straighten himself to try and save some of his dignity, and follow her to her bedroom. 

[telli1206]

You’re So Fine, You Blow My Mind (Part 2)

Tourney player Jay is smitten with the new cheerleader, and Evie and Mal help get them together.

Click here for Part 1: Jay

Part 2: Mal

Evil, there’s so much about tourney that Mal just can’t stand.

First off, the uniforms? They make sense to wear during games, kind of, but could they look anymore pansy-ish? Shiny blue and gold jerseys and shorts in silky soft materials? Not her idea of threatening or intimidating. These Auradonians make everything look so overdressed and...fancy.

And the games? With people watching and chanting stupid rhymes about defense and winning, with their faces painted blue and gold? It’s embarassing that anyone would want to act like that, especially to cheer on a fight over a ball. It would actually be similar to watching fights break out on the isle, if people here weren’t so weird about dressing up and singing for it.

For those reasons, and a few more, it took A LOT of convincing from Jay to get Mal to try out for tourney. But he won her over, of course. Jay always knew how to get through to Mal. 

Not that she’d ever admit to that.

But at the end of the day, how could she turn down the opportunity to take her aggression out on a few Auradonian boys on the tourney field? 

Especially Chad. Damn, Jay really knew her weaknesses.

But she’s a good friend too, so she’s VERY familiar with Jay’s weaknesses. And right now, his biggest weakness is ruining her practice and annoying the hell out of her.

She’s referring, of course, to the brain in his pants.

And that brain has completely taken over Jay today. Just one look at the new cheerleader boy, and her new best friend and teammate has been reduced to a clumsy, awkward, stuttering mess. Drills were a disaster, every play they ran was a complete failure, and Mal’s limping off the field now that Jay managed to trip her and knock them both into the ground during laps. 

She hisses quietly as she brushes the dirt off the scrape on her knee, scowling at Jay, who simply shrugs at her and jogs towards the locker rooms, stumbling again on the way when he catches another glimpse of the freckled cheerleader in his peripheral vision.

Ok, fuck this shit. Mal’s fixing the problem, RIGHT NOW.

“Babe!” She calls to Evie as she waves, sprinting over to the pretty bluenette cheerleader.

Evie turns with a bright smile, already leaning forward to meet her girlfriend in a sweet kiss.

“You were fantastic out there today, Mals. The star of practice,” she raves, giving her a wink.

Mal loses her train of thought for a second, smiling and blushing furiously at the compliment.

“Thanks, Eves. I thought it went well today.” Her face turns serious as she remembers her problem. “For me at least. I don’t know if you saw, but someone had a really off day today.”

Evie purses her lips with a slight nod. “Jay? The poor guy, he couldn’t catch a break today. I guess everyone has a day that goes all wrong, right?”

“Sure, that can happen,” Mal surmises with a tilt of her head. “But in this case, it wasn’t just a bad day. Jay’s, problem, has a face. A pretty one.”

Evie giggles, shaking her head. “Of course. When doesn’t it? Who’s the goof all twitterpated for now?”

Mal spins on her heel, crossing her arms as she eyes the boy, now chatting with Jane, arms gesturing wildly in a passionate discussion. She hears words like ‘cosine’ and ‘tangent’ and has to chuckle. Her bestie’s fallen for a hot little nerd.

“Your new guy over there has my best friend tripping over his own feet. We need to do him a favor and introduce them. I don’t think he’ll manage this time without us. The guy’s a little hopeless right now.”

Evie’s eyes light up when she sees who Mal’s talking about. “You mean Carlos?!” She squeals and jumps happily, clapping her hands. “He’s ADORABLE, and the sweetest thing! Oh, he’s perfect for Jay!”

Mal smirks and drops her hands to her hips. Her girlfriend will forever love playing matchmaker.

“Good, but we’ll need to be there to help loverboy. I have a feeling this won’t go smoothly without us. But don’t worry, I have a plan,” Mal adds with a calculated grin.

-----

“So, why do you want to eat lunch in the courtyard today? I thought you liked the middle garden cause it’s less crowded.” Jay follows Mal, grabbing an apple on  their way out of the cafeteria with their trays.

“What, is it so wrong to want a change of scenery one day? I’m not a creature of habit, Jay. I can be spontaneous.”

“Ok,” He chuckles, shining the apple against his vest. “Except you can’t.”

Mal glares at him but keeps walking. 

“Evie’s already saved us a table,” she adds as they turn the corner. She smiles when she spots the girl at the table right in front of them. “And” She nods her head, gesturing for Jay to look. “She brought a friend to join us.”

Jay’s about to take a bite out of the apple, but freezes when he looks up ahead. Evie’s at the table with...his freckled cheerleader boy. He stands there, mouth agape, refusing to move.

Mal rolls her eyes and grabs at his arm, pulling him along. He finally stumbles into step with her up to the table.

Evie and the boy both look up, smiling. Mal smiles back and drops herself in the seat across from Evie, leaving Jay in front of his crush. He quirks a smile and slowly plops himself down, catching himself when he almost drops the apple in his hand. He swings back up quickly with an awkward chuckle.

“Mal! Jay!” Evie sings sweetly. She reaches for the boy’s hand on the table and squeezes it gently. “I’d like you to meet Carlos! He just transferred here last week. And he’s our newest cheerleader.” She comments with a wide smile, which Carlos returns.

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you. Both of you,” he says cheerfully, offering a tiny wave.

“Carlos! I saw you at practice yesterday, you’ve got some pretty sweet moves,” Mal comments.

Carlos’ smile widens at Mal’s praise, and a light pink flush spreads quickly across his cheeks, starkly brightening his face against the pale skin and freckles. 

He’s cute. Really cute. Mal can definitely see why Jay’s so smitten.

“Thanks, Mal. I really love dancing. It was super exciting to make the squad. Evie’s put together some great routines.” He leans into Evie as she smiles and throws an arm around his shoulders for a side hug.

“And you’ve had some great ideas already, Carlos! I can’t wait to see what we can do together.”

Jay clears his throat, grabbing everyone’s attention. Mal sees his hand under the table between them, clenched tightly and at his side.

“Y-Yeah, Carlos.” He says weakly, curling his lips into a half-smile. “I saw you too. You’re...really good.”

Carlos spins back to meet Jay’s eyes with a warm smile, cheeks still flushed and adorable.

“Thanks, Jay.”

Mal bites back a laugh, shaking her head at Jay. He’s so shaky and nervous, totally not the suave flirt she’s used to seeing. And he’s joining late to the conversation and being SO awkward.

He’s so fucked for this kid. It’s time to step in and help.

“So, Carlos. Are you just new to our school, or new to Auradon City too?”

“Both!” He answers brightly, turning to Mal. “We lived in Camelot Heights before, but Roger and Anita thought it would be better for me here. Auradon Prep is known for their Math and Science programs.”

Mal quirks a brow. That explains his excited math chatter with Jane earlier. She peeks at Jay, who’s still listening intently to Carlos, resting his head in his hands with a stupid grin on his face. Obviously the nerd vibe hasn’t phased him at all.

“That’s great! Math and Science aren’t really my thing, but they have a lot of options here to keep you happy if you’re into that stuff.”

She leans in a little, offering a tiny smille. “But have you had any time to explore the city? There’s a lot of great restaurants and shops and stuff.”

Carlos shakes his head, waving his hand around in a circle. “This place is so big, and between tryouts, getting my schedule and taking the tour, I’ve barely even had time to get settled in my room.”

“Well! That’s got to change.” Mal pops back upright. “Evie and I are obsessed with the Auradon City Grille. They have the best burgers around.” Evie’s eyes widen as she nods excitedly at Carlos.

“Yes! And then we always hit up Mrs.Pott’s after for coffee or tea and some of her cupcakes. They’re my favorite,” she gushes, clasping her hands gleefully.

“Ooooh. That sounds great!” Carlos’ eyes light up with excitement. “Do they have chocolate cupcakes? I’m a sucker for chocolate.”

“Yes!” Mal jumps in. “You have to try it.”

Carlos nods eagerly. “I’m in! That sounds like fun! When are we going?”

Before Evie can respond, Mal reaches out to clasp her hand. She smiles knowingly, and Evie closes her mouth, perking her eyebrows in silent agreement.

“Actually, Evie and I are going to be pretty busy this week. I’m bombing Chemistry at the moment, so she’s going to help me study.”

“Oh, ok.” Carlos’ face drops a little in disappointment.

“But!” Mal claps Jay on the shoulder. “Jay here should be free.”

Jay chokes on his water, sputtering as he swallows his mouthful. He looks at Carlos, who’s staring back, and looking, hopeful.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m free.” Jay swallows loudly. “D-do you wanna go t-t-tomorrow night?”

Carlos smiles full and wide, showing a mouth of gleaming white, perfect teeth.

“Yeah. It’s a date.”

[cheatdeathsarchive]

Her dress is the color of the sunset when it’s warm and bright and paints the world that pretty orange-gold. It goes well with her hair, her freckles, her eyes, her smile, and Six likes how light it all makes her feel. It’s not like Benny, not like House. She laughs and giggles and they walk arm in arm down the lit up streets. Six thinks about how Ronnie was in love once and wonders if it felt like this.

Cause she thinks she feels it, thinks she gets it. If love is a color maybe it’s orange. The dress catches the light in a way -- from orange to yellow to gold, and it’s better than any sunset, she thinks. She wants to tell Ronnie, too, but the butterflies in her stomach fly into her throat and she doesn’t know how to rightly say it yet. There will be time later.

There’s an... what’s the term? An Ellie Fant in the room. Six doesn’t know who that is or why her presence is so big, but she’s here and it is. Ellie is one they’ve both been happy to ignore. There were dresses to buy, drinks to be had. There was music and dancing and pretending like things were alright for a day. There was soft hair to rest their cheeks against, and the teasing of fingertips at calloused knuckles and sheepish glances that were safe from wry comments.

They paint the town red like Jane likes to say. They out-party the NCR troopers, watch people come and go and give them all a story which is usually the opposite of how Six likes to daydream. This is fun too, though -- to have a face and to wonder about all that is behind it. The sun is still waiting for its debut, but the horizon is turning a pretty light purple, and Six thinks that would be a pretty color on Veronica Santangelo, too.

Robert House is livid, still so livid, but Six still has run of the Lucky 38. Probably as an incentive. Probably because he knows she’ll go through with what he demands. Not on his terms, she thinks, Not when I’ve learned from Benny and fooled the Legion. Not when I could talk a dying man out of his last drop of water.

Her plan will work. It has to work. They sneak quietly down the hall in case any of their other companions are spending the night in their rooms. No doubt though their exaggerated whispers and giggling are louder than they think. Nobody bothers them all the same. Six turns the radio in her suite on, and Veronica looks around like she’s never been in here before even though she has.

Six loves that -- she does it too sometimes. One time they found a whole mess of old world coins in the couch cushions. Another time they found a time capsule of old world treasures hidden under a mattress. It’s fun to explore the places people haven’t gotten to in ages. Their party could keep going, but Ellie Fant is here and waiting, her arms crossed and Veronica is sick of her presence, too.

“Have you decided?” She asks with a conviction in her voice that Six is immediately aware that she’s practiced, “About what House said, I mean... you’re not going through with it, are you?”

Pretty brown eyes are staring her down. Six replies with a smile, though it’s demure. The Brotherhood’s got her all kinds of conflicted. She can’t imagine how much worse it is for Veronica.

“I don’t wanna kill your family, Ronnie. Family’s all we got out here.” That seems to put her at ease, “But Mr. House ain’t willin’ to listen to me. I tried. I’m thinkin’... I could talk to some caravans, get ‘em set up for supplies... There’s a whole mess of space between here and Tucson.”

Ronnie picks it up, and her appeasement shifts into a cold realization. Six bites her lip, gives her the best helpless look she can muster. Ronnie doesn’t bite.

“That’s not an option,” Veronica replies with a very pointed frown. There isn’t anymore happiness in her face even though it hasn’t been anything but fun this evening. Six sighs. Ronnie insists, “That bunker is our home, Six. It’s hard enough when we get sent out for supply runs under cover. Nobody’s going to help supply an entire chapter of the Brotherhood.”

That makes Six shake her head -- she has favors she can call in, but it’s time for a new approach, “Mr. House won’t listen to reason -- your Elder might, Ronnie. Maybe this is the push they need to adapt.”

“By making them homeless? By taking away the one place we can hide from the NCR, the Legion? By making them all open targets?”

“Better than all dead without a fightin’ chance,” And maybe those are the wrong words. Six takes a breath, “I wanna help you Ronnie, I do... but Mr. House, he --”

“Saved your life, I know. You know what else I know? That you’ve done whatever you had to do with that weird little poker chip he’s so obsessed with. You did your job. He might have saved your life, but why can’t you live it for yourself?”

'Cause she loves him is why. 'Cause she believes in him. Six keeps her mouth shut. She loves Veronica, too, misses the wrinkle in her nose when she laughs. Veronica continues.

“So what?” She fishes, and Six fidgets. Six can hear Benny tutting from whatever hole he’s crawled into, “You want my permission to... to banish the Brotherhood from the Mojave? Because your boss is a megalomaniac dictator?”

Elder McNamara is so much better, Six wants to say, Most the folks down there don’t like your attitude Ronnie, that’s another. Neither are kind, so she opts to say neither at all.

“Autocrat,” Six argues, steeled and frustrated and suddenly stone cold sober. Veronica can’t even look at her right now, “What he can do for the Mojave Ronnie... it’s a hell of a lot more than livin’ underground and hoardin’ weapons you don’t trust people with like you deserve the authority of who gets to have ‘em. It’s resource guardin’, it’s not safe, it’s --”

“Shut up,” Veronica mutters, “just... shut the fuck up.”

Six swallows. Bites her lip so hard she thinks it’s gonna bruise, and takes ten deep breaths. Veronica doesn’t say anything else. Six takes that as permission to speak again, “...I’m gonna get a drink, okay?” Veronica doesn’t answer. She’ll take it as permission, “...I’ll figure somethin’ out, alright? I promise. Nobody’s gotta die.”

Still, nothing. Six hesitates, a small step backwards before finally peeling her eyes away from that pretty orange dress and the woman wearing it. She moves to the kitchen. The medic in her knows water is what’s good. The hedonist in her reaches for a Sunset Sarsaparilla instead. the cap gets popped off and she takes a sip. The vice tastes good, but it’s not enough to make her smile. She’s gotta rethink her plan now.

The sounds of a pneumatic gauntlet rev up behind her. Six knows she can either turn around or duck, and she chooses to duck. Veronica cracks the door of the fridge so deep Six can feel the cold slipping through the crack where the door doesn’t line up right anymore.

“Ronnie --” Six gasps, turning around to see her winding her fist back up. Punches -- the gift that keeps on giving, “Ron, please, hang on. Please, don’t --”

“Shut. Up!” Ronnie screams, and Six is so afraid that someone who isn’t either of them can hear the shouting and the sounds of combat, “I won’t let you.”

The second swing comes, and Six feels it hit her hair just barely as she somersaults out of the way across broken glass and spilled soda and scrambles to her feet. The tiles on the floor shatter. She’s got a silenced .22 under her dress and it shouts at her in Benny’s voice -- never go into a casino unarmed, pussycat. You really fucked this one up, didn’t you?

“Please,” Six begs, and she can only turn around before Veronica tackles her, pins her down. Six kicks, tries to scramble backwards, tries to beg to get Veronica to listen. Veronica grabs her shoulder and sits on her, her gauntlet reeling back. Six struggles more as the first punch lands. She tastes iron, feels the hot sting of skin split open above her left eye. Veronica pulls her fist back and she paints the room red. Her grip loosens just a touch and Six isn’t sure when the gun made it to her hand, but it’s there and she pulls the trigger. Later she finds out it’s right through her heart.

“Don’t --” Veronica Santangelo says, and it’s her last word. There are a million things on her face. She looks... scared. Shocked. Confused. Scared. Scared, scared, so scared. Six gasps, and before Veronica falls on top of her entirely she pushes the still warm corpse to fall beside her instead, rolling away to rest her head against cool tile, and she closes her eyes. Just for a second, she thinks, but when she opens them again Boone is here and so is Victor. The sun is out and pretty shades of yellow and orange shine through the windows.

“Don’t touch her,” Six snaps, her head aching from the hangover. She spits blood out of her mouth.

“We’re just wantin’ to help you clean up a bit, Sugar,” the robot says, very placating, and when Six rolls over she sees he’s holding the body of Veronica Santangelo like a baby. Courier Six screams bloody murder. Boone helps her up. Walks her to the bathroom. Six can’t stop screaming.

She doesn’t know where Victor’s taken her as the sniper cleans her wounds. She never bothers to ask. She doesn’t know when she stops screaming, doesn’t know why she can’t cry instead -- probably because Boone is staring her down behind his aviators and she’s pretty sure she knows just how he’s watching her.

She blames the Brotherhood and slips on her vault suit. Blames them as she goes into Ronnie’s room to slip her scribe robes on top of her outfit. Six blames them as she walks to the Hidden Valley and slips in with the utmost care to be a shadow on the wall. This is a family and they know their people. The disguise doesn’t work if she stops, so Six doesn’t stop. Her head is down and she blames every single person in here for being so rigid, so stuck in their ideals.

It’s their fault that Veronica became disillusioned with them. It’s their fault they are not willing to bend. It’s their fault they are ruined. She sprints out of the Bunker as the sirens go off, throwing the caution and stealth she had been using to the wind along with the burlap hood and robes. The ground rumbles, and she can’t blame them anymore.

It’s not their fault. It never was.

It’s hers.

[slightlyhopefulromantic]

i was gonna wait until i finished the bitd and deadlands line-ups before posting these, but i'm not gonna get those done before the final season starts, so might as well bite the bullet now XD woohoo, oxventure d&d designs! i'll go into further detail below the cut for all of my thoughts on these designs and reasoning for smaller details, but for now, just know that i will never draw a cape. i simply cannot do it. hoods and weird draped fabric or nothing XD

okay i put like. waaay too many thoughts into a lot of these small details so im gonna allow myself to geek out here X3 firstly - though they're way too small to read properly, i did the little symbol eye shines i used in my first art for them! dob gets music notes, prudence gets fire, corazón gets hearts, and merilwen gets flowers. i usually draw egbert's pupils pretty thin to resemble a reptile, so he just gets normal eye shines, but i probably could have given him some here... he would get suns if i thought of that

dob - muscular in a wiry and dehydrated way, lol, hence having a more defined stomach/hips despite not being as strong as prudence or egbert. he has sad/down-turned puppy dog eyes at all times because i think the big-eyed endearing look is fitting for him, though i do make them darker blue than his canonical baby blues because i just... like how dark blue eyes look, lol. i'm pretty sure he canonically has the stomach scar, and obviously his facial scar has always been there, but i gave him a couple other ones just to show that hes pretty reckless. and he gets freckles because even though they arent mentioned in the dragon dogma's video, i noticed luke added some and. i like freckles a lot

prudence - i've said this before, but i love the thought of pru getting muscular after the werebear bite <3 i just think she should be a little bit hench. as a treat. once again, the heavy stomach scarring comes from the dragon dogma's video, because i found their design choices in that really fun. i change prudence's outfit the most out of any of the characters, just because her canonical outfit confuses me. i'm really bad at understanding/drawing fantasy wear as is, but her fit... i'm lost entirely XD so i free-balled a bit. her inner sleeves that hook around her fingers are based on jane's various prudence looks, and then the looser outer sleeve is just because i love prudence with a dramatic sleeve. originally the colors were closer to her canon outfit, but it just looked messy without all the details of the original, and then i tried red like jane's prudence looks but it didn't contrast enough with her skin. so i restricted them to just deep purples and black with pops of gold and dark magenta!

corazón - what can i say besides. transgender. LMAO honestly though, besides adding the top surgery scars, i just really like his canon look. i simplified the details, obviously, but i really love his big coat and his tall boots and the earrings and the black-on-black-on-black of it all. i didn't particularly feel like drawing hats when i was doing this, lol, so i stuck with a red bandana instead. the beads that are strung from it are black, red, purple, green, and yellow to match their guild's canonical color associations/the colored name plates they get in later seasons :] because corazón is the sentimental sort, even when he won't say it. also he gets a little cateye for his eyeliner, i dunno if i've ever said why i do that before haha

egbert - egbert my dearly beloved. literally just his canon look except he has la vache mauve on his tunic instead of fire! and the nose spikes i give him, i guess, but i forget those aren't canon. i actually usually draw him in mike's egbert get up, with the black robes and the golden dragon sigil, but i kinda wanted to move away from that to lean more into the end of legacy of dragons, where egbert fully commits to never going back to the dragon d'or. also i just love drawing little cow heads <3 also! i like the idea that rather than typical scar tissue, dragonborns grow thicker scales over places where they've been injured. so the thicker patches of small scales on egbert's body are meant to be scars! including his kidney scar, lol. the larger scales and the ones on his face were always there though, that's just dragonborn biology baby

merilwen - if i said i based merilwen's body on cartoon bears, would you forgive me... i just think it's cute LOL tummy <3 for the final dragon dogma's video reference, that's where her freckles and tattoos come from. ellen was right, merilwen with floral tattoos fucking rules. who am i to deny it. as a hairy woman myself, i also like making merilwen a hairy woman. she's a hippie, she would NOT shave. i also really love the red earrings she wears in her canon art, so i tried to carry that through to some other small parts of my drawing for her, and landed on the bands she has on her pants as well as the odd feather for her arrows. fun archery fact, for those who may not know - in modern archery at least, you usually will have a differently colored feather (or for my arrows, rubber fins lol) that indicate how youre meant to string the arrow! so i took advantage of that to give merilwen some more red, hehe

[simscognito]

As I am getting famous for these, I would like them all (the get to know my character asks) for Henry, please and thank you :)

@izayoichan thank you so much for the ask. I have put the answers under the cut. 

01.  What does your character’s name mean? Did you pick it for the symbolism, or did you just like the way it sounded?

In all honesty, I named Henry after Henry Tilney from Northanger Abbey. It’s my favourite Jane Austen novel. 💖

02.  What is one of your character’s biggest insecurities? Are they able to hide it easily or can others easily exploit this weakness?

Well, I asked Henry and he responded with “life.”

Henry was diagnosed with autism in his early 20s which means that he’s had to work through a lot of old feelings of not being brave enough or “normal”.

Basically his biggest insecurity is not living up to others expectations.

03.  What would be their favourite physical trait about themselves?

Henry knows he has pretty eyes. 👀

04.  What are their favourite traits about their lover? (one psychological and one physical)

Everything! He loves Alex’s charisma, wit, intelligence, arrogance, cockiness, insecurities, bravery – he loves the whole package!

As for physical, again, everything! He loves his large thin mouth, smirk, menacing eyes, his dangly frame, small bottom – warts, all, everything!

05.  Are they sexually confident or more of the shy type?

He’s only been sexual with Alex and with him… well, they both boost the other’s confidence.

06.  Do they have any hobbies that their lover finds unusual, odd, or otherwise annoying?

1.     Henry and his companionship with his dog, Whisper. Alex can’t stand the smelly creature. Why can’t dogs be more like cats?

2.     Henry’s singing! Alex says he’s “tone deaf” and he’s not as partial to Disney songs on repeat.

Also Alex isn’t quite as passionate about Harry Potter as Henry is so after the fourth hour of Henry’s monologue about mandrakes and their use in medicine, he’s ready to stick his own head in mandrake pot.

07.  Is there a catchphrase or sound that they tend to make a lot (likely without being aware of it)?

Uhm - there was even a shirt sold in support of Henry and his favourite word.

08.  What is, perhaps, their biggest flaw? Are they aware of this or oblivious to it?

His awkwardness in interactions and he doesn’t always pick up on inferences so he can miss what people are trying to tell him unless they tell him directly. Although he is aware that he has problems in these areas, he is unaware of how or when he’s missing the social cues.

09.  Do they have a favorite season? What about a favorite holiday?

Henry loves autumn. His favourite holiday is Christmas because of presents and chocolate.

10.  Is your character more feminine or masculine?

Masculine.

11.  What is something that would make your character fly into a rage?

Lying. Henry hates it when people lie.

12.  Is there some particular talent, skill, or attribute that they simply could not give up?

Henry keeps a journal of poems he writes and he only shares them with Alex who thinks the poems are beautiful and that Henry’s very talented.

13.  What are your character’s sleeping habits? Heavy or light sleeper? Blanket stealer? One that always rolls onto the floor? Pushes their lover onto the floor? Sleep talker or walker?

Henry’s a light sleeper. He’s also a blanket stealer and likes to wrap himself up like a raccoon. He also wriggles, but so does Alex.

14.  Do they live alone or with family? How do they feel about their family/roommates?

Henry lives with his husband and three daughters, Gema, Marie and Genevieve. He’s very happy.

15.  Is there a certain person in this world that they cannot stand? The very mention of this person’s name makes them tremble with anger or fear.

The Grim Reaper. The very mention makes him shudder.

16.  Is your character the athletic type or more of a couch potato? What are some sports/games that they like?

If it were up to Henry, he would definitely be a couch potato, but Alex keeps him going to the gym. In high school Henry was a member of the basketball team and he still practices shots in the palace indoor court.

17.  Does your character have dreams of getting married and/or having children?

Oh he dreamt alright. He had a teenage fantasy of marrying Alex and having his children (biologically). The funny thing is, it happened.

18.  What kind of home would they want to live in? Where would they place this abode?

They have their dream Lakehouse thanks to @forgotten-pixels. <3 It’s situated in Brindleton Bay.

19.  Would your character be the kind to get into fights? (physical or verbal) Would they be a good fighter or cave in rather easily?

Although Henry is a good street fighter, he hates getting into fights.

20.  Does your character like animals? What are some of their favourite animals? Would they want pets? What about mythological creatures?

Henry loves animals, particularly dogs. Mythical creatures? Unicorns. In fact in Henry’s head there’s no such thing as myth because everything magical is real. Ask his mum who’s a Disney character!

21.  What is one of your character’s biggest fears? How would they react when dealing with this fear?

Henry’s very afraid of being responsible for the future. He struggles with unhelpful thoughts that involve various predictions that he fears might come true if he thinks about them too much. Thankfully he’s getting therapy for his OCD.

22.  What kind of tattoos, piercings, birthmarks, freckles, and other such unique physical features do they have?

Henry sometimes wears gold earrings, but his most noticeable feature are his big beautiful eyes that are a staple in his family.

23.  What is your character like when it comes to school? What subjects are they good/bad at? Do they get in trouble a lot or are well behaved?

His favourite subjects are biology and Japanese.

Maths, he has a love-hate relationship with. He was crap at the subject in school, but came into his own at university.

Drama would be his least favourite for he has stage fright and selective mutism.

24.  In their own words, how would your character describe what their lover is like?

“He makes me feel normal.”

25.  Is there something traumatic from your character’s past that greatly affects them even to this day?

Do you want a list?

26.  What is their lover like sexually? How do they feel about their lover’s quirks, needs, etc?

Henry?

Henry: Really good.

And?

Henry: Yeah.

27.  If your character was going to get arrested, what would be the most likely reason for it?

He accidently comes face-to-face with a cop and… well that’s it really.

28.  If your character became a celebrity, what would they be famous for?

Being the Duke of Windenburg

29.  What is one of the most courageous things your character has ever done for a loved one?

Married him.

30.  When it comes to the arts (music, film, theatre, etc), what does your character like?

Nothing. In fact Henry’s response is “help!”

31.  Would your character be the kind capable of killing? Would they enjoy killing or only use it when necessary or, perhaps, refuse to kill no matter what?

He’s capable of letting Alex do the killing.

32.  If your character’s lover offered to take them out on a dream date, what would they want to do?

Go to Disneyland!

33.  If your character wanted to be alone, where would they go?

His bedroom or if it were school, the library.

34.  Does your character have favourite foods? (breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks, etc)

Chicken burger!

35.  Is your character afraid of death? If they got to choose how to die, how would they want to go?

Yes. Very afraid of Death. Doesn’t like him.

If he could choose, he would like to die peacefully in his sleep next to Alex.

36.  Does your character have any medical conditions? Are they serious or minor? Do they affect their day to day life?

Henry has autism, OCD, Social Anxiety and GAD. His anxiety disorders are pretty severe but he’s managing them.

His conditions affect every aspect of his life, but he has learnt to cope and is able to live a reasonably happy life with his husband. Alex has been a massive help in building Henry’s confidence and showing him that there are people who appreciate and understand him.

37.  What are some of your character’s pet peeves? What are some things that annoy them or disgust them?

Henry really doesn’t like “weird” food. Basically anything that looks too healthy or gourmet. In other words, Alex can’t get too adventurous with him.

38.  What kind of weather does your character like? Cloudy skies, rainy days, sunshine, etc?

Henry likes days that are slightly overcast. Means he can wear his hoodie comfortably, but doesn’t want to deal with the rain.

39.  When people look at your character, is there some assumption they might make about them just by appearance? Is that assumption correct?

When people first meet Henry, they tend to make the following assumptions:

Henry is slow

This is because he doesn’t react as fast as the majority. He isn’t slow, however. He’s likely processing or struggling to speak because of his selective mutism or social anxiety.

Henry is rude

This might be because Henry doesn’t always respond when someone greets him. This can be because he hasn’t heard them or is still processing the greeting.

Henry is pathetic

Henry’s resting face looks like a “wet weekend” which can make him look pathetic and miserable. However Alex thinks he’s perfect and that’s all that matters to Henry.

Henry is a wimp

Henry struggles with sensory processing which means that certain textures and sounds triggers meltdowns and shutdowns. To an average stranger or acquaintance, this might appear like Henry’s being “precious” and “cowardly” when in fact he’s in a lot of pain.

Henry is selfish

When a stranger sparks up a conversation with Henry, he may not respond and if he does he will likely reply with “yeah” “no” or “uhm”.

This may create the assumption that he doesn’t care that the other is making an effort in the conversation while he isn’t.

In reality, he’s actually uncomfortable because the person is new and he can’t think of what to say.

Also sometimes Henry is more comfortable listening than talking and it may take a while for someone to get used to that when they’re expecting a “give” and “take” conversation.

Alex on the other hand loves talking so he doesn’t mind.

40. Does your OC have any guilty pleasures they enjoy? Hobbies, past times, music, etc that they wouldn’t want known by others?

Henry keeps a journal that he doesn’t want anyone to know about.

40.  Does your character’s family affect your character in any way?

Oh yes. Henry was born into a family of assassins. In many ways, his decision to marry the king of Simsland was his escape from that life.

41.  Is there anything in your character’s past that they regret, haunts them, or they wish they could change?

Henry has many regrets, but his biggest regret is dropping his Pooh Bear teddy in the river when he was three.

42.  Does your character have a switch that changes aspects of their personality whether they are around friends, family, etc. Is there someone who gets to see their true self?

When around people he doesn’t know very well, Henry can appear shy and unresponsive. He can appear the same way if there are more than five people in the room. However, around his closest friends and family, Henry can be very animated especially if allowed to discuss his favourite topics.

43.  Is there a particular event that would emotionally devastate your character?

Alex dying. That would be Henry’s worst nightmare. That and waking up to discover he’s lactose intolerant.

44.  Is your character the kind to hide their true emotions or do they wear their heart on their sleeve?

Henry finds it difficult to express and understand his emotions.

45.  What is some random affectionate thing that your character always does to their lover?

Henry loves to give Alex the Hug of Death which means he holds Alex as close and as tightly as he can. It’s all or nothing with Henry. XD

46.  Is your character outgoing? Would they be the leader of the friend group, or the quiet one that gets dragged along?

He’s the quiet one that gets dragged along. But he’s stubborn. Very stubborn. If Henry really doesn’t want to do something, he won’t do it.

47.  Is there anything in particular that would ignite your character’s jealousy? Or does your character not get envious?

The only time he’s ever really been jealous was when Alex was dating Rashida.

48.  What is something that your character has nightmares about? Are these frequent? Do they heavily affect your character’s mood?

There is one recurring nightmare that Henry has of finding himself on the school stage about to deliver a monologue he hasn’t prepared. He wakes up in hot sweats.

49.  If your character confessed love to their crush, boyfriend, girlfriend, etc, what would they say?

“Uhm, This is my favourite edition of Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone. It’s yours now.”

[fuckmewithyourtoespj]

reddie + misc 1

this simply ran away from me and went so overboard i’m sorry you have to stand witness to me Not Being Able To Shut Up jane jhshdhfhd

“All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.”

The first time Richie saw him, he almost tore someone’s head off over the ‘abysmal, completely fucking repulsive’ state they had left the kitchen in. It was two plates, a stick of butter, and a pan left out on the counter. 

He was loud, brown-eyed, and 5′7″ (at most) worth of curly-haired indignation and health facts. He was sporting a worn out band tee that was practically drowning him, sweatpants with one leg rolled up to above his knee, no socks (or shoes), and a rather impressive bedhead, none of which gave him pause for even a second when ripping into the other guy at 7.15 on a Saturday morning. Richie hadn’t been able to look away.

(or stop thinking about it for days following the incident; that guy sure had been something to contend with)

The second time Richie saw him, it was his only morning class of the week (or the month, if you counted how often he actually attended. Richie didn’t), a Thursday. He had stopped in the doorway into the dining hall, looking as wrecked - if not more - as the first time Richie saw him, saw what Richie had chosen to eat his cereal with instead of milk (orange juice), said ‘nope’ loudly, and turned right the fuck back around. 

Bill, who had been passed out in the seat next to Richie’s, lifted his head just in time to see someone leaving faster than if someone had bit him in the ass. 

“What happened?” He had asked, and Richie shook his head slowly. To be frank, he hardly heard what Bill had said, his brain lagging, eyes glued to the spot that had been occupied by the fluffiest hair he’d ever seen just a few seconds prior.

(he couldn’t answer Bill even if he tried, his heart was beating too fast and his throat was too dry, and he was starting to feel dread settling at the bottom of his stomach)

The third time Richie saw him, he had gotten up early on a Friday, for no particular reason at all. Just like that. Naturally. 

And he had walked down to the dining hall at 7.05 am, naturally, made his coffee and eggs and gross cereal, sitting down in the seat with the best vantage point, naturally. Because that was natural for him. 

When he arrived, Richie watched him stumble into three tables before making it to the kitchen, hand shielding his already mostly closed eyes, and punch one of the fridges after walking headfirst into it. Then Richie watched him take out half a boiled egg, dish out a spoonful of mayonnaise onto it, eat half with his eyes closed, then chug half a carton of milk from the carton, put the carton back in the fridge, and take out a block of cheese before closing it. 

Richie was getting the impression that maybe mornings weren’t this guy’s deal either. 

His eyes caught Richie’s as he walked out the kitchen, half-eaten mayonnaise-y egg and whole ass block of cheese in hand. Before Richie realized what was happening it was way too late to pretend he hadn’t been staring. 

For a while he just stared too, swaying on his feet, before his eyes flicked over to Richie’s breakfast and the perplexed crease between his brows turned into one of anger and disgust, and, as he continued on his way out of the dining hall, he pushed Richie’s bottle of orange juice over. 

(a jolt went through Richie, his face burning, and he felt the beginnings of a  desire to find out who this guy was prickling at the back of his neck. he didn’t like what was happening at all)

–

His name was Eddie. 

This is something Richie found out the fourth time he saw him, while picking Bill up from his noon class for Friday lunch (buying a shitty baguette each at the cafeteria and getting high on the hill behind the art building), almost falling and cracking his head open on the edge of a desk at the sight that met his eyes upon entering the lecture hall. 

Because. There he was, a way down. Talking. To a guy.

Talking to a guy that was Bill. 

And then he was turning away from Bill. Shrugging his bag onto his shoulder. Gesturing over his shoulder, something that may or may not have been a wave. 

He was going to walk towards the exit! 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

Richie’s brain jumped out the nearest window at the same time Richie dove under the nearest desk. He hit his head on a table leg, swore loudly, swore a lot. Got discovered, naturally.

Not his proudest moment, truth be told.

“You’re that orange juice and cereal guy, right?”

Richie felt one thing and one thing only wash over him. Fear.

That was not Bill’s voice. Bill wouldn’t ask him who he was, anyway. Bill knew very well who he was. No, this was the voice that had endeared him so when hearing it cussing someone out for being mildly unsanitary. This was the voice that had directed nothing but the word ‘nope’ at him specifically, yet still managed to accelerate his heart-rate to speeds before unknown to Richie, still managed to make the room’s temperature rise by dangerous amounts.

Or maybe that was just Richie’s body temperature. Who knew.

Richie opened his eyes, slowly, and oh fuck. From his vantage point down on the floor, this mystery orange plus cheerios hater looked like an angel, a brown-haired, brown-eyed, freckled 5′7″ (or shorter) angel that looked…

Hm. What was that emotion? Anger? Concern? Discontentment? Amusement?

Boredom? 

Fuck, Richie hoped it wasn’t boredom.

“Yep, that’s me,” he answered finally, and holy fuck was that his voice? He couldn’t actually sound that out of breath, right? 

The guy nodded, and stood there in silence for a moment, eyeing Richie - what was that look? - before shaking his head, and picking his bag up off the seat in front of him, before-

“You’re so fucking weird, dude.” 

And then he was gone. But he had-

He had laughed. Chuckled, really. Which meant he…

He didn’t think Richie was boring. Might have thought he was funny even. 

Bill found him still laying there, eyes sparkling with something Bill had never seen on Richie before, grinning goofily up at the desk above him, no doubt covered in chewed-up gum as old as the school itself. 

“What the f-f-fuck, Rich?” 

“Bill!” Richie shot right up upon hearing the sound of Bill’s voice, the memories of the past ten years and growing too tall to even fit underneath a desk at all let alone comfortably evidently escaping him for the moment, or else he might not have hit the edge of the desk with his forehead. He didn’t seem too bothered about it though. “Ow. Bill! Bill are you listening?!” 

“Yes, Richie, what the fuck?”

“Bill, you have to tell me who that fucking guy was.” 

–

The next time Richie saw him, it wasn’t Richie who saw Eddie at all. It was, in fact, Eddie who saw Richie. He sat down opposite Richie, wearing an over-sized hoodie, bottoms that could only be described as booty shorts, and flip flops, and simply asked (demanded) Richie to pass his orange juice. Richie, brain still stuck in the past, in the moment he had noticed the shorts, pushed it towards him wordlessly, to which Eddie uttered ‘thanks’, and, without missing a beat, started rambling about how much he hated his professor, his car issues, and his friend Ben’s idiotic lady drama, stopping from time to time to make his disgust at Richie’s food choices unequivocally clear. 

(and Richie was gone, he was so gone, even trying to convince himself otherwise was useless at this point)

–

“You are so stupid, the dumbest person I’ve ever met in the entire world, you know that? You’re so dumb, every time I talk to you I can just feel my braincells leaking out. You are making me dumber, that’s how stupid you are, asshole. Your own mother-” 

“Yeah your mother’s hot too, what’s the problem, spaghetti?” 

“The problem? THE PROB- don’t fucking call me that Richie, I swear to God - the PROBLEM!!! Unbelievable. The problem is, Richie, this. This right here.” 

“I don’t see a problem.” 

“YOU DON’T SEE A- Richie, I am going to kill you. I hate this. I hate you. I hate you so fucking much. Who the FUCK packs a dishwasher like this? You’re such an asshole, for fuck’s sake… Now I have to do it.”

“Please, do go ahead, Eds,” Eddie held his middle finger up at Richie, and Richie, cackling, leaned back on the counter behind him as Eddie started taking out plates, muttering under his breath the entire time. 

For the past month, this had been routine. Eddie and Richie woke up (early, way too early for either of their likings, so why they continued to do so was beyond Richie), met in the dining hall or the stairwell, argued, ate breakfast, argued, cleaned up after themselves, argued. Sometimes, Bill would join them too, but he wouldn’t contribute much apart from falling asleep while eating and telling the other two to shut up once in a while. 

To anyone observing from the outside, they looked simply like an old married couple (as well as the two most obnoxious fuckers in the building, but that was besides the point). To Bill… Bill didn’t give a fuck about what was happening there, he just knew it was too early for it to be happening. To Richie…

Well. That thought would have to wait. Because when Richie had suggested Eddie repack the dishwasher, he didn’t really think about- well. He didn’t really think. 

Because Eddie, well. Eddie was wearing those ridiculous fucking shorts, the ones Eddie insisted were not booty shorts even though they fucking were, the ones he owned multiple pairs of in various colors, the ones that showed his ass in just the tastiest of ways when Eddie leaned over the dishwasher. 

And Richie? He put himself in a position where had no choice but to look on. Just sip his coffee and ponder the nice, shapely curves of Eddie’s ass…

Nope. Wasn’t happening. 

Richie must have made some kind of noise because before he’d even had the time to turn away Eddie was straightening up (which did wonders for Richie’s heart-rate) and turning in Richie’s direction. There was a look on his face that Richie did not like, did not like at all.

“You okay there, Rich?” 

Richie did not know how to answer that question. 

“You’re looking a little red. Are you sick?” Eddie took a step forward, an absolutely evil smile on his face. “Got a fever, maybe?” 

Richie was going to kill him. Just straight up murder him. “I’m fine.” 

“You sure about that?” Richie avoided Eddie’s gaze as if he were going to explode on sight if he met it. Eddie was too close, close enough that Richie could feel his breath on his face, close enough that he could do something stupid if he really wanted to. It was simply put, too much to handle.

“You forgot to turn the dishwasher on.” Richie informed, deflecting, stepping around Eddie carefully, not trusting himself to even brush shoulders with him at the moment. He reached into the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a box of dishwasher capsules, ignoring the fact that Eddie hadn’t finished repacking the dishwasher yet. 

“You ever going to ask me out?” 

Richie’s brain short-circuited, and he dropped the box of capsules. His coffee would have gone too, if he hadn’t regained his senses in just the right moment and placed the hand previously holding the capsules on the cup, steadying it. He turned and gaped at Eddie, mouth falling open in disbelief. 

Had Eddie really just said that? Had those words really come out of Eddie’s mouth? And they were directed at him, Richie? Richie “Trashmouth, has never known when to shut up for a God damned second in his life” Tozier? Richie Tozier? Not another Richie? Him? 

“But all I do is drink coffee and say bad words.” 

“Oh I am very well aware of that fact.” 

“And you want me to ask you out?” Richie reiterated. 

“Yes.” 

It simply did not make sense. In no universe did the cute guy with the curly hair and the brown doe eyes and the freckles, the guy who was way out of Richie’s league, by the way, the guy Richie had been pining over for the better part of two months, with his deadly little booty shorts and his truly fatal comebacks, want Richie back. It just didn’t happen.

And yet…

Eddie looked so confident. So sure of himself. The question in the raise of his eyebrows, the tilt of his lips, the way he was almost brushing Richie’s elbow with his fingertips. It was driving Richie off the edge. Erasing absolutely all rational thought. It was a wasteland up there, in his brain, nothing but TV static and Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Which is why he simply had no choice but to say something stupid. 

“Why does it have to be me and not you? Why can’t you ask me out?”

“I don’t know if your old man memory is too shit to remember, but I was the one who spoke to you first, I took the first step. I am the only reason we’re talking right now.” It was possible that Richie might have had an answer for that, but it was in that moment Eddie chose to place a hand on his chest, and all attempts at a thought went flushing out again. “I can’t be the one doing all the work in this relationship, Richie.” 

“You,” Richie’s brain stuttered and came to a stop at the word ‘relationship’. Maybe if Eddie stopped biting his lip and smiling like that he’d be able to get a coherent sentence out, but why should Richie get to be a functioning human being, right?

“So, you ever gonna ask me or not?”

“Yes.” 

“Good,” Eddie patted Richie’s chest before taking his hand away, (Richie felt a horrifying urge to whimper at the loss, the place Eddie’s hand had just been burning up), only to run it through a few of Richie’s curls. He stayed there for a second, and Richie thought he saw his composure slipping away. His eyes started drifting away, somewhere Richie was desperate to follow, wherever it was, and Richie was this close to reaching in…

But then Eddie was gone, over by the dishwasher again. Just like that, he and his fuckass booty shorts were gone, placing cups with a neatness Richie wouldn’t be able to achieve even on his best day, and Richie…

(Richie needed to take a nap)

send me a ship/dynamic and one of these and i’ll write a ficlet anything ranging from a ficlet to a full length 150k word fic apparently

[aparticularbandit]

7, 3 and 15 (roisa!)

bookstore au, meet cute, “I’m rambling again, aren’t i?”

@backlandsofbutter - thanks for the prompt!!!!

prompts found here!

The bell over the door dinged just as Luisa opened the door, and she quickly leaned up on her tiptoes and stoppered the clapper, waiting for the imminent groan she expected from the indie store’s owner.  He didn’t always have a headache, but most of the time when she was there, he said he did, and she thought, you know, the bell over the door being that loud and that sharp probably didn’t help.

But there was no groan.

Luisa span on her heel and stared over at the front desk.  No owner there, either.  Hm.  Weird. He was probably in one of the aisles rearranging things – probably the romance shelves because if Jane wasn’t here now, she’d probably been here earlier – one of her favorite authors had just dropped a new book and Jane was the sort of person who couldn’t get just one book; she’d have gone through the entire romance section – again – and pulled out three or four and built little stacks without thinking about it with books she wanted to get and books she wanted to get now and ones she wasn’t sure about quite yet – none of which Luisa ever did, seeing as how she had enough money to just…buy the books she wanted without having to separate them into stacks – and the owner would have had to go and take the ones she had decided to wait on and put them back on the shelves and make sure everything was in the proper place.

And of course, despite the fact that Luisa knew she had a book she’d preordered waiting on her at the front desk, it was much easier to roam the shelves and see who was here and where the store owner was.  Especially since said book owner had not liked it when she tried to go behind the counter to find her book the last time she preordered one and couldn’t find him and since she knew he often got headaches whenever she was around, she thought maybe not the best idea to ding the bell sitting on the front counter, despite the fact that the entire reason for it being there was to alert him to someone needing his assistance.

Then again, that was the point of the bell over the door, too, wasn’t it?  And she hadn’t been that fast at stoppering it, had she?  So he should know someone was here, shouldn’t he?

Meh, it was more fun to go look through the shelves and their aisles anyway.

Luisa didn’t start at the romance section, but as she went past the aisles and didn’t see anyone, she was more convinced that she had been right.  But, instead of seeing the book owner grumbling to himself and slowly moving books from stacks and scanning the aisles and squinting and glaring at them as he moved books around and put them back where they were, Luisa was instead greeted by a tall redhead with frizzy red hair – red, red, red – glasses perched on the edge of her nose, a navy blue polo shirt tucked into light colored jeans that did an excellent job shaping her—

Luisa.

She swallowed and felt her heart pound just once against the frame of her chest.

The redhead didn’t seem to notice she was there, though.  Instead, one long finger flipped the page of – was that Spring Fire?  Luisa narrowed her eyes as though that would help her see better. She knew the cover of Spring Fire, but the problem was that she was seeing the back of the cover and that was a little harder to tell. The colors looked right.  There were stacks of books all around the redhead – Jane was here, then, because Luisa could pick out a few of the books that she knew Jane wanted and hadn’t gotten yet in some of them, which meant that the owner hadn’t organized them yet – and where was he?

Luisa bit her lower lip, brushed some of her hair behind her ear – she’d pulled half of it back, but it didn’t always like to stay back – in fact, some of it had pulled free and liked to dangle just in front of her face.  It was those stupid bangs she’d tried to give herself a few weeks ago.  They’d grown out enough that they could almost get back into the half tail and they could almost stay tucked behind her ears, but they didn’t like to do it and she hated the way the little clips and pins looked holding them back – unless they were the cheap butterflies that she used to wear when she was smaller because then she’d have a rainbow of them like a headband – but she hadn’t done that today.  Too much effort.  Far too much effort for a day that was built for a light grey t-shirt with a bright rainbow with a smiley face and clouds for its cheeks proudly proclaiming it was into girls today, thank you very much! and short shorts with the ends rolled up so that they were even shorter – her legs were one of her best features and it was hot out and she didn’t feel like hiding them away if she didn’t have to – and a blue shirt with pink and white plaid stripes tied around her waist and making her already big hips seem even bigger—

Luisa bit her lower lip, brushed some of her hair behind her ear, where it did not stay, despite how much she tried to forcibly push it there, and calmly approached the redhead and tried very, very hard not to stare at her ass, which meant she had to look up, and then she had to try very, very hard not to stare at the rest of her.

She found a spattering of freckles along her arms – that helped – and as she approached, she said, trying to keep her voice down because she knew what it was like to be interrupted in the middle of reading a book, especially a good romance book – and it was, that was Spring Fire, she knew it!

“Have you seen Phillips around here somewhere?” Luisa asked, putting on her most charming grin – not the smug one, which was her particular favorite, but the happy one that made people more likely to like her.  Then she stopped, considered it, and then continued, “Phillips is the store owner.  Usually sits behind the front counter?  Sometimes hangs out in the aisles.  Was probably trying to fix these books earlier?”

The redhead stuck a receipt paper to hold her spot in the book and turned to face Luisa, and Luisa felt her heart drop a bit.  This woman had the most piercing sky blue eyes.  At least that gave her something to focus on higher up than everything else that kept trying to tear her gaze away.  “He took the day off,” she said, her voice smooth and cool.  She hid the book under her arm and stepped lightly around the piles of books, holding out one hand.  “I’m Clara – Rose—”  She stopped and kneaded her forehead with one hand then sighed and held out her hand again.  “I’m Rose.”  A smile graced her lips.  “I’m his new assistant.”

“New assistant?”  Luisa’s eyes widened, and it took a second before she acknowledged the other woman’s hand and took it between both of her own.  “Phillips is the only one I’ve ever seen working here.  You don’t get headaches, do you?  I mean, I’m sure you do; everyone gets headaches at some point in time or other, but you’re not going to get a headache from the doorbell – not the doorbell but the one that’s hanging…over…the door – you know what I mean, you won’t get a headache or have one and get bothered by people coming in or ringing the bell at the counter if they need you and—” She flushed a bright scarlet and dropped the other woman’s hand and brushed that bit of hair that had used to be bangs and now was too long for that but too short to stay put back behind her ear again.  “Sorry. I ramble.  I’m good at rambling.”

“That’s okay,” Rose said, and she smiled – a soft thing – and Luisa felt her heart ache.  “It’s—”

“—annoying, I know,” Luisa interrupted, rolling her eyes with a little shake of her head.  She grinned.  “I try to stop, but I’m no good at it.  Luisa Alver, by the way,” she continued without even thinking about it.  “Is my name. Luisa Alver.  Luisa, you don’t have to say both of them; in fact, I would like it so much better if you didn’t use both of them, I’m just Luisa, or Lu, you can call me that, but don’t call me Loony, that’s kind of offensive, I won’t take it well, and—” She sighed, biting her lower lip again. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“I don’t mind.”  It looked like Rose was suppressing the urge to laugh.  “And I was trying to say I thought it was cute, not annoying.”  She shelved Spring Fire, tapped it once with one long finger, and then turned back to her.  “Did you need me for something, since Phillips isn’t here?”

“Yeah, right, of course, yeah.”  Luisa shook her head once, trying – and failing – to get a grip on herself.  “I had a book on reserve, and I couldn’t help but notice that’s, um, that’s Spring Fire, isn’t it?  The book you were reading?”  She tried to meet Rose’s eyes, but the redhead avoided her gaze.  “I read it for the first time a few months ago.  It’s a classic.”

Rose froze, and her brows lifted as her gaze met Luisa’s.  The novel hung in the air between them for a few seconds before the redhead said, hesitantly, “What did you think?”

“It’s the first lesbian pulp novel, so while some of its wording was weird, obviously I loved it.”  Luisa pointed to the rainbow on her shirt, as if Rose hadn’t noticed it – and maybe, thinking about this the way that maybe she should have, Rose had been carefully trying to avoid looking at her in a way that might have made her uncomfortable in the same way she’d been trying not to look at Rose.

Rose’s eyes drifted to Luisa’s chest, where the rainbow still proudly proclaimed it was into girls today, and a bright smile spread slowly across her face.  Her eyes lifted and met Luisa’s and then she tilted her head to one side. “You’re the one who reserved—”

“Yes, that was me, that was definitely me, and you can borrow it if you want because I’m sure Phillips didn’t order more than that one unless you preordered one, too.”  The words came out all in a rush before Rose could even finish her sentence, and Luisa started to flush with embarrassment again before having a sudden realization.  She slowly moved through the stacks so that she was closer to Rose.  “You said my rambling was cute.”

One of Rose’s brows lifted again, and she stood in the same place, very carefully not moving as Luisa moved towards her.  “Yes,” she said hesitantly.  “Why?”

“Is there anything else about me that you think is cute?”  Luisa’s smile turned smug – her favorite of her expressions – as she watched Rose’s cheeks turn a bright, unsettled pink.  “I’ll take that as a yes.  You don’t have to say anything.”  She pulled a pen out from her purse, grabbed Rose’s hand, and slowly wrote her phone number on her palm.  “When you get off work.”

“Or,” Rose hesitated, her gaze flicking from her palm to Luisa’s eyes and then back again, “you could stay here with me.  Point out more of your favorite books.  Let me reshelve these while we talk,” she didn’t even have to gesture to the stacks of books, “and when I get my dinner break, we can—”

“—go get dinner together?”  Luisa grinned.  “I know the cutest little sandwich shop just a few blocks from here, and they have the best chocolate-covered doughnuts—”

“I like powdered ones better, myself.”  Rose tugged on one of the sleeves of Luisa’s flannel shirt.  “And let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  Maybe I just want to hear what you ramble about if I keep you here long enough.”  One corner of her lips lifted.  “Or you could just read me some of that book you have reserved.”

Luisa’s eyes widened.  “You better hope no one else comes in here, then.”

“I could lock the door.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, she say.  I could lock the door, she says.”  Luisa couldn’t help herself from laughing.  “Phillips wouldn’t be happy with you locking the door, and I’ve only known you a few minutes and I already like you better than Phillips, and I would hate to see you lose your job just because you wanted me to read a book out loud when I could just sit here and show you some other books and stretch my legs out in front of me and I could stare at you and every now and again you’d look at my legs because they’re gorgeous and we’d meet eyes every now and again and—”

“Luisa.”

“What, I thought you liked my rambling.”  Luisa let her smug grin linger just the slightest bit.  “Or was that too much?”  Then, before Rose could say anything in reply, she reached over and patted her hand. “Wait here.  I have a great idea!”

“Luisa—”

The bell dinged overhead as Luisa left the bookstore – she knew a vending machine at a store a couple of stores over that would have powdered donuts – and this time, when she came back, she didn’t even think about reaching up to stopper it.

[mirrorballparkers]

best friends forever[peter parker]

summary: may we all be so lucky to consider our significant other our best friend; just like you and peter parker.

authors note: i’m terrible xoxo enjoy loves

words: 2.9k

~~

there’s always been some sort of misconception that a couple has to act, feel, and be a certain way. kissing in the halls, holding hands, all the cliche necessities. sure, that’s what you and peter benjamin parker were like, but that’s not what you were known for.

you and peter parker were known for being the boyfriend and girlfriend who were also best friends — soulmates, if you will. it’s not that you started out as just friends and that there was a time where it hit you that you felt more than that, but that wasn’t the case. the two of you met in the library at school one day while volunteering together during the summer.

that entire summer was magic; true romance and growth. from the moment peter laid his eyes on you, watching your own skin the pages of your favorite jane austen book, ‘Emma’, he knew this summer would be true and different, he knew it would be beautiful. you two spent the days and sometimes nights, bonding over different things. the trees, stars, movies, and books of course. peters favorites were science fiction, while yours were classic novels and poetry.

when peter asked you out on your very first date, he was probably the least amount of confident, which was a lot for him. lucky for you, he was truly the sweetest and cutest boy ever. you knew you had to go on a date with him.

the date was nothing short of pure magic. he took you to this quiet spot near the lake, the trees lightly shaking among the soft, summer breeze. his light chestnut curls falling just above his forehead as his warm, coffee colored eyes, that you adored the most, looking right at you. it was sweet and simple; the two of you just sat on the wool blanket for hours and hours, eating his aunt mays homemade sugar cookies and drinking chocolate milk — talking about everything.

it was easy to strike a conversation with peter whenever, yes you got nervous, who wouldn’t, but you found it easy to just be you. and that’s what made you realize how he was gonna be your best friend forever.

it was also quite easy for peter to know that he could come to you for anything, whether he was sad, stressed, or sometimes broken about something. you weren’t around when his uncle ben passed, but eventually, peter was comfortable enough to tell you what he could. you never let go of him that night. he buried his head in your chest, the sobs becoming more broken each minute. it was hard, seeing peter so upset and broken about something that was completely impossible to fix. you didn’t know what to say, but you did know what to do - be there for him. hold him, love him, be present.

peter read you like a book, too. he knew when you were too tired to even eat, or too sad to even shed a tear. he was patient, so so patient. throughout time, he figured out how to be the best he could ever be when it came to comforting you; listening and holding you as close as he could without an ounce of selfishness to it. he was addicted to your warmth, the way your soft skin was in contact with his, the sweet smell of your peach shampoo and your lavender perfume. peter was so in love. he was in love with his soulmate and best friend.

once the relationship became real, the friendship blossomed like no other. all the sweet little gestures peter would do just to see you smile, bringing you lunch at work every day, even packing a little note inside, buying you flowers every single friday, leaving you sweet little notes inside your locker — it was all because he loved you. and because you were his best friend, and his true love.

sleepovers were the best, in your opinion. none of you ever got sleep, this was the time to enjoy each other’s company and catch up on what was going on in each other’s lives. you’d stay up til the sun was about to fully rise, the brightness hitting peters cheeks and showcasing his infinitesimal amount of freckles all over. it was pretty moments like these that meant the absolute world to you.

“stop taking weird snapchats of me, parker.” you frown, leaning back on the chair at the dining room table as the two of you eat the left over pasta his aunt may made the two of you. it was two am, you had an urge to just sit down with peter and have some two am pasta, because what’s better than food at two am with your best friend? nothing was. it was traditional, something that couldn’t be broken. just like your bond with peter.

“whaaat, i have to show my followers how cute you are.” peter giggles, zooming in into your face, he was using the heart filter on snapchat. he thought it fit your personality perfectly.

you scrunch your nose slightly, taking another bite of your penne and wave shyly atbrhe camera. “don’t be a creep and let me enjoy my two am noodles.”

“don’t be a loser and let me kiss you,” peter says, pushing his chair back as he gets up, forgetting to even push his chair as he slowly walks towards u, the sweetest smile on the sweetest face.

he kneels down, grabbing your free hand, and starts to fiddle with your fingers. “you changed your nail color again,” he points out, brushing his thumb over your middle finger.

you giggle softly, dropping the fork onto the plate, making a clank sound, “i know you liked the orange that you picked out, but it just made my hands look like an oompa loompa.”

“well, baby, you’re much cuter than an oompa looma.” peter laughs heartily. “why don’t i do them for you?”

you squint, “you’d do that?” peter doesn’t reply, he only nods as he slowly looks up at you. there was something so..beautiful about his eyes. they were always so warm, so promising. it made you believe that life was actually good. that maybe, there was some kind of sweetness left in the world, peter being your sweet boy of course.

“duh, gotta make sure my best friends looking sharp.” peter jokes, lifting his hand up and brushing it softly against your freckled cheek. when he looked at you, he felt calm. he wasn’t scared of anything — he felt fearless. you made him feel like the most important thing in the world. like he was actually capable of doing something that mattered and that made an impact.

without another word uttered, peter connects his lips to your sweet cherry flavored ones. with his eyes shut, all he could see were flowers, angels, and butterflies. all the best, and beautiful parts. feeling your lips against his, that sweet touch, peter giggles into the kiss softly, removing his lips so he could control it.

“what’s so funny, you?” you managed to breathe out, feeling so light headed from such a good kiss.

peter brushes a few strands away from your hair, “you’re my best friend.” he says without skipping a beat.

your heart flutters, and you give peter a small peck on his cute, crooked freckled nose. he sure was. and you wouldn’t have it any other way. your best friend, your peter.

“forever, pete.” you nod, blushing as you bite the outside of your bottom lip.

forever, peter thought to himself. he couldn’t disagree with that beautiful idea.

~

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