#i had to look through a bunch of notes scattered around in my sketchbook so it might not be everything

[goudasnew]

These are a few of my minecraft headcanons I base my universe around. This one is very witch heavy ^^"

• Witches have a lot of variety when it comes to appearance, as they can look like how they usually do in minecraft to looking like a villager. A definite way to tell a witch apart from a villager would be their eyes. Witches' sclera (white part) will always be a lighter more pastel color of their iris.

• Witches have covens that are strictly family only.

- It's not very common that they let outsiders join their coven but it isn't unheard of.

- Coven alliances exist. They are formed through many different ways but the most common are through trading ingredients or marriage.

• Potions are considered a high value item because the ingredients required to make one are hard to get.

- Ancient witches were able to figure out how to grow netherwart but in "modern" times only certian covens know how to do that and therefore it costs an arm and a leg to get some.

- Blaze powder, being almost impossible to get in large quantities, as their only access to the nether was destroyed after the defeat of the piglins long ago. Now it has led to some witches becoming allied with the woodland illagers for the sole purpose of stealing brewing stands, deconstructing them for powder.

• Villagers and Witches are neutral towards eachother. Though, depending on the village, some villagers will have a negative view towards witches because of their alliance with illagers. Some villages are kind enough to let lone witches trade with their local cleric.

•Witches and Illagers are unwillingly passive with each other. They get to have access to limited materials and in exchange illagers get access to potions and healers.

•Witches are cautious around other witches that aren't part of their coven since it's very common to have materials stolen by rival covens.

[anobscurename]

ocean eyes – chris evans

PART I | PART II

concept: a collection of happenings, the little moments with him. there will be many more parts. this is the first non-date of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1,8k

warnings: none.

author's note: welcome to the third part of like... twenty. i already have a bunch of them written, so now i'm just going through and reading and editing. hope you enjoy :)

He hadn't noticed you yet, and it was becoming almost laughable.

You weren't hidden away, by any means. You were there, in the café, as arranged. Your very first premeditated and arranged meeting with Chris.

You'd be lying if you said that you hadn't rethought your outfit at least twelve times. You had started in simple jeans and a tee, upgraded to a skirt and tank, fucked it all with a summer dress, and now – after several iterations of similar outfits – you were sporting something in between. A tank top with the same jeans and a slouchy cardigan.

Honestly, you didn't know why you were so in your head about it.

Maybe it was because he'd seen you at your best, and then again in your work ensemble which was as close to your best as possible. Looking good meant more tips at the club, and VIPs tipped quite well if you didn't care too much about the degradation of having to flaunt yourself for it.

You knew it wasn't because he was famous – you didn't care much with that sort of thing, given your work leading to so many interactions with these perceived "betters" that the "starstruckness" of it all had long since worn down from a galaxy to merely a scatter of glitter. So what was it then?

Another five minutes passed, and he still hadn't seen you.

You glanced down at the sketchbook propped against your knee. You were seated in one of the unforgivably comfortable armchairs towards the front of the café, surrounded by college students buried in their notes or typing furiously away on laptops. You fit in quite seamlessly with them, you realised, managing to unintentionally chameleon yourself into their aesthetic. You had one leg tucked underneath you, the other curled to your chest, sketchbook close to you so no one could see what you were drawing. It was a very personal thing for you, your art.

Also mildly embarrassing, considering you had been drawing him.

You had no intention of finishing the sketch – you had started it the moment he entered the café and sat down, and continued in hopes that he would see and acknowledge you – effectively halting the process and leaving it alongside the so many other unfinished projects you'd accumulated over the years – so the meeting could begin.

You called it a meeting, because if it wasn't a meeting, it was a date. And you weren't going to be presumptuous enough to assume the latter, so you decidedly chose to believe the former. You were there to discuss the terms of your new and exciting job of looking after Dodger after all. If it was a date, however, it would explain the sudden apprehension you felt, and the numerous outfit changes, and the goddamn butterflies that sought to tear your stomach apart.

You'd met him before, this wasn't some new occurence. Hell, he'd even asked you to move in after just happening to run into eachother twice... Why the sudden nerves?

The longer time drew on in the café, the more it became a little game to you. How long would it be before he saw you? And how far into the sketch would you be when he finally did?

You had already finished most of his face, and were now working on his lips.

His eyes had been the hardest to capture at the time, because you'd spent so long staring into them in the past – during long conversations and across packed and busy bars – and it was as if you knew them too well to put on paper.

With his lips, the situation was almost entirely reversed. You hadn't paid them much attention at all and it was almost as if you'd forgotten what lips looked like in general. You glanced up from your work to see him talking to a waiter, ordering a cup of coffee – and you decided to watch his lips.

His lips were practically highlighted by the shadow of scruff on his strong jaw. How you'd never noticed them as prominently as you did now, you didn't know.

One thing about them, was that they looked soft. They looked soft, like they could kiss the breath out of you, leave you dizzy. And they stretched so easily into a thankful smile when the waiter returned with his order that it was impossible not to smile too.

The pencil moved easily on the parchment paper as you began to get to work, the gentle curve of the cupid's bow, to the small little upturn at the corners of his mouth, even in their natural position. You almost wished you'd brought colours with you, but you knew that no shade of pink would be a perfect match.

Another ten minutes passed, ten minutes of him checking his watch, his phone, sipping his coffee, tapping on the table... Ten minutes of you realizing what a total creep you were being.

But there was something so beautiful about him. Even in the small movements, it was entrancing to watch. You were outright staring, sketch pushed aside and finished, as good as it was going to get. It was one of your best, you admitted reluctantly. The attention to detail was bordering on mirror like, and you didn't know if that made you a stalker or if it made you a romantic. Not that you were considering romance with your future roommate, but you'd be a liar if you didn't admit the thought had briefly crossed your mind. Specifically in the "meeting or date" debate – one which you'd shut down with the agreement to yourself that it was a meeting, nothing more.

You decided then that this had gone on long enough, and if he hadn't noticed you by now, he never was going to. The last thing you wanted him to think was that you'd stood him up. Considering how you'd both met, and the message you'd sent to the person guilty of that particular crime, it wouldn't be the best look for you. Not to mention it was a fucking dick thing to do, in any case.

You unfurled yourself from the position you'd held on the couch, your muscles screaming at you in discomfort.

The foot you'd sat on was dead asleep, and wiggling it brought the onset of pins and needles. Groaning in annoyance, you rose unsteadily, sketchbook in hand.

The idea that struck you just then was a stupid one, but given the fact that all rationality of yours had been poisoned since you'd met Chris – you were still struggling to comprehend how he'd managed to convince you to move in with him so easily – you resolved yourself. It'll be funny, you told yourself.

Pulling your pencil out from where it was tucked behind your ear, you scribbled a quick note on the bottom corner, before tearing the sketch free from the pad. You moved around the café, making sure to keep out of Chris' eyeline. Not a difficult feat by any means, his focus shifted between his coffee and the door at almost perfectly timed intervals. You could feel his impatience growing – his brow furrowed, muscle in his jaw ticking. But also a familiar look you recognized from the other night: concern.

You reached the table at which he sat, but he didn't pay you any mind. His attention was elsewhere. You slid the sketch onto the table – as close to him as you dared – before disappearing to the counter to place an order, perfectly hidden behind a wall of strangers, but able to see his every reaction.

Your order was being made by the time he noticed the paper on his table.

He stared at it for the longest time – the sketch of him sitting at that exact table, wearing what he was wearing, frozen in graphite in his most revisited position of being utterly engrossed with all the newcomers slipping into the café, searching for the one face he was expecting. His shoulders stiffened – and then he saw the note hurriedly written at the bottom corner, and all tension dissipated.

The face he gets when he's looking for another cab to steal from some unsuspecting girl

You stifled a laugh when his brow furrowed – that adorable crease forming immediately – and realization the dawned on him that you were there, and had been for a while if you'd managed to get that sketch done and as perfected as it was. Your coffee was handed to you, and as you watched him swivel his head in confusion, you decided to put him out of his misery.

You walked deliberately and confidently into his eyeline, gently blowing on the hot liquid you clutched before giving him a charming – if not teasing – smile.

"Mr Evans, cab thief extraordinaire," you joked, sliding onto the seat in front of him. You placed the sketchpad you had tucked under your arm onto the table, sliding the pencil back out from behind your ear to place it on top in case it fell. You set your coffee down, lacing your fingers together before resting them on the table.

"Miss {your last name}, stalker sketch artist," he retorted, his mouth already forming a lopsided grin. Your attention was immediately drawn to his lips...

Stop it.

"Hey, it's not my fault you didn't see me. I needed something to pass the time while you were sat there being utterly oblivious."

He opened his mouth to respond, but words seemed to fail him. Chuckling, he looked down at the drawing again. When he spoke, his voice had taken on a sincere gentleness, one that stirred something in the pit of your belly. "It's really good."

"I had a lot of time," you shrugged the compliment off, like you did many you received before. You were accused of being too humble at times – if that were even a thing – and it annoyed some of the people around you.

"But you know," he leaned closer to you, almost conspiratorially. "A normal person would've just told me they were here."

There was a joking glint in his eye, and although he had tried to fight it, he found himself grinning again. There was something about being around you – it rendered him practically incapable of doing anything other than smile.

"Mr Evans," you paused to sip your coffee. "I am anything but normal."

"What exactly are you, then?" You tried not to falter at the sight of his tongue darting out to wet those perfect lips as he awaited your response.

"I, Captain, am fun. Something which you look like you need a lot more of."

He laughed, the sound warm and welcoming. "Is that so?"

You shrugged non-chalantly. "It is."

"I can hardly wait."

[ghosttotheparty]

while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

3. I’m to making shift for shaping a life AO3

It’s like it’s the same day all over again when he wakes up. The same gentle whir of his fan, the same blankets covering his body, the same cracks in the ceiling above his bed that look like shitty, knockoff constellations. The same cup next to his bed, half-empty, as always, the same guitar, in the same position, in the same spot in its stand against next to his bed. The same four walls, staring down at him as if in judgement. 

What’s different today is the quiet patter of rain, tapping against his window, asking to be invited in. 

It’s a welcome noise. 

Peaceful. 

He almost wants to open the window, let the rain in, let it wash over him, let it wet his hair and get caught in his eyelashes, let it run down his face like tears. But he doesn’t. He sits up, looking across the small room, and watches drops race down the glass. It’s a little bit dark out, the sun blocked by clouds, and he expects to see bright reflections of light in the drops, but he doesn’t. He almost wants to close his eyes, lay his head against the wall behind him, and just listen to the rain, but he doesn’t get the chance. 

There’s a knock at his door, and he calls out a gentle “Come in,” as he tugs at the blanket, moving it on the bed so the end of it is pulled up in front of him.

The door opens and Lotte walks in, wearing pink pyjamas, cradling a stuffed bear to her chest, and the door swings shut behind her, thudding loudly, but she doesn’t react to it. She just looks at Jens, holding her bear, the bottom of her oversized pyjama pants pooled around her feet, the ends of her sleeves bunched around her hands. She looks smaller than she usually does. Her eyes are soft, gazing at him across the room, until he cocks his head, beckoning. 

As she climbs onto the bed, he pulls the blanket off his lap, shifting and lifting his back from the wall enough to swing the blanket around his shoulders, gripping in his fists and wrapping it around himself as Lotte crawls into his lap, her back against his chest. He wraps his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder and she lays her head on his, sighing. 

Jens moves down on the wall slightly, tightening his arms around her, and she turns so she’s sitting sideways in his lap, laying against his chest. Her arms are wrapped around the bear, her chin nestled on the top of its fuzzy head, and Jens runs one of his hands through her hair, gently combing through tangles and knots. 

“I miss Daddy,” she says softly after a few quiet minutes. 

Jens sighs, removing his hand from her hair, and leans down, kissing the top of her head gently. He sees that her eyes are closed, and a part of him hopes she’ll fall asleep like this. 

“Me too.” 

“Why can’t we go see him?” Her voice is small, like she’s hoping she’ll get a different answer than she got last time. 

“People are getting sick, Lotte.” He runs a hand over her hair and lays his head against the wall, his eyes on the window. “We have to stay home so fewer people get sick.”

“I haven’t gotten sick.” 

“I know. But some people get sick easier than other people. We just have to try to keep them safe.” 

He watches the rain race down the window, listens to it against the glass and the roof, and he listens to Lotte breathing, her soft, quiet breaths that form a rhythm that he follows without thinking about it. 

“When will we see him again?” 

Jens doesn’t know how to answer. He has no idea how long this will last, this lockdown, this confinement. Their father is only a few blocks away, is only a few streets down from where they are right now, probably sitting at his dining table with his laptop in front of him, working. Maybe he’s wondering the same thing. 

“Eventually.”

She does fall asleep on him, still clutching her bear, but one of Jens’s hands ends up between the soft fuzz and her small hand, her fingers wrapped around one of his. He feels her grip loosen when she drifts off, but he doesn’t move. 

--- 

He’s always known that the apartment is small. 

The kitchen is tiny, a counter around a small room, old cabinets that shut too loudly, a leaky faucet that drips into a metal sink, a circular dinner table pushed into the corner of the room. (Lotte likes to crawl under it and sit in the corner.) The door opens directly into the thin hallway, and just a step down it is the living room, with a small sofa and coffee table, usually covered in scattered paper and markers, pillows strewn across the floor. (When Jens hangs out with Lotte, he usually sits or kneels on one next to her.) All three bedrooms are the same size. 

Jens often feels like he’s trapped in a box lined with fairy lights. He has to squeeze between his bed and the closet in the wall to slide it open. He has to either slip between his bed and dresser or climb over his bed to make it to his window. He only has to take two steps to get from the door to bed. He’s always wanted a desk, but there’s never been enough space anywhere in the apartment to put one. (And barely enough spare money to get one.) Lotte’s room feels bigger, but only because her bed is smaller. She has space to play on the floor, and when Jens sits with her, his back against the wall, there’s just enough space to stretch his legs out in front of him. 

This is where they sit while they draw together. Or rather, while Lotte draws and Jens makes a half attempt before giving up.

It’s also where Lotte falls asleep a few days later, as she draws and Jens scrolls on his phone. It’s early in the morning, and Jens suspects Lotte stayed up until their mom got home last night, smiling softly and shaking his head as her eyes flutter shut for a second before she opens them, blinking blearily and picking up the pencil that had slipped from her fingers. 

“Tired?” he asks, and she shakes her head, contradicting herself by yawning. 

“No,” she says lightly, and leans down to the floor, looking closer at her drawing. Jens looks at his phone, checking the time.

“Do you want to take a nap?” Jens asks after a second. He has a few minutes before he needs to log in to a class. It’s one of the only teachers that require him to join the video call. And his least favourite, because she also requires them to leave their cameras on. 

Lotte pauses, looking up at him without lifting her head. 

“Yes,” she says finally, and drops the pencil, turning on the floor and climbing up onto the bed. Jens picks up the sketchbook and pencils as she snuggles into her pillow, clutching a stuffed animal to her chest and looking up at him. Her curtains are already pulled shut, the soft sunlight shining through them and washing the small room in pink. He pulls up her blankets and tucks them under her chin, making her giggle. 

“I have a class,” he says. “You know when to get me right?” 

“Only if I’m hurt or if I’m scared.” 

“Good girl,” he says, and bends down, brushing her hair out of her face and kissing her forehead lightly. 

She already looks asleep by the time he shuts her door behind himself. 

It’s even quieter without the sound of her pencil on paper. 

Jens closes his bedroom door with a quiet click, and finds his laptop under his bedside table before tossing it lightly onto his bed and hopping up, bouncing as he lands criss-cross. 

He also turns the camera off before he joins the class’ video chat but leaves it on at the last second, shooting a look at himself and ruffling his hair, huffing. 

“And there’s Jens!” Ms Peeters says a second after he joins, and he drops his phone, looking up and smiling lightly. She’s one of his favourite teachers. She’s one of everyone’s teachers, honestly, always enthusiastic and considerate. She could be their grandma. “So nice to see your lovely smile, good morning. And Mila, hello!”

“Victor, did you cut your hair?”  she asks as more people flood the meeting, looking delighted.  There’s a pause as Victor turns on his microphone. 

“Uh, yeah, my mom did it.” He doesn’t look happy, and Jens stifles a laugh, seeing how messy and short his hair is now, a contrast from the shoulder-length locks Jens is used to. 

“Well you look very handsome,” Ms Peeters says in response and Victor smiles. “We’re waiting on one more student…” She tilts her head up and looks closely at the screen in front of her through her glasses. “But he might still be figuring it out, we can go on and start without him. Who wants to quickly go through what we did last class?” 

It’s quiet and Jens pulls his notebook closer, looking at his messy notes.

“Uhm…” a girl’s voice says finally, her audio garbled, sounding like she’s standing down a long tunnel. “We were going over different forms of poems and we stopped when we finished talking about sonnets.” 

“Yes, and?” 

“And you asked us to find a sonnet online and summarise what it’s about and the rhyme scheme, and to write a haiku.” 

“That’s right,” Ms Peeters says. “And if I remember correctly, almost all of you turned it in. If you didn’t, you know who you are, please get it in by this afternoon.” (Jens turned it in late last night. Almost everything he turns in now gets turned in late at night.) “So, if you looked at today’s lesson plan…” 

As she speaks, Jens’s screen rearranges itself, squares of students jumping across the screen as another square appears. The student’s camera isn’t on, so all Jens sees is an L in a circle. 

“...you would have seen that we’re— Oh! There he is!” Ms Peeters exclaims. “Lucas, if you wouldn’t mind turning your camera on?” 

There’s a pause,  and then Lucas appears. 

He’s looking up past the camera, watching something behind his screen, before he looks back, smiling awkwardly and waving a hand. He has curls falling in his face, and Jens smiles without noticing. 

“Lucas, introduce yourself!” Ms Peeters says. 

He mouths Uhm… and then leans forward slightly, clicking the microphone. 

“My name is Lucas…” he says, an awkward smile still on his face, and Jens scoffs in sympathy. “I’m seventeen.” He pauses, looking hesitant. “I’m an artist.” 

It’s not obvious, Jens thinks, looking at the wall behind Lucas. It’s completely blank, except for the stripes shadows of blinds. Not what Jens would expect from an artist. But, he supposes, he doesn’t know what kind of art Lucas means.

“I moved here from Utrecht.” 

“Well, we’re very happy to have you here, Lucas. How was the move? What with everything that’s going on right now?”

“Uh, it wasn’t great.” 

Ms Peeters laughs sympathetically. 

“No, but it wasn’t awful,” he continues, shifting in his seat. His laptop moves as he does and Jens wonders if he’s sitting on his bed like Jens is. “The train was mostly empty and the mask wasn’t too bad. It was mostly just… moving all my stuff in here that was the hassle.” He glances up again as he says this. 

“Well, lucky for you, I don’t give that much homework,” Ms Peeters says. “Most everything I’ll be assigning can be done in maybe fifteen minutes or less if you focus. But I am assigning a project soon.” Jens sees the students groan and throw their heads back, and he laughs. 

“Not today!” Ms Peeters says, making an offended expression. “Calm down. I’ll be assigning it later. And it’s not poetry, I’m sure you’ll all be happy about that.” Lucas is laughing, Jens notices when he looks away from Ms Peeters. His eyes squint under his smile, and when he pushes his curls out of his face, Jens can see the slightest hint of freckles scattered across his cheeks. Jens, unfortunately, has a hard time looking away from Lucas’s little square. Ms Peeters presents her screen in the meeting so the class can take notes, and Jens’s notes are, as Moyo would probably put it, half-assed. He ends up paying more attention to the way Lucas’s brow furrows as he writes and the way his eyes move across the screen as he reads. 

He wonders if his voice sounds different in person.

[ah-kasuna]

Puppetry in a Nutshell // ♥ I ♥

Pairing: SasoDei

AU: Art School

THIS IS THE 1ST PART AND MY VERY 1ST TRANSLATION ;_; I ain’t native speaker, so there will be mistakes I think, so please let me know about them, so I could fix em! Tbh it feels like doin it with the blindfold on, so XD Yeah, forgive me anyway. 

I hope you’ll like it!♥ Let me know what you think please! Love ya!

AND I DEDICATE IT TO @deidaraakasuna, U KNOW WHY♥♥♥

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

Geidai.

The world-famous Fine Arts Academy, located in one of the most charming corners of Tokyo. 

A place that growing artists dream about, perceiving it as a mystical land of inspiration and creativity (until they see sculpture students playing with their own Pony ponies). 

The university to get to is a high-class feat, usually drenched in liters of alcohol and liters of tears in a later hangover. After all, who wouldn't get drunk on this occasion? 

I smiled at the vague memories as I unpacked my breakfast and shook my head fondly. Basically, this sentimental feeling of being an old woman with a bunch of grandchildren has accompanied me since the beginning of my sophomore year, when I watched the freshmen roaming the corridors in sweet ignorance of their fate. Fortunately or not, this intoxicating state faded into non-existent at the end of the first semester as the session approached. And it just so happened that it was just approaching, breaking the will to fight along the way and magically depriving the students of creative inspiration, the one necessary - as you can easily guess - to pass half a year at a group of charming leaders.

My gloomy eyes followed the classroom. Outside the corridor window, visible through the open door, a bird chirped merrily. The weather was beautiful - a typical Japanese spring. The cherries were blooming, scattering fragrant white-pink petals around, and I was rotting at the epicenter of All Evil, like a condemned man aware of what was about to happen. And which happened cyclically twice a week, because my goddamn ambition pushed me to apply for this equally damned university. And so I redeemed my sins before I died, regretting abandoning the idea of ​​self-improvement in the privacy of my modest (but equipped with a kettle and toaster!) Apartment. What more could you want?

I shoved a huge piece of bread in my mouth, which I chewed for five minutes before he graciously wanted to squeeze through my esophagus. A dry mouth like this meant only one thing: my brain finally picked up the information that puppetry classes were about to begin. For my despairing amusement, everyone was rushing to their seats, with shaking hands shoving paints, chisels, and the rest of the necessary utensils out of their bags, as if someone's life depended on the speed of their perfect arrangement on the table. I felt a sudden urge to laugh out loud.

If asked about the reason why the very thought of puppetry gave the vast majority of students sudden symptoms of delirium and depression, the answer would be simple, concise, and more eloquent than the potency pill ads: Hell Cerberus aka Sasori Akasuna. Officially - a lecturer in a terribly heavy and hated subject; in fact - the walking essence of the deepest pits of hell. What was it about him that wherever he went - everyone immediately cut off discussions and silly games? Well, the puppetry professor not only carefully nurtured the art of being laconic, cynical and ruthless. He was devilishly intelligent, even more talented and vindictive and possesive a tons of sophisticated sarcasm, which he liked to apply with the greatest pleasure to me. 

The bell rang. Everyone but me jumped up immediately and Akasuna entered the classroom. As always: in a perfectly matched shirt, elegant pants, a perfectly knotted tie and an equally perfect boredom on the face.

I reluctantly swallowed the rest of my bun, limiting myself to lazily lifting my ass off the chair and making a painful expression. Anyway, I was a loser at the outset, so I saw no point in putting on a similar play as the others, which only maked him sastisfied more. I clenched my fists automatically. Not this time, man!

The professor walked slowly towards the cathedral by stairs, giving the impression of a man who  scrupulously and deeply don't care for this worldly place and time. And perhaps I would even fall for his 'dun-give-a-shit' play, if I had not been marked by his hatred from the very first class. And yet, it's not like I did something to him, oh no. I was simply not susceptible to his mental puppet strings, so I stubbornly disagreed with him on the essence of the art. For him, the highest dimension of beauty were - horror of horrors - goofy make-uped puppets; for me, the art was much less crude carving in plastic materials, where every little movement could fix or spoil everything. And the wood? It was too patient, too tough, hard to work with, unresponsive to the tender touch of trained hands, and it had splinters ...

Everything happened according to the established order. Akasuna checked the attendance, gave an excruciatingly boring spiel about our laziness and talentlessness (noting that exams were coming up), and then had everyone make an individual puppet design. I groaned woefully like the rest of them, reluctantly reaching into my bag for a sketchbook and a set of pencils.

I loved nothing so much as wasting my time gouging dolls. To my left, a class idiot Tobi, wrapped in an orange and black scarf almost under his nose, looked at me as if I was a revelation of heavens.

"Don't even try," I said, feeling what was happening." We'll be kicked out both."

The guy made cat eyes, but said nothing more, and I went to work. I was drawing the lines in concentration, letting my mind wander along the definitely nice tracks, and in the end I turned off mind for good. And I would have been drawing in peace so I'd probably have finished this stupid task if that black-haired moron at the desk next to mine had not disturbed me with his grunts accompanying his neck stretching towards my work. 

It was the end of my composure. I lifted my head from the project and cursed him to the next five generation, supporting my words with a discreet but well-hit kick. There was a muffled groan.

"Kawamoto, shall you explain me what are you doing?" I immediately heard the distinctive, bored tone of his voice and stiffened on my chair. 

The professor was standing a few steps away from me, eyebrows raised and hands folded across his chest.

"Should I take you to the playground?"

"I'm trying to work, professor," I grunted, holding back the appropriate retort and wondering how the heck did he materialized at my desk.

"Good choice of words, indeed." The corner of his mouth curled up in a cynical smile. "Then be that kind and continue your trials in peace, unless you prefer to try at another university."

I felt my blood flooding. Tobi inhaled loudly, knowing what awaited him at the break, and Akasuna leisurely returned to the cathedral, occasionally glancing at me with hideous satisfaction.

I hated him. I hated him most sincerely and most earnestly, with particular emphasis on his physicality, which, despite the sadistic nature, made most of the female students' knees soften and their tongues tangled. Because exactly! He wasn't just a psychopath. He was a disgustingly handsome psychopath who was well aware of this fact and was not embarrassed to make use of it.

Unfortunately, it happened that he accidentaly found out about my moderate interest in the opposite sex, and from that moment he enjoyed torturing me with himself, perfectly guessing my preferences and weaknesses.

"May you rot in these shavings," I drawled under my breath, sticking a pencil on a blank sheet of paper and tracing a busty doll in a ballerina costume on it, with revenge paints 'Miss Sasori' on her exposed ass. And I would probably enjoy this piece of finest art until the end of the class, if I hadn't realized what my "blank sheet" was and why I just sentenced myself to death. I scribbled a porn image of the puppetry professor on the outline.

The bell rang.

"I would like to remind you that today we have the deadline for submitting the presentation plans to pass," his voice occurred to me as if through a fog.

Did I really hoped it would end well? With my heart pounding in the chest, I tore the rubber band out of my pocket, trying to erase the traces of my crime, as I caught above me the distinctive smell of his perfume.

"It was especially to you, Kawamoto," he announced icily, slipping the battered paper out from under my hands with a nimble movement. 

He attached it to the stack of papers he held, without even glaring at it, and left me sitting at the desk with a silent scream of terror on my face.

[autumnsart22]

Chapter 14: Oikawa x reader

Hey! Sorry for the late update, I’ve had a hectic past few days. We’re getting super close to the end of this fanfic, I love you if you’ve stuck with it this long. I think next week’s chapter is going to be the final one so stay tuned :) 

Oikawa POV:

During class on Monday, I could barely keep my eyes open. Our teacher seemed to lecture for hours, and every minute seemed to take a week. To occupy myself, I simply stared at Y/n. 

It had started when she had first become our manager, when I was trying to get a reading on her and whether or not she would be a good fit for the team. In the end, I just found her a billion times more interesting than anything else. 

With my head resting on my palm, I watched her scribble violently on the page in front of her, her head tilted and forehead scrunched up. It didn’t look like she was taking notes, which meant she was probably drawing. I knew that it was a hobby of hers--she always seemed to have lead stains on her finger tips from smudging--but she rarely let me look at any of her work. What I had seen had blown me away, but she always would get all red and flustered if I tried to ask to see more. 

It seemed that she was having a particularly hard time with the sketch she was doing now, her hand clenched tightly around the pencil in frustration and an annoyed look on her face. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as she began cursing under her breath, erasing violently. 

I sighed. How was she so pretty? And what was I going to do? Because being close to her all the time without confessing was looking more and more impossible with every day that went by. 

✨✨✨✨

Y/n POV:

The bell rang and I let out a long breath, closing my notebook and packing away my pencils. I glared one more time at the stupid sketch of Iwaizumi and Oikawa, which just didn’t look right! It was something about Iwa’s nose that was off…Since I was in class, I didn’t want to risk using my phone for a reference picture, but I would fix it later. 

As I got to my feet, Oikawa came over to stand by my desk, hitching his bag on his shoulder. He had taken off his white blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, his red tie a little loose around his neck. 

“God that was so horrendous…” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. I nodded, laughing as he made a face at the teacher. I noticed a few girls glaring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored them. He wasn’t with them right now; he was with me. 

I swung my bag over my shoulder, scooping up my sketchbook and following Oikawa out of the classroom. Iwaizumi met us in the crowded hall, glowering at everyone who passed. When he saw us, he looked vaguely relieved, which instantly melted back into annoyance as we started the journey out of the packed space. 

We were almost to the door when a first year sprinted around a corner, crashing directly into me. I grunted and dropped my sketchbook, papers scattering everywhere. 

“Oh sorry! I’m late to class!” The first year said, not even trying to help me clean up as he took off once again down the hall. 

“Hey!” Iwaizumi yelled, looking ready to chase down the students and make him apologize. 

“It’s fine,” I sighed, patting his arm and leaning down to start scooping up my papers. Iwa and Oikawa moved to help me, and I felt my heart practically stop as I realized what they would see. 

“Wait--!” 

Too late. Both Iwa and Oikawa stared at the pictures scattered on the ground, Oikawa’s mouth slightly open and even Iwa’s eyes a bit wide. 

They were all of Oikawa. 

Ok, maybe not all of them. Some of them were sketches of the whole team, or of Iwaizumi. I had a bunch of all us three, and some just random doodles. But the majority were of Seijoh’s captain, different angles, different styles, color or no color, his hands, his eyes, his hair. Dear god, it was like looking at Oikawa through a many lensed mirror. 

I felt my entire body flush, and I quickly began to snatch up the papers as fast as possible, not caring if they crumpled or tore. 

“Woah, what are you doing? Be careful with them!” Oikawa said, carefully stacking the drawings and handing them to me in a neat stack. His cheeks were tinted pink, but he smiled widely. “Why are you so red, Chibi-chan? These are amazing!”

“Ugh,” I was so embarrassed I could barely speak. “You-it’s not-you’re just easy to draw!” 

Oikawa grinned smugly. “Hear that Iwa-chan? Y/n likes drawing me! Makes sense--I am extremely attractive, after all.” 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and smacked Oikawa on the back of the head. “Stupid pretty boy,” he grunted. 

My laugh was a bit strained, but I managed to stuff all the papers away before getting to my feet. “Let’s get out of the middle of the hallway.”

As we walked outside, Oikawa turned to me. “Have you ever considered going to art school?” 

I blinked in surprise. I had in fact considered applying to a few, but I knew my parents would never let me go. How did he know that? 

“A bit but...my parents…”

Both Iwa and Oikawa knew how strict my parents were, and how much I was pressured by them. Oikawa looked frustrated, crossing his arms and stopping in the middle of the path, making Iwaizumi and I turn to look at him. 

“What?” I asked. 

“I think you should apply, if that’s what you want to do.” He pointed to the sketchbook I clutched close to my chest. “Those are so good, Y/n. You could really do something with your talent.” 

I bit my lip. “But--”

Oikawa put his finger on my lips, stopping me from speaking. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But think about it, ok? It’s your life, not your parents’.”

Later that day, I sat down on my bed and began to research art schools in Japan. 

✨✨✨✨

“Alright everyone, circle up!” Coach Nobuteru yelled, and the team dropped their volleyballs and headed over to the bench. I tapped my clipboard with my pen, where I had written out comments for each of the players. “Good job today everyone. We have a practice game coming up, so keep up the good work. I’ll let Y/n give you any comments she has about your form.” 

I nodded, smiling. “Everyone has improved so much, I’m so proud of you. I just took a few notes to hopefully help you out.”

I went around and read my comments, which were pretty brief, before letting everyone start cleaning up. 

I began picking up extra volleyballs while the boys changed, rolling up the net and packing up my stuff. My team began filtering out, waving to me as they left. 

“Have a good day!” 

“See you tomorrow!” 

I grinned. “Great job again everyone!” 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa emerged last, and Iwa told us he had to get home to see his mom. Apparently she had started a new treatment where she needed to be in the hospital far more, so he wanted to see her at home when he could. 

I turned to Oikawa, shuffling my feet a little bit. “Um.”

He looked at me curiously. “Yeah?”

“Well I--I don’t know, I was thinking-- I kind of want to um...learn how to serve?” 

Oikawa blinked. “You do?” 

“Yeah, I just. I don’t know, I always give you guys criticism, but I don’t even know how to play. I know I won’t be very good but I just thought…” I trailed off. 

When I glanced up at Oikawa, his eyes were bright and excited. “Oh my god, you’re so cute! I’ll totally teach you how to serve, I’m the best after all.”

I sighed, laughing a little. “Ok then. What do I have to do?”

Oikawa rolled the basket of volleyballs over to the end of the court, showing me how to hold the ball and position myself. 

As I expected, I was absolutely horrendous. I hit the net over and over, or my tosses were too weak to even get close. I cursed violently, but Oikawa thought it was hilarious. He was a good teacher, and obviously an excellent server, but I couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. 

“Don’t worry, it takes a lot of practice. It took me years to get this good.” 

“Ok…” I pouted. 

“Here,” Oikawa wrapped his arms around my waist, adjusting my arms and stance. I shivered, the feeling of his muscles flexing behind me making my heart race. “You throw it like this.” 

He tossed the ball in the air and spiked it hard over the net. I leaned my head back to look at him and smiled. “I think I’ll leave the serving to you.” 

His face was inches away and he gently touched my chin. “Whatever you say, Chibi-chan.” 

We packed up the volleyballs and net, and I locked the door as we headed out. The sky had darkened, and I shivered a little as we headed towards the student parking lot. 

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked, glancing at Oikawa. 

“Ugh, just homework mostly. I have an essay coming up that’s due soon.” 

“God--” 

“Oikawa-san!” A voice called from behind us. “How are you?” 

We both turned, and I clenched my teeth as two pretty girls moved across the grass towards us. I noticed Oikawa grimace before his fake smile was pulled across his face like a mask. 

“Hey! I’m doing good. How are you?” 

One of the girls giggled. “Great. Are you busy tonight?”

I swallowed, turning away without looking at Oikawa. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oikawa-san.” 

I walked away towards the cars, not looking back. I could hear the girls still talking, but I tugged my beats from around my neck and placed them over my ears to block them out. 

As I unlocked my car, I felt a hand on my arm spinning me around. Oikawa gazed down at me imploringly, tugging my headphones off my ears. 

“Why’d you leave me like that?” He asked, looking betrayed. 

“Huh? I thought you’d want to talk to them.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so oblivious.” 

I raised my eyebrows. “So you didn’t want to talk to them?”

“No, why would I when I have you?”

I went red, hiding a smile. “Ok then.” 

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

[maddie-the-princess]

If You Love Me, Let Me Go Part 6

Fandom: Sanders Sides

AU: High School 

Pairing(s): LAMP

Summary: Virgil and his family are new to the neighborhood. He starts a new school where he learns to love himself, and maybe, love his new friends. 

Warnings: Cursing

Thank you to @kuroyurishion for helping me with this chapter. Please enjoy the story. 

Chapter Six: Introducing the Gossip Gays

Virgil’s POV

And just like that, I received three new numbers on my phone. That brings the current number of contacts on my phone to five. Sighing to myself, I walked home after school in a comfortable silence. No one was home, as per usual, so I went upstairs to my room and began my homework. Slipping my headphones on, I played a playlist, appropriately named ‘Emo Playlist’ and worked. 

Hours later, while I was grumbling over Math homework, the playlist stopped. There was a new text from Remy.

-Group Chat: The Dark Sides-

Mr. Sandman: I’m borreedd

Double Dee: You’re always bored.

Trash Goblin: Put Redbull in your coffee!

I laughed out loud at Remus’ comment. Thinking quickly, I texted a reply.

Me: What’s up Remy?

Mr. Sandman: Babe! So glad you can join us!

Double Dee: Hey there shortstack.

Trash Goblin: Heya shortie! 

Mr. Sandman: Remember what I said earlier at lunch? About the new store opening up?

Mr. Sandman: It’s opening on Saturday. We can go then.

Double Dee: Wonderful idea. My parents already said yes.

Trash Goblin: My parents don’t give a shit, but I told them anyway!

Mr. Sandman: Sweet. Hbu babe?

I bit my lip. Would my parents even say yes? I texted back.

Me: Let me ask them.

Mr. Sandman: Let us know babe. 

Trash Goblin: Even if they say no, we’ll break you out of your house!

Double Dee: That’s illegal, Re.

Trash Goblin: Boo, you’re no fun. 

I smiled at their texts. I felt happier. I’ve never been invited out by anyone before, even if it was just to go to the mall. I placed my phone down and resumed by playlist, looking again at the math worksheet in front of me. 

Hours later, I hear the front door opening just as I was finishing up my homework. I peaked out of my room and heard the grumbling of my parents. I go down to greet them.

“Virge, honey? We’re home!” my mom calls out. She smiles at me. My dad follows her, holding a pizza box. 

“Hey sport.” he says, placing the pizza box on the table. “Our co-workers treated us to pizza today, so we brought home some for you. Hope you like onions on yours though.”

I didn’t like onions on my pizza, but I nod nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, I decided to ask them. It’s like a bandaid. You just have to rip it off.

“Hey mom, dad?” I asked hesitantly, hoping my voice wouldn't waver. They give me a hum in response. Hurry, before I lose my confidence. “Can I go to the mall with my friends on Saturday?!” I ask quickly. The two of them stopped in their tracks. 

“You have friends?!” my mom exclaims. “And they’re inviting you out?” I flinch. I know she didn’t mean for that to sound harsh, but still. Even my dad was giving her a questioning glance. 

“What your mother means,” my dad interjects, “is that we’re surprised you’re making friends this quickly. But sure, sport. We have work on Saturday, but it seems ok with us.” He turns around and grabs a slice of pizza from the box and presents it to me. “Now, wanna have a slice?”

After the pizza dinner, I went back upstairs to get ready for bed. I texted my friends before I slept.

Me: Raincheck on breaking me out of my house, Re. They said yes.

Trash Goblin: Aww man! My services are still available to you if you ever need it!

Double Dee: Remus, no.

Trash Goblin: Remus yes!

Mr. Sandman: Enough you two. Thanks for letting us know babe. My dad will pick us all up at about noon, so give me your address.

I sent my address to them.

Mr. Sandman: Thanks babe. See you tomorrow at school!

Double Dee: Good night shortstuff.

Trash Goblin: Do let the bedbugs bite tonight shortie!

Me: Thanks guys. Good night.

With that, I plugged my phone in and got comfortable underneath the comforter. Today was Wednesday, and I found myself waiting excitingly for Saturday to come. 

***

The rest of the week went by quickly. I was getting accustomed to class, and to Patton, Logan, and Roman in them. Before I knew it, it was Saturday. I was pacing nervously in the living room. My mom left for work already, but my dad was still getting ready while giving me a talk.

“If you’re ever in trouble, don’t hesitate to call me or your mother. Or find mall security.”

“Ok dad.”

“Don’t wander from the group. Use the buddy system if you have to.”

“Got it dad.”

“I’ll let you borrow my card if you want to buy something.”

“Thanks dad.”

I continued to pace around, looking down at my outfit, making sure it was ok. I wore my signature black ripped jeans and my black Doc Martin boots, with Fall Out Boy T-shirt and a purple flannel wrapped around my waist. I wore my usual black eyeshadow but decided to paint my nails a dark purple this time. My black backpack contained my sketchbook, phone, wallet, and other necessities. 

There was a honk outside the house. I raced towards the door, and found a large silver car with Remy in the front seat. The window rolled down, and he smiled cheekily at me. “Hey Mr. Sullivan!” Remy called out as I went towards his car. My dad smiled and waved me a goodbye as he also left the house for work. “I’ll have your son home at a reasonable time!” Remy said as I got into his car. Dee and Remus were already there with Remus sitting by the window. I greeted them happily. I was excited for this little excursion. 

“Looking good shortie!” Remus cackled. I sent him a kind hearted glare and Dee sighed in exasperation. 

“Let’s get this show on the road babes!” Remy cheered and we drove off. Along the way, Dee pointed out different places around town that we could visit at a later time, like a coffee shop, ice cream parlor, and other restaurants, and some small businesses run by families. Ten minutes later, we arrived at the mall. It was huge, maybe with about 2-3 floors! Remy grinned at my stunned expression. “Haven’t seen a mall this size, huh Vee?” he teased.

We entered, and Remy dragged us to the store that just opened. Turns out it was a piercing store, and there were people already lined up for it. Remy whistled. 

“Damn, there’s already a bunch of people here.” he exclaims. A woman holding fliers spotted us and grinned, walking towards us earnestly. She had long neon pink hair and was heavily inked. 

“Hey!” she greeted, handing each one of us a flier advertising the new store. “This is Tears for Pierce, a piercing store that also doubles as a tattoo parlor. This flier I gave you tells you guys a bit about what kinds of things we do here.” 

I looked over it. There were a lot of selections, including belly button piercings or ear piercings, and some selections for tattoos. The prices are beside the selections. The girl continues, “If you want to have a tattoo or body piercing done, you have to be at least eighteen or older. But that excludes ear piercings.” She points to the top of the flier. “My name is Amelia Stone, and there’s my contact info if you have any further questions.” She walked away to hand out more fliers. 

The four of us were in stunned silence. “None of us are eighteen yet.” Dee noted seriously, looking straight at Remus, who was pouting like a child. Remy whistled and pocketed the flier. 

“We have a couple more years.” he said, and the four of us went on our merry way. Dee, Remy, and Remus showed me the best places to go and hang, pointing out their favorite stores and restaurants. Remy obviously liked Starbucks, but also liked tea stores. Dee prefered Aeropostale or Hollister. Remus’ favorite store was hands down Spencers. When they asked me, I answered Hot Topic with no hesitation. 

“Of course the emo loves Hot Topic.” Remus said fondly. He slung his arm around my neck, draping it over my shoulders. “We’re gonna head over to some shops, but first, let’s have lunch.” And we had lunch at the Food Court, with Remus stealing put fries and having a mini food fight. Then, Remus hauled us over to the various stores scattered throughout the mall. 

Around we went, in and out of stores, checking out what they had. Remy went and bought a couple new leather jackets and comfy sweaters, while Dee bought a new pair of pants and a couple new shirts. Remus dragged me to Hot Topic, and the two of us had a fun time picking out different band t-shirts and jewelry. I bought some chokers and more band T-shirts, because you can never have too many band T-shirts. Remus bounded over to Spencers, where we found him in the very back. 

We continued like this, trying to find styles that we liked. After hours of walking around, trying to find what I liked, Remy and I walked into a store while Remus and Dee took a small break. Remy hummed as he looked through racks of pants, picking and choosing what looked good for either him or me. I wandered off and looked at flannel shirts.

Then, something caught my eye. It was a gothic black and purple plaid skirt, with black ribbons in the front. I picked it up, and internally cheered when I found out it was my size. I admired it for a bit. It looked pretty, and I really liked how it looked. It kinda… suited me? 

“You want it?” I heard a voice ask. I whirled around in surprise. Remy was looking at what I have with an amused smirk. I blushed in embarrassment.

‘Oh god, what if he thinks I’m a freak.’ I thought miserably. And before the second week of school, here I believed a friendship had been ruined, ‘He’s gonna gossip about me to the entire school. He’s gonna bully me and everyone’s gonna think that I’m a weirdo and-’ My thoughts were stopped when I felt Remy gently place his hands on my shoulder.

“Vee,” he said soothingly, “breathe for me. I know what you’re thinking.” He took the skirt from my hands and observed it. “Frankly, I don’t give a shit if you wear a skirt. If you’re comfortable in it, then go on and wear it. But if you want my opinion, I think you’d rock this skirt.” he declared.

I perked up. “Seriously?!” I exclaimed. Remy nodded. I nearly cried happy tears. 

“You lack confidence, Vee.” Remy said, turning away with the skirt in hand. I followed after him. “You're shy and anxious. As your friends, Dee, Ree, and I want you to be comfortable with yourself. He went to the counter and paid for it before I could protest. He stuffed the skirt in my bag. “Don’t worry about it babe.” Remy said when I asked why he paid for it. “Think of it as a welcome gift.” 

When we walked out of the store, Dee and Remus looked proud.

*** Before we left the mall, we stopped at Starbucks. The barista took one look at Remy and immediately started making a cup of coffee. I looked at him amused. “Kinda famous in this place.” Remy muttered fondly. “What do the rest of you want?”

Minutes later, the four of us were sitting at a high table, chatting idly. 

“So shortstuff,” Dee starts off, “I’ve seen you getting a little close to some boys in our class. Care to share with the class what’s been going on there?” 

I choked on my drink. “What?” I coughed. 

Dee rolls his eyes. “I know a lot of things shortstuff.” he says teasingly. “That day when you had a misunderstanding? I did some observing.” 

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Spill the tea, Dee.” he demanded lightly. “Seems I’ve been missing something.”

I signaled for Dee to stop talking with a light glare. He didn’t. “It seems to me that shortstuff over here is pining over three boys.” he drawled. “Patton Hart, Logan Owens, and Roman King.”

Three things happened simultaneously. One, I put my head down and tried to hide from the world. Two, Remy outright laughed at me. Three, Remus actually spat out his drink all over the table. Dee grimaced and went to clean up the mess with Remus’ help.

“Holy shit.” Remus cackled. I shot my head up and glared at him. “I fucking knew it! Roro’s gonna be so jealous. I didn’t even tell him that you were coming with us today!” 

I stared at him. “You’re brothers.” I stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Remus nodded. “I’m the older twin, by like a minute, and obviously the hotter one.”

“Yeah, sure.” I teased. Remus gasped, offended.

“I totally am!” he declared. “Double Dee, you think I’m the hotter twin right?” Dee didn’t even grace him an answer, so Remus pressed again, leaning against him with a pout on his face. “Double Dee?” he whined. He leaned further into Dee’s space, his face close to Dee’s. Remy and I were looking on with suppressed giggles. Looking closely, you could see a faint blush on Dee’s cheeks.

“Yes, Remus.” Dee answered with a sigh. “You’re the hotter twin.” At this, Remus cheered happily and turned to me with a victorious look on his face. Remy snickered under his breath, and muttered “whipped”. Dee turned to him with a teasing grin.

“And what about you, Remy? Keep in touch with a certain cartoon loving person?

Remy spluttered. Damn, nobody is safe from Dee today. I tilted my head in confusion. 

Dee explained. “Remy hung out with an upperclassman last year, and became really close. He’s in his first year of college right now studying to be a therapist.”

I gaped at my friend. “An older guy, huh? In college no less.” I teased. I couldn’t help it. The three of us laughed as Remy groaned into his hands. 

“You’re all terrible people. I hate you all.” Remy grumbled. That sent the three of us into another fit of laughter. 

Remy’s dad brought me home near 10:00 in the evening. “We’ll see you at school Monday Vee!” Remy called out. “And you better wear some of the new things we got you!” With that, the car drove off after making sure I was safe inside my house. 

Putting all of the new clothes away in my dressers, the skirt remained folded and placed gently deep inside my closet, I did my nighttime routine. I lay in bed, thinking about today. I had fun with Dee, Remus, and Remy. They’re really nice, really accepting, and just generally an awesome group of people. I really liked them. Smiling to myself, I turned underneath the covers, glad that I found a group of friends that like me, and I like them in return.

Anyone wanna be in my taglist? Let me know!

Taglist:

@sure-i-exist

@theoretically--speaking

@sups-stuff

[brokengem]

Day One - The Grinch - Gilvie

Fandom: Descendants Pairing: Gil/Evie Summary:  “That girl will never learn, keeping riffraff like you as friends. She’ll forever be a disappointment.”

Leaving nothing but a little bit of destruction in her wake, Gil picks up the pieces. 

Warnings: Angst with a Happy End. Minor Verbal Abuse/Humilation. Evie gets hurt. Minor blood mention. totally didn’t forget my warnings Notes: Yeah. Yeah. I’m a day behind. This little fic went through a bunch of little rewrites before I got to the point where I liked it. I also sadly had stuff happen yesterday that put me back a day. Day two and three will be done tomorrow(hopefully).  Coming Up Next: Jay/Audrey

The holidays in Auradon were a lot different than Gil was used to. So much more cheerful and colorful with decorations of all kinds and brilliant light displays everywhere. In all his years alive, he was feeling his happiest this season. 

He was even happy that his dad was off the Isle with his wives and the twins. They even managed to  help the old man with building their cabin in the woods. Gil was actually pretty excited to visit and see what they’d done with the place for the holidays. He was sure his mom and her sisters had gone the extra mile to make it decent now that they were able to get their hands on proper decorations. 

With a cheerful tone slipping from his lips, Gil made his way to Evie’s castle. He had only been there two days earlier, watching as Uma, Dizzy and Celia helped her with the tree. The quartet singing Christmas songs on the top of their lungs before Evie shooed Carlos, Jay, Harry and himself out to rig up the lights. 

And if there was one person he’d like to meet his mother it was her. 

As he broke through the trees, her castle finally entered his view. His smile wilted just slightly at the sight. The string of lights they had worked on were torn from their hooks, dangling solemnly against the castle. The wreaths Evie and Dizzy had taken the time to handcraft were tossed harshly on the ground. 

“Evie?” He called, picking up one of the discarded wreaths, gently brushing a finger against what was left of a blue bow. 

“You continue to be useless, my dear,” the door opened revealing the evil queen Grimhilde. Her eyes found him and he could only offer a confused smile as they narrowed dangerously. 

She scoffed, wrapping a black and purple scarf around her neck, “That girl will never learn, keeping riffraff like you as friends. She’ll forever be a disappointment.”

For once Gil couldn’t find words as he watched the older woman walk pass. He scolded himself as she disappeared among the trees. There were plenty he had wanted to say to her and yet words had managed to escape him. 

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he turned back to the castle, he had more important things to worry about. 

He entered and took in the bits of carnage the evil queen had left in her wake. 

Evie’s pristine kitchen looked as though a bomb had been dropped in it’s center. Various foods littered the floor, some with mushed footprints. The cake Uma and Celia had baked two days prior was nothing more than a chocolate mess on the wall. It looked like the queen had thrown a full blown tantrum. Gil worried over what other disasters were to be found in the house, but he still had to find Evie and knew where she would most likely be. 

A small part of him hoped and prayed that her little sanctuary had been spared of the evil queen’s wrath. 

The carnage was far worse than he expected as he froze in the doorway to Evie’s studio. Evie’s favorite sewing machine had been thrown to the ground a few pieces broken and scattered around it. Pages from her sketchbooks had been ripped to shreds with barely a chance to save them. Torn dresses and other various clothing Evie had been working were thrown about. 

The Christmas tree the girls had worked so hard to decorate was laid to waste on its side. Stray pieces of popcorn and broken ornament pieces surrounded the blue haired girl sobbing on the floor. 

“Evie?” 

A choked sobbed escaped her as she folded in on herself, clinging tightly to something just out of sight. 

“Evie, you have to get up slowly, okay?” he tried to smile, despite how small and broken she looked. 

Another sob racked through the girls body, “she...she ruined everything. Destroyed everything. I’m useless. Worthless. Why did I even bother?”

He could just barely make out her soft words in between each sob. Gil watched as she reached out, her fingers wrapping around a star shaped ornament missing one of it’s tips. It was one of the ornaments Dizzy and Celia had made in the colors representing everyone. Evie’s hand closed around the primarily red and black star, dragging the broken piece meant to signify Harry closer. Her lap already filled with a mixture of blues and whites and reds and earthly tones. Evie hugged them as close as possible, not caring that some of the more pointed ends were pricking her skin. 

“I shouldn’t have agreed,” she whispered to herself, fingers playing with the star he recognized as his. “I should have gone back to the Isle instead. It’s my fault.”

Gil tried to get her attention once more, finally finding the will to move. He took a step forward, being careful to not destroy any more of her things. 

The horrific yell that escaped her froze him once more. He could only watch as she screamed through her sobs. 

“It’s my fault!”

Before he could even think to stop her, Evie slammed her hand against the floor. The broken shards embedded into her skin as she pulled back harshly, blood dribbling down from her palm. 

“Evie!” 

He stopped caring about the damage he’d cause and crossed the room to her, the stars fell from her lap as he hoisted her up into his arms. Evie cradled her bleeding hand to her chest, sobbing into the vest as he barrelled down the hall and into the nearest bathroom. 

A quick prayer was sent to Hades for the empty house as Gil set the girl down on the closed toilet seat. 

“What were you thinking?” 

Evie’s sniffles were his only reply as he searched for the first aid kit. She didn’t move besides extending her hand out for him when he silently asked. Gil hated seeing her like this; eyes all red and puffy, tears streaming down her red cheeks. He had never seen her look so defeated. 

He apologized the second she hissed in pain as he pulled the first ornament piece from her hand. 

“You know, I wanted to ask you something,” he smiled at her, trying to get her mind off what happened as he continued to take out piece by piece. “It’s gonna be silly but do you want to come visit my family with me? My mom’s really excited to meet you. Of course, I can’t stop rambling about you so of course she’s curious. Even dad’s kind of excited. The twins just want to see you again. I may have to fend them off with sticks. “

His smile grew as a soft huff escaped her from between her sniffles. 

“You may think I’m joking,” he gave her a toothy grin, “but I’m not. There, all done.” 

He’d dabbed the peroxide on as gently as he could and wrapped her hand. She made no move to take it out of his grasp. Taking a chance, he pulled her up and wrapped his arms tightly around her smaller frame. 

“Don’t listen to your mom, okay. She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about. You’re the best, Evie. Don’t let her bring you down. She’s just a...a...what’s the name of that green guy from the movie you like?”

“The Grinch?” Evie mumbled against his chest. 

He gave her a squeeze, “exactly! She’s just a grinch. Trying to ruin your holiday. Don’t let her.” 

Worry crept over him as her body began to shake. Gil wondered if maybe he’d said something wrong. Just as he went to ask, Evie laughed. Her forehead rested against his chest as she continued. He joined her, happy to finally hear the sound. 

“You can’t just call my mother the grinch,” she mumbled. 

He gave her side a poke, “Course I can. You know I’m right.”

She hummed, pulling herself free from his arms. He continued to smile down at her until she returned it with one of her own. It didn’t quite reach her eyes like it usually did but he’d take it. 

Evie sighed, looking down at her bandaged hand, “I should start cleaning up this mess before the others all get back.”

Gil caught her uninjured hand before she could escape, “it’ll be quicker with two.” 

A smile returned to her lips as she looped her arm around his, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

[clovked]

Unexpected Acquaintances - Peter Parker AU X Fem!reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Summary: Y/n moves to Queens with your mom and you start your first day at Midtown S&T. It just so happens that you have to do a chemistry project with Peter Parker, Midtown’s finest fuckboy. 

Authors Note: Someone left the idea to make my hot Peter AU edits into a fic and I honestly couldn’t pass it up! Basically, this fic is going to be an AU where Peter is a major fuckboy and he ends up going after you (reader). P.S.! Peter, reader, and friends are all in their senior year of HS. Apologies if there are a few errors, it was a bit rushed.

Warning: Nothing really, some language.

Word Count: A slow 2k

You were starting the second semester of senior year at a completely new school and a completely new city. You and your mother had just moved to Queens from Colorado following the nasty divorce your parents went through, leaving you to stay with your mother. It was a sensitive topic to talk about, and understandably so, but you vowed to yourself that it wouldn’t get in the way of the final few months of your high school career.

You were starting your first day at Midtown School of Science and Technology, having been accepted a few weeks before you moved to Queens. The idea of a fresh start made your stomach do flips of excitement and nervousness. Although you were looking forward to meeting new people, you had a feeling that this place was going to be completely different than your school in Colorado. Back there, you were considered to be the quiet, nerdy girl, every passing period was spent with earbuds wedged in your ears as you weaved through the crowd of high schoolers.

Something about Midtown made you feel that you were, hopefully, going to fit in. After all, you were just going a high school with a bunch of nerds. At least that’s what your mother told you.

The sound of your beeping alarm clock caused you to groan in irritation, the thought of leaving your warm and cozy bed only causing you to sink deeper into your duvet. Just as you began to drift back off, the voice of your mom woke you back up, “Y/N, it’s your first day and you have to go,” She said softly from your bedroom door.

You groaned but decided to peek above your covers, waving a hand dismissively at her once you told her you were getting up. She stayed at your door only until you sat up in bed, rubbing your tired eyes. You mom closed the door softly, leaving you alone in your dark bedroom, the only thing lighting the place was the glow of your phone as you checked your notifications.

You ran a hand through your y/h/c hair as you got up and padded your way to the bathroom, weaving through your moving boxes on the way out. You brushed your teeth before hopping in the shower and quickly washing off, avoiding your hair since you had just fixed it last night. Last night, you had picked out a cute outfit to wear, an oversized beige sweater and slightly ripped jeans that were paired with ankle high boots.

Once you got dressed you stepped out of your room and into the living and kitchen area of your new apartment. The place was a lot smaller than your previous house in Colorado but you weren’t complaining all that much. It was a mess as of now due to the moving boxes that were scattered around, but you and your mom saw a lot of potential with this humble home.

“I’m going to head out, Y/n,” Your mom said from the front door, shrugging on her heavy winter coat. “Do you know the way there?” She asked, taking her purse and putting it over her shoulder.

You nodded, “Yeah, I think so. If not, there’s always Google Maps,” You said with a small smile. Your mom laughed at your smart comment before quickly saying goodbye and heading out the door.

Once the door closed, you went into the kitchen and began looking through one of the boxes for bowls but much to your demise, you weren’t able to find any.

You cursed under your breath before just settling for a granola bar. Breakfast of champions, right?

Before heading out the door for school, you double checked your way there, making sure you were about to take the subway like a pro. Surprisingly enough you managed to make it to school with only a minor hiccup.

Although you were senior, you had decided to finish off strong when it came to your coursework. You had enough credits to graduate last semester but you wanted to really round off your classes so you could hopefully get accepted into one of the Ivy Leagues. You were hoping to get accepted into either Harvard or UCLA, your eyes set on their biochemistry programs. As a result, you filled your schedule with AP classes, those classes being: AP chemistry, calculus, AP Literature, AP Government, and your fifth year of Spanish.

You shook your head out of your little daydream as Midtown came into view. You looked at the large red brick building, suddenly being hit with the realization that you were a complete stranger. You shook your nerves away before beginning your long walk to the front entrance.

You hadn’t noticed that you were holding your breath until you pushed open the front door, letting yourself finally breathe again. You watched as students walked through the halls before class, everyone walking with someone else or a group, smiling and laughing along with their friends.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it, seeing your schedule pop up since you had set it as your lock screen. Your first class was AP Government with Mrs. Bradshaw, room B120. You had no idea where you were going and that only made you more anxious.

“Fuck,” You cursed quietly under your breath hoping no one would hear you. Much to your demise, you heard a small chuckle from beside you that caused you to quickly look over in that direction.

You were surprised to find a girl standing beside you, clutching her sketchbook to her chest as she slightly leaned over to see your lock screen.

“That’s smart,” She said, giving you a kind smile as she pointed at your phone. Her curly brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, her longs bangs brushed behind her ears. “I’m MJ by the way,” She introduced herself, her smile still playing on her lips.

You were a bit surprised by her very sweet introduction but you weren’t complaining. Could be your next friend, you thought to yourself before returning the smile to MJ and introducing yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/n,” She said before pointing down a hallway. “We have the same first hour so I can show you the way there,” She explained before you nodded and followed her down the busy school hallway.

You and MJ sat in the corner of the history class, both of you getting to know each other. She was kind enough to draw out a little map of the school, circling every class that you had to go to. After she did that, you told her about moving here and such, the two of you almost instantly getting along.

As you walked into your fifth hour, you noticed how fast the day was going, realizing that after chemistry and lunch you were set to go home. Ah, the perks of being a senior.

In your previous classes, you were introduced to the class by the teacher which always caused you to blush while your classmates stared at you. Your chemistry class was different though.

You walked through the doorway and saw everyone standing at the front of the room, chatting with their friends before class started. You glanced around the room in hopes of finding MJ but to no avail. Instead, you found a boy. A very cute boy for that matter.

His chocolate brown hair was styled back casually, almost looking effortless. He was laughing along with his friends, his brown eyes casually looking around the room before he caught your gaze. Fuck.

This mystery boy locked eyes with you before you quickly looked away, catching him give you a small smirk before he also looked away. You felt your cheeks get a bit red because of him but that quickly went away when the teacher came in, greeting her students.

“Glad to see you’ve learned the drill by now,” She said with a small smile before walking past everyone and getting a piece of paper from her desk. “Alright, so we have a new student starting today,” She announced, quickly finding you and walking over to stand next to you.

You were hoping that she’d introduce you to the rest of the class but when she continued to stay quiet you knew you were out of luck, “Oh, um, I’m Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n,” You manage to stutter out, your cheeks immediately becoming hot.

Your teacher smiled before going on about a project that the class was starting soon, “You’ll be able to pick a premade experiment about any of the topics that we talked about last semester. This is going to due in two weeks and you’ll also present it to the class,” She explained, now standing in front of the everyone. “I’ll be assigning partners and you’ll be sitting next to them for the rest of the year,” She said, causing the class to groan in annoyance while she only chuckled a bit before beginning to call names.

She was about halfway through the class when you heard your name be called, “Y/n, you’ll be working with Peter Parker,” She announced, pointing to two empty desks while she glanced down at her paper for the next group.

You glanced around the room as you walked slowly towards the chairs, your eyes scanning for this ‘Peter Parker’. Much to your surprise, the cute boy walked forward, a smirk still playing on his lips.

Just your fucking luck.

“Would you look at that,” He said as he set his backpack down beside the chair before sliding in. “Your first day?” He asked, cocking his head a bit.

You nodded. You immediately knew he was going to be trouble. Either because he was actually trouble or because you knew you’d get distracted working with such a cute guy.

The worst part about it was that you felt like he knew. It looked like he was basically studying you, which only made you squirm because you weren’t used to a guy like him giving you this type of attention.

You shook your head in an attempt to get out of your thoughts, “So, about the project?” You began, glancing down at the piece of paper you were handed by the teacher.

Peter slowly looked down at the paper, leaning in a bit closer to you so he could see the paper, “Do you have any preference?” He asked, his eyes scanning over the list of experiments.

You glanced through as well, reading each one fairly quickly before quickly landing on one you thought was interesting, “What about this one? The effect of pollution on the pH of rainwater?” You asked, looking over at Peter for approval.

He leaned back, running a hand through his wavy hair, “Sounds good to me. Do you want my number so we can keep in touch?” Peter asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Yeah, sure,” You said, taking his phone once he handed it to you and punching in your name and phone number. Part of you was beyond excited that you got his phone number but the other half was just trying to justify it.

The rest of the class period was just planning out the experiment, working in the details and also setting up dates to meet up and work on it outside of school. By the time you left class you were thrilled that you had met Peter and you were trying desperately to hide the smile that was on your lips.

You easily found your way into the cafeteria, scanning the room in search for MJ since she said she’d sit next to you during lunch. Thankfully, we were able to find her towards the back of the cafeteria, her nose in was looked like a good book.

“MJ!” You called as you made your way over to the table she was sitting at. She looked up a bit surprised to hear her name but her features softened when she saw you, greeting you with a soft smile.

“Hey,” She said sweetly, “How was your day?”

Your small smile quickly turned into a grin when she asked, “Amazing, only because I got a cute boys phone number,” You announced.

Her eyebrows raised up in surprise, “Whos number?” She asked, putting her thumb in her book to mark her place as she closed it.

You looked around to make sure he was nearby and he thankfully wasn’t, “Peter Parker,” You said proudly.

MJs smile quickly went away when you uttered that name, her jaw almost clenching when you said his name, “Stay away from him, okay?”

Tag List: @glasterr @seperatefandome @myguccislides @6constant6concern6 @lilaholland2013 @rassysandhu @micahmicahmoomoo @tralalalalabish

[dust-tone]

Dust-Tone Interview: Sweatson Klank (fka TAKE)

art by dusq.

Sweatson Klank (formerly known as Take) is nothing short of a musical pioneer. Having been at the center of the ever-growing beats community for almost two decades now, Tom Wilson has helped engineer the creative environment that is known and loved today. You can find his discography scattered amongst nearly a dozen revered labels (including Project: Mooncircle, All City, Friends of Friends, Poo-Bah, Alpha Pup and more). He has also produced an extensive collection of official DJ mixes for beloved radio stations and collectives (BBC, dublab, BTS, Low End Theory, Brainfeeder and many more). Most important to note however is his paramount Sketchbook night which laid the foundation for the famed Low End Theory and the fertile Los Angeles beat community as a whole in the early-mid 2000′s.

While Sweatson Klank is both busy with musical projects and running the label Tone and Manor, we were fortunate enough to sit down and get his perspective on the current musical climate.

Dust-Tone: When did you first start making music and what got you interested in it? Early influences?

Sweatson Klank: I started making music when i was 13. I had a deep connection to music really early on. I got a guitar and took lessons for a year. From there on I jammed with my friends and eventually started a couple little bands in High School. I also got a bass and started playing bass a little here and there. These bands were just little garage bands where we would play parties and wherever we got invited to play, but it was good fun and I learned a lot from those experiences. When i got to college i quickly started looking for other musicians to form a band with but had trouble finding people I related to musically. Around that time I went to a huge house party off campus and really got my first taste of what a dj was truly capable of. This guy, who later became a good friend was rocking a crown of about 300 people with just turntables, records and a mixer. Mind you, this was well before cdjs or Serato. At the time is was still really special to witness a dj playing records and doing so with a technical prowess I hadn't ever seen before. I had an epiphany, that night. I watched this dj just control a crowd and they were loving it. I had been having trouble forming a new band because I had a really strong opinion of what i wanted it to sound like and others didn't seem to see eye to eye with me. I was always telling people how to play and what to play with their instruments. As you can imagine, no one really liked that hahaha. Little did i know i was a producer in the making. I had all these ideas but I wasn't capable of playing them or truly expressing them yet. So back to this party, I was shocked to see this dj setting the vibe and expressing himself through playing records. I sat there all night bugging him to let me try it. Of course, he kept saying no, get lost. Finally as it got later and he got drunker, he told me " If you want to make a fool of yourself go ahead" and handed me the headphones. I had never touched a turntable or mixer in my life, but i had been watching him do it all night. So i got up there and started flipping through his records, which i knew absolutely nothing about, they were all house records. The only record i knew was a Micheal Jackson record - " Don't Stop Till You Get Enough" so i grabbed it and somehow magically blended a perfect mix on my first try and the crowd went nuts!! Most likely because it was MJ and that song gets any party hype hahah.. So i grabbed another record i didn't know and tried again and completely train wrecked and the dj grabbed the head phones back from me and went back on. That one moment of glory though was enough to set it all off for me. The next week i was at his house begging him to teach me and practice on his turntables. Its just snowballed from there. i was hooked, started buying records, eventually got turntables, a club night, started dj'ing all over. I learned to dj playing house music but i was much more into Hip Hop and Funk and Soul. After about a year, i realized i wanted to actually make tracks and not just be a dj. So i got a drum machine, and then a sampler, and a four track and there you have it, i was on my way to doing what i still love to do today.

DT: What are you currently listening to? Does this affect the evolution of your current sound? Do you find yourself holding onto influences and themes of the past over new music tendencies or is how you make music flowing more with the changing of the times?

SK: That question is pretty difficult because I listen to so much music all the time. I really don't listen to any one style of music constantly. I love to discover old music that I didn't know. Record collecting is still one of my favorite hobbies so Im constantly finding stuff from the past that is incredibly inspiring and influential in the music i make today. I think i am much more inspired by the sounds of the past than i am the sounds of most fo todays music. As an artist, your tastes are constantly evolving, and to me thats a beautiful thing. It shows your own growth, and life is all about growing. When I am not in the studio working, i generally prefer to listen to old records. Jazz, Brazilian, African, weird electronic library records, New Age music and i love 80's Soul/R&B boogie stuff!

DT: You've been a pretty important staple in the "beat scene" for over a decade now. Low End Theory (which has now sadly come to a finale), Dublab, AllCity, Warp, Ghostly, Poobah, Project Mooncircle, even BBC and so many more love you. You are the modern hero to the independent beat maker. Do you feel like growing up on the west coast had any impact on early exposure to this musical way of thought? Able to meet the right people, get pushed in the right directions, etc?

SK: Thanks man, so nice of you. I think just having a forward thinking attitude about music and life really helped me most. Low End was a great place that helped me get noticed and meet tons of incredible people who shared similar perspectives on music. Before Low End though, we had a night called Sketchbook which was essentially an early version of all of that. Our goal was just to push the weirder left field side of hip hop and downtempo electronic music before it was actually cool. It was an uphill battle at first but but we just did it out of love for the music and a passion to play stuff no one else was playing.

DT: How has the "beats" community changed since you first entered it? Some would argue what was once a niche LA sound has spread worldwide and transformed through the different cultures. Does this influence your music?

SK: When we started doing this, it was just our own form of expression, we had no idea it would eventually grow into the "Beat Scene"  and now in turn,  people call it Lo Fi hip hop.. i just laugh. Its all good. I think there are tons of great producers out there making really interesting beats!! So Im happy to maybe have been a part of the birth of whatever the movement wants to call itself now. I think I am more in awe and influenced by the OG's than the new comers. To me everyone has one great record in them.. But to put out great music for years and years, thats a different story. That is what inspires and influences me the most. When i leave this earth, I want to leave behind a vast catalog of musical creations, regardless of if any of it was commercially successful or popular. Just like most of the records I admire most from 30-40 years ago. They were never hugely popular, but they were incredible!

DT: What is your creative process like? Do you start with the tool or from the imagination? Or both? Do you find yourself ever using traditional methods for making music or do you normally stick to the DAW? (which DAW/gear do you use?)

SK: My process really varies. Sometimes I start with a sample, other-times i just lay out a chord progression on the piano or a synth and build from there. I try to find new ways to tap into creativity so that im not bored. There is really no one single approach to making music. I use Ableton as my main DAW but I also use a ton of external instruments like synths, guitars, bass, drum machines, percussion instruments, vinyl samples.

DT: Fine Lines, your latest release from FoF Music is incredible. Did you have a specific aural goal with this album or did you just create and let the sound emerge naturally? Are you currently working on anything for the future or currently focusing more on support for your latest release? Anything exciting planned for 2019?

SK: With the 'Fine Lines' album I really wanted to create a cohesive album that embodied a specific vibe. How that vibe is perceived is up to the listener of course, but i sought out to make something that was indicative of my life during the making of these songs. In its most basic explanation its a story of growth, love, battling darkness both inner and outer and the never ending search for true happiness hahha. Yes I have a bunch of stuff slated for 2019. First off i just launched my label Tone and Manor. We just released our first compilation " All Over the Place" Vol. 1 and have Vol. 2 coming out in November.   The Tone and Manor label is a passion project of mine. I teach music production at Point Blank Music Academy and I mentor a lot of young producers and beginners and the label is a way for me to help some of them get their music out there into the often confusing music sphere. I also have a new album coming out in 2019.. Im really excited about that. For this one I am really going back to my roots. Analog synths, samples, instruments and in general a more organic vibe to the music. Its getting closed to finish and im really hyped to share it when its ready. The first single will likely come out early 2019.

DT: Do you find that switching your name brought any confusion? Do Sweatson Klank and TAKE focus on separate sounds or do they have a similar theme you aim for?

SK: Switching my name from Take to Sweatson Klank was purely for the reason that Take became increasingly impossible to find online, being that its a verb used in every other sentence. It was a bit hard at first to re-brand but im glad i did it. The sound has always been me. Its the evolution of me as an artist. If i was still TAKE the songs I've released as Sweatson Klank would be the same. It was really just a name change, not a style change. The intention hasn't changed.

DT: Please recommend something you're currently listening to, favorite place to get food in LA (are you an LA native), and a film or book if you have had time to indulge.

SK: Currently as i write this i am listening to a track from 1985 called 'Plastic Love' by a Japanese Female Soul artist named Mariya Takeuchi. The list of things i listen to could fill up 3 pages hahaha. Lets just say i listen to everything!!! I stay up on the latest hip hop, house, techno but I find more pleasure in digging through old records and discovery things from different times and countries!! Yes, I would say I am an LA native, I moved here from Paris, France when I was 5. Favorite place to eat really depends on the mood! Sushi Gen in Little Tokyo is definitely a regular in my rotation. Current read; The book of Joy by Douglas AbramsI just want thanks for taking the time to shine a light on me and my work, I hope your readers enjoy.

Sweatson Klank’s music is available direct from the artist through bandcamp: https://sweatsonklank.bandcamp.com

And his label’s discography as well: https://toneandmanor.bandcamp.com

Huge thanks to Tom Wilson for taking the time to talk with us and give a window to his world.

[withlovekth]

Darkroom (Part One)

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Genre: artist! taehyung, best friend! jimin, college au, fluff, smut, light angst Contains: swearing, self-toxicity, alcohol (future chapters) Word Count: 1k

Author’s Note: I haven’t updated anything in months but here I am now trying my best. I started to think about this story after having a weird dream about Taehyung and Jimin. And after listening to Panic! at the Disco on repeat for the past week, I was inspired by a bunch of lyrics to start writing again.

A community college kid. Only enough credits to be considered as a second year when it feels like it’s been a billion years. Okay, it’s only been three. But it feels like forever since all I’ve been taking are elective classes. Undecided major, no goals or aspirations. I’m stuck. I’m stuck. I’m stuck.

Click.

The shutter of my borrowed film camera goes off. My best friend glares at me as I mindlessly watch him through the viewfinder.

He frows. “Y/N, I’m trying to study.”

“What?” I smile at him. “I can’t help it. You look so good. The lighting in the library is perfect.” I put the camera down onto the table. “It emphasizes the blonde.” I lean over the table in an attempt to ruffle his hair, but he leans back out of my reach with a smug look on his face. I plop back into my seat. “Too bad this is black and white film.

“You can take my picture later.” He slicks his bangs back. “I’ll make sure to look even better for you.” He winks.

I shudder. “Nah, I want those candid photos.”

“We can take those too.”

“No, no. You can’t know I’m taking your pic. None of that fake candid shit.” I grin.

He rolls his eyes then laughs. “Whatever you say.” He turns his attention back to his laptop.

I rest my chin in my palm as I watch him focus. “It must be nice...” I see him raise an eyebrow without looking away from his notes. “To have a declared major. I guess.” My voice feels small. “Knowing what to do with you life. Knowing where to go.”

He reaches over the table and grabs my hand. “I may have a major, but I have no idea what I’m doing with it or my life.” He thumbs the back of my hand. “It’s okay to not know what to do. None of us really know what we’re doing.”

I interlock our fingers, bringing his hand to my cheek to playfully nuzzle it. “God I love you,” I jokingly bawl, trying to lighten up the mood I had created.

He rolls his eyes again. “I know you do.” He laughs as I continue to dramatically sob into his hand.

Click.

We look at each other. I turn to the source of the sound to find a boy with the same film camera I had held up to his face.

“Jimin,” the boy lowers the camera to reveal a boxy smile.

“Not you too, Taehyung,” Jimin exhales from his nose.

“Oh! You’re that girl who sits in front of my photography class.” He pulls up a chair next to me, brushing off Jimin.

“Mm. I guess that’s why you look kinda familiar.” I try not to make it obvious that I’m trying to analyze his face.

Counting the little moles scattered. His charming uneven eyelids. That square grin. Messy hair. He’s cute.

“Sorry, I don’t really look around the class. I kinda just keep to myself.”

He has such a strong presence. How have I never noticed him before?

“I don’t blame you. You’re always asleep during lecture anyway.”

“Damn Y/N. Called out,” Jimin chimes in.

“Oh, you’re the infamous Y/N, huh? Nice to meet you,” he sticks his hand out. “As you know, I’m Taehyung.”

I grab his hand and shake it, side eyeing Jimin. “Infamous?”

“I’m kidding.” Taehyung shoots me another charming grin. “Jimin’s told me so much cool things about you.”

“Weird. He’s never mentioned you.” I raise in eyebrow.

“He doesn’t?” Taehyung pouts. “Why not Chim Chim?”

Jimin shrugs. “You just never come up in conversation...”

“Oh? But you never stop talking about Y/N—”

Jimin hastily covers Taehyung’s mouth with his hand. “Shut up.”

Taehyung rips Jimin off his mouth. “Hey Y/N, tell me. Does Jimin close the curtains whenever you’re over at his place?”

“Now that you think of it, they usually are. But I don’t know if that’s just a coincidence? Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering...” He gets up and gathers his things. “Anyway I’ll see you in class,” he points a finger gun at me. “See ya later, neighbor.” He waves to Jimin before leaving.

“And don’t develop that picture Taehyung!” Jimin calls out to him. We watch him wave again without turning back around.

I wait for him to disappear behind the double doors. “He’s your neighbor? Since when?” My head snaps to Jimin. “And he calls you Chim Chim? Only your mom calls you that! How long have you known Taehyung?”

I don’t know why I’m suddenly so curious about him, but now I can’t stop thinking about him. I want to get to know him.

“He’s lived next door for as long as I can remember. Our parents are friends so we used to have playdates all the time. He just went to the other schools so that’s why you’ve never ran into him.”

“And you’ve never mentioned him because?”

“Because he’s bad news.”

“You say that about every guy I meet.” It’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“This time is different, okay? I know him personally. There’s a reason I’ve never introduced you two.”

“Aw, are you scared he’s going to take me away from you?” I tease him, pinching his mochi-like cheeks.

He holds me by the wrists to rip me off him. “Hey! That’s already happened with that asshole, toxic ex of yours—”

“We don’t talk about him. He’s dead to me.” I cut him off.

He just stares at me.

“Okay I get it.” I put my hands up in defeat. “But what’s so bad about Taehyung?”

“There’s nothing really wrong with it, but he just sleeps around, alright?”

“What? Do you think I’m just going to have sex with him? He’ll have to wine and dine me first,” I smirk.

“Y/N...”

“Okay. Okay. But what else?”

He pauses, his lips forming into a line. “He’ll just hurt you then make art of you when he’s done with you. He uses his flings as art inspiration. I don’t want you to just be another sloppy painting or a doodle in a sketchbook. Just don’t get too close to him. Got it?”

Side Note: I’ve been writing for a creative writing class but I finally found the time to write for fun/myself. Hopefully this story isn’t as toxic as (the now deleted) The Last Train. I hope writing this story doesn’t trigger me and drag me to hell and back. I’m trying to be better to myself.

[spectrumscribe]

Your Heart’s Desire

a very late submission to @tmntflashfic‘s valentine’s day prompt thing, since it got insanely long, and has to be broken up into parts. I’ll post the next part within a few days.

Master Post of Chapters.

Summary:

In which Casey makes a lot of bad decisions, buys more groceries than he wants to, deals with his own mistakes, makes a bad drunk decision, almost dies more than once, falls in love, and summons a demon.

Not in that order.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter One. 

Casey heard his alarm sound, and he rolled over to slap the snooze. However, his had made contact with something… not plastic.

Casey grumbled, refusing to open his eyes yet. Too early, it was way too early… too much hangover, not enough sleep…

He slapped the thing again, trying to find his alarm clock.

“Quit it before I bite your hand off,” Someone growled.

Casey’s eyes snapped open, and he yanked his hand away so fast it smacked the wall behind him. Tangling his legs in his sheets as he did, he scrambled into sitting position.

There was someone in his room. Sitting by his bed. A pair of acidic green eyes glared back at him, standing out against the man’s darker skin.

“Wha- what the hell’re you doing in my house?!” Casey yelped.

The man glared harder, sneering at Casey. “You’re the one who brought me here!”

Casey frantically tried to recall if he’d brought a dude home with him last night, and failed.

“Shit- did I really?” He said, wincing apologetically. “God, I was so smashed last night, I can’t remember anything.”

The man gave him a look of disbelief. “Wha- seriously?! You can’t remember anything?”

Casey shook his head, again wincing, this time from the budding headache there. “Not a thing. It’s all blurry and blacked out. Dude, I’m so sorry, you weren’t waiting too long for me right? You should’ve just woken me up.”

The man stared at Casey, mouth gaping, and hey those were some real sharp incisors right there-

“Oh fuck,” The man said, putting his face in his hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Hhhhh…. I should have listened to Leo about accepting summons like that…”

“Summons? Heh, you’re not some kind of ‘call guy’ or something, right? I mean… no way I was that drunk…” Casey trailed off, staring at something lashing across the floor.

Was that…? No not a snake, it had a bunch of fluff on the end, and was attached… to…

Oh.

“TAIL!” Casey shouted, pointing at the thing on the floor. He took a closer look at the man’s head, Casey’s own head finally cleared of all cobwebs, and- “HORNS!”

The man took his hands away from his face, and gave Casey a deeply annoyed look. “What did you expect, idiot? I’m a demon for crying out loud! You  knew that.”

To further prove his point- the man’s skin darkened with scales, and his green irises filled his whole sclera. A long forked tongue slithered out of his mouth and the man- the demon, hissed at Casey.

Casey let out a strangled laugh, and then screamed.

Somewhere between flying out of bed, knocking over his sketchbook stack by the door, his baseball bat collection also beside the door, and slipping on a salt pentagram-thingy on his living room floor- where the fuck did his carpet go- Casey managed to calm down a bit.

He tried to assess the situation.

There was a huge ass, old ass book bigger than his chest on the coffee table. That probably explained the salt on the floor, if the candles surrounding the book and the diagrams inside were anything to go by.

The demon-man-person had not disappeared yet. This was still not a dream. He was still looking at Casey like he was an idiot and/or was regretting ever setting foot in Casey’s tiny shithole apartment.

Casey still couldn’t find his carpet. Where the ever living fuck did he put his carpet.

Casey scratched his head a bunch, did ten loops around the whole of his living room/kitchen area, checked ten times if the demon-person-dude was still there, and managed to calm down.

Just enough to sit the guy-demon-whatever down on the couch, and try to sort things out.

“So let me get this straight,” Casey said, standing in front of his couch and guest. “I summoned you, and you’re a demon, aaaaaaand I accidentally made a contract with you?”

“You can’t make contracts on accident, but somehow, I think you managed,” The demon guy drawled, slouching on Casey’s couch. His tail- holy fuck- was still lashing back and forth in annoyance, the fluffy tip of it disturbing the scattered salt on the floor. He glared at Casey, showing a bit of fang as he sneered. “Congrats, you managed to fuck up like no one else ever has.”

Had it been anyone else saying that to him, Casey would have snapped back at them, but the inhuman nature of his house guest gave him pause.

A lot of the guy was very human like, but his less than human bits gave him away. Badly so.

The tail for starters. Longer than the guy’s legs, and fairly thick. It was dark enough that Casey couldn’t see were the fluffy bits started, and the scales ended. And the horns. God damn the horns.

Set on either side of his head, with a spiky dark hair sticking up in between, the two black horns stood out prominently. Tips aimed at the ceiling, and a slight curve against the skull. They sort of looked like goat’s horns, but with smoother ridges. A few inches tall each.

The scales were gone again, receded… wherever they’d gone/come from, but Casey thought he could see a hint of them around the corners of the demon’s eyes.

Wow those were some green eyes.

“You’re staring,” The demon guy growled.

“Can you blame me?” Casey quipped automatically.

The demon sneered again.

Nice teeth too. Sharp.

How far into shock was he, by this point?

Pretty far.

“So like,” Casey coughed awkwardly. “Do you know what happened to my carpet, man? I kind of liked it.”

“You threw it off the balcony,” The demon replied, jerking his thumb at Casey tiny excuse for a balcony. “Right after you summoned me. You had to make some room, so you tossed out ‘the least breakable thing’. Your words not mine.”

Casey opened his mouth, closed it, and ran to open his sliding doors.

He looked over the wrought metal railing of the balcony, and- “-aw FUCK!”

He’d thrown his carpet outside alright. Right onto the communal trash bins area below. It also looked like it’d rained last night, since there were huge puddles all over the place.

Fuck.

Casey put his hands to the sides of his face. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck, man. I’m never gonna get the smell out of it now!”

“If that’d been your desire when you summoned me, I could fix it easy.”

“What?” Casey turned around, looking at his guest. “‘Desire’? What??”

“You summoned me with a desire,” The demon guy said, leaning onto the arm of the couch. “I can’t leave until I fulfill it.”

“Um- what?”

“Desire. It means to want something or someone or whatever. Donnie’s better at the details,” The demon waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever, anyways it means that you had an intention that needed fulfillment when you summoned me, and you wanted me to grant it. You were supposed to tell me what it was when I appeared, but instead, you went off on a rant about how much space I was taking up, tossed your carpet out the window, and then passed out. Not exactly informative.”

“Um.” Casey floundered at the description of ‘desire’. “Yeah. Uh. I don’t remember even summoning you, dude, so I sure as fuck don’t remember why I summoned you.”

“I was starting to get that idea,” The demon said in a deeply annoyed tone.

“Uh- also, why would I toss my carpet outside?” Casey asked, stepping back into the room and shutting the doors behind him. He’d deal with his forsaken floor cover later. “Why would I need extra room? I mean, like, no offense man- but you’re kinda short.”

It was true. When they’d been standing, the demon guy hadn’t even made it to Casey’s nose.

The demon guy bristled- literally, his tail’s end poofed up and everything- and he spat, “Ex-fucking-s’cuse me for being below average demon height! And besides! This isn’t even my real size, asshole. I shrank down for the sake of your stupid mortal ceiling. You’re fucking welcome.”

Casey blinked, vaguely noting he was so far into shock he wasn’t even bothered by the tone of the demon. “Well, how big are you really, then?”

The demon guy smiled for the first time since Casey had woken up. It wasn’t a nice smile.

“Let me to s͠how͡ ̨y͡oư.”͝

Maybe asking had been a bad idea.

The demon on Casey’s couch turned pitched black all over- then into smoke, and the smoke cloud increased in size and swirled through the air like ink, until-

-bad idea bad idea bad idea-

-the smoke solidified into an enormous shape, big enough its back and head brush against Casey’s ceiling, and its tail snaked through his kitchen space.

The demon sort of looks like a dragon, Casey’s hysterical mind supplied, but not quite.

The demon’s horns knocked against the ceiling plaster, and two luminous green eyes stood out against the sheer darkness of his skin.

He smiled, wide and sharp, showing off the rows of long fangs in his mouth.

“̀My͘ r͘eal ̀ńame͘ is̛ ùn̕pron͜o̧u҉nc̡eab̢le in y͝o̷ur̨ l̛an̷guage, ́a͏n͢d͢ ẁoúld͏ ̢pr͡ob̸a͘b͝ly ̴ḿelt yo͜ur mind ̸an̶ywa͝ys,͜ ͠s҉ò-” ̵He grinned wider, vicious and terrifying. “̀-ćall m̷e Ra̵ph͠ąȩl. ̵I̶’̵m the͘ d̨em͏on ̢you̴ ̵sòme͞how͠ mąn̵age̡d͏ to ̵summ̕on̴,͠ ͠a͢nd ̵Ì’m̀ n̶òt ̸góing͡ ̢a̴n͠yw͝h҉er̢e͠ ̛until͢ yo̴u reme͢m̨b҉e̕r wh҉y,̢ ơr-̕” ̨His long tongue snaked out, and he took a step towards Casey. “-̷uńt̴i͘l ýou ̢die.͏ Undeŕs̡t́o͟o͠d?͘”

Casey looked up at the demon’s teeth, then at the huge claws on his hands, and then at the gouges Raphael was leaving in his ceiling.

Hm.

Yup. Such a bad idea.

Casey whirled around, yanked his sliding door back open, and scrambled out of his apartment.

He heard growling behind him, and swore there was hot breath blown on his back as he escaped.

He grabbed the railing of his balcony, got his feet up on it, and jumped over the gap between his and his neighbor’s balcony. Narrowly, he avoided landing on any of the plants there- he did not want to hurt those plants again, not after the scolding he’d gotten last time.

And- oh thank god- she’d left her doors unlocked again.

Casey pulled open the sliding door of his neighbor’s apartment, bursting in and almost tripping over the pile of clothes in the living room. “APRIL! APRIL HELP I HAVE A PROBLEM!”

No answer, so he scrambled through the rest of the apartment- identical to his own excluding the contents- and headed for April’s bedroom.

“APRIL!” He shouted, nearly kicking in her door.

“-jESUS CHRIST- Casey!” April exclaimed, fumbling with the book in her hands and almost dropping it on her face. “What did I say about coming into my apartment without permission?!”

“Yeah hi sorry about that but you have to come with me right now,” Casey said, grabbing April’s arms and trying to pull her out of bed. “I have a problem and it’s kinda huge and wrecking my apartment and I know you hate going anywhere on Sundays but please-”

“Oh for- fine. Just stop yanking on me!” She kicked him lightly in the gut, and untangled the rest of herself from her covers. “I swear- you better not have come in through the balcony again.”

“Uh.”

“Casey.”

A few seconds later, after Casey physically pushed April out of her apartment - “No we don’t have time to get dressed, this is an emergency!”- they ended up in front of his apartment’s shut door.

April, arms crossed in front of her faded sleep shirt, glared up at Casey in all her bushy Sunday morning glory. “If this is some animal you brought home while you were drunk last night-”

“It’s not a dog! I learned my lesson with that one,” Casey defended. “This is- uh, well, I’m not really sure what to call it. It’s a problem, that I know for sure.”

April glared at him, and blew her mussed bangs away from her eyes. “Alright, show me this ‘problem’ of yours. I want to get back to my novel sometime today.”

Casey jerked a nod, and reached out to turn his doorknob.

It was locked.

“It’s, uh, It’s locked,” He said.

“You forgot your keys-”

“I forgot my keys.”

“Casey.”

“I- just give me a moment,” He put his ear to the door, listening for the demon guy. There was a sound that suspiciously sounded like his CD collection being knocked over. Casey rapped on the door. “Hey- hey Raphael? I’m sort of locked out. Could you open the door?”

Did demons even know how to do that?

Wait was he even going to let Casey back inside? He had sort of literally run out on him-

The door’s deadbolt and handle clicked, and the door opened slightly.

“You brought a guy home last night? That’s your big problem?” April asked, giving him a look. “Casey, usually that’s the opposite of a problem.”

“Uh, you’ll understand it if you see it,” Casey gestured at the door. “I can’t really explain it properly in words.”

April rolled her eyes. “And yet, half of your major is in literature, which is literally describing things with words.”

“Just take a look already.”

Casey’s brain caught up with him right then, as April reached out to fully open the door, and he realized there was a chance this was just going to get them both killed.

Uh, whoops-

April opened the door, and the same time as she saw it, Casey also saw-

The whole of Raphael's mass, still crammed into the tight space of Casey’s living room. Raphael’s teeth were still bared, and he was facing the doorway.

The demon let out a rolling snarl at them both, and April slammed the door shut.

“What- what the fuck is that, Casey?!” April hissed, putting her back to the door as though it would keep the huge demon inside it contained. “What the actual. fuck.”

“I might’ve summoned a demon,” Casey said. “Mostly on accident.”

“How- how do you even manage that?!”

“I have no idea. I sort of was too drunk to remember.”

“CASEY.”

Raphael didn’t end up eating them. Or killing them either. He just huffed in their faces when they’d been brave enough to open the door again, blowing hot smelly demon breath and everywhere, and changed back into his mostly human form.

“You’re both terrible hosts,” He’d said tetchily. “The humans a few centuries ago would have been groveling on the ground for my favor. You haven’t even offered me food and drink yet.”

April had turned very pale by that point, and said very quietly, “He has a tail. And horns.”

Raphael had rolled his eyes at them both, and demanded Casey remember what he’d summoned the demon for, so he could “Get the hell back to hell and be done with this shit-show.”

Casey, naturally, had questioned what hell was like.

Raphael had responded, “It’s a figure of speech where I come from. ‘Hell’ isn’t that singular. There’s a lot of them out there. You humans are just too stupid to perceive them.”

April, at that point, had gone inside and helped herself to Casey’s stash of energy drinks. Chugging a full can before she did, she then proceeded to rant at Casey for irresponsible (drunk) decisions, his choice in parties, getting her up on a Sunday of all days, always dragging her into nonsensical misadventures and making it her problems too, and the state of his house.

Also that he’d brought an actual flipping demon onto their plain of existence, but it’d seemed like she was trying to focus on normal things for the sake of her composure.

Raphael had watched, and smirked, the whole time April ranted at Casey. Prick.

After she’d calmed down, April had pushed her hair out of her face, and asked Raphael if he was planning on razing their apartment complex to the ground at all that day.

“I don’t have much interest in that sort of thing,” Raphael had said, studying his longer than safe nails. “That’s more my brother’s area.”

“Good enough for me. Don’t eat him, he still owes me fifty bucks,” April had said, handing the empty drink can to Casey and patting him on the shoulder. “Good luck with this one, Casey. I have no advice to offer, and I promise I’ll check in later to see if you’re still alive. Excuse me though, I have to go rearrange my understanding of mythos and legend and possibly question my whole reality for a bit. Bye.”

And then she’d left, slamming the door behind her, and leaving Casey with an amused demon in his kitchen, eating the last of his already wimpy fruit bowl.

That’d been a few hours ago, and now Casey was sitting on his carpet-less floor with his eyes closed and a throbbing headache.

Hangovers were a real hassle unless you gave them time to ease off. Raphael hadn’t given Casey that time.

Slave driver.

“You’re not thinking about the right things, again,” Raphael chastised.

“Fuck off,” Casey snapped, opening his eyes and glaring at the lounging demon on his couch. “I’ve been at this for hours, man. It ain’t comin’ no matter how many times I try.”

Raphael’s tail lashed out, knocking an empty energy drink can at Casey.

Casey caught it, and chucked it to the side. “Look. Dude. I know you’re some kind of interdimensional terror-thingy-whatever, but I’m hungry as fuck and have grocery shopping to do. Can we give it a rest for at least a few hours?”

Raphael turned another page of the thick book that had summoned him. “I want to go home. Keep at it.”

“Dude.”

Raphael ignored him.

“Bro.”

Raphael turned another page of the huge book.

“Pal. Compadre. Brosif. Duderino. Bruv. Dude-”

“What?” Raphael finally snapped.

“You already ate, like, everything in my kitchen, and I haven’t eaten anything today,” Casey said, gesturing sharply at his dilapidated kitchen, and then at his wounded ceiling and tossed about furniture. “You also made a huge fucking mess of my house, and been a real asshole in general. We’re going shopping for dinner shit, and I’m not gonna do anymore meditating until we do.”

“Big words for a little man,” Raphael growled, curling his lip.

“Look who’s talkin’,” Casey shot back.

He honestly was past caring that Raphael could triple- quadruple?- in size and squash him flat. Casey was hungry and his head hurt like a bitch. He wanted food, rest, and some time to chill.

If he had to risk getting his neck snapped for that, he was willing to. Besides, it’d been pretty fricking awesome to see a real live demon in his living room; even if said demon was an asshole who tromped on peoples’ CD’s without apology. Not a bad way to go out, honestly.

Raphael stared Casey down, and the narrow green eyed glare only made Casey sweat a little bit.

Another drawn out moment, and Raphael shut his book and stood up to stretch. “I could eat, I guess. I’ll let you get away with that insolence for now, but don’t try your luck again. Also, we’re getting meat. I need a steak to sink my teeth into.”

Casey watched Raphael yawn, flashing sharp canines, and figured that was fair.

He was getting the cheap stuff though.

Casey only realized, about halfway to the store, that the person he was walking with didn’t look exactly human.

Oddly enough, no one said anything about the tail, or the horns, or the teeth, or the general aura of vague terror and anger…

“Can’t they see you?” Casey asked as they entered Safeway.

“Hm? Oh. Nah, I’m mostly invisible to them unless someone in the know points me out,” Raphael shrugged. “That human, April? She could only see me because I wanted her to. Plus you sort of told her to look for something, namely me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been seen.”

“Huh, nifty trick,” Casey said, grabbing a basket from the stack.

“I know a lot more impressive ones, but I guess so.”

A woman and her five kids, varying between toddler and teen, passed in front of them, forcing Casey and Raphael to pause.

Casey noticed one of the youngest kids looked at Raphael, and smiled as he pointed at the demon’s tail.

“Mom! Look!”

“Don’t point at strangers!” The child’s mother snapped, tugging her child along with the rest.

Casey chuckled softly. Looked like Raphael’s ability to be invisible wasn’t full proof.

Then, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, as a wave of something flowed over him.

The child’s smile crumpled as he was led away, and he started crying loudly.

Casey turned to look at his companion, and found Raphael sneering at the child while emanating some sort of invisible field. It was making the air around them feel unsettling, and caused goosebumps to spread up Casey’s arms.

“Dude,” Casey said shortly, watching the sobbing kid get dragged off. “Not cool.”

Raphael gave him a look, then rolled his eyes and stopped doing whatever he was doing to cause the field. “What? It’s just some human kid. I have to get my kicks somehow. You’re all lucky I don’t just burn this place down…” He trailed off, wandering away as he did. “Come on. I smell meat this way.”

Casey looked after the sobbing kid, and then after Raphael, and wondered for a moment what he’d gotten himself into.

It took a bit of doing, and fighting about what to buy, and fighting to keep Raphael from messing with any other innocent customers, but eventually they made it the checkout area and Casey only had to buy an extra four packages of raw meat for his guest.

Where the hell the guy was putting it all, actual size being huge or not, was a mystery to Casey.

“I’m not fulfilling your whatever-desire, so I’m not getting any energy,” Raphael explained grudgingly, and only after Casey had pushed him to. “I could eat someone, but… eh, it’s not really my thing. And our contract still stands right now, so whenever we finish it, I’ll have plenty.”

“You, uh, you eat people?” Casey asked.

“Not usually. Gets stuck in my teeth.”

“Mmmmkay… then…” Casey replied, inching a smidge more space from Raphael.

He’d probably need to keep his fridge well stocked, however long this lasted. For the sake of his neighbors.

April sent him a text on the way home, asking if he was still alive, and if she needed to call an exorcist yet.

Casey replied that she was a total flake out, and that he was never coming to her for help ever again.

She’d replied with “thems the breaks”, and a shrugging emoji.

“This is so cool,” Casey whispered to himself, watching Raphael devour a whole package of uncooked meat in one go. He was mostly past the fact that Raphael was a demon, and now more stuck on the fact that Raphael was a demon and holy shit was that ever cool.

Even if he was an asshole.

He wondered if he’d get a chance to sketch the guy before he left. Raphael’s full demon form would make a sickass mid-term painting presentation, if Casey could get the colors and anatomy just right…

Wait, maybe that was why he’d summoned Raphael in the first place. For inspiration.

“Hey Raphael,” Casey said, making the demon at his tiny kitchen table pause in his eating. “Maybe I called you up or down or from whatever for inspiration? I’m a little stuck on some projects right now.”

Raphael’s long forked tongue slithered out, and he licked away a drop of meat juice from his lips. “Maybe. Humans do that a lot with my summonings. Get desperate with their work, turn to higher powers for help, and usually lose their soul in the process. Let’s give it a shot.”

Raphael raised his hand, a glowing circle of runes appearing in front of it as he did.

“Hey wait, what was that about losing my soul-?”

Another magic circle appeared in front of Casey, and-

-it made a bunch of sparks, and disappeared.

Raphael sighed, and slouched in his chair. “Nope. Not what you summoned me for. Try again.”

Casey put his hands on his chest, feeling where the circle had been.

“Okay. That was really fucking cool,” Casey said, glancing up at Raphael. “But seriously. The soul thing. What’s that about?”

“What did you think I got out of this?” Raphael said in a bored tone.

Casey opened his mouth, shut it, and said, “-mmmmmmnot that?”

Raphael gave him a look. “I think humans somehow got even more stupid while I was gone.”

“Man, fuck you,” Casey said. He chose to throw one of the eggs he was holding at Raphael, because fuck him. Raphael caught the thing easily, popped it in his mouth, and ate it with a single crunch.

Casey blinked, and then grinned. “So cool.”

“Just hurry up and remember why you summoned me. I want to go home.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get right on that…”

Casey didn’t get right on it. He ate dinner, and went to bed. How he got away with that, he wasn’t sure. It probably had to do with Raphael discovering his television set and DVD collection.

Casey woke up again the next day, rolled over to slap his snooze alarm, and came face to face with Raphael again.

Casey stared at his demon guest for a moment, and then groaned. “Oh god. You’re still here.”

“Yep,” Raphael said, equally grumpy about things.

“Fuuuuuuuuck…”

“Get up and start thinking again. I want to go home.”

“I have school, asshat. That’s the only thinking I’ll be doing today.”

“No, you won’t. You’re going to complete the contract, and send me home.”

“Uuuuh… no?”

They glared at each other.

“I could just eat you and be done with this,” Raphael said, flashing his long canines.

“You said you didn’t like eating people,” Casey replied evenly.

“I’d make an exception for you.”

“I’m not doing the contract thingy today. I’ve got real work to do.”

“You’re going to do it, or you’re going to lose some limbs.”

Casey never claimed to have the best self-preservation instincts, so he picked a fight with the interdimensional demonic being invading his home.

There were words exchanged. Strong words.

Then there were fists exchanged.

Someone punched someone first, and pretty soon, they were tussling around Casey’s apartment spitting curses.

Literally on Raphael’s part, since something red glowing and hot flew by Casey’s ear, and set his countertop on fire.

“MY COUNTER!”

“SEND ME HOME DAMMNIT!”

“MY COUNTER!!”

Raphael waved his hand, and the fire vanished. The counter remained blackened though.

“Okay, so, neat trick,” Casey admitted, lowering his voice from yelling. Then he punched Raphael in the nose. “You’re still a prick.”

April strolled into Casey’s apartment right around then, holding her school bag in one hand and a spritzer bottle in the other. She watched Casey and Raphael grapple at each other with a bored expression. “Casey, we’re going to miss the bus.”

“I’m-” Raphael’s fist socked him in the chest, and Casey let out a stunned “oof”. “-kind of busy at the moment!”

She sighed, raised her spritzer bottle, and shot a few squirts of water at them.

Casey reeled from the cold water, while Raphael straight up yowled.

The liquid had hit Raphael’s bare skin, and started smoking.

One second Casey was being held in a lock by two thick arms, the next he was stumbling to find his balance again, and there was the sound of something thudding against his wall.

Casey pushed his shaggy hair out of his face, and realized Raphael had sunk his clawed hands and feet into the wall and ceiling.

Raphael snarled wordlessly, tail lashing and eye flashing dangerously.

In the back of his head, the image of an irate cat came to Casey’s mind. Also the Exorcist movie.

April spritzed the demon again, and Raphael leapt across the room to get away. He left huge holes in the plaster as he did.

“Go get ready, I’ve got this,” April said calmly, eyeing down the furious demon with her spray bottle at the ready.

“Is that holy water?” Casey guessed.

“Yup. Visited the local church this morning. They’re actually very accommodating for this sort of thing. I stocked up.”

“Huh.”

Raphael curled back his lips, crouching on all fours and partially changed into his full demonic form. The patches of skin where the water had hit were red and angry looking, sort of like the demon himself. He snarled again. “I ̨c̀u̢r͡s҉e̡ ̀your̸ ͝chil҉d͡re͞n͜ ͟t͘o ͡ha̶ve̴ ̀p͢ítíf̕ul an̸d p̡àinf͡ul͢ ͘l̴iv̷es,̢ ͢mo̕rt̷a̡l ̀wòm͏an̶.”̢

“Good thing I’m not having any,” April replied plainly.

Raphael hissed, and April sprayed the floor in front of him threateningly.

“Pants. Now.” She instructed Casey.

Casey listened.

“Thanks again,” He said gratefully as they headed for the bus stop. “I was actually sorta wonderin’ if I’d make it to class today.”

“You’re welcome,” April said loftily.

“And you said you weren’t going to help me out with this.”

“You still owe me fifty bucks, and I expect it before this fiasco is over.”

Casey nodded. Yeah, he could do that at least. “You’re taking this whole ‘demon’ thing really well, you know.”

“Don’t under estimate my ability to give no shit, Casey. It won’t do you any good.”

“Fair point.”

“I still want my money.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

The passed the alley behind their apartment complex, and April pointed into it. “Weren’t you going to do something about your carpet?”

“I gave up and admitted defeat,” Casey sighed. “The smell wouldn’t have come out anyways.”

April patted his shoulder sympathetically, while saying unsympathetically, “You do these things to yourself, Jones.”

“Shut uuuuuup…”

“Yo… Casey?”

“‘Yo’ what?” Casey asked, still intent on the piece he was sketching.

“There’s like, a dude in the tree. He’s glaring at you.”

Casey fumbled his pencil, and spun around to face the window.

There was indeed a dude in the tree, glaring daggers at Casey.

Raphael, like some oversized cat, was perched in the branches of the tree outside the studio. Looked like the burns had cleared up, since he was back to normal.

If you could call a demon that.

“He someone you know?” Casey’s classmate asked, leaning around his easel to stare at Raphael.

Raphael’s tail lashed around, exactly like a cats would, and he bared his teeth at Casey. Apparently Casey’s ordinary classmate couldn’t see the actions, since he didn’t start screaming “monster!” or anything.

Small blessings.

“Nope. Ignore him.” Casey said, getting up and going over to the window. He shut the curtains on Raphael’s pissy expression, and felt exactly zero guilt.

“Yeah okay Case’. He an ex or something?”

“He’s an asshole, that’s what he is.”

“Want me to call campus security?”

Casey thought wistfully about calling the renta-cops on the demon, but shook his head. “Nah. Would go badly for everyone. I’ll deal with him later.”

Namely, it would go badly because there’d probably be blood everywhere, and people very much dead on the ground. Cool as that imagery was in a heavy metal music video or an art piece; it was less cool when it involved real actual people.

Casey would have to settle for stealing April’s spritzer bottle- if she’d let him- and telling Raphael off for bothering him at school.

Raphael dropped out of thin air soon as Casey was alone- somewhere between the arts wing and the science wing, headed to meet April for lunch- and scared the bejeezus out of Casey.

Same message as that morning from the guy, “Send me home, I could devour you, I’m such a big bad demon, blah blah blah…”

Casey responded something along the lines of “Fuck you” and that there were strawberry muffins available in the cafeteria that day, and like ‘hell’ was he missing that. The fact that he used that expression during a conversation with a literal demon wasn’t missed on him, and from Raphael’s expression of quiet fury, it wasn’t missed on him either.

He bought the guy off with a few of those muffins- they were probably the best thing around that was affordable to college students- and managed to get Raphael to leave off until he finished his classes.

When Casey got home, dumping his bag and jacket at the door, he was surprised to find his whole apartment restored to how it’d been, prior to Raphael’s appearance.

“Yooooo… what the heck, dude. How’d you do all this?” Casey asked, observing that all the holes and scorch marks were gone. Even his carpet was back.

“You gave me food,” Raphael said in a grumpy tone. He was finishing off a muffin as he perched on the couch arm. “The food yesterday, and the food today. Equal exchange. I had to do something in return, or it would be Wrong.”

“Wrong how?” Casey asked, vaguely wondering if this demon magic thing would work on some of his old sports equipment.

“Wrong with a capital double-u’, and would’ve given me indigestion,” Raphael licked his lips of crumbs, and Casey watched the action with vague awareness. “Can’t have things being unequal, or it gets unpleasant for me. So yeah, if you’re still worried about the whole ‘in exchange for you immortal soul’ thing, whatever you’re getting out of the contract will be equal in worth. Food was enough to get your apartment back to normal, and souls are worth a heck of a lot more. So hurry up with remembering, and you can have your riches and fame or whatever.”

Casey looked around again at the restored, original shittiness of his apartment, and figured he’d have to ask more about the equal exchange stuff later. “Sure. You want to eat and watch the game first though?”

Raphael seemed to consider the offer, narrowed green eyes, and eventually nodded. “Fine. I get first pick of food though.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

They glared at each other.

“No you don’t.” Casey said again.

“Yes I do.” Raphael said again.

They glared harder.

Casey ended up having to give Raphael first pick anyways, but only so the demon would patch the hole he put in the wall with a fire ball. The hole that went clear into April’s apartment, and brought her exhausted wrath down on both of them.

Casey might not have gotten first degree burns from the water gun like Raphael, when April had upgraded he didn’t know, but it sucked anyways because- “Jesus woman, did you fill it with ice water or something?!”

“Yes.”

“Cold, April, real cold. Literally.”

“Fix my damn wall, Jones. I don’t have time for this.”

“You sure you’re not a demon?”

She sprayed him right in the face for that comment.

The third day went basically the same way.

Casey rolled over, tried to hit the snooze of his alarm clock, and almost lost a finger in the process.

April marched in, same as the morning before, and rescued him from the demon holding him in a chokehold. She threatened death to them both if they made her late for her seminar.

They only just caught the bus, and the look April had given him for that told him exactly how lucky Casey was. Though, he felt someone watching him the whole way to school, and all through his morning seminars.

When he glanced out the second story studio’s windows, he got his answer.

“Who’s the dude in the red tank top?” One of his classmates asked, also staring out the window.

“Oh hey, it’s the guy that was bothering Casey yesterday,” The one who already knew Raphael answered. “Man, I didn’t know you could get fire to work like that.”

Raphael, probably with demonic magic of something equally annoying, had burned “Asshole” in perfect calligraphy onto the campus lawn. It was in big enough font that it could have been seen even from the top levels of the school, and maybe even higher.

Casey opened the window, and leaned out to shout, “WHY DO YOU HAVE NO CHILL?!”

Raphael, standing on the edge of his handiwork, flipped Casey off with both hands.

Casey had yelled wordlessly, and flipped him off back.

“Ha ha… I do not envy you, Casey.”

“Hhhhh… fuck off.”

Raphael cornered Casey again, halfway between buildings, and told him if Casey didn’t remember soon, he was going to start getting angry.

“As opposed to what?” Casey asked, zero shits to give about the demon losing his temper.

“I could burn this whole school down, with everyone inside it,” The demon growled, magic runes appearing in his hands.

“If you do that, I’ll never tell you why I summoned you,” Casey said, because that was the one thing he still had over the demon.

Granted, Raphael could just kill him, but oddly enough the demon hadn’t followed through with the threat quite yet. Maybe souls were just worth that much.

Raphael bristled at Casey’s threat- the short hair between his horns standing up straight and spiky- and the demon spat licks of fire at Casey.

Casey’s eyebrows felt a bit toasty afterwards, but Raphael backed off again.

However, he came home to a ruined apartment that looked like a huge cat had shredded it, a smug partially transformed demon in the middle of the chaos, and spent the next few hours fighting with Raphael to fix it again.

He ended up having to text April to bring her water gun.

Casey took pity of the demon though, after Raphael spent a good hour sulking in the corner while his burns healed, and tried to remember why he’d summoned the demon in the first place.

He consulted google, the huge and stupidly useless book, and his good old method of slapping street hockey balls around in the alley.

Nada. He didn’t remember anything. Even with all the new-age mind tricks he looked up, he couldn’t remember a thing. Drinking blackouts were just too strong for them.

Casey called it a night, and resigned himself to having a demon squatting in his apartment for a bit longer.

The semi-murderous look Raphael gave him, as Casey slunk off the bed, told him that time was running down.

Day four came, time ran down, and Raphael snapped.

At least Casey had made it to his one class that day, even if he’d come home to a furious demon. And even after Casey had started trying to remember again, the guy still snapped.

“It. has been. four DAYS. YOU MISERABLE. FLESHBAG.” Raphael yelled, kicking Casey already severely abused coffee table. “Why can’t you just remember already?!”

“I’m trying!” Casey snapped back. He shut the huge book, which had been zero help so far, and stood up from the couch. “And do you think this is any easier for me? You’re a fucking terrible houseguest, and an enormous wad about literally everything!”

“I wouldn’t be, if you just SEND ME HOME ALREADY,” Raphael shouted. “I don’t care if it’s hard for you, use your stupidly tiny brain to remember why you summoned me, and we can be DONE.”

“Why can’t you just leave if you want to so badly?!” Casey yelled, gesturing sharply. “I don’t want you here either, so feel free to fucking go already!”

“BECAUSE IT’S AGAINST THE RULES!” Raphael yelled back.

“WHAT RULES?!”

“THE RULES THAT GOVERN MY VERY FUCKING EXISTENCE!”

“IGNORE THEM!”

“I CAN’T!”

Casey punched Raphael, right in the nose.

The demon reeled, blinking at the sudden attack. Then he snapped back to awareness, and sent a look of pure murder at Casey.

Casey ignored the look and jabbed again, only for his fist to be caught in Raphael’s grip.

“̨T̷ḩat’͡s it,͟”͏ Raphael growled. He shoved Casey back hard enough he stumbled, and then started to grow.

Raphael doubled in size, black creeping over his brown skin and changing it to mostly scales. His shoes disappeared, and long claws extended from his toes. His tail whipped out, and again knocked over Casey’s CD collection. He looked like he was between being bipedal and quadrupedal; caught between his demon form and human form.

Lastly, as he grabbed Casey by the collar and opened his scarily toothy mouth, a pair of wings popped into existence on his back.

Casey was distracted from his anger for a moment. “Dude, you have wings?”

Raphael visibly stuttered, which looked sort of hilarious on such a scary face. “I-  ͡of̵ ̴cour̡s̡è I̡ ̸d̨o! I show͞ed ̡y͟ǫu ̀th͝e̷m ͠t͝he ͟f́i̶r̢s͏t̸ d͝a̷y here͝!҉”̴

“Uh, was it when you got big and ruined my apartment? Because like, I couldn’t see jack except for your fat head.”

Raphael growled, low and rolling, and opened his mouth again.

“͏I͠ ̷CO͜U̸LD ̀D̵E͢V̸O͜U̢R ̵Y͝OU̡,̀ MǪRTÀL͜.”͘ ͏He roared, right in Casey’s face.

Naturally, Casey socked him in the nose.

“Fucking try!” Casey spat.

Raphael reeled from the shot, and he gave Casey a confused and offended look.

“͘Wh̀y͡ a̕r͠en’t̡ ̸ýo̷u̷ şcár͞e͜d̵?̀” Raphael asked, sounding actually confused.

Casey didn’t respond, other than attempting to knee the guy in his gut.

Raphael growled again, and he punched Casey. Hurt like a motherfucker, but he’d had worse.

Someone tripped someone, and they ended up wrestling on the floor. Casey managed to sock Raphael in the face again, feeling his knuckle split on a tooth.

Somewhere along the way, Raphael had reverted to his mostly human form, and Casey got a clear look at the rage in his expression.

The demon’s fist met Casey’s chest, and a whoosh of air left his lungs.

Casey was stunned, but he managed to kick the guy off, and send Raphael skidding across the floor.

Raphael rolled right back onto his feet, and maybe just for spite, knocked Casey’s coffee table into the wall with his tail.

Casey met the guy head on as he charged, and narrowly avoided goring himself on Raphael’s horns.

They tussled back and forth for a long while, knocking over everything they came into contact with. Casey thought he heard some of his dishes hit the floor when Raphael threw him into the cabinets. The kitchen table got thrown to the side as he dodged one of Raphael’s kicks. Someone put long claw gashes in the couch cushions and it definitely wasn’t Casey.

His plants from April, his DVD stacks, his sports equipment, some of his art projects- it all got knocked over and mildly trampled. Casey was too busy punching a demon to care though.

End result of the fight, Casey and Raphael sitting against the couch on the floor. Panting and a bit blood splattered.

Casey’s blood, not Raphael’s. He hadn’t managed to even make a dent in the guy.

Casey swiped his hand under his nose, feeling the hot red fluid smear on his skin. His right hand was a mess of already darkening bruises, and his face stung like hell. Probably would have a black eye soon.

Raphael sighed, and leaned his head back against the couch. His horns stabbed the fabric again, and Casey didn’t even care that a ripping sound followed the motion.

“…well that was pointless,” Casey muttered.

“Fuck you,” Raphael muttered back.

Casey wiped his smarting nose again. The blood was already starting to congeal. “You wanna watch the game?”

“…whatever. Sure.”

Casey reached across the floor, and grabbed the remote from where it’d been tossed. He turned on his boxy old TV, and sat against the couch again.

“You put a hole in my wall again,” Casey commented, thinking about the foot sized hole in his kitchen wall. “And broke my table too.”

“I’ll fix it later,” Raphael grumbled. “I’m tired right now though, so shut up and let me watch your pathetic human sports.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

They watched the rest of the game in silence, excluding Casey blowing blood snot into tissues.

Before he went to bed, Casey traded the rest of his meat products in the fridge for some insta-healing, because as much as he wanted to avoid Raph at that moment, he still needed his hands for schoolwork the next day.

The ache was still there, because not even magic could undo everything, but it was bearable with painkillers. Casey had the good type too, prescription even.

He and Raph exchanged no words as they separated for the night.

The next morning, when Casey rolled over to slap his alarm, he actually did without any issue.

He blinked, trying to remember why that was weird.

Oh yeah, demon in his apartment. Where’d Raphael get to?

He found his not-so-friendly neighborhood demon sitting in the early morning sunshine, legs crossed in a lotus position. With the light shining on him, the spiky ends of Raphael’s hair flashed red, and made his thin horn tips nearly glow.

Casey stopped for a moment, staring at the stark difference between the belligerent, snarling demon he’d been dealing with lately, and the peaceful, collected individual in front of his windows.

Casey leaned on the wall beside his bedroom door, examining his houseguest.

Besides the horns and tail and weird blood-red hair tips, Raphael seemed like a normal-ish guy in that moment.

Huh.

Casey’s fingers itched for his sketchbook and pencils. He kind of wanted to capture the scene.

Raphael turned his head right then, glancing over his broad shoulder. He stared at Casey for a moment, and then said, “Hey. Good morning.”

“Uh, yeah. Good morning,” Casey replied, a little surprised by the sudden lack of hostility.

Raphael turned back to the window, and seemed to be done with the conversation already. Casey raised an eyebrow at the sudden one-eighty.

“What, no ‘send me home already’? No, ‘fear me mortal’? No nothing?” Casey questioned.

“Nope,” Raphael said, not turning around.

“What’s with the sudden attitude change?”

“I did some thinking, and figured what we’ve been doing wasn’t working. So. I’m trying something else.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Casey asked, genuinely curious.

“Patience,” Raphael said, sounding annoyed by the very idea.

Casey’s laughter burst out of him before he could stop it.

“Oh bugger off,” Raphael grumbled, shooting a look over his shoulder. “It’s only because I’m tired of fixing your stupid apartment.”

“Sure, sure,” Casey chuckled, failing to smother his laughter. “Does this mean I can go to school without you hounding me all day?”

“Today? Yes. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook for our contract. I’m not leaving until we complete it.”

“Like I didn’t hear you the first eighty times you told me…”

Raphael growled, flashing some teeth. “Just go to your pointlessly expensive mortal education already, and fuck off.”

Casey rolled his eyes. There was the Raphael he knew and hated. “Yeah, whatever. I’m going, I’m going…”

Raphael didn’t bother Casey once the whole time he was getting ready. He even had a chance to make breakfast for the first time in days. By the time April strolled in, using the key he’d given her months back, Casey was actually ready to go.

“Oh. No need for this today, huh?” April asked, lowering the huge water gun she’d been carrying.

Raphael turned around to acknowledge her, and raised an eyebrow at the gun. “Overkill much?”

“What can I say,” April shrugged. “I’m having a little fun with this.”

Casey laughed, and grabbed his current favorite sketchbook off the pile. “I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”

“Right on.”

As April started to leave, Casey caught movement in the corner of his eye, and glanced back just in time to see Raphael bring up a spell circle in his hand.

A circle appeared in front of Casey again, and a flash of light around April told him she had one too. Then, before he could react, it shorted out and disappeared, the same time that April left the apartment.

Casey spun around and looked at Raphael in horror. “Dude! Did you just try to magic April?”

“I was just checking if that was what you desired,” Raphael said, no signs of guilt in his expression.

“I- what??”

“You know. Sexually.” Raphael said, gesturing vaguely. “Isn’t that a thing for most humans? Like, especially between men and women?”

“Not with April!” Casey exclaimed. “I mean. She’s not even in to that sort of thing. And I’m- I don’t like her like that. She’s my friend. Best friend. Nothin’ more.”

“You’re oddly offended by this,” Raphael commented.

“Yeah, well, it’s not cool to try forcing people into shit they don’t want,” Casey said, crossing his arms. “I don’t like it, and I know for sure April doesn’t either. Don’t try that again.”

Raphael looked at Casey a moment longer, and then shrugged. “Alright, nothing involving that type of desire. Got it. Now get going, I’m tired of listening to your voice.”

“It’s my apartment…” Casey reminded under his breath, but he let the subject go. He shut the door behind him, leaving the demon in his apartment alone for the day. His undamaged apartment for the first time in a long while.

It wasn’t a bad feeling, but he sort of missed Raphael’s presence stalking him all through the day. It was weird, but he’d already gotten used to the guy hanging around him.

Casey took the peace and quiet, and put it towards his projects.

By the end of the day, he’d somehow finished a bunch of gesture sketches that looked a lot like a certain individual.

His professor questioned the sudden change of model; since until then, Casey had been sketching female figures. Casey didn’t have much of an explanation for the horns or tail in his drawing, other than he’d been having a weird few days.

His professor seemed to accept that, and complimented the way he’d captured the fluid movements on the paper. Especially the tail.

“I’ve been seeing a lot of them lately,” Casey explained, taking his papers back. “I’ve had a cat hanging out in my apartment the last while.”

“Oh? Is your kitty friendly?”

“Nope. He’s kind of awful.”

“O-oh…”

continued.

[beloved-hogwarts-fiction-blog]

Drawing the Depression and Disappointment Away (George Weasley X Reader)

•warning: mood changing potions, mean Slytherin girl, and depression induced thoughts•

You’re up before anyone else as far as you know. The common room is almost silent except for he chatter of a couple students. There must only be around 15 students in here. You’re all alone at the middle of the Hufflepuff table, eating your toast with strawberry jam. You’re holding it with only your left hand, because you’re drawing with your right hand. You’re using the new colored pencils you record last week with the mail. You’re sketching in the leather bound notebook you got a couple months ago when you told your big brother Liam you’d run out of room in the old one. Like usual when he sends you sketchbooks, there are notes from family members and friends scattered on pages all around the book, one persons message per page. You love finding the notes and reading them over and over again. Suddenly a hand from behind plucks the blue pencil from your hand. “Hey!” You protest looking around to see Winnie Red and her friends. Winnie Red is a Slytherin girl in her 6th year. She’s a prefect. And you hate her with every inch of your heart and soul. “What’s this?” Winnie asks scrunching up her face as she turns the colored pencil over in fingers. “None of your business now give it back!” You shout at her. Luckily, none of the teachers are around this early in the morning. “Oh? Maybe you’re trying to distract yourself from the fact you can’t do magic.” Winnie states simply, looking at the colored pencil annoyed. “Maybe you’re finally replacing that junk you call a wand with this lame thing.” She continues holding your favorite blue pencil. You’re using that pencil to color in the hair of one of your friend’s back home. You’ve drawn your whole gang over the span of two pages facing each other, and its simply your best work yet. You’re using blue because of the Polaroid pictures spread out around you of your friends. One of your friends had recently dyed her hair a really medium shade of blue, light but sorta dark, and you have just the color for it. “That’s not at all what I’m doing, Winnie.” You say exasperated holding out your hand for the pencil back. Winnie refuses to give it back. Instead, she walks a bit to sit beside you and takes a picture. “Who’s this?” She asks rudely looking at it. “That’s Isabella one of my friends.” You say shrugging, like it’s not important. “Why’s her hair such an ugly shade of blue?” Winnie inquires squinting at it. That’s it. How dare she say that about Isabella. Winnie can insult you all she wants, but nobody, and you mean nobody, insults Isabella. Especially not on your watch. Right in front of you. “Hold it bitch.” You say snatching the photo back and scooping up the other Polaroid pictures. You put them into a little pocket in the back of your notebook and place your colored pencils in their case. Then, you place the case and the notebook into a little purse you’re wearing. You face Winnie once you’ve put away your supplies. “Wow you’re feisty today~” Winnie says teasing you by waving the blue pencil in front of your face. You’re turning pink with anger just thinking of Winnie’s hands all over your gift you got last week. “Gimme my pencil, Winnie.” You say through your teeth. “What is the little baby gonna cry~?” She teases using an over exaggerated baby voice. Her straight short red hair is shining in the sunlight. Maybe you can use that to your advantage… “Maybe, but only because the sun’s reflecting off the grease in your hair and burning my eyes.” You say in a snarky tone. “You’re just jealous your hair isn’t as wonderful as mine.” Winnie says brushing it off. How can she do that?! “Shut up and gimme my pencil!” You say angrily. And then, right in front of you, she places her other hand on the other end of the pencil, one hand on each side, holding it clasped between her thumb and pointer finger. “D-don’t…” you murmur defeated staring at the position of her hands. She’s going to break your pencil. But the reason these pencils are so special is because Isabella sent them… and that one blue pencil is the one Isabella signed. Each one of your friends has chipped in and carved their names lightly into a different pencil. And it is absolutely positively perfect…

~flashback~ You remember Isabella’s letter she sent you, which your big brother has graciously given to the owl as to not arouse suspicion. It asked a bunch of questions, one of them being “if you could relate each person you know and care about to one color out of these which would you:” and she listed about 120 different colors on so many separate sheets of paper. It took so many sheets for her to finish the list. You wrote down so many names, you forget how many, but about 52 pencils are signed and sent to you the following week by Isabella. These pencils mean the world to you. And with each pencil cams a Polaroid picture of the person who signed it, their name written out in their familiar handwriting underneath the image. This is the best gift you’ve ever received in all your time at Hogwarts. ~end of flashback~

You watch as Winnie bends the pencil and the snap of wood is heard. The sound echoes in your ears as you stare heartbroken at the two pieces of the pencil in Winnie’s hand. “Oops~.” Winnie says grinning her eyes narrowed at you. You stand up, wiping away your tears. “No problem, it can be-” you’re about to say fixed when Winnie takes out her wand and says an incantation, your pencil burning up and it’s ashes landing in a neat pile on the bench. You’re horrified by this. You run from the common room crying, until you break outside into the cold morning. You race to a weeping willow tree by the lake that you’ve been going to ever since your first year at Hogwarts. You pull your cloak tightly around you as you shiver, and walk over to the vine things you love to feel. They’re cold to the touch on your involved hand. You pull back and quickly push them aside as you dive into the canopy for cover. You go over to the trunk of the tree and sit down, leaning your back against it, wrapping yourself up in your cloak and pulling your hood down. You cry for hours. Eventually, around what seems like lunch time, you hear somebody calling your name. It’s George, your boyfriend. You sigh wishing there was an invisibility spell or potion or herb you could take instead of an invisibility cloak for the one millionth time since you arrived at Hogwarts. You get up quickly and run around to the back of the trees thick trunk. The tree is about 3 meters wide from the center point of the tree, which makes it diameter about 6 meters, which then gives you more than enough room to hide behind it. You hear the soft brush as the leaves are pushed aside and they fall back into place after being released, brushing against each other as they sway until they still. “(Y/n?)…?” You hear George’s voice. It sounds a little impatient and at the end of his line like he’s been looking for a long time. You try to remain silent and clamp your hands over your mouth. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend isn’t the type to give up easily. “(Y/n) come out lets go to lunch.” He calls out again. No. Just go away George! Then, the sound stops. Maybe he left and you were too busy thinking to hear it? Perhaps. You peer around the edge of the trunk and see nothing. You sigh relieved and turn around to see him glaring down at you, his arms crossed, tapping his foot. You scream startled and fall backwards onto your butt. “Oh my god, (y/n)! Are you okay?!” He asks his face losing any sign of anger and now filled with concern. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine…” you murmur. George holds out his hand to you and you graciously accept it. He pulls you to your feet and holds your hand as you use the other to wipe the dirt off your rear. “I don’t think you are…” he says worried. “Well, I am, so you can stop bothering me with pointless questions and accept my answer now.” You tell him with a rude attitude. George looks a little hurt by your manner towards him. “I’m sorry, sweetie, it’s just that now isn’t a good time for me. Okay?” You ask standing on your tip toes and cupping his cheek in your hand. He smile and places his hand on your cheek keeping it there. “Okay. Now let’s go get food.” He says lowering your hands and walking back to the Great Hall with you. But today’s not your lucky day, as that is the last place in Hogwarts you’d want to be…

Over the next couple weeks, slowly, Winnie destroys your colored pencils, sometimes one at a time, sometimes more like five or seven. All you can think about is the fact you’re running out. Even the ones you got your Hogwarts friends to sign are slowly becoming extinct. Your purse of art supplies is nearly barren.

~in your mind~ Inside your mind, in the imagination box where all your gears turn, you can just see cobwebs and dust in there, a teeny tiny tumbleweed floating across it randomly like a barren wasteland. In the mental movie in your mind, broken pencils lay in a pile in the corner of a dark abandoned room, and broken, ripped and faded pictures lay with them. Attached to each pencil by a piece of string put through the end of the pencil is a Polaroid picture of the friend it represented. The single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling of the room is shattered, glass littering the floor below it, and the chain used to turn it on lays snipped around the glass like a forgotten piece of rope. ~outside your mind~

You’re sitting in the library drawing as happily as you can. Your depression has worsened with Winnie on you all the time, 24/7. She doesn’t leave you alone, it seems. Her evil, grinning face burns in your mind every time you close your eyes. The image of all your pencils burning in her hands like bonfires scar you deeply. You hate feeling like this. You know how hard George tries to keep you happy and push away the depressing horrible thoughts. But you just can’t. You understand they’re just pencils and that you’re overreacting, but you can’t. Honestly, you don’t have the will power to put up with this much bullying. 47 days and counting. That’s how long this has been going on. Forty. Seven. Days. You’ve considered cutting again, but you remember how furious George got the last time you did. And he’ll be boiling with anger if he finds out it’s over something as worthless as a couple pencils. But to you, these are more than just colored pencils, they’re the spirit of your friends and they embody how deep your relationship goes with one another. It’s why you’ve hidden your favorite pencil as best you can. The one that means the most. The one that George signed. You look up hearing Winnie’s voice and sees her returning a few books on potion brewing to Madam Pince. She probably needs those considering how she’s failing potions class. Winnie’s red eyes catch yours and she smirks at you smugly and begins to walk over. Nah ah. Not today. You push your supplies into your bag hastily and lath the buckle as fast as your fingers can. Then, you shoot up out of your seat and take off sprinting. You can hear Winnie Red’s flat shoes coming up and down on the floor of the corridor behind you. You don’t dare to look behind you and see if she’s getting closer. You whimper and a soft pathetic sound escapes your mouth as you run into something hard. Two hands grip your arms preventing you from running anymore. The hands, connected to strong muscled arms, have you locked in place. The sleeves of your captor’s robes are rolled up to their elbows, and you can feel the calloused palms against your soft delicate s/c skin… It’s George… Winnie murmurs a small spell, “accio pencil.” Just like that, your beloved pencil sneakily slips out of your purse and into her waiting hand. “Why’re you running?” George asks his voice low. He’s hunched over, murmuring in your ear. Damn… he knows you can’t resist telling him when he does that. “I was running because I was being chased.” You reply honestly. George rolls his eyes at your cheeky little answer. “Nice try, my lovely little lady, now tell me why you’re running.” His voice has gotten lower, and more harsh. Something in it tells you he’s not in a good mood. The way he’s holding you makes him seem like a stranger. The grip is cold, and unforgiving. It’s scary. This isn’t your George. You don’t like this side of him. You attempt to pull away but the grip gets tighter. You’re confused by this. What’s going on with George? Usually he’s so sweet and caring to you. What happened? “I- I was running because I didn’t want Winnie to have my pencil.” You say at last quietly. George turns you around keeping you in place. “You mean the pencil she’s holding right now?” He asks coldly. You yell out in protest as for the last time, Winnie’s hands grip the pencil, and it snaps. Everything happens in slow motion for you. Seeing the wood break, and the jagged edges come apart like two puzzle pieces being separated. The bits of colored material dropping to the floor. George’s name in all capitals being broken in half… You break away from George as it goes up in flames and the pile of ash is there on the floor. George shakes his head surprised like he’s woken up from a dream. Then he sees you sink to your knees on the ground, scooping up the ashes in your hands. George walks towards you and reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder. “No!” You yell at him standing up and backing away, dropping the ashes of your precious pencil. “But (y/n) i can explain if you’ll just-” “Shut up and stay away from me! I don’t want you anywhere near me you cruel bastard!” You scream at him before running off sobbing. Winnie is standing there behind you laughing… A week has gone by and you still refuse to leave your dorm. You’ve had Luna bring you your meals because you’re afraid of seeing George and have to head him. So no. You’ll just stay up here in your room, under the cozy blankets, in your pajamas, and mourn the loss of your soul…

There's a soft knock on the door. "Who is iiiiiiiiit...?" You groan from under your pillows and blankets piled high on your bed. "It's me..." George admits sheepishly. Suddenly, your super bitch mode kicks on. "Uhm, sorry, but I don't know any person named 'me' at this school!" You tunnel deeper under all your covers and blankets. They are piled a meter high so you're hoping with you curled up in a ball like you are he won't happen to notice you in there. "(Y/n) I've apologized a thousand times!" George yells. "Please just forgive me so I can forgive myself!" "So I'm only here so you can forgive yourself now? Is that it?" "You know what's not true-" "But that is what you said." "Could you please stop finding loopholes already?!" "I dunno can you stop being such a jerk, son of a bitch, bastard who doesn't depend so much on me?!" "Stop being stupid!" And there's a large audible crash... that sounded all too much like the door... Suddenly somebody crawls under all the blankets and pillows and appears hovering over you. George is looking down at you, you're trapped underneath his limbs. "George just leave..." you murmur. "Don't make me force you to forgive me." He says teasingly. "Maybe you should try using your words and not your body you big oaf." You spit at him. These hurtful words are unfamiliar to you and taste like sour grapes on your tongue. "Look. I'm sorry. I drank some pumpkin juice Winnie put a weird potion in, and I should've recognized that it wasn't pumpkin juice that was just the color of green beans. I'm just a stupid, moronic, jock who isn't good with girls and really likes you a lot. I'm such an idiot please please please forgive me... and if you don't, if you move on and love another man, I will not stop loving you... and i won't end bugging you until you accept my apology... and nothing you can do can ever make me stop-" You silence his meaningful rant with a slow, tender, passionate kiss. You've been aching to feel his lips for a week. How could you deprive yourself of this lovely need...? His hands fly to your head and he buries his hands in your (h/l) hair. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck and you pull him down smashing your lips closer together. When the two of you pull apart, you're gasping for air. "Woah..." you breathe. "Good woah or bad woah?" George asks concerned. "Good woah like do that again!" You say rolling on top of him and kissing him passionately, your hands on his cheeks so he can't look anywhere but at you. A few weeks later when the mail comes, your lovely owl Ophelia drops a package in front of you. You have a wild grin on your face thinking about what it could be. Suddenly, you feel arms wrapped around your waist. "Hey babe. Wanna take this to your dorm and see what's inside it?" George asks happily. "Yes of course I do!" You reply excitedly wondering what it is. George picks up the huge box and carries it to your room for you. It's obviously heavy, you can see the struggle on his face when he sets it down on your neatly made bed. You take your pocket knife and cut open the top happily taking out a huge box of newly signed colored pencils! "Oh- w-what?!- how- when- how did she- but I didn't- COLORED PENCILS!" You say flustered and happily brunch up and down. George grins seeing your smile. "George did you do this..?" You ask incredulously. "Well, I stole your little contacts book and wrote a letter to Isabella explaining how there was a tiny Fire and how they accidentally got caught in it, how nobody was harmed but how you were so horribly devastated that your beloved pencils were broken.." George admits blushing and scratching the back of his neck. "Oh you're the best boyfriend a girl could ask for!" You say happily jumping up hugging him. "Wait... oh... but what if Winnie tries to burn them again...?" You ask nervously looking up at him. "If that bitch comes anywhere near you or those beloved pencils she'll be dealing with me and the rest of the Weasleys, Potters, Grangers, Lovegoods, and Longbottoms." George tells you smirking and wrapping his arms around your waist. "Wow... I've never felt so at home..." you mutter leaning your head on his chest. "You've got a home in my heart, (y/n), hats where you'll always belong..." "Can I still doodle away my problems instead of using brute force?" You ask innocently. "If they're small yes. You can't always draw away the depression and disappointment, you know. Avoiding them makes it worse. You shouldn't feel embarrassed by them, you should be okay with owning up to your problems and letting others help you..." George explains patting down your bed head that still hasn't gone down. "Okay, dear..." you say before sitting down on your bed and finish coloring in another picture. "What is that of?" George asks pointing at the two pages facing in at each other. On one page, are all your friends from the muggle world. And on the other, is everyone you know and love from Hogwarts. In big, amazingly neat and ridiculous letters you wrote the names of the schools over each group of friends. "This is all my friends from my old school and Hogwarts." You say smiling. "That's my girl..." George says and kisses your forehead.