#i had this sketched for a week and a half and then saw someone in the fandom used the same pinterest pose and i was like oh shit

[iffasart]

@campbenji JWCTcountdown: release day / free day

HAPPY CHAOS THEORY DAY!!!!

I'M SO EXCITEDDD :D

Edit: added some close-ups under the cut

[macfrog]

birds of a feather | joel & ellie

y'all listen to the new billie eilish album? there's a song that reminded me of a couple of someones.

pairing: joel miller & ellie williams summary: joel surprises ellie on her sixteenth birthday. warnings: nada. just me loving hard on this pair. word count: 1.5k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤍

Oh, my god, it is a dinosaur.

She didn’t actually believe it would be. I mean, it was her first guess – but where the fuck is he going to find a dinosaur way the hell out here? She was kidding.

Wasn’t a convertible, wasn’t a puppy, wasn’t even a lotta kittens. A litter. Whatever. It wasn’t a new pair of sneakers, nor a comic book collection. She’d almost run out of ideas, when she spotted the tail through the bushes.

Is that–? Is he seeing this, too?

It’s, like, three times the size of her. No, wait – five times the size of her. Ten? She’s gotta ask Joel.

Two thick, stocky legs planted firm into the earth. Draped in ivy and spattered with moss – the thing actually looks prehistoric. Head lifted to the canopy; teeth bared in a silent roar. His little arms – alright, they’re actually kinda fuckin’ cute – frozen, reaching for something.

It’s right fucking there. Right in front of her. A motherfucking dinosaur.

Her hands fly to her head.

“Joel!” Ellie cries, and she can hardly feel her legs with giddiness.

Joel lingers a few steps behind her. He kicks a heel through the mucky grass, just watching. Smiling like an idiot, letting the ripples from the kid’s glee wash over him. It’s like the zoo all over again, or that time he found a Savage Starlight poster while out on patrol.

Ellie’s laughter is ticklish, vibrating through his veins. She pumps her fists and sizes up the monster. She says holy shit, Joel three times before she takes a step closer.

The sun trickles through the leaves, haloing over the Rex. It’s warm, but not too warm – and the swim on the way helped cool them down. It’s a bit of a hike to get here. He’s just glad it’s a nice day.

He was, truthfully, a little nervous about it. About bringing her here. He’s never had a sixteen-year-old to plan shit for. What if she didn’t like it? Hell, what if she thought it was fucking lame?

But Ellie wades waist-deep into the moat instantly. She pulls herself through the murky water straight to the plaque, and whips out her journal.

And Joel knows he’s fucking nailed it.

“King of the tyrant lizards,” she announces, making sure she gets the spelling right. Her tongue pokes from the corner of her mouth as she sketches.

Joel wanders over to her side, hand combing through the tangles of leaves drooping from the dinosaur’s belly. He swats fluttering flies away from his face.

The water sloshes around her feet as she rounds the tail. It’s slippery with slime. She crawls over threads and vines, soles scuffing up the spine.

“What are you doin’?” he asks, a chuckle patching over cracks of sudden fear.

“I’m climbing a dinosaur!” Ellie yells. She hesitates on the snout – though only for half a second, because fuck it, how many times am I going to jump off a motherfuckin’ dinosaur? – and then she’s plummeting.

Joel’s stomach flips. He staggers into the water, breath clamped in his throat until she resurfaces again.

She’s still wearing that dumb as shit smirk. It probably didn’t flinch, the entire fall. “Did you see that?” she gasps.

Jesus. Yeah, he saw it. He pulls a hand down his face.

It’s been a year, little less than. They’re used to it by now – the slow turn of life in Jackson. Breaking bread in the dinner hall, calling the woodland creatures by whichever ridiculous names Ellie christens them with.

It took a few weeks, but eventually, their heartrates settled. Their fists loosened. They relaxed into the quiet, found respite in the negative space.

Tommy joked for the first little while that Joel had a shadow he couldn’t shake. She’s five-three, red hair, and she carries a switchblade everywhere she goes. Following him close enough that she felt more like a phantom at his heels.

Joel never minded, and he still doesn’t. He’s long forgotten the feeling of being alone – as quickly as he acquired it, it seems. These days, he waits at his kitchen table for the kick of the backdoor, the slump of a still half-asleep teenager opposite him.

He wonders how he ever got by so long without it.

He leads Ellie into the museum.

Everything looks exactly how he left it. A jungle of a building; shattered glass and overgrown grass, a muggy smell lingering in every dim corner. The stuff he deliberately left for her to stumble upon when she got here: a Giants of the Past brochure, the stupid hat he knew she’d force him to wear.

A marshland wasteland, and she still sees the magic in every square inch.

She throws fact after fact at him. Fruit flies and moon landings, gunpowder and Yuri Gagarin. She knows a shit ton, if the stacks of books on her desk are anything to go by. And when Joel tells her how smart she is, Ellie smiles smugly to herself and thinks up ten more facts, just for him.

He thinks of her books and their awkwardly long titles, the faded pictures on all the covers. Astronauts and nebulas and faraway suns. He offers the one thing he remembers from school back at her: My very educated mother just served us nice pizzas.

She’s never even heard of it.

But she’s impressed, and she repeats it to herself as she explores some more. Turning back at every new artifact she finds, beckoning Joel over with a flapping hand.

He wanders after her, thinking up questions he’s sure he already knows the answers to – just so she can tell him again. Just to see her face light, to hear her ramble as she explains.

And nine times out of ten, she corrects him, anyway.

The space shuttle is spotlit under a dome roof, more ivy spilling over the top. A little heap of machinery, succumbed to the nature around it. They crank the door open together, and a springtime heat floods from the cockpit.

Joel stops Ellie from climbing in. “You’re goin’ into space,” he says, leaning on the warm metal. “You’re gonna need a helmet.”

Her eyebrows lift. “Oh, right. What was I thinking?”

They’re too big for her – all three helmets. They’re clunky and clumsy, the visors a little grubby and distorted. But she pulls one over her head and jogs back to Joel, hoisting herself into the shuttle.

It’s cramped inside; stifling even with the door wide open. Joel feels his back twinge as he settles into the seats. But he doesn’t mind, and neither does Ellie.

She flicks button after button, her elbow knocking against his. Explosion sounds rumbling from her lips. Her breath clouds the inside of her helmet.

He could lie here all day beside her. In this quiet corner of the world, where time stands still. Guarded by the Tyrannosaurus Rex out front. Just him and his kid, listening to her mimic engine noises and pretend to lift them both into space.

But he’s hellbent on timing it perfectly. So just as she sounds the roar of a seamless takeoff, he slips the tape from his chest pocket.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.”

Ellie blinks at the cassette. “What is this?”

“This…” Joel says, pinching it in two fingers, “…is a thing that took a mighty effort to find.”

His handwriting is carved into the label. It’s the first gift – real gift, birthday gift – she’s ever been given. Thought out and made up, addressed to her and placed in her hands for keeps. All hers.

She clicks it into her player and hooks her headphones in, thumping her helmet back over her head. She jams a thumb into the play button, and –

He did remember to rewind the tape, right? It’ll play from the start, won’t it?

Joel’s heart begins to thud. He shifts uncomfortably.

Shit, what if it spoils the surprise? What if she hits play, and the first thing she hears is –

Ellie’s head lifts. Her eyes are wide. She grins, and so does he.

He fucking nailed it.

She closes her eyes, the staticky babble of mission control in her ear. His voice tickles, pulling a wide grin across her face. 10, 9, 8, 7…

The shuttle shudders as it shoots into space. She’s holding her breath, holding until he announces liftoff on Apollo 11. The naked sun stretches over her visor, red under her closed eyelids. It disappears somewhere in the distance.

Ellie lands slowly, carefully, back in Wyoming. She blinks her eyes open.

Joel’s still right beside her, hands clasped on his chest. He waits for her to turn, waits to check her expression. He asks it softly, earnestly.

“I do okay?”

Her cheeks ache with smiling. She clutches the tape player tighter, replies through a giggle.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

There might be nothing outside of this shuttle. Perhaps there was nothing to begin with. They might’ve shot straight past the earth’s atmosphere, might actually be among the stars. And it might not even matter, if they are.

Everything is right here. The sun and the moon – the entire universe between them.

Joel breathes a relieved laugh. His chest loosens, his heart settles back into place behind his ribcage.

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

[brynn-lear]

I LOVEEEE DOG GALLIGAR I NEED MORE

please read the rules and regulations next time anon cuz I'll ignore asks that don't follow format. Anyways I'm a big gallagher simp so I can't ignore a humble request. here's a quick sketch of farmer!reader and (yandere utc) dog!gallagher + extra brainrots cooked up 1 AM cuz I just finished a school output

Domestic Fluff/Crack:

You rarely buy chocolate after taking Gallagher in. Not because you're worried that the canine might randomly eat some and get a "lethal" dose— but because he simply looks disgruntled whenever you take a bite. He went on quite a long tangent about how it doesn't taste that great and you would much rather not hear it a second time.

In your first week together, you might've gone overboard and bought every dog care product you could think off. Gallagher heartily laughed when he saw you bought one of every shampoo— and then his heart dropped when you pulled out a pet razor next in the shopping bag. Needless to say, his silence saved his skin. Or well, in this case, fur.

You often pondered over the ethics of having a half-human in your home. It's not that you treat him poorly or bar him from opportunities elsewhere, but you remind him from time to time that he can leave the farm if he wants to. In which, he would either a) put a hand on your shoulder and earnestly decline or b) joke about how he's going to bite you if you ask again.

Speaking of jokes, he never tells you about his past— which was a decision you respected. However, it's become an inside joke for the two of you to make up his backstory and how you met. When your traveler friend Boothill once came to visit, you both told him that Gallagher was actually an ex-police dog who decided he's tired of snitching where the drugs were when "it's always hidden in cushions anyways". When the local innkeeper Siobhan asked where did he come from, he said he was once a bartender— and you made a convincing follow-up that it was the reason behind his distaste for SoulGlad. He even shocked everyone when he had the skills to back that lie up. You swear that every time, the story and people's reactions become more and more priceless.

Yandere:

But not everyone is elusive of his true nature.

That's why he hates whenever your neighbor "Sunday" visits.

Gallagher doesn't want it to happen, but that man seems to always discern the facade he's putting on. He doesn't like it at all. He always had to hold back a sharp stare and a growl whenever he's around. But that man. That hawk...

Why does he always cling to you like a pest?

He knows- he knows you're friends with him and that Robin girl since childhood- but shouldn't those numerous interactions suffice? Why does HE keep stealing your time together? That Sunday is a hybrid himself— he should know that someone has already marked this household territory.

Still, that bird perches on your porch, greeting you with a smile that you'll reciprocate. But the cunning glimpses he sends Gallagher indicates that they equally find the other person bothersome.

"What're you doing here?" Gallagher scoffed. "Don't you have a Family to go back to?"

Sunday smiled politely, though with how his hands are always hidden from the dog's view, he can only guess that it's clenched in a tight fist.

"And you don't?"

"(Y/n) is my Family."

"Before they were yours, they were mine."

That caught Gallagher's attention.

... Isn't that technically the truth? Even without papers, isn't the bond you, Robin, and that fiend share essentially a strong familial bond? He had only heard snippets in town and from yourself, but you three had known each other almost since birth.

So... What does that make him?

A pet?

A hound?

A friend?

A partner?

Or a mere passing memory?

Despite these thoughts, he steeled his resolve and shook his head, subconsciously holding his neck. There's no collar. Nothing that physically binds him to you. And, for reasons he didn't quite placed at the time, he hated the sensation of freedom.

He hated being free.

He hated being detached from you.

"With what to prove, huh?" Gallagher snarled. "Leave. They're asleep. Don't bother them today— or ever again."

He volunteered to patrol for the next nights to hide his insomnia. Gallagher did not understand where most these emotions stemmed from. Why would he wish to be shackled when he just got himself out or a cage? You were kind enough to supply him with basic necessities and allow him to do whatever he wants after work is done— so why this emptiness?

But when he came back home at dawn after unlocking the door with the spare key you gave him— he got his answer.

He felt his feet drag him to your door. Before he could even process what was happening, Gallagher was seated at a nearby chair, tenderly caressing your face.

This was the answer he was looking for. The raison d'etre. All resolved under three words:

"You... I want you."

And for a while, that was enough.

[lilyrizzy]

continuation and happy ending for this break up fic. i fixed it! (and maybe did a sloppy job of it oops) BUT I hope this brings someone, somewhere joy.

When Daniel gets to the door of his apartment, there is a tall, cardboard box propped up against his door. He doesn’t know when it was delivered because he’s spent the last few nights since being back in Monaco bouncing between Scotty’s place and Blake’s, drinking more and sleeping less than he should.

It’s how he ended up in this mess in the first place; stuck in the minor injuries unit, bleeding and embarrassed, waiting for Max to come and rescue him. Because even now, six fucking months later, he still hasn’t changed his emergency contact information back to Blake.

Sighing, Daniel balances the box in one hand and fumbles with his keys in the other to get his front door open. Once inside he dumps the box onto the counter and pours himself a glass of water. Takes a sip, sets the glass back down, and feels lost.

The truth is, he doesn’t know what was worse. That he hadn’t expected Max to show up, or that he did, and even though Daniel saw him nearly every weekend still, like this it was- Different. Max with his mussed up hair like he’d rolled straight out of bed to come to the hospital for Daniel, reminding him of everything he didn’t want to remember.

Like how their kind of falling apart happened slowly, so slowly that the track limits crept up on them, and by the time Daniel tried to hit the break they were already in the wall. Small disagreements built on top of months of half-conversations, until resolution stopped being the goal. Instead, it was to get through a week, a day, a morning without cracking whatever tentative peace they’d found the last time.

Shaking his head is a bad idea considering he might have a concussion, but Daniel can’t stop himself from doing it. As though his brain is an etch-a-sketch from which the fights and the furious words he spat at Max regularly can be erased.

He groans out loud, tipping the rest of the water down the sink before turning his attention back to the parcel. Ripping it open gives his shaking hands something to do, gives his nail bed a rest from his anxious chewing.

A sweet smell hits him first, before his eyes can make sense of what he’s seeing, and-

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t a bouquet of tulips and a small, hand-drawn card.

To brighten your day, Uncle Daniel, the note attached said, in Isaac’s messy scrawl, but he bet the wobbly hearts underneath were all Izzy. The words all Michelle.

It’s enough to put the smile back on his face for just a moment, even as his stomach churns with the same homesick feeling he’s been unable to shake since he left his and Max’s apartment. Placing the card down, he takes one of the petals between his thumb and finger, feeling the waxy smoothness against his skin.

They’re a bigger bouquet than the tulips he’d brought for Max one time, back when their fights could be so easily fixed. Daniel can still remember the pleased flush that warmed Max’s cheeks as he’d looked between Daniel’s face and the flowers, eyes wide like this was the most romantic thing someone had ever done for him.

At the time, it had made Daniel proud of himself. Now, it just makes him sad. The idea that crappy, half-wilting tulips brought from a supermarket in Monaco could mean so much when Max deserved the world.

But this had been the way things always went. Daniel would show up with a poker chip from Vegas, a guitar pick from LA, a seashell from Perth, and Max would beam at him like he was the sun for bringing him a gift. Or just- maybe just because Daniel showed up at all.

I don’t understand, Daniel, why nothing with you is ever enough. Max had always thrown in his face whenever Daniel picked a fight as a plea for words, for attention, for affection. I am here, aren’t I? The more than you was always unspoken, but still deafening.

I’m always going to be here.

And he still was, living in their apartment that Daniel moved out of months ago. Still sending Daniel’s dad a bottle of wine on his birthday, still cuddling Izzy when he saw her at the grand prix last weekend. Still turning up to hospital waiting rooms for Daniel at four in the morning.

Why do I feel like I have to be a fucking games console to get the tiniest bit of interest from you, Daniel had spat at Max, another evening he’d come home to find Max engrossed in the sim. How am I supposed to trust that you love me when you hardly ever fucking say it?

For not the first time, Daniel wonders if maybe Max had been trying to all along, just not with words.

“Fuck, Maxy,” he says to the empty room. “Fuck sake.”

Rubbing his eyes, he paces to the window, wanting to press his throbbing head against the cool glass. He should go to bed, should crawl beneath the covers and sleep until he wakes up feeling strong enough to try forgetting Max all over again.

Needs to forget his worried eyes scanning over Daniel’s body as though trying to catalog where he might need fixing, the soft way he’d said Daniel’s name under the harsh glare of the hospital lights. His stupid fucking car, flashy even for the streets of Monaco, and far too fast at the same time, that-

That is still parked beneath Daniel’s building on the street below.

His eyes catch on it as they slit open against the rising sun, the sparkle of the paintwork against the tarmac. Daniel glances at the clock above his oven. He’s been home an entire fifteen minutes, and still Max hasn’t moved. If he’s not careful he’ll get a parking ticket.

Some things are worth it, he’d told Daniel when he’d warned him of the same thing, a million years ago now, picking Daniel up from the airport and lingering too long in the ‘kiss and fly’ lane.

In another life.

The life Daniel wants more than he can remember the reasons he walked out of it.

“Max,” Daniel finds himself calling out stupidly, even though it’s obvious Max can’t hear. He opens the balcony door, stepping out onto it and calling it louder. “Max!”

Though the traffic on the street below is quiet, almost non existent at this hour, Daniel’s shouts still don’t seem to carry far enough. There’s no sign Max has heard, no opening of a car door, no emergence of his blonde head from the drivers seat.

Daniel needs to do more, he needs-

Stepping back into the apartment, his eyes search his kitchen frantically until his hands grab the flowers on instinct. For a moment, he considers walking down the stairs and handing them to Max, an offering, an apology, a chance, but-

Daniel can’t let him drive away. He can’t risk running down the stairs only to find him gone when he reaches the pavement and steps back out into the Monaco sunrise. This moment is his tenth of a second, small but capable of making all the difference as long as he doesn’t take his foot off the pedal.

A split second of madness passes, and he finds himself back on the balcony pulling one of the stems loose from the bouquet. Before he’s thought about it anymore, he’s watching it hurtle off the edge towards Max’s car. It misses, landing just to the side by his front left tyre, Daniel isn’t giving up.

Stem by stem, he pulls the flowers loose, throwing them down onto Max’s car. His aim gets better, and soon nearly each one is landing on his bonnet or his windshield. Their petals make a soft sound as they hit the shiny bodywork of the car. Sunshine yellow against Ferarri red.

Finally, the car door opens and Daniel waits, arm suspended backwards in midair, still clutching a fistful of stems.

“Daniel, what the fuck are you doing?” Max shouts eventually, scrambling from the car looking pissed.

He covers his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the growing daylight, face screwed up as he squints up at Daniel. His expression should be a reminder of so many bad memories, and it is, but it’s also something Daniel doesn’t want to miss anymore.

“Maxy!” He shouts, letting the rest of the flowers drop to the floor in favour of leaning over the balcony. His heart is pounding so hard against his rib cage that he’s surprised the railing beneath him isn’t vibrating with it. “Can you- I love you. Can you come upstairs?”

For a moment, Max’s face just melts into blankness. The moment stretches, long enough that Daniel’s brain starts scanning for a joke to make, to backtrack, to just get out, but then-

Max smiles. A different kind of sunshine, but still so fucking bright.

“I love you too,” he calls up, his voice more than a little croaky. “I think- I think it would be better if I told you this more, before, but- But also I think it would be better if you came home.”

Daniel’s trainers slap quickly against every other step on the way back down the stairs.

[lovelytwistedwonderland]

The housewarden's reactions to Yuu forgetting their names and calling them "that faggot over there" ? Please and tank yew :]

→ prompt :: housewardens and their reactions to being called “that faggot over there” by mc/yuu

→ custom req :: n/a

→ content warnings :: use of the f-slur, reader is assumed to like to draw in azul’s, very light spoilers for ch. 2 (not anything too big) ch. 5 (only what the arc is about), mc/yuu curses a lot

→ word count :: 1,852 words

→ A/N :: this sure is a request to start out with AGSKJASHJK but this was very fun to write <3 even if it's kinda badly done (also yes i can reclaim the slur, otherwise i wouldn't say it)

•———••✦ <3 ✦••———•

riddle rosehearts

it happened in heartslabyul’s lounge.

riddle was helping deuce study magic history while you and grim were with ace.

you’d been talking about riddle but you’d forgotten his name in a brief moment of brain lag.

you were trying to figure it out when you saw him in the lounge helping deuce and pointed directly to him. “no, i mean that faggot over there, the red hair, what’s his name??”

almost instantly after you said this, ace snorted and both him and grim burst out laughing.

riddle, who’d overheard your conversation, whipped his head up and furrowed his brows.

he was absolutely flabbergasted.

you actually just called him that.

his face turned almost as red as his hair when he glanced at deuce and saw him trying not to laugh.

(a futile effort on deuce’s part that only made riddle angrier).

he slammed his hand onto the desk that deuce was currently cackling leaning against and stomped over to you and ace.

he gave you a firm talking-to about the use of that word in his dorm but you couldn’t really make out what he was saying because of ace’s laughter.

probably ended up ranting about it to trey about “can you believe the prefect actually called me that!?” “honestly yeah, i can.” “WHAT?!”

ace now brings this up every time you two pass riddle, no matter where you are (and it makes him extremely angry).

leona kingscholar

you and ruggie were in the cafeteria during lunch.

the two of you had been talking about your opinions on random students in the cafeteria.

it was now your turn and you glanced around to find someone to talk about.

“that guy, over there, you know him, right?”

ruggie turned to see who you were pointing at, and turned back with furrowed brows. “jack?”

“no, not jack.” you gestured. “the fuckin’- the faggot lion.”

ruggie snorted and got the attention of the table next to you. “LEONA??”

you nodded.

“DID YOU JUST CALL LEONA A FAGGOT?!”

leona, even if he was completely across the loud cafeteria, could pinpoint ruggie’s voice from anywhere, to be completely honest.

he growled to himself as the cafeteria went quiet, several students turning to face him.

“yes, i called leona a faggot. i couldn’t remember his name, what did you expect me to call him?”

ruggie started cackling and so did half the cafeteria.

leona’s ears went back and he snarled. this bitch.

he knew letting ruggie hang out with the prefect was an awful idea.

he took his food with him and left the cafeteria.

this wasn’t something he was awake enough to deal with.

ruggie mentioned it earlier and leona had to physically restrain himself from using the king’s roar on the little shit.

he avoided you for like a week before he decided it was too much work and just gave up, but he still isn’t happy with you and will not let this go.

azul ashengrotto

happened at mostro lounge on a really slow day.

you were doodling in the lounge while you were eating.

jade and floyd, finding entertainment in your art, were watching with interest, floyd standing behind your seat and jade standing next to you, watching over your shoulder.

they watched as you flipped to a new page and began to sketch what looked like a person.

“what’cha drawin’ now, shrimpy?”

you hummed as you looked up to say something but you stopped, forgetting his name. fuck, what was it?

“your boss. i can’t remember his name.”

jade held a hand up at floyd, who was about to tell you. “no, you can do it, prefect. try to remember.”

conveniently, azul had come out with the drink and food you’d ordered at that moment.

you pointed at him. “him- the- that faggot right there!”

azul nearly dropped the platter he was holding.

floyd was cackling and you even heard jade snort trying to hold back a laugh.

azul, meanwhile, turned bright red in the face and set the platter down on your table.

“that’s rude and uncalled for.” azul would say before turning on his heel.

“jade, you’re in charge. don’t come get me.”

and he ran off into the VIP room in the lounge.

floyd couldn’t breathe. even jade was chuckling.

you had just said what popped into your head, why was azul so flustered over it?

later, however, jade and floyd were teasing azul about it.

azul, pacing, shoved his face into his hands.

“how did mc know?!”

neither of the tweels have let him live this down.

kalim al-asim

you and jamil had been studying together, and were now on your way back to scarabia.

somehow, the conversation had made it’s way to talking about some of the crazy things you’ve done at this school so far.

“and then one time, me and this guy accidentally tripped floyd in mostro lounge and we had to run so fast to shake him, which was absolutely terrifying. i can’t remember his name but i wish i knew him better.”

jamil shook his head. “how do you not know this guy’s name? it sounds like you’ve done quite a lot together.”

“no, i can describe him, you know his name. he has like, white hair, and he’s in scarabia, i think.”

“you’ll have to be a lot more specific.”

you were about to keep trying (and failing) to describe this guy, when you saw him talking to another scarabia member.

you pointed at him. “that faggot right there! that’s who i’m talking about!”

jamil furrowed his brows as kalim turned around and pointed at himself.

“are you talking about kalim?”

“yes! that’s his name!”

“and you just called kalim a faggot?!”

kalim, upon hearing this, snorted a laugh.

he was not flustered in the slightest.

if anything, he thought it was hilarious that jamil was so surprised.

“yes i did, and you can’t deny it!”

jamil’s jaw dropped as he stared at kalim, who was now laughing heartily.

“i can’t believe you.”

kalim followed jamil into the kitchen as he stormed away.

you left scarabia giggling to yourself. you hadn’t seen jamil that surprised ever.

meanwhile, with the other two, as jamil began to get ready to cook something for kalim, he sat in a chair and kicked his legs.

“jamil, you’re smart, what’s a faggot?”

jamil almost tripped over himself. that was not expected.

vil schoenheit

probably happened while you were practicing for the SDC.

vil had the idea that maybe some makeup might tie together the look for the actual performance.

so, he pulled you and epel off to do your makeup.

he was out in the lobby while you and epel were waiting with your bangs tied out of your faces in the bathroom, awaiting vil’s return.

there was a bit of an awkward silence until you turned to epel.

“so, does this always happen?”

“wha’ddya mean?”

“like, do you always get your makeup done like this?”

epel raises a brow. “huh?”

you sigh. “like, does what’s-his-face pull you off to do your makeup a lot?”

epel snorts. “what’s-his-face?”

you groan. “i can’t remember his name, the fuckin’-”

vil, conveniently, enters at that moment and you turn to him.

you point and look back at epel. “this faggot.”

epel snorted and you couldn’t help but snicker too, until you looked at vil.

that man looked so offended.

he set the makeup bag on the sink and turned to face the both of you.

“what did you just call me?!”

epel’s giggling doesn’t help when you try to answer seriously.

“you heard me.”

“you do realize that is highly disrespectful? especially for someone so much better than you?”

epel can’t stop laughing.

“epel.”

“sorry, vil.”

man’s angry but he’s really good at covering it, being an actor and all.

he makes you and epel sit in silence while he does your makeup and then makes you practice extra for the SDC, which you and epel were both complaining about.

he would hold a grudge against this for the rest of the time you attend NRC.

idia shroud

you were on a voice call during a multiplayer game idia had asked you to play with him.

it was you, idia and someone who goes by the username “muscle red”.

muscle red and idia were both muted but were in the call while the three of you were playing.

idia almost didn’t make it to you to heal you and you began to shout about it in the microphone.

muscle red had messaged you in the private group chat you three were in, asking what you were shouting about.

to which you spoke aloud that “this fucker almost didn’t get to me in time!”

you three weren’t the only ones in the game, so muscle red had asked who you were talking about.

“i can’t remember his name,” you began, but you @ him in the chat. “i mean this faggot.”

the chat was flooded then with keysmashes on idia’s part and several LMAO’s from muscle red (who had, thankfully, began to pick up how to text in online spaces).

most of idia’s messages were as follows;

“WHAT T HEJFUCK WHAT TH EFUCK”

“WHY?????”

“ME??????” “YOU JUST CALLDE ME A FAGOGOT”

“HWO DI YOU KNWO???”

“AAASHAWMNAHETRGHJEAFS”

“KMS KMS KMS KMS”

quite frankly, it was hilarious.

meanwhile, idia was screaming in his room so loudly that ortho had entered and asked him what was wrong.

he ended up telling ortho in absolute dismay.

muscle red sends screenshots of this occasionally and idia hates it every. time.

malleus draconia

it was late at night outside of ramshackle.

you were with ace talking about some of the housewardens compared to riddle.

he’d been talking about them for a while and you cut him off to bring up one of them.

“i haven’t actually met him really but i’m sure you know him, shit, what’s his name…”

“you haven’t met like half of the housewardens. that’s not specific enough.”

you sighed and made gestures with your hands. “he’s like, okay, i think he’s the housewarden? but like, i can’t remember his name, shit-”

ace begun to chuckle as you struggled.

“he comes around here, he might be here soon enough and i’ll just show you-”

sure enough, someone familiar caught your eye. you pointed and ace turned to look.

“that faggot!”

ace covered his mouth to try not to laugh as malleus tilted his head.

“is that the name you’ve decided on calling me, child of man?”

ace’s soul nearly left his body right then and there.

“you just called malleus a faggot,” ace whisper-yelled.

“yes i did, and i’m not wrong.”

malleus watched the two of you argue about this with intrigue.

“what exactly is a faggot?”

ace’s eyes widened and you snorted as ace grabbed your arm and pulled you into ramshackle.

he dragged you off too soon, in malleus’s opinion. that was a fun conversation to witness.

he went to lilia, who was more up-to-date on current terms, and asked him what a faggot was.

he was extremely confused when lilia burst out laughing and left saying he “had to tell sebek and silver about this”.

[callsign-rogueone]

braids - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader (duchess!) ✉️: Duchess has her hair in traditional braids right? Do u think Bren would learn how to braid her hair? And do it on days that she's tired or exhausted. Or maybe he would help her get the braids out of her hair at night. words: ~1k 🏷: no book spoilers, no triggers. just my response to the above and my thoughts about Bren, Duchess, and her hair. I promise there’s sweet headcanons under all my rambling about how I picture her braids. and I tried to make this as inclusive as possible and discuss multiple hair types, but I’m not very knowledgeable about that so I apologize if something is wrong!

The short answer: yes, absolutely. Brennan is a caretaker and protector first and foremost. It’s why he became a mender; he’s the eldest of the family, takes responsibility for younger siblings, and he’s just that kind of guy. He’d take incredibly good care of you as his partner, and that extends to every aspect of your life, especially your daily routines and self care.

The (very) long answer: I’ve purposely left descriptions of her hair as “intricate traditional braids” both as a nod to the Tyrrish knots that Xaden has Violet learn in the books, and for inclusivity, because I think that description can apply to anyone. The exact styles, the care required, and the length of time that she would wear them (doing them up on a daily basis, or leaving them in for weeks/months) depends on her hair type, so I’ve been leaving it up for interpretation because I want to cater to everyone. But I think that regardless, Bren would absolutely be willing and eager to learn how to help you with it.

I’ve never watched Game of Thrones, but I’ve seen pictures and clips of Daenerys, and she was a major inspiration for Duchess -- powerful woman of noble status who commands (or in Duchess’s case, speaks for) a riot of dragons, shows femininity through her dress and hair, but isn’t afraid to fuck someone up if they wrong her or her family.

So I’d imagine something like her character wears, but a bit more practical for fighting and training (maybe ending in one braid going down her back instead of having a half-up, half-down thing). Some examples I found on pinterest:

Another thing I’ve been imagining is several tiny silver charms / clips woven into the braids, decorated with runes (this will come into play later on in their story 👀) like these.

Now for the headcanons:

As we saw in allies, Bren recognized the braids as something of traditional importance, and it was one of the things that drew him to her. He loves and admires her dedication to her culture, and he also thinks they're absolutely gorgeous -- the girl looked him in the eye and said his name and he folded. Man was smitten from day one. 

He loves seeing you with them or without them: the first time he saw you with your hair down, completely out of the braids and messy, loose, it changed his brain chemistry forever (it didn’t help that you were half-dressed at the time, as well, but I digress)

I didn’t want to get too into deep this, because I do have a scene like this sketched out already, but I’m a weak weak woman so I’ll give it to you anyway:

One of the first few times y’all ~spent the night~, he was entranced watching you fix up your hair in the morning, at the ease and speed with which you redid the sections that had come undone / smoothed everything out, put the clips back in, and got it ready for the day.

He would have offered to help if he wasn’t so shy about it (still in disbelief that this actually happened, and she’s still here), and if you didn’t seem so capable yourself; after all, you’ve been doing this on your own for years now.

Braiding behind your own head takes some considerable upper body strength, so if your back or arms are injured, he won’t hesitate to help out, because he knows it’s important to you and he wants to help, wants to be close to you, and even after he mended you, he still doesn’t want you straining yourself.

You’re a little skeptical at first, but you quickly realize he knows what he’s doing. Think about it: this man is the older brother of two sisters, with parents who worked long hours at high-stress jobs. He absolutely knows how to properly detangle and brush (starting at the ends, being gentle with it) and can do basic braids, etc. 

He’ll stand behind you and help you take them down, incredibly careful not to pull too hard. When they’re all out, he’ll work his fingertips into your scalp ever so gently, noting the way you sigh in relief. Gives the back of your neck some attention, too. Those hands… sorry, where were we?

He’ll also help you do them up again -- they may not be as fancy or as pristine as if you did it yourself, but they’re pretty good. He’s bashful about it as you look over your shoulder in the mirror to examine his work, but he practically glows when you thank him and tell him he did well. 

He keeps a few of your hair bands in the pockets of his flight jacket in case one breaks. Not embarrassed to wear one around his wrist, either -- his hair isn’t long enough to use it himself, so it’s a clear sign that he’s holding it for someone else, that he’s spoken for.

I talked about this the other week in some Garrick headcanons I did, but I’m gonna say it again: hair washing. 

It would take a while for y'all to get to a point where you can shower together because you're both shy nervous bbs for a while, who can’t hold hands without bursting into flames (no pun intended) but like, after you're married, for sure. 

He really gets in there, gets all the dirt and blood out, washes the day off and leaves you nice and clean and relaxed. He does not miss a single spot. Helps you condition, rinse, and dry it after, too. Full service, complete with forehead kisses.

Another thought that I won’t get too far into, and am leaving as a strict hypothetical: IF you were to have a daughter, and IF she wanted to wear her hair like her mama does, Brennan would 100% be on the job. The Duke Consort of Lindell and the Colonel of the Tyrrish army has years of experience brushing and braiding and detangling, and he takes incredibly good care of his girls. They’re gonna be looking fresh at all times.

[pixelatedraindrops]

RAINCODE COMIC COLLAB~☔️

BEHOLD THE FRUITS OF MY LABOR!!

3 full weeks of work and its finally completed!

So @kazinsblog and I did another raincode art collab together but this one was a HUGE project! This one's a full 18 page comic!

Idk if you all remember the comic idea that Kazin was planning to do that involved Yuma overworking himself until he gets sick and then gets tended to by everyone else. But when I saw it, I decided to ask her if she was willing to possibly collaborate on it, remaking it where she sketched it and I colored it.

Kazin's Beta images: 1 2 3 4

So here's the results of all that work. We've been at this since December 17th so this has been an almost full month collaboration. And of course mine's a bit more altered to my own style as well as adding my own touches and making it a little more whumpy/extreme... X'D I also freehand drew shinigami in my version as well.

Both our versions look pretty different! The only thing that are the same are the poses. So feel free to check out Kazin's traditional version as well!

Since its an 18 page comic, I decided to put it under a keep reading so it won't clutter everyone's timelines. Also, I will be narrating the pages because I love narrating sick filler type stories. So brace yourself for a VERY LOOONG post!! Def need time to read this one! (and no purple tinted filters here this time!)

Also note: If the writing is blue, it means the character is thinking, just like in the game! :)

And I apologize on the inconsistency of Yuma's bangs... I thought it was one way before so half of the comic he looks like he has square bangs... oof XD I fix it around page 10

ANYWAY, hope you enjoy this soft buffet, Raincode Community! 🌡️💕

(Page 1)

Our story begins on an ordinary day in Kanai Ward. Rainy gloomy and depressing as ever. Our little victim... wait... XD I mean protagonist Yuma decides to go out to investigate more about Kanai Ward to try to track down it's supposed ultimate secret. Yakou sets him off wishes him well and tells him to be careful. However, as he's out, he finds out a lot of people in the city need help. Because of his good nature and unable to turn down someone in need, he decides to help whoever he can. (the ultimate side-questing lol) Before he knows it, he's soaking wet and he had helped 10 people in total. Time passed and it was almost evening so he returns to the submarine. Yuma was completely unphased by this. (and he didn't dry himself off for 4 hours due to being occupied with tasks)

(Page 2)

Yuma returns to the Agency's submarine to greet his chief holding his meatbun order. (that also got wet) But Yakou notices that the trainee is sopping wet to the core and shivering. He immediately loudly demands that he sit down so he can tend to him. Yuma does as he's told and sits on the checkered sofa. Yakou rushes to the shower room to grab some small towels to help him dry off. But because Yakou is so panicked, he ends up being very rough in drying Yuma, pulling his hair and causing the small boy pain. After he dries him off, he tells Yuma he isn't allowed to leave anymore for the rest of the day and demands him to rest. Yuma tries to retaliate using puppy eyes, but it doesn't work. Yakou is immune.

(Page 3)

The next day Yuma asks Yakou if he can go out to work after he finishes his morning chores around the place looking very eager. Yakou still looks a little concerned by how tired Yuma looks, so he tells him to not go out alone. He assigns him a partner to go with the rest of the week.

On the first day he's paired with Halara. The two of them are asked to investigate the art gallery of Ginma. (maybe after the nail man case) But over time, Yuma starts developing a lingering cough that persists for quite some time. Halara asks Yuma is he's okay, to which Yuma lies saying that it's due to the dust of the room. But of course being sharp, Halara isn't buying it. But they decide to not persist him further.

On the second day, he's paired with Desuhiko. They're asked to go help out at the Aetheria Academy with another case (not murder related this time) However on the way to the school and in Ginma, Yuma starts slowing down, he's shaking and is a little wobbly. Desuhiko notices this and asks if he wants to go to the cafe for a drink. Yuma nods and as they go to the cafe and order some coffee, Yuma takes off his hat and coat and Desuhiko finally realizes how pale he looks. He's even slower at replying to him as he speaks, as if he's in a daze. Desuhiko decides to take Yuma back to the agency after this.

(Page 4)

On Day three, he's paired with Fubuki. But he doesn't even make it to the case as when he goes to the sun and moon hotel to meet with her, Fubuki notices and points out that Yuma's face looks red. The boy clearly had a fever building. Yuma argues with her but Fubuki persists. The two of them try to go to the case but Yuma nearly collapses. So Fubuki returns him to the agency.

On the fourth day where he's supposed to be paired with Vivia he spends a majority of the day passed out. Vivia decides to watch over him using his forte to not disturb him. During the night while he's asleep, his breathing gets more labored and he's completely restless. Vivia looks at him deeply worried for his dear friend's well being.

The next morning Yuma somehow finds the strength to get himself up. Maybe that one day of rest was enough. But Yakou insists that he stays put today. Angrily yelling at him to be still and take today off as well.

Meanwhile, a certain two seem to notice each other...

(Page 5)

Vivia's spirit notices Shinigami and decides to give her a warning. Make sure Yuma listens to Yakou and doesn't leave. Giving her the iciest glare, Shinigami fearfully agrees.

But this effort would be for naught, despite how he feels, Yuma's relentless determination forces himself up, putting on his rain attire and heads up the steps of the sub to the outside when Yakou isn't looking. Shinigami does what she can to stop him, but he doesn't listen...and Shinigami being a ghost, there was nothing she could do to physically hold him back. All she could do was follow, and prepare for the inevitable.

By some miracle he makes it to the church, up the stairs to speak to the nun. Who tells him to play therapy again for the townsfolk. He nods and heads to his first client. But when he returns to kamasaki to speak to him, he can barely make out what he's saying as he lets out a few more coughs.

Once he leaves the client, before long, Yuma could hear something in his body snap.

(Note: I direct most of the story, but Vivia conversing with Shinigami in spirit mode was actually Kazin's idea! So credit to her for that, So silly and fun! ^^)

(Page 6)

Yuma's body had finally reached it's limit. All the fatigue, chills and body aches had hit him all at once at full force like armed weaponry. His head began throbbing, he was shaking violently and uncontrollably, he felt nauseated by the rain's smell, and his body heat and the lingering dizziness was unbearable. He found a safe corner in the alleyway of Kamasaki to collapse. Telling Shinigami she was right and he should have listened to her, while the burning fever and cold rain wrecked his delicate frame even further. His voice was hardly audible, but Shinigami still heard and practically tells him to go back. But Yuma had no strength left...

Then like clockwork as they finish speaking, he could hear his name called. At first it sounded kind and questionable. But that rapidly changed, the voice now angrily yelling out his full name. As he looked up this voice belonged to...Yakou. He looks down at the boy in pure disappointment and anger.

Turns out a certain someone was tailing him. And alerted Yakou what happened just in time.

(Note: I make the red darker the more extreme the temperature and lighter the less extreme. I got to experiment with all sorts of new ways to color fevers hehe~ >w<)

(Page 7)

Yuma shockingly looks up at Yakou. Oh no, he was so BUSTED! Shinigami even says as much. Yakou practically scoops Yuma in his arms carrying him back to the agency. As he was lifted Yuma's world begun spinning. He could barely hear the chief nagging him in a panicked tone. It was all distorted and it was making his head hurt more. Yakou placed a hand to his cheek and was shocked by how hot it felt. All Yuma could do was apologize and hope his world stops spinning and that Yakou eventually stops yelling... (also I put numbers for the order to read the speech bubbles in)

Upon returning to the agency, Yakou dries Yuma off, asks Desuhiko to give him a warm set of clothes to borrow and put him to his own bed. Grabbing a basin of very cold water, washcloths and a digital thermometer. He placed one of the wet cold cloths under his bangs and upon reading the boy's temperature, it was high. Almost high enough to visit the ER. Yakou was even more mad, but speaks in a non yelling tone. Giving Yuma another stern warning to not leave the bed. To which Yuma weakly agrees to.

But Yakou's back to yelling again, feeling paranoid Yuma would be missing by the time he gets back from getting the supplies. So he drills that message right into the boy's already throbbing head once more. Everyone else in the office awkwardly listen in as the sick trainee gets scolded.

(Note: Just an FYI, Yuma's speech bubbles being wavy is a sign his voice is raspy and the text being a bit hard to read means his voice is hardly audible)

(Page 8)

Yakou leaves Yuma alone and walks into the office in his raincoat telling the other detectives that he'll be leaving soon and to watch over Yuma in his absence and NOT let him leave. He is so full of anger and anxiety that he yells at all of them too.

Everyone agrees and as Yakou leaves, they all discuss among themselves Yuma's state the days they were partners with him. He was in bad shape. And he only got worse as the days went by. They all knew.

(Page 9)

Meanwhile back in Yakou's quarters, Yuma was getting lectured yet again. This time by his death god partner, Shinigami. The poor trainee only wanted peace and quiet to make the pain in his head go away, using what little energy he has remaining speaking in his head he tried telling her to stop.

But the aggravated spirit persisted, saying that as his mentor she had the right to scold him just as much as Yakou. She continued her rant, until an abrupt sound from her master shut her up.

The few coughs that came from Yuma eventually erupted into a full blown coughing fit. The coughs sounding more wet, rough and serious. After coughing 10 to 15 times in a row Yuma was exhausted. Shinigami looked down at him panting with concern and pity in her eyes. She decided to stop the lecture for his sake.

After the fit, Yuma was left raggedly breathing. As Shinigami gave him her permission to rest and take it easy, he didn't answer. He couldn't. That fit completely mangled his throat. He was not able to speak vocally or in thought process anymore due to his head being in too much pain. As was the rest of his body, aching and burning. So he didn't answer her. All he could do was hope sleep would eventually take hold of him to make all this awful heat and pain stop even if for a just moment.

(Note: That's the penalty Yuma... x'D Sorry I gotta make him suffer lol. Also this is the only page that’s actually read left to right. I messed that up, sorry!!)

(Page 10)

After some time passed it was time for the Master Detectives to all take part in taking care of Yuma. The whole agency had a day off to do this. So upon his return, Yakou instructs everyone to look after Yuma in 2 hour shifts through the day. Even if it was just to watch him sleep. He couldn't be left alone.

Halara was first. Their task was to help Yuma take the medicine that was bought. There were three types of medicine for him to take. Antibiotics (white pills) for the general illness symptoms, painkillers (red and white pills) for the headache/fever, and finally...cough syrup. (aka his least favorite... XD) Halara made sure to be very gentle with Yuma propping him upward as his whole body was burning and he was very shaky. He even had trouble drinking the water, so Halara had to get a mug instead so they could help him drink it by holding the handle, and using the other hand to support his back. Despite the struggle, Halara worked diligently to complete their task as a caretaker in full. (as for who paid them to do this...idk I'll leave that to your imagination XD)

(The cough syrup idea was inspired by this fic :3)

Desuhiko had the second shift and the whole time he was waiting for his turn, he was writing a song for Yuma. Having the delusion that his angelic voice would lul the sick boy to sleep, he played his guitar and began singing. Yuma's headache did improve enough to speak in his head now, but that wouldn't last, as the loud noises from the guitar made his head pound even further with every strum. Shinigami begs for the noise to cease fire on her poor eardrums, but Yuma doesn't have it in him to stop Desuhiko. The gesture was kind so he decided to try to listen to the whole song, despite the noise. He does eventually tell him to stop though (using hand gestures) when another song comes afterward. So then the two spend their time conversing for a bit, (though desuhiko does more of the talking as yuma just nods or makes small noises/hand gestures due to his throat still hurting too much to talk) Desuhiko even telling him he could keep the sweater and shorts he had lent to him. To which Yuma softly smiles at him as a thank you before he eventually falls asleep again.

Fubuki has the third shift, and her task was to feed Yuma the warm vegetable soup that was bought earlier and that Halara had just finished making, along with Fubuki's help. She volunteers to feed him as she remembers a time she was ill as a child in the clockford mansion and one of her servants tended to her, feeding her soup just the same. Unfortunately, because this was a memory of her early childhood, she repeats similar phrases as the servant did when she was feeding Yuma, who was clearly not a small child. Yuma's fever had dropped enough to where he could find a bit of strength to try and sit up on his own now, and his once mangled throat’s condition had improved for him to speak a little bit. As he listened to Fubuki's rambling he tries to play along with her despite the whole thing being a bit embarrassing for someone his age. At least the soup was nice and warm. It felt good going down his very sore throat.

(Funny Fact: The order that Yuma is both partnered and tended to by each detective, is the same order as the chapters in game he's partnered with them LOL)

(Page 11)

It was evening, and now it was Vivia's turn to take the fourth and final shift. At first he was just going to sit and watch Yuma while he read his book quietly, but Yakou suggested that he read one of his books out loud to Yuma to help him relax better like a bedtime story. Vivia was unsure at first, as he's never read to anyone before. But he decided to give it a try. He asks Yuma what his preference in literature is before he starts, and Yuma tells him he enjoys detective novels the most. So he pulls out the novel that was in his reading list and begins to read it out loud to him. Turns out he was quite a natural at narrating, and his slow voice was very soothing. Yuma felt so relaxed that he felt like he would fall asleep any minute, but he tries to stay awake to listen to the story a bit more. Shinigami however, conks out immediately. (fyi: yes this is the novel Vivia talks about in his final gumshoe gab. I tried to make up stuff based on it.. X'D)

Once the clock strikes 9pm and night falls, the Master Detectives all wish Yuma well and leave to return to the hotel to retire for the night. It was just Yakou and Yuma now. Yakou, who had just come back from another errand, walks over to Yuma who was now fast asleep. He looked a little better so Yakou removed the towel from his forehead and places his hand onto it. It still felt warm but no longer as hot as it did hours ago. Meaning he was out of the danger zone, much to Yakou's relief. He places the towel back in the water basin wringing it out and re-applying it to his forehead. Then he lets out a yawn. He was pretty tired. He decides that instead of sleeping in the office on one of the sofas, he'd stay by Yuma's side. His removes his jacket, goes and turns off the overhead lights, sits down and places his head down on his desk. Then after telling the sleeping trainee goodnight he turns off the small light by his desk.

OKAY FUN FACT: The comic WAS going to end here going on to the final page... Buuut~ We were STARVING for some good ol' Yakou Fathero :3 So... Enjoy these bonus 6 pages of Yakou having a shift of his own to look after Yuma in the middle of the night. And its the longest shift.

This ones for you Yakou Fathero fans! Eat your fill!

(I know we sure did :3)

Also I apologize if the lighting here is inaccurate ;w; I tried my best I'm no pro LOL

(Page 12)

A little past midnight, Yuma was stirring in his sleep. Making all sorts of groaning sounds as if he was in pain. He was likely having a nightmare. This is confirmed by his eyes suddenly opening and him violently flinging himself up screaming, and the cold cloth flying off his forehead.

This sound wakes Yakou up immediately as he puts his glasses back on asking Yuma if he's okay. He flicks the light by his desk on to check on him. Yuma's found shaking with tears in his eyes stating quietly that it was just a dream. Yakou sympathizes with Yuma as fever dreams were usually not fun, but a fever NIGHTMARE was always bad. The chief offers the shaking trainee some water to try to help him settle down.

(FYI: Shinigami is going to be absent from this part of the story because I think her banter and antics would ruin the fluff, so she'll just be lurking above in the shelf like a cat the whole time.)

(Page 13)

Yuma accepts the water practically snatching it from Yakou's hands and quickly gulping it down. Yakou tells him to pace himself not wanting him to choke. Once he exhales from the water drink, Yuma sheepishly apologizes for waking Yakou up with his scream, feeling like a burden. Yakou reassures him it's okay and decides to ask him the question of why he pushed himself this far while he was still awake. Hard enough to make himself sick. Why did he do it?

Yuma was surprised by this but decides to try to tell him. He hands the water glass back and began talking. Under his raspy voice and somewhat heavy breathing, he says that he wanted to be useful as he felt like a burden to everyone since he lost his memory. He also says that he likes helping others and that it feels familiar to him. Determined to try to unlock a core memory of his past he kept doing this, even to the point of pushing his limits.

Then he suddenly stopped speaking...

(Page 14)

...aaand cue the coughing fit. Yuma's throat got scratchy and irritated after his long explanation, causing him to cough about 5/8 times in a row. Not as bad as his previous fit but it was more than enough to startle and worry Yakou.

Yakou quickly hands Yuma the water glass he had just taken from him hoping it would soothe his throat. He tells him that helping others is a good thing but he shouldn't push himself to the point that his health gets affected. Yuma quietly nods and as he sips the water still shaking, Yakou feels bad and decides to apologize to him for being harsh before. Stating that he only lost his temper because he was scared and worried for him. He also places his hand to Yuma's cheek in both comfort and to check his temperature. It felt slightly warmer than a few hours ago.

Yuma quietly apologizes to Yakou for worrying him, still holding the water glass. Yakou forgives him. Then he takes the glass from him and then the towel that fell off Yuma's forehead. He grabs a fresh one and soaks it in the basin wringing it out and places it back on the trainee’s forehead unintentionally a bit roughly. Yuma groans and shivers a little from the cold of it.

Yakou then lies Yuma back down, tucking him back in trying to make him comfortable. But his actions were a bit too comforting. He was not meaning to in any way and he wasn't sure what came over him, but he was treating Yuma like a little kid. Yuma notices and feels a little embarrassed by it, but decides to only say it in his head.

Yakou decides to do one more thing before he lets him go back to sleep.

(Note: Hey far as anyone's concerned Yuma, you are practically his BABY when you are having a sick day, so deal with it hehehe :3c)

(Page 15)

Temperature taking page time :D (my favorite, teehee! I know some cultures and in anime they take the temperature under the arm, but there's just something so endearing and adorable about a sickie with a thermometer in their mouth <3 OKAY MY RAMBLING ASIDE...)

Yakou is now a bit concerned that Yuma's fever spiked again after that little harsh coughing fit so he decides to take his temperature one more time before letting Yuma go to sleep again. Yuma obliges and goes along with it opening his mouth as the device is inserted.

After 15 seconds the device beeps and Yakou takes it out. Yuma shyly pulls the duvet up to his face and hides as he meekly asks if its any better feeling a little nervous. Yakou responds that it is better than it was the first time, where it was a dangerous degree.

However, he still wasn't out of the woods yet. The fever was still there and although it went down, it was still in the red. Yakou states that he's still feverish to which Yuma just apologizes. Poor thing just wants this to be over, he really doesn't want to trouble anyone anymore.

(sorry yuma I can't let you off that easily hehe 😈)

(also yes I put an instruction manual for how the thermometer works, I am so obsessed that I even give the thermometer lore LMAO. Sorry if I'm inaccurate in any of those readings. I used google... ^^;)

(Page 16)

Yakou places the thermometer back on the desk and tells Yuma to go to sleep. Saying the fever will likely break by morning. To which Yuma states that he's in Yakou's bed and that he should return to the checkered sofa so his boss could sleep, attempting to try getting up. But Yakou puts a hand on his shoulder stopping him and denies this and says his desk is fine and that Yuma needed the bed more than him.

He also says that if Yuma had another bad dream that he would be there for him. Yuma smiles at Yakou quietly thanking him as he's tucked back into the duvet. Yakou pats it gently telling the trainee to close his eyes.

It isn't long before Yuma is back to being fast asleep. (and shinigami too)

Yakou monologues to himself for a bit groaning at how much trouble this small detective has been for him since he showed up. But then he switches his tune and places a hand to Yuma's head petting it softly. He says he's happy he's working hard for the sake of his memories but right now he needs to work on getting better. Saying it would help everyone in the agency if he wanted to help people.

He wishes him well continuing to pet his head for a bit longer to soothe him before going back to sleep himself turning the light off again.

(Page 17)

2 hours later, Yuma was stirring and whining in his sleep once again. Yakou groggily wakes up wiping his tired eyes upon hearing the soft noises the small trainee was uttering. And he was crying again. Can only be one thing: Another nightmare.

Instead of turning the light on to wake him up, Yakou moves his chair close to him sitting at his side. Not saying a single word. (cept in his head lol) He reaches his hand for Yuma's as it twitches and he takes hold of it gently.

Yakou eventually leans on the bed as he does so and falls asleep sitting up again. Yuma's groaning and and heavy breathing begin to settle down a little as he felt Yakou's presence close by.

Then he smiles as he closes his hand in his sleep holding Yakou's hand back, leaning a bit close to it. He felt safe again... <3

(Note: This poor thing has way too much trauma... ;w; I headcanon that he's prone to night terrors on occasion, but when he gets a fever, its even WORSE. Fevers do be messing with your head... x3)

(Page 18 Final)

The next morning when Yakou wakes up, he checks on Yuma. He still felt slightly warm but he looked much better. Seemed the worst was over and it would likely last just one more day.

When he's fully awake and at his desk, Desuhiko shows up asking Yakou if Yuma's okay and offered to wake him up. Yakou denies it saying Yuma needed one more day of rest, the fever may have been only slight now, but in the rain it would rise again easily.

Desuhiko agrees and declares that he's going to work hard today. Likely to make up for Yuma's absence. Yakou teases him and the two have a bit of a banter.

Yuma meanwhile is asleep peacefully. Still having a slight red tint to his cheeks, but he's able to sleep a lot easier now. His fever was slowly but surely breaking. (now in the yellow) Shinigami sleeps beside him, making sure she protects him from any nightmares in yakou's absence. (after all only SHE can give her master nightmares)

He wakes up fully recovered the following morning thanking everyone for taking such good care of him, and he makes sure to not push himself anymore. And continues searching for the city's ultimate secret while pacing himself to help others from now on.

THE END ❤️

(I practically made this into a sickfic in its own right... XD)

Thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoyed!! This is just a little artist credit page I made for Kazin and I c: Also art semi-face reveal?? xD Kinda?? Idk lol (we just two gals that like our sick comfort haha x3)

Anyway thank you again Kazin for doing this with me!! It was hard work but it was a blast and the final result came out amazing. Its surely a project I will cherish forever~ 💜🩷✨🌡️

A wholesome story to start 2024 on a good note.

[weneeya]

hi weneeya!! I made sure to read ur rules btw :3

and I was wonderingggg... maybe you could write a scenario (highschool setting) with Sugawara with the shy art kid! super fluffy✨

as an art kid myself, I like to draw people who im fond of! and since reader just have this big crush on Suga, she sketches him and presents it to him :))

I'll be waiting for the request! tysmmm✨

a cute gift w/ sugawara m.list | rules

note. hiii thank you sm for your request, the idea is so cute i love it!! always super fluffy, love that <3 feel free to request!

It would have been an euphemism to say that you loved art. It was actually your only way to express yourself. Your emotions were coming out better when it was through art. And as you had some problems yourself, you had some hyperfixations. 

It would be weird to say that you had a hyperfixation on Sugawara, obviously, but you had a huge crush on your senior. The boy was one year older than you, but it was like fate always wanted you to meet him ; or maybe it was your due. 

You were way too shy to even think about talking to him, but the simple sight of his handsome face and adorable smile was enough. He was your muse, you had to admit it. For the past few weeks, at least half of your drawings were him. Only sketches most of the time, things you were a bit ashamed of because it would never be as pretty as he was. 

Your friends were trying to convince you to make a move towards him, but how could you? A boy like him was out of reach for someone like you, and you were well aware of it. But after some fights, they got you to talk to him. 

You spoke a few times, when you were meeting in the hallways or things like this. Just enough for him to know who you were and remember your name. And the more you talked with him, the more you wanted to be with him again and again. 

You couldn’t simply confess to him like this, you weren’t able to do so. You had only one solution to your problem. You had to express your feelings to him by the way you expressed yourself the best : art. 

It took you a few more weeks to achieve your piece. It wasn’t the Joconde, but you were quite proud of what you did. It was one of the prettiest drawings you had ever done, but it wasn’t even half pretty as he was. 

The real problem now was to gather enough strength to give it to Sugawara. The boy was currently talking with his friends from his class when you cleared your throat, quickly asking him if he could somewhere else with you. The more you waited, the worse it would be. 

To your surprise, Suga didn’t hesitate for long before saying yes, following you out of the room without any more questions. This is how both of you ended up on the rooftop, you with your hands hidden behind your back. 

“You needed something from me?” He asked with this usual smile of his, and you were sure you felt your heart skipping a beat. In a second, you were handing your drawing to him, looking away to be sure you would never meet his gaze. 

When his eyes saw what you were offering to him, it was his own heart which stopped when he realized what it was. He stayed silent, his eyes roaming over the drawing, again and again. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, and it was him. He couldn’t believe it. 

“You… You drew me?” He slowly asked, raising his eyes to you while you were clearly avoiding his eyes. You slowly nodded your head, still looking away. A smile slowly appeared on his lips, and the second after you were between his arms for a hug. He held you tight, thanking you over and over. You were trying to say something, but he didn’t give you the time. 

“Please, don’t ever stop. You’re so talented, and I’d love to be your model but officially next time,” he told you with a wink, and you swore your face never burned so much before. He chuckled slightly when he saw you, leaving a simple kiss against your forehead. “I love art.” 

It was going to be a difficult process for you with a boy as expressive as him, but you were ready to make all the efforts in the world for him, especially if it meant being able to draw him freely and spend more time in his company.

thank you for reading <3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for triggering someone’s epilepsy (unknowingly)?

So I’m (19F) in this relatively small Discord server for a fandom. We occasionally get new members but there’s always been a “core” group of 7 of us who started it originally. We’re pretty close and consider each other genuine online friends, and we all admin the server.

A couple weeks ago, a new member (?M) who I’ll call K joined and I immediately felt a little sketched out by him because in his Discord profile in the pronouns section he put “goon/gooner.” I’m cis but I worried for the rest of the server (mostly trans), though they either didn’t see it or didn’t point it out. K seemed okay, he wasn’t very active other than reacting to stuff with emojis so he faded into the background and didn’t really bother me.

So we have a channel in the server for holiday stuff and yesterday one of the admins sent something for the first day of Hanukkah (the 8th) and pinged everyone. The last message above that was about Transgender Day of Remembrance (the 20th of November, before K joined) and after getting pinged for the new one I guess K saw that because he suddenly replied to one of the articles (about a trans boy-to-girl getting murdered) and said “rip king, sorry to see a brother go down.” It was very obvious in the article’s thumbnail that the teenager murdered was a girl, and it said she was trans in the title.

I was livid. Most of my friends are trans and I would (metaphorically) die defending them. I was too angry to write an actual response so I just sent a GIF (the “You should kill yourself now” one with the guy with white eyes and lightning flashing in the background, except it was sped up). K didn’t reply and another admin deleted his message and I wanted him banned, but they said we should wait for K to reply and give him the benefit of the doubt in case he was mistaken or misread it.

K started spamming in our general channel about half an hour later, super mad and saying stuff like “FUCK YOU YOU [R-SLUR] YOU MADE ME HAVE A FUCKING SEIZURE I HAVE EPILEPSY YOU DIPSHIT” and was just basically saying variations of that over and over until we kicked him. Apparently K had mentioned his epilepsy at one point but I don’t remember it ?? An admin pulled up a message though (his intro) where he listed it.

The other main 6 admins are very conflicted on this, but they mostly seem to think I’m an asshole and a couple of them have even unfriended me. I would be the asshole if I knew about K’s epilepsy, but I shouldn’t be expected to read every single message sent in the server, and honestly K took the risk of being on the internet where there are tons of flashing images, and I’m pretty sure there are accessibility settings you can have on Discord and your computer in general. Plus, K was being transphobic, and I was very angry and didn’t respond well. The others said I could’ve put a flash warning or something, but I wasn't thinking straight in the moment.

So, is this a NTA, JAH, or ESH? Because K was definitely an asshole too, even if he had epilepsy. I don’t know, the situation is complicated and he could be lying, so.

What are these acronyms?

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 2

Title: Unknown Numbers and Sharp Tongues

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You get a text from an unknown number and it flips your day upside down.

Warnings: PG13, mild swearing, arguments

Word Count: 3065

Release Date: February 2, 2023, 1:40PM

A/N 1: She’s shorter but just as important

Series: Chapter One

It’s 12:07pm the Wednesday after the assembly. You're sitting on your bed sketching when a text vibration sounds from somewhere within the blankets crumpled beneath you. 

A pencil lead stained hand carefully snakes its way through the sheets to find your phone, and after locating it by your feet, you see a message from an unknown number waiting to be read.

Unknown Sender [12:07pm]: Hey, is this YN?

You raise a brow at the semi-suspicious text.

Normally when this happens, you just delete the message. You have everyone you're willing to speak with in your contacts already, so you know that it’s most likely spam. But the difference with this one?

They know your name. 

That being said, your guy friends back home have been known to, on occasion, pull shit because they know you can’t do anything about it. 

Though, that has never once stopped you from waiting to see them again in person and retaliating. Patience is a virtue and all that, but you think they’d of learned by now…

So you fire back, just in case.

You [12:08pm]: Hobi I s2g if this is you again I’m sending Nayeon that picture of you from 9th grade with shutter shades on and your ass stuck in a tuba 

Unknown Sender [12:08pm]: Oh wow, uhm…no, its not Unknown Sender [12:09pm]: But remind me never to get on your bad side.  Unknown Sender [12:10pm]: It’s Jungkook actually... I may have grabbed your number from Yuri’s phone. I hope it’s okay I messaged you 

Jungkook?

As in The Prince of the Western Shores, Jungkook?

Well...

This certainly isn’t how you thought your afternoon was going to go. 

You figured you'd never hear from him again after Monday’s assembly, like everyone else he’d greeted—Yuri aside apparently. Yet here you were, on your bed, in your university dorm room, having a midday text conversation with Prince Jeon Jungkook of all people.

You laugh to yourself and quickly change his name in your contacts, keeping it subtle. You don’t want someone to see his name pop on your screen and then suddenly have a legion of people harassing you about how you got the prince's number, and if they could get it from you. 

You [12:11pm]: yeah, it’s fine

And why wouldn't it be? You don’t dislike him, though he seemed to have thought so. Sure, you don’t particularly like the guy yet, but you're confident he feels the same about you—if he even thinks of you, that is.  

He probably just wants recommendations for things to do this weekend or to know where the cleanest washrooms on campus are. God forbid his royal bottom touch a less than sanitary toilet seat.

PJK [12:13pm]: Im afraid she had to explain to me who ‘blueballzbitch’ was when I accidentally saw your text to her the other day. Apparently my reaction after reading it was very funny

You [12:13pm]: I cant believe she still hasnt changed my name in her phone! That bitch!! she promised :( You [12:14pm]: Thats only my name because i told her she couldnt bring guys back to our dorm after 1 AM anymore! 

PJK [12:14pm]: can I ask why?

You [12:15pm]: there may have been an incident of a very drunk half naked man climbing into my bed at 4 am instead of hers….  You [12:15pm]: And needless to say, not the nicest way to wake up

PJK [12:16pm]: no I would think not. Though that explains her reaction a bit better

You didn’t even want to know. 

She did kick that guy out the second she heard your scream though, drunk as she was. But it didn’t stop her from moping for a week at your new rule.

Tough, you’d had a test the next day, so your decision was final. 

Your academics wouldn’t pay the price for someone else’s actions. On that you were and always have been, firm. You’ve even lost a few friends because of it.

But now your starting to wonder why he wanted to message you in the first place.

You [12:17pm]: i dont mean to be rude, but why did you save my number? To be honest i didnt think I’d hear from you again after monday

PJK [12:18pm]: well if we’re being honest…

There are a million different ways he could follow that sentence, and your mind is simultaneously running through all of them.

It takes him a few minutes, and a couple disappearance and reappearances of the texting in progress bubble, before a reply comes. Your pencil may or may not be a bit chewed on the end as a result.

PJK [12:21pm]: I was hoping that we could be friends, or acquaintances at least. I dont mean to come on too strong, its just that…. well you’re the only one whos really treated me like a regular guy, and i’d like to have at least one person to speak to who wont ‘glaze over the truth with pretty white lies’ just because of who I am. Its a surprisingly hard attribute to come by in people when you have words like “prince” and “your highness” attached to your name PJK [12:22pm]: Everyone either wants something from me or something I can do for them, and when we met? I could see you just…didn’t. It’s like you didnt even care I was there and that was incredibly refreshing for me PJK [12:23pm]: so um, yeah… that’s why

Oh… 

Oh. 

You were expecting anything else. Like literally anything else. He could’ve messaged you saying he wanted to give up being prince to join a traveling circus and was wondering if you knew the quickest train route into town and you would’ve been less surprised than you are right now.

But…Friends? He just wanted to be friends?

You guess you played your part a little too well on Monday. A part you didn't even realize you were performing. 

Was it really so difficult for people to treat him normally that the only person who had done so in three days, was you? And it was so noticeable that he sought you out because of it? His professors, at least, would have treated him like any other student…right?

You sit up, sketch long discarded on your bedside table. 

What would Yuri think about this? What would Nel think? Jungkook isn't just some guy from your Advanced Colour Theory class, he's the prince of your kingdom. 

You know your boyfriend wouldn't care if Jungkook kissed your hand in a passing greeting, that’s the standard greeting for every woman. 

But friends? 

Regular contact? 

Potentially being seen in public with him? 

Even a high ranking societal man would feel threatened, let alone Nel; the highschool boy you fell in love with from your tiny hometown.

Biting your lip, you think. 

You’re not an idiot. You know if people see you—a girl—hanging out with Jungkook—the prince, but more importantly, a boy—publicly, they will start talking. You know how the media make grand stories from two anonymously sourced, out of context quotes and a grainy picture from 100 feet away. 

What you don’t know is if you would or even could handle the public speculation that came with that. 

You don't want the media to come between you and your education. You don’t want to be at the center of attention. You worked way too hard to get where you are to have it washed away with a shitty ‘Prince Jungkook's college fling’ article that holds headlines for less than a week before the news cycle changes. 

Your credibility would be gone in an instant. And you’d only ever be remembered as ‘that girl the prince probably slept with in college.’

You should say no.

You’re going to say no.

—Wait.

Are you even allowed to say no?

Your phone pings again.

PJK [12:24pm]: i really just want my university experience to be as normal as possible before having to trade it all in for a crown and kingdom. It’s my last shot to experience life as a person before becoming a symbol and im hoping youll be kind enough to help me with that  PJK [12:24pm]: but i understand if you dont want to. Like i said in my speech, im not unaware of the repercussions of my celebrity, and its effects on others, both positive and negative. So please by all means, whatever answer you give, i’ll understand

Shit.

Shit!

Now you’ll feel like an ass if you say no, and you know that wasn’t his intention with the message, but you can't help it. He just wants to be as ordinary as he can be for a while. That isn’t a lot to ask—of anybody. 

After re-reading his messages about a dozen more times, you find your entire view of Jungkook shifting in an instant. 

Maybe he was the spoiled, rich, and plate delivered opportunities prince you expected him to be, but funnily enough, somewhere along the way it was you who forgot that he was an regular person. Just like you had told Yuri such a short time ago, and just like you now had to remind yourself. 

Jungkook’s really not much different than someone without all the special features his title brings him.

And with that in mind, you know your reply.

You [12:30pm]: can i think about it?

And not seconds later.

PJK [12:30pm]: absolutely.

A breath you didn’t know you were holding releases.

PJK [12:31pm]: that’s already further than i thought i’d get—if we’re still being honest. 

You [12:33pm]: im always honest, you dont have to worry about that. And same goes for you, dont worry about being truthful with me. Lies only create problems, and i dont have the time for them

PJK [12:35]: glad to hear it. I look forward to your answer, whenever and whatever you decide

Gently tossing your phone back onto your bed, you leave the conversation at that. You know you wouldn’t be able to make your mind up without going through all possible outcomes in your head first. And Yuri is usually a good enough listener to pipe in with decent advice now and then. 

So, for now, you pick up your pencil and sketch pad, and wait for Yuri to return from her afternoon class. 

A few hours later, and a decent way through your third life study, Yuri bursts through the front entryway. Your bedroom door’s open, and you’ve got a clear view of her shucking off her shoes and outer layers after casting her books onto the dining room table. 

So much for your focus. 

But you're glad she’s back, your conversation with Jungkook from earlier is still wracking your brain.

“YN, Sweets! You are NEVER going to believe the day I’ve had!” Yuri makes her way over to your bed, inhaling deeply enough you know a monologue is about to follow.

“Me too! But you first,” you slip in before the floodgates burst, knowing all her focus will be solely centered on you the second you mention Jungkook reaching out. 

“Jungkook invited me to lunch!” 

Or maybe not.

“Well sort of, that’s why I’m late getting back. He asked if there was a more secluded place to eat on campus,” she says the word like it’s a secret. Like she thinks he asked for seclusion to have it be a more intimate setting with her, versus a more private space for him. 

“So I showed him that little cafe behind the greenhouse that no one ever goes to cuz it’s too far away from central campus—you know the one that might as well just be a part of the greenhouse cuz of how close it is?” 

You nod. You were very familiar with that cafe, frequently going there to paint the flowers in the windows, and also, to think. But she doesn’t know that. It was sort of a safe haven for you, because like she said, it wasn’t a very popular place on campus, so it was quiet. 

You didn’t know Yuri even knew about it. 

Now sitting criss-crossed on the end of your bed, she continues, “Yeah, so I brought him there and we both got coffee, then I got a croissant and he got a sandwich. But YN, get this: we take. our coffee. the. same. way. Try and tell me we’re not made for one another now! Same major, same coffee, next thing you know we’ll be finding out we’d picked out the same baby names.” 

She stops to take a breath and you take your cue. “Woah there, Yurls, slow down a bit on that last one,” she makes a face at you. You ignore it. “But I think it’s great you're making a new friend that you have common interests with and are excited about,” you say, putting extra emphasis on ‘friend,’ thinking back to your conversation with Jungkook about people only ever wanting things he could give them. Surely you could subtly help your friend this way. “Just try to remember you have to be friends first before anything else happens.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Friends? YN please! We’re practically already dating, that’s three times in as many days he’s asked to hang out,” she closes her eyes, hugging herself. “I can almost hear the wedding bells.”

You look at her plainly and try your best not to sigh. 

She must know that this is just Jungkook taking her up on her offer, right? The one she made after seeing him off to the cafe by the biz-admin building the other day?

Before they parted ways, Yuri’d mentioned to him that if he wanted more inside knowledge or help getting around the campus he could ask her. And it made sense, having all their classes in the same area, when he said, ‘I’ll take you up on that.’

You know, because not unlike this conversation, she’d rushed home right after to tell you. 

Jungkook’s just trying to get his bearings in what is clearly still a very new experience for him and Yuri’s reading into it all wrong. 

You look at your friend who’s staring dreamily at nothing, more than likely caught up in whatever wedding scenarios of herself and Jungkook her brain is creating. 

Waving a fruitless hand in front of her face before snapping your fingers, you break her trance. “Helloooo? Earth to Yuri, come back down here please so I can talk some sense into youuuuu.” 

“I’m here,” she says, smacking your hand away playfully, gaze snapping to your less than amused one. Her smile falters at the sight. “What’s that look for?”

“Oh nothing, just that you sound like a delusional teenager instead of a functional adult at university pursuing a degree. You just met the guy three days ago and you’re already picturing your wedding together? Because you hung out over coffee twice and showed him where his classes are? He’s still a stranger, Yuri. Can’t you hear yourself?”

Her expression quickly changes to one of offense, and maybe even hurt. 

Perhaps you’d been a little too honest, but it’s not like this was new for you two. Sometimes she needed a swift blow to knock her down and she knows this, she knows you’d never intend to hurt her feelings. You always wanted what was best for her, and you know she feels the exact same way for you. 

So you’re shocked when she says, “You know you don’t have to be such a bitch about it if you’re going to be jealous,” crossing her arms defensively.

Jealous? You are anything but jealous, and you wonder why that’s where her mind jumps to first, brows scrunching in confusion.

“I’m not jealous. Have you forgotten about Nel? Boyfriend of five years, highschool sweetheart, ringing a bell?”

“Nel’s not a prince YN,” she counters in a tone so even, it’s unsettling. “And it wouldn’t be so unheard of for a woman in a relationship to be jealous of her friend who’s in one with a prince she wants for herself.” 

Oh, so that’s where she wants to go with this. She thinks that Jungkook will somehow make you forget about the five wonderful years with Nel. Like half a decade measures up to nothing if it means getting someone with a better name and a bigger paycheck. 

Fine.

If she wants to get bitchy about it, so will you. 

“Yeah, well it’s a good thing you’re not dating one then, isn’t it? Don’t get so defensive when all I’m doing is trying to help you see that.”

Yuri stands dramatically from the bed, clearly pissed, and storms out of your room, grabbing her things from the dining room table.

“I’m going to my macroeconomics class. By the time I get back, either have your door closed, or don’t be here.”

She leaves as rushed as she came, and you try not to flinch at the front door slamming shut, but do anyway. 

You shove your work off to the side, bringing your knees up to rest your elbows on while the palms of your hands cover your eyes, giving yourself a moment to breathe and process. 

This isn’t the first time this has happened and it certainly won't be the last. It was a downside between your personalities. You were the anchor who kept her from soaring too high in the clouds, just like she was the helium that kept you from drowning. 

But sometimes she wanted to see the stars, and sometimes you were scared of the surface. 

Releasing a deep breath, you decide to head out, having finished school for the day anyway. You only had morning classes on Wednesdays—an intentional scheduling on your behalf to have somewhat of a break midweek. You work hard but also know that burnout can kill.

Switching out your pencils for watercolour paint trays, and your sketchpad for your watercolour paper, you decide that the greenhouse sounded great right about now, especially now that you knew Yuri wouldn’t be there. 

There isn’t a better place for you to go and blow off some steam. 

Tossing your brushes, materials, travel water and wallet in a tote, you slide on your shoes and leave the dorm. The door closes much quieter this time. 

Chapter Three: Greenhouse Muses and Surprise Guests

A/N 2: I’m pretty sure this is the shortest chapter in the series (so far) but as you’ve read it’s an important step so I hope that’s okay!

<- Back

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

This is a request by @asterio14 hope you like it sorry it has taken me so long to write your request.

Another Spencer Reid X Teen convicted reader.

This is not related to all to my other Spencer Reid x prisoner teen reader completely different.

Request: Both Spencer Reid and Reader are serving life sentences at adult prison. Reader has already served three or four years. is a character who doesn't mind being in prison, perceiving it as natural habitat. He is the one welcoming Spencer into his new home. The reader is put in for Arson but accidentally killed someone.

Third person pov...

In Millburn Correctional Facility a H/C teen sits in his cell, the cell itself wasn't very large but he still had a sink, a usable toilet, small plastic mirror hanging on the wall, a small bed with a thin cover and single pillow.

Opposite another bed but with no one staying in it, 18 year old Y/N had been in this correctionally facility for 2 and a half years for arson and accidental homicide, when he was 16 he stupidly played with matches and accidently set a barn on fire and the owner happened to be inside the barn.

He tried to save them but was already dead when Y/N dragged them out. Since he got sent to prison, he has been a model prisoner and was allowed curtain things others weren't, such as books to read and a sketchbook to draw in.

After a couple of months the teen got used to being in prison, as he was a minor he was sent for a juvenile centre then when he turned 18 was sent to this correctionally facility.

Currently the teen was sketching on his bed, humming a song he liked, his back lent against the wall his knees up so prop up the sketchbook for him to sketch.

A guard knocks on the barred door alerting the teen, he glanced awa from his sketchbook then back just as quick. "Prisoner L/N, you've got company" calls a guard, Y/N just gives a thumbs up to the guard but doesn't move, by now the guards know the teen enough that he wont move when they open his cell.

Once the door was closed, he looked up and saw a man. "Guess your my cell mate then" he says, the guy was young looking with longish curly hair with a young but haunted face, he was tall and lanky around 6ft.

The man just stares at the kid, Spencer was first surprised at how young his cell mate was, the kid didn't look older than 20, he had H/C hair and E/C eyes, he was wearing a white t shirt and the prison uniform pants the shirt was hung up.

Y/N gives the guy a friendly looking smile. "Yo! I'm Y/N, nice to meet you" he says Spencer is glad he doesn't hold his hand out for a handshake, Y/N goes back to his sketching.

Spencer then sits down on the opposite bed, he was glad to be moved into these smaller cells and away from the public ones he was first in, Spencer watches the boy before realising he didn't introduce himself.

"Im Spencer Reid, nice to meet you Y/N" He says, the boy only smiles and gives the man a thumbs up. Over the next few days Y/N and Spencer got to know each other.

Y/N tells him why he was in prison and Spencer explains his story about him being an FBI agent and how he got blackmailed and put in prison, 3 weeks later they had bonded like brothers.

Y/N told his tragic backstory of loosing his Mum at a young age and having an ass hole of a dad, who neglected him and didn't tell him what was right or wrong so he went with anything.

Spencer was sympathetic to the kid and told him about his dad leaving him and his mum alone. Y/N laughs making Spencer look over at the teen. "We both had shitty Fathers then" his words makes Spencer laugh as well.

"I suppose we do" he mutters into the darkness of the cell.

12 weeks later, Spencer has been released from Prison but his team and Mr Scratch is no more, for his last day and night Spencer spends it with his new friend and brother Y/N.

After dinner the two sit in their shared cell, Y/Nsat on his bed and Spencer sat on his own, it is silent until Spencer gets up from his bed and sits next to Y/N on his.

The teen currently had their head in their knees not looking at Spencer, he had been secretly hoping the this day wouldn't come so soon, when Spencer goes he would be alone again.

Spencer fidgets awkwardly before breaking thr silence. "I'm sorry Y/N, but I've been found innocent by the Judge I have to go" he tries to reason with the teen.

Y/N keeps his head in his knees not talking, Spencer sighs and sits suddenly Y/Ns pulls him into a tight hug that he couldn't seem to want to let go off.

Spencer frozen physical contact was not his thing, The teens arms shake as they hug the older man tightly, Spencer relaxes slightly and hugs the teen back.

He will miss the young kid alot and will always be thinking of him.

The end!

So sorry for thr wait I didn't have alot for this oneshot so sorry that it is alot shorter than thr usual 1000 + oneshots, I've been busy with my classes and trying not to burn out from everyone and thing.

As usual so sorry for the grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Worr count: 960

[thestarfishface]

Kinda feel bad about not drawing much just because I don't have much to post. The truth is that I draw a LOT it's just mostly stuff I can't post right away (comic pages and video artwork/thumbnails), combined with having very little motivation to work on properly finished pieces right now. Sketching heals my weary soul.

Anyway I have 4 sketchbooks now and none of them are finished because Oops

So a few months ago I got a sketchbook and some alcohol markers sent to me as part of a sponsorship. The sketchbook is really nice marker paper and I love it but I have accidentally worked myself into the mindset of "If I draw in this sketchbook it needs to be for marker pieces". Which is silly, because the marker sketchbooks are not that expensive, but that's where my brain is at. The other problem is that this sketchbook is Big which makes it hard to carry around.

A few weeks later I was in a bookstore and saw some Moleskine notebooks. I've scoffed at MS notebooks before because they're really expensive considering the paper quality, but when I checked this most recent time I saw they had a line of smaller, art-specific sketchbooks that supposedly had thicker paper. "Bet", I said, and bought one, even though it came shrink wrapped and I couldn't feel the paper first.

It is heavenly. I love it. The paper is so so thick and smooth and I love every second I spend drawing on it. It's not really thick enough to handle my alcohol markers, but for little sketches with sharpie and brush pens (my favorite <3) it handles amazingly.

I liked having it as a travel sketchbook, but around the time I bought it I was struggling with some Life Stuff and needed somewhere to get the feelings out, so my MS notebook ended up becoming half sketchbook and half diary. And now the problem is that I LOVE drawing in my little MS sketchbook, but it is now filled with Sad Thoughts so I feel like I can't bring it out of the house with me. Or else I run the risk of people seeing the Sad Thoughts.

So THEN I think "Well shit, now I need to buy another mini sketchbook that can be my actual Small Sketchbook To Carry Around With Me (That Does Not Have Sad Thoughts In It), so I bought another, non-Moleskine sketchbook. So I did, and it's... okay. The paper's not AS thick but it's lavender and very cute and has more pages. And I figure "Okay, now the MS notebook can be my journal with some doodles in it, and the purple sketchbook can be the travel book."

BUT THEN I was at the Fancy Bookstore last weekend and got curious about another brand of fancy sketchbooks. They were also shrink-wrapped so I couldn't test the paper for myself, but from the numbers on the packaging it seemed like the paper was a decent weight! And it had some other cool features like numbered pages!

Turns out I got confused because I thought the paper weight was in pounds, turns out it's in grams, and the paper is BAD. SUPER thin and transparent, not even worth being a sketchbook. BUT. It is cute and orange. And it works nicely with some cute little stationery pens I have and like writing with.

So... Now I have my black sketchbook (big, for markers), my Moleskine sketchbook (red, my favorite for sketching but contaminated with Sad Thoughts so it's not allowed to leave the house), my purple sketchbook (travel sketchbook, cute), and orange sketchbook (locked forever in diary purgatory). Someone help that is too many.

(Next time I'm at the bookstore someone might need to physically restrain me from buying another mini Moleskine notebook. I have a PROBLEM!!! And the problem is WHY IS THIS PAPER SO NICE???!?! AGH)

[canaidliafail]

stay grounded pt.3

streamer abby x streamer reader 🌿

[ part 1 ] [ part 2 ] [part 4]

MDI. Things get spicy here <3

not proof read // will check for mistakes later tonight <33

Your favorite class aside from sewing, was without a doubt art classes. First two hours you did still nature with charcoals or pencils and the other two you would draw modeling figures and practice on how you could translate the fabric type you intended on using in your sketch.

You were good at drawing. It came naturally to you and your teachers questioned how did you end up in fashion design and not art college. You were his favorite.

But it had been a week since you saw a sign from Abby and everything was going to hell. Last post she made was a photo of her with Nora in cosplay which only accelerated your spiral. To be fair you hadn’t initiated contact either but that was neither here nor there

“Did you not have time to draw these days ? Your strokes are very messy…” Your teacher said hovering behind you and studying your piece. You would have screamed actually and then cried and then you decided then you would bomb the city

You gave him a curt smile “I had a rough week at work” He sighed in understanding and patted your shoulder “Ah so young and already having to balance all this. I understand its hard. You can take it easy today then” he said and half an hour later came back to give your sketch an empathetic look that looked like constipation.

At the end of the day you rolled up the papers with your pitiful sketches and shoved them in your bag crinkling the edges. You felt stupid for letting someone on the other end of the world affect your life that much. Hell it's been barely a month that she noticed you ( you refused to account for all the other times you tried to get her attention by sending bits or commenting on her chat a year ago and the occasional like left on a post that made it her -for you page- )

You were at the cafe across from your college building sitting on the bar counter in front of the large glass doors sipping on the overpriced cappuccino and biting the rim of your reusable cup.

She got me a ridiculously overpriced statue. That has to amount to something, no?

Then again she did mention to her it wasn’t that different from getting me a cup of coffee…

Your mind went in circles. Did Onlyfans pay her so well that she could mindlessly toss her money left and right? It wouldn’t be such a bizarre concept to be fair. She was after all at the peak of her career with girls begging to see so much as a collar bone. You nibbled on your lower lip fighting the temptation to see her page.

Did she post gym pics ? Did she post more than that?

You went to her page and tapped under her point at the link leading you to another site with all her links. At the very top, sat a square with the short description of

“18+”

You looked around you and tapped the button and waited for the page to load. Your cheeks flushed. Her banner cropped nicely above her collar bones and below her chest where she showed her arms that were the sole focus of the image.

Her profile photo was a dreadfully common gym pic taken on the dirty mirror near the treadmill section. So effortless yet straight to the point of who she was. She knew what her followers wanted, you included. The illusion that she was just your next door neighbour and this your private chat that turned raunchy at night. You hesitated around the subscribe button.

Crossing that line came at the average cost of 20.99 per month. You pulled out your credit card and went to make an undercover account and subscribe to her profile. Hell there was probably no chance of this ever going anywhere so there was no harm in you indulging in a little more and having something to look forward to after class, right? Right.

You took another sip of your coffee deluding yourself that this didn't cause your heartbeat to spike an unhealthy amount and blamed the shakiness of your hands to your drink

Subscribed for 1 month

Came the message and there was an automated response from her account in the mailbox.

I knew I’d find you here ;)

This cocky motherfucker. You clenched your cup and started scrolling your eyes widening in surprise. There were some posts behind a fat paywall starting at 50 euros going up to 100. You occasionally shrugged one shoulder at the more casual posts and then stopped at one particular image of her with a towel low on her hips, topless with the foggy mirror perfectly censoring your chest. You took a screenshot and decided to go light a candle at the local church next Sunday.

The next photo that stopped you and made you forget that breathing was a necessity was one where she was at the beach with grey cargo pants and a tight white top,sleeveless with a wide cut on her front. The white top ,most importantly, hugged her figure not because of an elastic fabric but because it was wet.

You had never seen more beautiful and well shaped tits. You hated how well it all came together and you hated that the wet top did nothing to hide her pierced perky nipples. Of course there were 389 comments below that pic all thirsty and all equally delighted at this new found discovery that Abby had piercings.

You shook your head and exited her page crestfallen and horny. What a powerful combination. Why did you ever even consider having a chance? You were no different from all the other fans flocking to her page and your reaction to those pics were no different than a mans. You crossed your arms and buried your head in the small dip between your body and hands, fighting back tears and thoughts. Reasonably you knew that Abby did not mind how her followers viewed her as you found her often responding to those comments with her very own bold and flirtatious way. You knew that and yet it was hard to undo years of shame for your nature and Abbys sudden radio silence didn't help

_____________

It was ready. You had never worked with so many materials for something so big before but you were proud to say that the knight armor you crafted was stunning and it was a perfect fit on you. With the release of a new game you Wanted to for once be on time with a costume to wear and take some photos. Besides, it was the least you could’ve done with the company giving you early access to the beta of the game a year ago and now sending you the collector's edition free of charge. You snapped a few pics in your bedroom which in itself was fitting of the whole romantic knight fairytale theme. You tried to film a few videos and tried to post on every platform you had and once you were done with that you tossed your phone aside and went to prepare the house for the weekly sleepover that you and your friend group had

Cassie: Hey babe sorry I’m late,Just go in the bus <333

Rick: Do we have the stuff ? Should I bring mine?

You checked a box near your makeup station and opened to see how much you had left. Definitely enough for 2 cigarettes

No need. I got it

June: Open the door shitface I've been buzzing for 10 minutes

Stay there and freeze to death

Came your response and lowered the volume of your music to realize that Indeed June was here. You leaped to your door and buzzed her in leaving the door open to go take off the armor. You tried not to get impatient and ruin it in the process of taking off every garment. The door slid open wider and then shut closed. June was huffing in pain and rested her hand in front of your bedroom watching you change in spite and anger.

“You hate us all and that's why you live in a place without an elevator”

“Nice to see you too” you said with a smile and she hopped over to your side to give you a quick and tight hug

“How are you doing?”

“Shitty but what's new. Someone has to entertain the group chat with their misery” June laughed and walked out of your room to the living room and plopped down on the couch tossing her bag on the floor and grabbing your controller to change the music and connect to her account. She let phone music fill the halls and got up again waiting for you to finish changing.

You quickly threw on a baggy pair of sweatpants and a crop top and walked out with her “So should we order coffee or a drink?”

“Way ahead of you, Cassie got us our usual already and she told me she is almost here”

Few minutes later the buzzer went off and in came Rick “That’s it. I’m giving up on love. She hates me. She absolutely hates me” Behind her Cassie followed with a cardboard containing all of your coffees yelling at her from the staircase all the way to your apartment

“Will you stop it?! She literally told you to meet tomorrow! TOMORROW!”

“Yes but her tone-“

“Her tone was neutral” Rick huffed out upset and went to sit in the living room

“I take it you have updates for us with your infinite crush?” Rick sulked and grabbed her phone to start reading out loud her latest conversation while occasionally laughing at her own jokes.These get-togethers started by happening once every two months to now happening almost every day as your friend group grew close and it always helped you feel lighter and more chipper. Your phone went off with a notification and you nearly screamed.

Staygrounded69: hey

“SHE texted me. Wow I really thought I was about to get ghosted for good”

Everyone snapped their head at you

“What are you waiting for then ? Answer!!” Cassie urged you on with an excited smile. You shot up and went to your kitchen needing to be away from the others as not to embarrass yourself any further

Whats up

You free to hang out for a game?

You hit your head on the table and groaned out loud. Your friends expressed a mess of concerned sentences all asking you in their own way what happened.

“SHe wants to call and play a game”

“GO FOR ITTTTT GO GET SUM GIRL” June screamed and you shook your head

“No I won't cave in that easy”

In the distance you heard Cassie tease “Sure that you won’t do, but having her Onlyfans pic as your lock screen is not above you” and you would have given her a jab on the ribs but decided against it and went type a response

I’m not alone.

Oh?

I have company tonight but we can still chat or something?

Unless you only wanted to play a game then we can hangout tomorrow…

It was embarrassing how desperate for her attention you were. She used at best 3 syllables and here you were meeting the word limit in a school essay. You saw the three dots appear and disappear as Abby considered her response. You leaned back on the stool and checked your nails,pressing at the skin around them mindlessly.

Works for me, how was your week?

She asked and you felt your heart beat loud in your chest and cold sweat run over you. You could not entirely grasp why her giving you the attention that you craved so badly made you so nauseous and so anxious but you brushed it off to you simply having a crush that intense

It was something. Classes were ridiculously slow

Right. You’re still in college ?

Last year but yeah..I study fashion design.You aren’t?

Oh no I still am. Which is why I still vanish. Classes are A true pain in the ass

You smiled,warmth spreading all over your body. You were pacing in the kitchen while exchanging back and forth meaningless info about your day and your general life. You were surprised to know she was the same age as you but that was about as many similarities as the two of you had but that did nothing to falter either interest in the conversation.

Oh Alice just came.

Give her a pat from me <3

And in came a photo. You opened it without hesitation and were quick to keep your finger pressed on the image processing what was in front of you. Alice was comfortably seated between Abbys thighs and her head was snuggly pressed on her leg looking up at the camera. Now whether Alice was in the image or not it didn't matter cause your eyes were stuck on the fact that Abby was only in a black pair of boxer briefs and she did nothing to divert the camera lens away from that fact.

Her arm was starched out patting Alice’s head, her veiny hand on display. You fixated on those long calloused fingers and you almost moaned just at the thought of what they could do.You hated that you couldn’t take a screenshot and cursed igs safety feature of showing the other party when someone did that. You exited the image and tried to think of an answer.

Damn. She is almost in frame

Don't blame me for your wandering eyes babe

You smacked your head on the table with a loud thud and it rumbled in protest,

“You alive cotton?!” Rick called out and the rest chuckled. You checked the time and noticed you had been talking with her for a good two hours at this point and despite wanting to continue the conversation you had to join your friends at some point

“Yeah gimme a few”

Shit You almost made me blush

Almost? Damn. Better luck next time

She said and you let out an awkward half laugh half sigh not believing what you were reading and how well this had gone. You bounced your leg in distress. You were beyond aroused by this attitude. Be it the photos, or her attempting to make a pass at you, you could feel the inevitable burn and ache in your core. You let out a scream and heard a glass fall and rick cough

“The hell?!”

“What happened?!”

“I’m gonna kick you for that what the fuck”

Came their voices in startled unison

Well Ill have to leave you high and dry. My friends are calling me

Go have fun. Talk to you tomorrow ?

Sure :)

They ran into the kitchen expectant and you let out a mumbled

“She said talk to you tomorrow”

You were sure you had lost 89% of your hearing capabilities from their cheerful screams.

____________

At precisely 4 am you decided to give up on sleep and left the living room trying to step around the bodies sleeping on the floor amongst the pillows and blankets going to your bedroom for some privacy. The ache was persistent and you had to do something about it. You locked the door and unlocked your phone going straight to Abbys Onlyfans. There was a message there

A video behind a paywall. A paywall of 250 euros with the caption “was thinking of you” and right below the video was a separate message

You closed your eyes the minute your fingers slipped and purchased the video. A video unlike anything else on her profile where she wore a sleeveless baggy t-shirt and the same boxer briefs you saw on that photo she sent you earlier that evening. She was sitting on her gaming chair with her legs spread and the camera was placed on the bottom cropping her face out. You watched as her fingers teased the waistband and in came her voice

Were you thinking of me?

It was lower, suggestive unlike how she usually talked. You pressed your thighs and pushed your back against the bedframe falling deeper between the pillows. Your hand laid comfortably on top of your tummy an inch away from the elastic band of your sweatpants. You circled the area hesitating to delve deeper but when you saw Abby initiate the notion by slipping her hand beneath her underwear you did the same, your body having a mind of its own.

Are you touching yourself for me baby?

She asked and you almost let out a breathless quiet “yes” but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. You mirrored her circular slow movements and hated how painfully slow she went about it and as if she knew exactly what you thought she added

Are you getting impatient ?

You bit your lip trying to hold back a moan. Her voice reeked of sex and the eroticism of her moves drove you insane. Your head was spinning and when you dared to outpace her you heard a very low breathless sigh come from the video and echo in your head. The video ended there and your eyes shot wide open in disbelief. You checked the time. It was a 3 minute video.

Fuck

You thought and closed the tab leading back to the chat on onlyfans. A new message was there

-Enjoyed it cotton?-

Fucking fuck

[annaraebananawriter]

Day 1 - Stars

Hello all! I come bearing a new fic for a new ship week. This one (created by @starsanspolyweek) (which is also me) is for the Star Sans Poly ship! It's so fun to explore how much they mean to one another, and I thought about doing a ship week for them a few years back, but only got the courage and motivation to start it last year. So sorry about not posting anything for that one--I honestly just didn't get anything written. But this year I have!

I will try and update daily, though today is the only full day I have pre-written. The others are mostly a handful of words, or a blank page. We'll see how it goes.

Without a further ado, happy reading!!

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV

Characters: Dream (Who belongs to Joku), Blue  (Who belongs to P0pcornPr1nce) and Ink (Who belongs to Comyet)

Pairings: Star Sans Poly/Pre-Star Sans Poly

Warnings: None, actually, now that I think about it. Let me know!

Summary: "Dream is not mortal. His brother, Nightmare, is also not mortal. They are both gods. An incident in the past involving both of them forced the hand of the other gods to create a new rule: Mortals and Gods are not to interact, let one infect the other with knowledge they should not possess.

This rule becomes a problem when Dream becomes infatuated with two mortals, Ink and Blue."

Word Count: 4420

***

I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen:

***

The tree was always Dream’s favorite place to watch the stars. Nothing beat climbing up to the furthest branch, using skills built upon centuries of practice to get up with the ease and grace as a nimble forest animal would naturally have, using the same skills to balance there on a branch that would’ve cracked had he been anyone else.

Being so high up got him so close to the sky, so close he could almost feel the twinkling lights kissing him. He could spend hours there, crouched in the tree, staring up at the wonder most didn’t think twice of.

Correction: he has spent hours there. He often got so lost in the beauty of things that he forgot to return home, and so his brother would be forced to come and retrieve him. Though he’s often said to Nightmare to just let him be, and though his brother often agrees to do so, forever annoyed at having to leave their house for any reason, he is often going back on his word, there at the base of the tree to call him home before sunrise without fail, every night.

Tonight, it’s still early enough that he knows he has time to watch. He settles in, leaning against the trunk, eyes searching the sky for anything and nothing at the same time. If he were an artist, his fingers would itch with a drawing. If he were a writer, it would be a story or poem instead. He is neither, however, so instead all he does is look.

That is enough to content him.

Mostly.

He does sometimes wish he were more creative. Sure, he can sketch something and have it end up half-resembling the original idea, and he can string together a short story with a simple theme, but they both end up crude and childish. That’s not a bad thing overall, it just leaves him unsatisfied, forever envious of those who can do them.

It’s funny, really, that in all the centuries he’s been alive, he has never mastered the art of art. So many other things he can do with his eyes closed. Never art. The closest thing to it is baking, maybe gardening, both things he can do well enough. Healing might be considered an art in itself, but it’s not paint and words and colours and metaphors. It’s not something people will look at for years with awe, not something people will hang up on their walls or in galleries. It’s simply a skill to help others, as is his duty and job—the only thing he is ever frustrated by.

He doesn’t hate doing his job. No, he does enjoy helping people. It makes him smile when he can dry a child’s tears with some warm magic on the knee, or when he grants a miracle to a family who now needn’t worry about the cost of a funeral for someone so young. In fact, he prides himself on doing good, spreading laughter across the world. He loves the stories told of him, the kind way they portray him in artwork, and he’s flattered by the statues of him in temples. It’s all something he enjoys.

That doesn’t mean he can’t find it uncomfortable at times.

One of the very first things people decided about him was that he was never selfish. He was always working in favor of others, always, no matter the demand or price. As the people have sway over how the universe works, he is bound to this fact. He can never act for himself, not without it also benefiting others. In the beginning, he hadn’t minded this, naïve to there being a different way to live, but when he found out he was the exception to the general rule, he couldn’t help but find it unfair.

Yes, he is not mortal. That shouldn’t mean he cannot be as free as them.

He should not have to bend to their whim, pick up after their messes, make every tiny wish come true. He should not have to heal all their scraps, paper cuts to broken bones, and he should not have to drug them to feel happiness, his aura meant to be something soothing and helpful in a crisis, not something to get addicted to.

Through the years, he’s grown so irritated that the common belief about him is that he enjoys being seen as a slave. It is simply not true at all. He enjoys helping people, yes, but he does not enjoy how it is half of what people see when they look at him. He is so much more than that. He is the sun and the stars and the light of your home, the lightness in your chest. He is the pleasant morning breeze against your flushed skin as you close your eyes and bask in it. He is the relationship you have with your closest friends and family, the way they know you better than yourself, that unspoken trust that they will be there to hold you when you fall.

He is so much more than a helper.

Dream is a God.

Yet, the laws of the universe dictate that he never speak about his wants, for that would be ‘—blasphemy for suggesting that we have free will like the mortals. We do not. We serve Fate, and Fate tells us to serve the mortals, to act the part they want us to play.’

Nightmare is a stickler for the rules. He never used to be. He was once as dissatisfied with the role mortals gave him while he had not been able to see what he meant, too wrapped up in the glitz of attention. Time has seen that their roles flipped over. Now, Nightmare insists he remember the laws, remember the role he plays, the one both of them play. What happened all those years ago changed him so much…

Ah, but he rambles. As he always does when watching the stars.

It’s time to clear his mind, lean his head back against the bark and fall into his trance. Crickets are abound on the grassy floor of the hill below, providing a symphony as he follows his own instructions, stretching his leg out along the branch. On a whim, he plucks an apple out of the air, biting into it, letting the juice fill his mouth.

It makes him sigh, this simple act of savoring what he eats, especially since it’s not needed. It is something he wanted, and so it was something he did.

A small rebellion, if you wish to call it that.

Closing his eyes, he took another bite.

He should eat more often. It’s a pleasant experience, and the taste is amazing. This apple was just one of the many edible things out there, too. Perhaps he should try an orange next, or maybe one of those sweets he’s heard about. Something to consider the next time he comes to the tree to watch the stars, that’s for sure.

When he opens his eyes again to look at the sky, he finds himself looking at a face instead. Freezing like a deer caught in the hunter’s gaze, Dream looks at the face in front of him, eyes wide.

It belongs a skeleton monster, that much is obvious, and it’s eyelights do a curious thing he’s never seen before. They change. Shapes and colours, they change as the monster blinks, making him fascinated. He’s never met a monster whose eyes change colours. It’s intriguing to watch, and he wants to ask this monster how his eyes work. Does he pick the colours and shapes? Or do they just happen? Does he know his eyes change, or will the news surprise him?

And then he remembers the new law, instilled after Nightmare’s incident: Mortals and Gods are not to interact, let one infect the other with knowledge they should not possess.

Remembering it, and realizing this would count as a violation of the law, makes his eyes widen even further, something in his stomach churning uncomfortably. He starts to panic, thinking of the repercussions of this act is found out, how it will affect Nightmare, since the universe is much more willing to blame any fault of his onto his brother.

The apple slips from his hand as his grip loosens.

The mortal catches the apple before it falls too far to salvage. “Hello!” The mortal says, grinning. His eyes change again, distracting Dream from his panic for a few moments. There’s an ink splotch on his cheek. Is he aware of it? “What brings you all the way up here?”

“Um…” Dream says, and then his panic returns, engulfing his line of thought. Automatically, he tugs at his magic, giving it the order to teleport him out of this interaction before he gives away more than he should.

Unfortunately, he does think of a destination along with the order, so he blinks and finds himself falling, having only teleported below where he was sitting, in a space without any branches to catch himself with. The beginning of a scream escapes him before he manages to wrench his mouth shut. It’ll do no good to draw even more attention to himself, not now. The best he can do is keep quiet and begin to teleport again.

Before he can give the order, he is caught, his hand instinctively clenching the fabric of a shirt. Blinking once, then twice, he breathes heavily as it sinks in that if he was caught that means…he looks up at the face of another mortal, another skeleton monster at that, who is looking down at him with concern, checking that he is alright.

Then, his face changes, jaw clenching, and the mortal looks up at the tree. “Ink! You were supposed to ask him why he was up there, not scare him into falling!” The mortal shouts up at the other one.

Ink, Dream thinks. How fitting, considering the splotch of the substance on his cheek.

The mortal who caught him does not have the changing eyelights of his companion, but that does not mean they are any less fascinating. They are blue, a bright blue that almost seems to glow, contrasted by the darkness that surrounds them. It’s a trick, he knows that—and really, the only eyelights that can glow are his own, a tell that he is not as mortal as everyone else—but it still makes his heart skip a beat.

Sounds of leaves being shaken come from above their heads, and they watch the other mortal—Ink—hop down. At first, the height he jumps from makes Dream panic, a feeling echoed from the mortal whose arms he was still in. Or maybe that feeling came first and he was the one that echoed it. Emotions were vague, that way. Landing perfectly fine, though with a bit of a stumble, Ink does not feel regret for making them worry, instead just laughs at them.

“I didn’t mean to, honest!” Ink says, grinning first at his companion, then looking down at Dream, blinking. His eyes change again: two question marks, different colours. “I gotta say, it’s weird that you got down here so quickly. I mean, I know you fell, but still. I didn’t hear any branches break or anything. The only leaves on the ground are from me.”

He’s observant. How terrible. Not only will he have to scramble for an excuse to leave as soon as possible, praying that he makes it home before anyone can get suspicious, he will have to find a way to avoid these questions.

The companion answers before he finds any words. “Don’t be silly, Ink, he just fell. That’s it. There’s nothing different about him.” He says the words pointedly, as if referring to something only the two of them understand. What were they talking about?

No, no, don’t ponder that!

Just go home.

Except he’s still in the mortal’s arms, and now he’s been in them so long, it feels too awkward to ask him to set him on his feet. That is the only reason he hasn’t moved, he tells himself, and nothing to do with the fact that it’s comfy here.

Ink scoffs, throwing Dream’s apple in the air and catching it. He takes a bite out of the other side, opposite from where his marks were. For whatever reason, the fact that this mortal is eating his food makes his cheeks burn. “You don’t know that. I’m telling you, there’s something off about him! Something…magical.”

His companion—he really must discover his name—shakes his head. He feels exasperated. Obviously, they have had many conversations like this. “Magic doesn’t exist.”

Unable to stop himself in time, Dream flinches. To proclaim that magic does not exist in front of a God, a being comprised of and birthed from the rawest form of magic, knowing you were in the presence of one or not…well, that hurts. It’s like someone denying a piece of you exists, no matter how much proof is written down, how many times you explain it to scholars and historians. It’s like they shake their head, telling you that you are the uneducated one, and referring you to a handful of resources that provide all the reasons as to why, exactly, you’re wrong about yourself.

Ink sees this flinch. “Ah, but he flinched when you said that! Why would he flinch unless you wounded him personally?” Grinning in triumph, he walks closer, standing in front of them with his hands on his hips. There is a small bit of apple stuck on the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps it’s time to ask the man himself. What say you, Magician? How do you explain traveling such a distance in such a short time?”

As the mortals wait for an answer, Dream swallows.

The only way to get out of this is to lie, which goes against everything that he is; God of Honesty and all that. Which is different from truth, yes, but it still holds the same restrictions. He cannot lie here, not fully. But there are many ways to lie and perhaps he can use that to his advantage by taking a page out of Nightmare’s book: avoidance and omission.

Yes, this will work. Or else he risks all of them being in trouble.

“Uh…” Dream says, swallowing again as he draws on his courage to raise his eyes to meet Ink’s. The changing eyelights are trained on him with unwavering attention. Clearing his throat, Dream tilts his head, pushing a curious expression to fall over his face. “Your eyelights change, did you know that? I’ve never met someone like that before.”

It’s a very clear avoidance, much like seeing someone you don’t want to talk to, making eye contact with them even, and deliberately turning and walking right back where you came from. Ink doesn’t call him out on it, though, instead just hums. “I see, I see. You want to keep your secrets. I guess I can respect that. A magician never tells, correct?”

“They’re very pretty to watch,” Dream continues as if he hadn’t replied.

Ink stares at him some more before shrugging. “Alright, Magician, keep your secrets. Maybe you’ll tell me your trick one day.” Now that his topic seems to be finished, he smiles, putting on a show of blinking and unveiling the brand-new eyelights. “Thank you! They are my second-best trait, if I do say so myself.”

Dream blinks. “Second-best?”

“Yes,” Ink laughs, eyes scrunching up. New eyelights appear. “They’re fine, but I’m used to them by now. It doesn’t excite me as much as it seems to excite you.” Sending him a wink, he reaches into his satchel, which is sat on the ground on a blanket he had been too preoccupied to notice before now. There are other things scattered on the blanket, a few snacks, and a telescope aimed up at the sky.

Finding what he’s looking for, Ink holds a notebook in front of him. “But these are much more interesting. I say this with modesty, of course. I would never proclaim myself one of the greatest artists of my generation.” With a hand on his heart, and a grin on his face to say how he really feels, he offers the notebook to Dream, who reaches out to accept the notebook but falters, remembering he is still in the arms of the other mortal.

Isn’t he tired yet? His arms must be aching by now. He is not a light God, certainly would not come across as a light mortal. But the mortal doesn’t appear to really notice him in his arms, content to stand as long as needed. Still, even knowing he wouldn’t mind holding him for a while yet, it feels like he’s being mean by taking a notebook to look through, lounging in the arms like it was his idea. Certainly, if he does this, he would come across as selfish, and as already established, this is something he cannot do.

But how to explain such things to a mortal…?

Ink seems to notice his dilemma, and he smirks at his companion. “Are you going to hold him all night, Blue, or are you going to allow him to stand on his own two feet again? I’m sure you’ve had plenty of time to make sure he was uninjured.”

His companion—Blue, Dream thinks to himself. How appropriate, with eyelights the essence of the word itself—jumps as if just remembering he is, in fact, holding someone in his arms.

“Oh, I am so sorry! I didn’t think to—I didn’t mean to—I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t seem to know how to explain himself, stuttering and starting over as he sets Dream on his feet. When he looks back at him, Blue is blushing, flushed from his neck up, the colour just as bright as his eyelights as it glows. Ink is laughing in front of them, not even trying to hide it.

Dream smiles, laughs a little himself, patting him on the shoulder. “If it helps any, your arms are quite comfortable.”

Blue’s blush deepens. “Thanks.”

Taking the notebook from Ink, he first runs his fingers over the cool sensation of the leather cover. He’s unable to tell what colour it is exactly, too much of the pigment sucked into the darkness that surrounds them—which reminds him of another problem. “It’s too dark to see your art.”

Ink looks up at him as he plops himself down onto the blanket. He’s still eating Dream’s apple. “Ah, right. Forgot it was night.” Laughing at himself, he shrugs. “I guess you’ll just have to borrow it and wait till morning to look at it.”

Blue frowns at Ink, having walked around Dream and is fiddling with the telescope. “You’re giving it away? You never give your sketchbook away.”

With those words, Dream’s hand stills, fingers hovering in the air, a hair width away from the cover. Never? What made him so special, then?

It seems that’s Blue’s question as well, the one not spoken aloud. Ink shrugs again, answering both of them at the same time. “I’m not giving it away forever. It’s not like he’s just going to keep it.” Pausing, he looks at Dream, appearing for the first time this night nervous. “Are you?”

Dream shakes his head. “Of course not! I understand how important your art is to you artists. I would never steal it from you.”

“Right.” Gesturing at Dream, Ink continues talking to Blue, “See? I’m not giving it away. I’m letting someone borrow it.”

“Yes, but you never do that either.”

“There’s a first for everything.”

Silence rings in the air as both companions fall silent. He cannot help but feel that an unspoken conversation was just had with those few words, a conversation he is not even somewhat aware of. Like Ink said—a first for everything. What did they talk about? Was it about him? Must’ve been. Was he really that important to them?

Oh no, he didn’t interrupt anything, did he? Is he ruining something by lingering here? Well, he is, but is he ruining something for the mortals, too?

It’s best he leaves, quickly now, before—

“Are you going to sit down, Magician?”

Blinking out of his worries, Dream clutches the book to his chest. “Pardon?”

Ink tilts his head back, looking at him upside down. “Are you going to sit down, join us? I promise you; we don’t bite.” Another pause. “Not unless we have to.”

Blue smacks his arm. “Ink!”

Ink laughs, the sound beautiful, filling the quiet as if it was always meant to be there. “What? Just telling the truth. You really have nothing to be afraid of, I swear it. We’re out here to test run Blue’s telescope, that’s all—he built it himself, you see.”

Mouth opening in surprise, Dream draws closer, inspecting the telescope. It’s true. It’s made out of a mixture of wood and metal. If he reaches a hand out to touch the barrel, he runs the risk of getting a blister. Despite this, it is pretty, the rough wood a nice texture, the cool metal that frames the edges, that makes up the legs and the viewing port a nice difference, a good compliment. He cannot see too many details—again, too dark—but he can tell that a lot of work was put into it.

Shifting his gaze, he finds Blue’s gaze. “It’s amazing. How did you build it?”

Shrugging, gaze dropping back to his fiddling, Blue mumbles. “It’s nothing special, really…just wanted to make something to look closer at the stars…”

Beside him, Ink groans. “Don’t be silly, Blue.” Scooting over, he leans against Dream’s back, his breath warming the side of his skull as he whispers into where his ear would be if he was based on a human. “I keep telling him not to be so modest. It never sticks.” Getting louder, he leans forward even more, pointing at Blue and his telescope. “You built it to prove to your classmates that you didn’t get into school by chance. You built it because you knew you could. You built it with your heart, with determination—that’s how you built it.”

It seems Blue is unused to so many compliments in a row, the flush creeping back in, but Dream can tell that this is a proud flush, not an embarrassed one. “Bit more to it than that, but I suppose…and I can tell that I need to change the glass—I don’t think this was the correct cut. I need to change other things a bit, too, as it’s not zooming in as much as I want it to…” The longer he speaks, the more confident he gets, the more relaxed. He is in his comfort zone now, talking about his telescope, about the intricacies of it.

As he rambles, Dream glances over his shoulder to Ink, finding him looking at Blue with a smile far gentler than his grins were. This one, he can tell, is only used for moments like this, looking at someone he loves. Oh, how much he loves Blue…the emotion is like flying up into the sky, being among all the stars, all the lights, and closing your eyes and letting yourself fall, the euphoria in letting go.

It makes Dream’s essence pulse in tandem, like a heart skipping a beat.

However, in doing this, it reminds him of how different he is to these mortals. Why he puts them all in danger the longer he stays.

If Nightmare were to catch him like this…it would not be worse than the others, but it would mean being on lockdown. He would not be able to go anywhere without his brother breathing down his back, watching his every move, through his own eye or one of his familiars’. His brother is paranoid, afraid of what the others have done. If he sees this, he will worry that the others have as well, that the same thing that happened to him will happen to Dream…

He should leave. He should leave, right now.

But…

Tuning out of the conversation, Dream looks down at the book in his hands, runs his fingers over the leather, feeling an indentation where Ink has carved his name.

Ink has given him his sketchbook, obviously a weighted responsibility with the way they were talking earlier. Then there’s Blue and his telescope, which he built from the ground up with his own two hands, and the way lying in his arms was so comforting—he wants to know everything about them both. Why build things? Why draw things? Why create things?

These two mortals are the first ones he’s spoken to in a long, long time. Since before Nightmare’s incident and the law was fashioned. He wants to know how things have changed from last time, how much progress they’ve made as a society—he has heard of an Industrial Revolution, would like to know about it from the eye of mortals, maybe even see the changes it had made for himself. He longs for it, an ache in his bones that he cannot ignore any longer, has so many questions and two people able to answer these questions sitting so close to him.

It's dangerous to stay…but it would be terrible to leave.

The mortals deemed him selfless, to never act for himself. They might have had good intentions at first, but they quickly grew greedy with their order and wishes, and the gift turned into a curse, a prison. He has spent so long behind these bars, watching mortals grow close with one another, watched the others dictate the laws of the universe like they were the only deciding factor of it. He has watched mortals revolt tyranny all on their own, watched them write into their laws time after time some version of free will, that everyone has the right to be who they are, all of themselves, without judgement, without prohibition.

Perhaps the same can be true of a God…

Perhaps the same can be true of him.

There is a first for everything, and so Dream decides to try and be selfish, sitting down on the blanket to stay in the mortals’ company for a little while longer.

[vxntagedior]

what about something where xavier has one of his dreams that something bad will happen to you? so then he’s not letting you out of his sight and saves you from whatever it is, maybe like the gargoyle situation. and then he has to admit that he’s been following you to make sure you’re safe and he’s a little embarrassed but obviously reader thinks it’s sweet. i think non-established relationship, just classmates. if this is too vague or you’re not feeling it, please ignore, no worries!! 🫶🏻

knight in shining armor

summary | xavier comes clean on why he's been following you lately

pairing | xavier thorpe x fem!reader

warning | platonic relationship, angst, fluff ending

word count | 721

Xavier stood in watch in horror seeing the sword plunged through your stomach. Trying to make his way towards you, he felt like this an invisible barrier stopping him from getting to you. 

Watching as you fell to the ground, holding onto your stomach tightly, he slowly watch as the life drained from your eyes. 

“Y/n!” He heard someone scream through all the chaos.

Jumping from under his covers, Xavier let out a gasp, his hand over his heart. Sweat covered his body. Running his hand through his hair, he let out a shaky breath. Tears started to well in his eyes, the last time he saw someone die in his dream, it happened shortly after in the real world.

Xavier was slumped over his desk, his pencil sketching over his paper, staying up for the rest of the night knowing he wasn’t going back to sleep. 

Staring at the picture in front of him, looking at the scenery, seeing how familiar it looked to him. Seeing the gargoyle was what made it like for him. 

Xavier practically made his goal to make sure nothing would happen to you. That following up Monday, he sat next to you in every class the two of you had together, luckily which was more than half. Luckily the two of you ran with the same group of people so it wasn’t odd that he was constantly with you. 

But as the school day came to an end, that was where he started running into problems. You had your own clubs to attend to while he had his, but having the same friends, he entrusted them to look out for you when he wasn’t there. 

By the second week you knew something was up. You and Xavier were good friends but you could tell he was constantly lingering in the background. Keeping quiet about the situation, you let him continue whatever he was doing. 

“How have you been Xavier?” You smirked, looking at him from across the table. Xavier froze slightly before looking at you. Since his dream, you noticed the shift in his behavior. He started to become more protective of you, and apparently you were the only one. Divina noticed it was, and started to tease about how he liked you and couldn’t stay away. 

“I-I’m uh good.” He nodded his head, trying to look anywhere but you. 

“Have you been dreaming okay?” Fuck, he cursed himself in his head, after all this time thinking he was being distrect, you probably caught on to what he was doing. 

“Not really.” He said truthfully, shyly looking back up at you. You stayed quiet, just letting him continue to talk. “The other night, I uh, had this dream about you, I don’t I could even call it a dream, more of a nightmare.”

Sensing his distress, you placed your hand on top of his shaking ones. “It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me if it’s hurting you this bad, I understand.”

Even as he was trying to tell you that something was going to happen to you, you had his interests in heart. 

Xavier closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, slowly letting it out before opening his eyes back up and continuing. 

“You got hurt, like really bad.” He confessed, “And since I saw that I’ve been around you trying to make sure nothing bad would happen because I don’t want to lose you.”

Finally looking back up at you, he saw you getting out of your seat, making your way to his side of the table. He didn’t expect you to hug him, his eyes wide, before melting in your touch, reciprocating the hug.

“Thank you.” You whispered into his ear. 

“You're not weirded out by this.” He said in shock.

“Xavier, you’re looking out for me, making sure I’m safe, it’s far from weird, it’s kind.” You smiled, “I’m thankful for someone like you in my life, you’re like my knight in shining armor.”

The joke seemed to make him smile, something you haven’t seen in a while. 

“You know you’re my best friend right.” He said. 

“And you're mine, we look out for each other.” You nudged his shoulder, “Next time I get a scary dream about you, I’ll protect you.”

“My hero.” He said dreamingly before laughing.

[cutecurly-hair]

Hearts Unleashed (Part 3)

Pairing: Nick Nelson x Black!fem!reader

Warning: Fluff, Smut in later chapters, Body Shaming

Words: 3,106

During Mr. Ajayi's art lesson, the classroom buzzed with the sounds of brushes sweeping across canvases, pencils sketching on paper, and the potter's wheel humming away. I eagerly joined in, excited to dive into the creative process.

Throughout the lesson, Elle and I exchanged glances here and there, silently sharing our thoughts on the techniques Mr. Ajayi was imparting. It felt like we were quickly becoming art buddies.

As the class continued, Mr. Ajayi came over to my easel to check out my work. His encouraging smile and helpful feedback inspired me to push my artistic boundaries further. I could now see why Charlie had praised him as one of the great teachers.

The class passed quickly, and I found it pretty interesting overall. When the bell rang, everyone jumped out of their seats, excited for lunch. I, on the other hand, wasn't exactly thrilled about it because I still hadn't gotten used to the foreign food.

"Hey, have you seen Charlie?" Ellie asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. I realized then that I hadn't spotted Charlie in class, which started to make me worry.

"You know, now that you mention it, I didn't see him in class at all, and he was even late for his first class today," I replied. Ellie's expression turned from curiosity to concern, and she frowned.

"Never mind," Ellie quickly changed the subject, her frown disappearing, replaced by a smile. "Anyway, let's hurry up and grab some lunch before it gets too crowded." She linked arms with me, and we walked past the cafeteria, heading for the courtyard.

Ellie led me to a table where two guys were sitting. One was engrossed in a book, and the other seemed lost in thought, staring into the distance. As we approached, the guy lost in thought finally looked up and let out a sigh of relief.

"Finally, you're here. I just grabbed your apple juice," he said but then stopped in his tracks, looking surprised when he saw me. Ellie couldn't help but laugh at his reaction.

"Thanks, Tao. I was really thirsty in class this morning," Ellie said as she opened her apple juice and took a sip. For a moment, unsure whether to introduce myself or remain quiet. The guy who had been immersed in his book looked up at me with a friendly grin and introduced himself, saying, "Hey, I'm Isaac."

I returned his smile somewhat bashfully, relieved that someone had broken the ice. I nodded toward the familiar book in his hand and asked, "Is that by any chance 'Dune' by Frank Herbert? I read almost half of the series back in middle school, but life got in the way, and I never got around to finishing it in my free time."

Isaac's face lit up at the mention of the book, and he eagerly confirmed, "Yes, it is! I started it about a week ago, and I'm really enjoying it so far. But it feels like I've only scratched the surface, and I've got a long way to go."

His excitement was palpable, from the sparkle in his eyes to the way he cradled the book delicately, ensuring he didn't damage the spine. It was clear he was a true bookworm. I chuckled and replied, "Well, you're ahead of me. I barely finished the second book."

Isaac laughed, saying, "I hope I can keep going. I've got a mountain of books to get through," as he glanced helplessly at the pages he had left. I chimed in, "You've got quite a journey ahead of you. Just wait until they get to the part where they—"

Before I could continue, Isaac hastily covered his ears, shaking his head vigorously to avoid any spoilers. Ellie joined in the laughter and assured him, "Don't worry, Isaac, Y/N won't spoil anything."

Then, a guy in a beanie chimed in, saying, "So, you're the American girl everyone's been talking about," giving me an inquisitive once-over. It seemed like news of my presence had spread throughout the entire school.

I scratched my ear nervously and said, "Yeah, I just moved here about a week ago. It's pretty surprising how the news has spread so quickly."

The guy I figured was Tao responded, "Gossip tends to travel fast these days, especially since we merged schools."

That raised my eyebrows, and I asked, "Merged schools? Are you saying this used to be an all-boys school?"

Isaac chimed in, nodding, "Yup, we recently merged with Harvey Greene because the school had a bad fire over the summer."

I nodded in understanding, saying, "Ah, I see. That explains why all the guys were giving me those curious looks when I first walked in."

Ellie glanced at me knowingly and added, "I'm sure that's not the only reason they were looking at you." I waved her off, not quite catching her drift. I was about to respond when I finally spotted Charlie entering the courtyard. He scanned the field until his eyes settled on our table, and he started walking over.

He smiled at us while he put his backpack down, Ellie quickly intervened “Where have you been, I feel like I haven't seen you all day” Charlie smiled sheepishly “Sorry, I had some stuff to do before class started,” he simply explained but we can tell that we were not buying it, I especially was not buying it. Being late and missing a class on the first day of school definitely doesn't add up. But seeing Charlie’s presence he definitely looks a lot happier than before I saw him this morning. So, something most definitely has happened. 

“Where have you been, I hear that you missed two classes,” Tao explained looking for an explanation. But Charlie couldn’t help but laugh “I only missed one class for you information, and I talked with Mr. Ajayi a few minutes ago so everything is fine now,” Charlie explained as he gave us reassuring eyes. 

His cheeks were a little flushed as well as his rosy lips, and he does seem to be in better spirits, so I decided to let it go, for now. “Well, that is settled, can we please talk about Mr. Farouk unibrow grown more over the summer,” Charlie announced.

There was a pause for a moment until we busted out giggling.  “I am so glad someone else said it” Ellie joined, covering her hand over her mouth. Tao busted down laughing, almost falling off the bench.

I could help but ask “Wait, he has a unibrow for so long?” you question everyone said in unison.

 “Yes!” 

I laughed right then and there.

___________

As the days went on, I became closer and closer to Charlie and his little friend group. My mom was definitely shocked that I had a friend group so fast, but I can tell that she was kind of glad that I found a group. And even for myself I am happy that I found a group that I have in common with. Ellie has been giving me some major fashion tips that I didn't even know I needed. Since we have the same hair texture, she’s even been teaching me some new hair styles. She is even teaching me how to braid my own since I can't braid for my life.

Issac even got me back to reading, surprisingly enough he made me read this book called ‘Pride and Prejudice’ which I am a couple chapters in, and I already love it so far. But with Tao…I can tell he doesn't like me very much, even at school whenever he sees me down the hall, he just avoids me like the plague, even his energy just gives off “stay away from me” vibes. I asked Charlie about this, but he just said Tao just takes a while to get used to new people, which I believe is total bullshit, but I decided to drop it.

It was a new day, and things were off to a rocky start. I finally found a student who could point me in the direction of the film department, which is located on the other side of the school in a dimly lit classroom. But just my luck, I discovered a notice on the door, explaining that it was temporarily closed due to the teacher being on maternity leave, and they needed time to find a replacement.

Feeling frustrated, I knew I couldn't share this news with my mom; she'd likely force me to join a sports team. I'd given running with Charlie a try in the morning, and let's just say it didn't go well. As I navigated the crowded hallways filled with students in their Truham uniforms, my day took an unexpected turn when I spotted a familiar face. His charming smile lit up his face, and his blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

"Hi," he greeted with warmth.

"Hi," I replied, a smile forming on my lips. Feeling a bit better despite my initial frustration.

We found ourselves just standing in the hallway, exchanging uncertain glances. Then, Nick broke the silence with a stammer, "Are you going that way?"

I replied with a touch of disappointment, "I'm heading to Math, unfortunately."

He smiled sheepishly, "Same," and we started walking together down the hall.

As I glanced at his notepad, I couldn't believe my eyes. "Are you actually doing homework while walking to class?"

Nick chuckled, seemingly surprised at himself, "I might be." He marked an answer that was clearly incorrect. I couldn't help but be amazed and teased him, "Well, that's certainly a choice."

He laughed, "It makes me sound way cooler than I actually am," he looked at the paper confusingly and scribbled another wrong answer. I couldn't resist poking fun, "You know what would be even cooler? Getting the answers right."

Nick did a double-take, "Huh? Are you saying that I got it wrong? I could have sworn I picked the right one." He scrutinized his paper closely.

Shaking my head, I confirmed, "Yeah, no, you completely butchered the last two problems, and if I let you continue, there will be no coming back."

Nick seemed taken aback, "No way. I double-checked the last one, even went over it with a classmate."

I offered to help, "Do you want me to do it for you?" It was practically insisting at this point.

He declined firmly, "No, I'm good. I got it from here."

I persisted, "Are you sure? I can just tell you the answers."

Nick looked at me knowingly, a smirk forming on his lips, "Then I won't learn. I can't take shortcuts like some people.” 

He was one of the most stubborn guys I'd ever met, and normally, I would have just let it go. But something inside me made me want to keep trying, and I couldn't help but be charmed by his determination. It made me admire him some type of way.

Without thinking, my hand inched towards Nick's notebook. "If you're stuck, I can just..." I started, attempting to seize the notebook, but he resisted, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Let me just..." he said, struggling to hold back a laugh, all the while my fingers grasped onto the pages.

Nick couldn't help but chuckle, "Get off," he gasped, and inadvertently left a small, blue ink scribble on my hand. I was taken aback, staring at the ink mark. "Did you really just—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Nick swiftly took my hand and, with a deft motion, turned the ink blot into a smiling face. "Better."

I tried to ignore the warmth of his hand enveloping my cold one. His touch was both rough and gentle, creating a unique sensation. I couldn't help but smile at the little drawing he'd made. "Maybe."

We gazed at each other for a brief moment, and then we carried on walking. I can't quite put my finger on it, but something about these small moments with him always gives me that warm, fuzzy feeling that seems to settle in the pit of my stomach. I decided to block it out for now.

Walking down the hallway I see a familiar face; they gave me and Nick a smile and I waved back, while passing each other in the hall. Nick seemed to notice the interaction. "Oh, you finally meet Ben?" he asked.

You furrowed your brow, "Is that his name? He seems nice, he helped me out this morning, with finally finding the Film department,"

Nick nodded "Sorry I couldn't be much help, but I am glad you finally found it!" he said.

"Yeah, but the department is temporarily closed since they can't find a teacher," you responded sadly. Nick noticed, my demeaner changed so quickly.

"Well, you can always join the rugby team to keep you occupied" he teased. You gaped at him; you can obviously tell that he was joking but you appreciate him on trying to lift you spirts.

I let out a mock gasp, feigning disbelief. "Rugby? Seriously? I'd be flattened within the first five minutes!" I chuckled, shaking my head. "But hey, maybe I could be the secret weapon. No one would see me coming!"

Nick joined in the laughter, and his smile was like a ray of sunshine. "True, true. You'd be the ultimate underdog. Surprise attack all the way!"

I couldn't help but smile back. These moments with Nick had a way of brightening my day.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ +

I sat down at the bench, letting out a sigh of relief, glad to have a break from my never-ending classes. "Sorry, I'm a bit late. What's the topic?" I asked.

Charlie's face turned sad as he responded, "We were just talking about how much Mr. Reed is a transphobe," The frustration in his voice was pretty clear.

Tao joined in, looking a bit annoyed as he held onto the table's edge. "Mr. Reed is still refusing to call her Elle." he grumbled, with a deep frown. "I can tell that it has been affecting Elle a little bit, but I can tell that she doesn't want to talk about it."

Elle approached the table, her smile as bright as ever, and grabbed an apple juice. "Hey, guys, what's going on?" she asked, excited to catch up. We exchanged looks, not quite sure where to begin.

Isaac decided to start the conversation. "We were chatting about this year's prom and what the theme might be," he mentioned, sounding a bit hesitant. Elle's eyes lit up with excitement. "Funny, I was thinking about that too!"

The talk at the table picked up pace as we shared ideas about the possible prom themes and what to wear. I'd never been to a prom before and didn't fully get why people were so into it, but my friends' enthusiasm made me curious. Amidst all the chatting, I found my attention wandering to the distant sounds coming from the field.

My gaze couldn't help but gravitate toward none other than Nick Nelson. I couldn't quite fathom why I kept running into him at school. Sure, we share a class, but there was something intriguing about him that I struggled to put into words.

As I watched him dash around the field, fully immersed in a game, I couldn't help but find it rather endearing. A soft smile crept onto my face, and I instinctively reached into my backpack to retrieve my camera. I snapped a quick photo; there was something so precious about witnessing someone carefree and joyful.

Tao, who caught me in the act, looked in my direction and remarked, "Isn't that Nick Nelson?" The entire table fell silent, hanging on my response.

Charlie chimed in confidently, "He sits next to her in our form." He seemed to wonder if that piece of information was helpful at all.

I decided to play dumb, asking innocently, "Who?"

"He looks like a golden retriever." Charlie said breathlessly, looking out into the field, he was clearly impressed by Nick's athleticism. As I watched Nick skillfully handle the soccer ball, that warm, fuzzy feeling swelled in my stomach, and my heart raced.

"Yeah, he really does," I responded breathlessly, my emotions getting the best of me. Tao raised an eyebrow and turned to me, teasing, "I can't believe you've been sitting next to the rugby king, Nick Nelson."

"He plays rugby?" I blurted out, my shock evident as all the hints from our past conversations fell into place. The image of his broad shoulders and strong arms suddenly made sense. I shook my head, refusing to let my thoughts dive too deeply into that rabbit hole.

"Yeah, he's been on the team since freshman year. What do you guys' even chat about every morning?" Tao asked, his tone betraying his surprise.

"We talk," I responded defensively, sensing Tao's skepticism. Feeling the need to justify our interactions.

He arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "About what?"

The memory of Nick's pen exploding, leaving him with ink-stained hands and a desperate look for help, flashed through my mind. I couldn't help but laugh at him as he tried to scrub the stubborn blue ink away. "It's not coming off!" he had panicked, and I had playfully teased, "So, does this mean you're going to be blue forever?" We both shared a laugh, and he looked at his comically stained hands, saying, "It looks like I'm wearing blue gloves!" I couldn't resist adding, "Hey, I think it looks good on you. It brings out your eyes," though I wasn't entirely joking. Our shared laughter continued as we reminisced about that amusing incident.

I chuckled at the memory.

"Well, all I'm saying is, be careful," Tao advised.

I frowned, not quite getting it. "What? Why?"

Tao widened his eyes in disbelief. "Why? Just look at them," he exclaimed, nodding in the direction of Nick on the field. "He's the star player of the rugby team and hangs out with those rowdy, obnoxious Year 11 guys," he continued, a touch of disgust in his voice.

"Those are similar to the guys who bullied Charlie last year," he added, lowering his voice as he glanced at Charlie with a sympathetic look. The shock rippled across my face, leaving me momentarily speechless.

Charlie, noticing my reaction, reassured Tao, "I'm over that now, and from what I've seen, Nick is nothing like those bullies," he said, seeking confirmation from me.

I nodded. "Nick... He's different, he's nice," I said, pausing, unsure of what more to say.

Tao rolled his eyes, adopting a mocking tone, "I bet he's a completely different person when he's with his bro-dude friends," eliciting a laugh from Isaac. Sensing the shift in the mood, Ellie wisely decided to change the subject.

The day flew by, and before I knew it, I had finished all my classes. I was pleasantly surprised that I'd managed to get some homework done. Charlie and I walked out of the classroom together, and the air was getting colder by the second, even though the sun was still shining.

"I don't know how you're not freezing. I've got goosebumps," I commented, hugging my coat tightly around my body. Charlie chuckled in response.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt. And just because I don't show it doesn't mean I'm not cold," he teased, strolling along. I rolled my eyes, thinking I might need to switch to pants for a few days until the weather improved.

"Hey, did you happen to get the answer sheet for math class today?" I asked, realizing that I had forgotten to complete the last set of problems.

We walked out of the school, and I waited for Charlie's response. However, he suddenly stopped walking, a look of surprise and confusion on his face. Concerned, I stopped alongside him, trying to figure out what had caught his attention.

His expression was a mix of shock and confusion. As I followed his gaze, I saw Nick Nelson, the familiar blond boy, laughing outside the school gates. I couldn't help but notice how his smile seemed to brighten in the sunlight, and I found myself getting lost in the sight. I scolded myself mentally; I needed to stop doing this to myself. But there was something about Nick that drew my attention.

Regrettably, my view of him was blocked by a couple more interested in their makeout session than their surroundings. I couldn't quite understand why Nick had this effect on me, and it bothered me. I let out an internal sigh, ready to move on.

"You ready to go, Charlie?" I asked, feeling defeated as I looked up at my friend. His expression had changed from shock to one of sadness, with a hard line forming across his lips.

Charlie simply replied, "Let's go."

Part 4 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/cutecurly-hair/735988308863221760/hearts-unleashed-part-3?source=share