#i have class in less than five hours but I've been up this whole time stress cleaning 😭

[theygender]

Me @ my pets: why do you get separation anxiety and destroy things when we go on a trip, can you please just be normal?

My gf: *goes on a trip and leaves me home alone for a few days*

Me: ...

Me: ah.

[fetusgooseandjuice]

hii, can u do a Shuri x reader where the reader is in college and is getting verbally and physically abused by her parents due to her bad academics performance but she won’t tell Shuri because she has a country to worry about until Shuri eventually finds out because the reader won’t answer calls or texts? <33

Her Girl

Pairings: Shuri Udaku x Fem!Reader

Summary: The request!

Word Count: 4,606

Warnings: Physical & Verbal Abuse

Second Person POV:

"Hi, my love. How was it?" Shuri asked as you approached her. She was leaning against her car, waiting to pick you up from your college class.

You had walked to campus this morning since it was close to where you lived with your father, and you planned to just walk back home after class.

But Shuri texted you asking if she could pick you up once you finished taking the midterm so she could take you out for lunch, and then maybe spend some more time with you.

It took some convincing before you agreed, because you knew your dad probably wanted you home after testing.

However, Shuri kept saying that you deserved a reward. Saying that the way you overworked yourself wasn't good for you. So you decided to go with her to make her happy.

"It was okay. Just nervous for the results." you responded, letting her peck your lips before she smiled down at you.

"Between all the time you spent studying on your own, and the hours you put into those flash cards you made me read to you, I know you did just fine. You knew everything like the back of your hand." she tried to comfort the nerves you had.

You've never actually done bad on a test, or failed one per se. With the amount of pressure put on you by your father, there's no way you'd allow yourself to fail. But in his book, if you didn't get an A, then you failed.

Nothing more, nothing less.

So you're hard on yourself when it comes to your academics to avoid his "consequences" of failing.

"Yeah, I guess so." you forced out a light chuckle to not only convince her, but also yourself. "I also got my grade back for our last project a few days ago. The one I was doing when you stayed on the phone with me all night while I was working."

"Anddd how'd you do?" she asked.

You sighed, "I got a B. An eighty-five percent."

"Why do you look so glum? That's awesome, baby! I'm so proud of you!" she said with a big grin pulling you in for a hug.

"I don't know. I thought I would get higher than that." you said.

That wasn't a total lie. You did expect to get higher considering all of the work you put into it. But you mostly had that look on your face because you were worried about what your father would say when you finally told him. You wouldn't tell Shuri that, though.

"Well you still did really good." she looked at you with a small smile after you pulled away from the hug.

"Is there anything you're craving to eat, or do you just want to head over to your favorite spot?" she questioned, taking your bag from you and putting it in the backseat.

"That's fine. You know if you let me choose something else then you'll be waiting hours for my decision." you said and she laughed.

"Okay, princess, let's go then." she smiled, walking over to open the passenger side door for you.

~~~

When you got there, you ordered your food and it just arrived. You both thanked the waitress and started to eat, talking about whatever came to mind.

"So besides studying, what have you been up to at home? I feel like recently I've only gotten to talk to you when I help you study over at the palace, or when we're on the phone late at night. I haven't gotten to actually see you." she spoke, taking a bite of her food.

"I guess nothing much really. I really need to do good on these, so I was reviewing my notes a lot. I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you feel neglected or anything like that." you apologized to her.

That is true, but it's not the whole truth. Of course you wouldn't tell her about everything that's been going on at home.

You couldn't.

"No baby, that's okay I understand. I was just a little worried about you because I know how you get around testing week. You forget to eat, and then you hardly sleep. I just wanna make sure you're okay." she gently reassured you.

You gave her the small smile that she adored so much, "I'm okay." you answered and she nodded her head. "I wanna talk about you now." you said and she chuckled.

"How's that project with Riri going?" you asked.

"It's coming along slowly but surely. I think we're gonna put it on hold for a while so she can focus on her classes a little bit more." she replied.

You nodded understandingly, continuing to talk about her work and her projects over the meal you were sharing. You missed having moments like these with her.

You forgot how much she made you laugh and smile whenever you were with her because when important test came around, you tend to forget about everything but studying.

She was always so understanding and patient with you because she knew she could be the same way when it came to her science stuff. However, she couldn't help but feel curious as to why you were so hard on yourself.

You both knew how smart you were so there was no need for you to stress, yet you still did for some reason.

That's why she wanted to take you out today. Yes, she wanted to spend time with you, but she also wanted to reward you for all the hard work you've been doing over the past few weeks.

A little while later, the waitress came back to put the bill on the table. You grabbed it and went to look at it until Shuri spoke up.

"Darling, no. What're you doing?" she questioned with a frown, reaching over the table to try and take the bill from you, but you pulled your hand back.

"It's my turn to pay." You answered and started to get your wallet, but Shuri refused.

"No it's not. I brought you here, so I'm paying." she took her wallet out of her pocket and tried to grab the piece of paper from you, but you just held it further out of her reach.

"Stop," she whined, watching you look through your wallet. "Baby, I'm serious. You're not paying."

"Please? I want to.” you said with a pout on your face.

"Baby, no. I'm actually gonna be upset if you pay, seriously stop." she spoke in a stern, but gentle voice.

"Fine." you finally let her take the paper out of your hand. She pulled her card out and handed it to the waitress along with the bill when she came back.

When she looked over at you, you were sulking which made her smile, “I love you, princess."

You playfully rolled your eyes, "I love you too."

After the waitress returned with her card, you both left the restaurant and got in her car.

"I was thinking we could go back to the palace and maybe watch a movie or something. It doesn't really matter to me, I just want to spend more time with you." she suggested, starting the car.

You sighed, "Shuri, my dad is still probably waiting for me. I told him I'd be home right after I was done testing."

"Y/N, you're an adult. You can make your own choices, and I'm sure he won't mind. We can just lay around for a few hours, and then I'll bring you home. Please?" she pleaded.

You looked hesitant to answer, so she continued to try and convince you.

"My mother has been asking about you nonstop too, so she'll finally leave me alone." she chuckled, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

You wanted nothing more than to go with her, but you knew your dad would be upset at you for getting home later than he wanted, and you'd be in even more trouble considering the grade you got on your project.

You couldn't avoid him for forever, so you thought it'd be better to just get it over with now rather than later.

You looked away from her gaze, "I can't." you said, and you could see the way her face visibly saddened.

"I'll make it up to you, but I'm just really tired." you added, trying to make up an excuse so that you didn't hurt her feelings.

She nodded her head, starting to drive off, "That's alright, I understand. We all need a little extra rest sometimes, right?" she spoke, wanting you to know that it was okay even though she was a little disappointed.

You hummed a small agreement, "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, darling. It's okay." she responded, reaching over to rest her hand on your thigh in a reassuring manner.

When you got to your house, she pulled up in front of it and put the car in park, "Can we call later?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'll call you after I take a short nap." you answered, opening the door to get out.

"Okay, I love you." she said with a small smile.

"I love you too." you repeated, closing the car door. She made sure you got inside the house before driving off.

You walked through the door and your eyes had to adjust to the darkness. The only light being whatever sunlight peaked out from behind the curtains, and the glow illuminating from the television in the living room.

You assumed that's where your dad was, but you didn't get the chance to check because when he heard the front door open and close, he popped up from the couch.

When he saw you standing there, he quickly walked to you, slapping you across the cheek hard when you were within arms reach. The force of the slap turned your head to the side. It all happened so fast, it caught you off guard.

He grabbed a paper off of the counter and held it up, "What the hell is this." he questioned harshly.

When you didn't look up, he just became more aggressive, "Answer me dammit!" he raised his voice.

You flinched and lifted your head, trying to get a good look at the paper. Your eyes flashed with anxiety when you realized it was the grade you had gotten for your last project. The one you got an eight-five percent on. The one you got a B on, and not an A.

"I-It was my grade f-for my last project." you quickly stuttered out.

He lightly chuckled, turning away from you. You knew he wasn't laughing because he thought this was funny, it was something he did that told you he was furious.

"What in your right mind made you think that it was acceptable to bring that home." he spoke, facing you once again

"I-I don't know, I'm sorry. I tried, I really did." you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut when he back you into the wall.

"That's all you have to say? You tried? What, is that gonna be your excuse for now on?! There are no excuses in this household, there is only discipline because you clearly aren’t understanding!" he continued to shout in your face.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you brought your hands up to cover your face, a measly attempt to hide from him.

But he harshly gripped your wrists, prying your hands away from your face despite your resistance,"Look at me when I'm speaking you!"

"Stop it, you're hurting me!" you cried out over the cruel words that continued to spill from his mouth.

"Losing is a habit, and habits must me fixed." he said before slapping you once again, "Do you think I spent all of this money on you your whole life to see grades like these?!"

When he was finally done yelling at you after what felt like hours, he let go of your wrists and threw the paper at your face, "Where the hell have you been? Why are you just now getting home?" he asked in a strict voice.

"I-I was out w-with Shuri. We went to get lunch because we haven't spent much time together these last few weeks." you quickly answered.

Shuri met your father the first time she drove you home at the beginning of your relationship. You caught him on a good day, so she got to meet the kind, father-like side of him.

But he's gotten worse since then, and there are no good days for him anymore. So that was the first, and last time you'd ever let them meet. You don't want her to have to worry about you.

"Shuri? Well if you think you can just go out and do whatever you want now all of a sudden, then that midterm score better be absolutely flawless. Do you understand?" he pointed his finger at you to emphasize his words.

You nodded your head, but it obviously wasn't good enough for him because he marched over to you and backhanded the same side of your face he had hit multiple times earlier, "I said do you understand?" he spoke quietly, but sternly into your ear.

"Yes, sir." you mumbled, keeping your head down.

He walked away from you, muttering stuff under his breath. You stood there for a few seconds trying to process everything that just happened before picking the paper up off the floor, and making your way to your bedroom.

You set your stuff down, and moved to stand in front of the mirror hung on the closet door. You turned your head to the side, brushing your fingers across the bruise that was starting to form on your cheek.

You sighed, knowing that you were going to have to cover that up the next time you went out. You kicked your shoes off before climbing into bed, silently crying yourself to sleep.

~~~

Shuri's POV:

I arrived back at the palace, parking the car and making my way inside, "Hey, mom." I said when I ran into my mother on the way to my lab.

"Hello, Shuri. Where's Y/N? I thought you said you were gonna bring her back with you." she questioned, noticing that my girlfriend wasn't by my side.

"She was tired, so I just took her home. She said she'll call me later so I'll let you talk then if you want." I answered.

"No, that's alright I don't want to take away from your time with her. I know you haven't gotten to see her much lately, so i'm okay with waiting until she visits again." she responded.

"Thanks." I spoke with a forced smile.

She must've noticed because she tilted her head to the side, "What's the matter?" she asked with a slight frown on her face.

I shook my head, "Nothing. I was just gonna go work on that project for a while." I replied, continuing my walk to the lab.

Whenever I need alone time to just think, I'll work in the lab. Most of the time, I'm thinking about things I need to do and responsibilities I have to take care of, but this time I'm thinking about Y/N.

She's so hard on herself, but she's way too smart to have to worry about her grades this much. Not to mention how she was basically avoiding spending time with me, her girlfriend. She might've actually been tired, but she's already been very distant lately since she was stressed about her classes.

I didn't really know what to think. I love her so, so much, but I just wished she would talk to me about stuff more often. I want to be able to help her whether it's getting her out of the house, or just being with her.

I was brought out of my thoughts by a voice, "Hellooo? Earth to Shuri." I recognized it as Riri's voice.

Turning my head, I saw her standing in the doorway, "Oh, hey. Sorry, I was just concentrating." I apologized for not noticing her presence sooner.

"Concentrating on what?" she questioned, approaching me to look at what I was doing.

"Just that one part of the project I didn't finish earlier." I answered and she nodded her head.

She stood there silent for a few seconds, reading my facial expressions before speaking, "You look like you have something else on your mind besides your work. Has something happened?"

I raised an eyebrow, but still kept my focus on what I was doing, "Did my mother send you?"

She sighed, nodding her head as she moved to lean on the table, "Yeah, she did. And now I can see why. Looks like whatever happened with Y/N was...bad?" she said, trying to gain knowledge of the situation.

I huffed, "No, it wasn't bad. I just feel like she's been distant. I understand how she was busy with studying during test week, but that's over now, and we still can't spend time together. First, she said her father wanted her home, and then she said she was tired." I took a deep breath, and Riri just listened.

"I don't know. Maybe she's getting tired of me?" I voiced, setting down the tool I was working with.

"Woah, okay now, let's not jump to conclusions like that quite yet. Have you talked to her about it?" she questioned.

"Not really. Whenever I try to talk about what's going on in her life and things like that, she changes the subject." I walked around the room, clicking on different screens as I spoke.

"Okay, well maybe start with that. There must be a reason for her doing that, so talk to her. That might be what she needs too. Someone to talk to." Riri suggested.

I stopped working for the first time during this whole conversation, "You're right."

She chuckled, "I always am, aren't I?"

"That's debatable." I playfully rolled my eyes, "We're supposed to call later, so I guess I'll ask her about it then."

"Tell me how it goes? I know you guys will be fine, though." she reassured me.

I gave her a small smile, "I will, thanks." I said before she walked out of the lab, leaving me to continue my work.

~~~

I've been waiting for Y/N to call me for hours now. It was almost 9:00pm, and I listened to my phone ring one last time before it went to her voicemail for the fifth time. I was worried, but tried to think of some of the possibilities, like she's just taking a really long nap, or maybe her phone died.

But as it got later and later without hearing from her, I decided to just go check on her to make sure she was okay. Even when she's busy, she was always good with answering her phone, so that's why I was concerned.

I got in my car and drove over to her house. When I parked, I noticed that there wasn't a single light on which wasn't I guess wasn't unusual considering how late at night it was. But I still wanted to make sure Y/N was okay before I could settle down for the night.

I walked up the front steps and knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer. When almost a minute passed with no answer, I knocked again. A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing Y/N.

When she saw me, a look of panic flashed over her face, "Shuri? It's almost ten o'clock, what're you doing here?" she spoke in a hushed voice.

"I was coming by to check on you because you never called." I explained, putting my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

"Um yeah, about- about that. My- my phone died earlier, and my charger wasn't working..." she stammered out in the same quiet volume.

"Oh, that's fine. I was just worried about you because you never answered any of my calls or texts. Why are you whispering? Are you okay?" I asked with furrowed eyebrows, faintly noticing something on the side of her face.

But it was already difficult enough to see anything considering how dark it was outside, so I just brushed it off.

"Yeah I'm- I'm fine. My dad is already asleep, and I was about to just do some extra credit work because I couldn't sleep. Probably wasn't the best idea to take that nap earlier." she answered with a light chuckle.

I nodded my head in understanding, "Well if you can't sleep, do you wanna go back to the palace with me? You can spend the night, of course."

She turned to look behind her as if she was checking for something, and then looked back at me, "I don't know, Shuri. It's pretty late." she said, hesitation very present in her voice.

"Come on, baby. Please? I miss having you in my arms." I begged and she sighed, "This can be your way of making it up to me for earlier." I added.

She stood there for a moment responding, "Okay, just wait here for a second. I'm gonna go grab some things real quick." she said and I smiled brightly, nodding my head before she disappeared back inside.

Second Person POV:

You quietly made your way back to your room so that you didn't wake up your father, and packed a small bag of things you'd need for tomorrow.

When you went back outside where Shuri was still waiting, you got in the car with her and she started the drive back to the palace. But what you didn't realize was that you forgot to cover the visible bruise on your face.

Being so mentally tired, it had slipped your mind. You had gotten lucky earlier because the darkness outside affected her ability to see. But that luck obviously wouldn't last for much longer.

After arriving at the palace, Shuri led the way to her room and turned on the light. You set down your bag and started taking off your shoes when she began to speak.

"Do you wanna stay up and watch a movie or are you starting to feel tired-" she cut herself off in shock when you lifted your head to look at her.

Now that she finally got a good look at you, she saw the bruise on your cheek, "Oh my god, baby, what happened?!" she hurried over to you.

"Hm? What do you mean?" you asked, confused. But you realized what she was talking about when her hands gently cupped your cheek, looking at the side of your face.

"Shit." You thought.

You weren't planning on going anywhere tonight, so you had forgotten about the mark. However, it was too late now.

"Did someone do this to you?" she questioned, shifting her gaze to look you in the eyes.

You quickly responded, "No- no one did this to me. I- I just...fell." you mentally face palmed at the poor excuse you came up with.

She knew you were lying from the nervous look in your eyes, and the way you were stuttering.

"Princess, don't lie to me. Please, just tell me the truth so I can help you." she spoke softly, stroking her thumb under the injury.

Help you. You didn't want her to have to help you. She has more important things to worry about than a girl with daddy issues because of her academic performance.

But she thought the exact opposite.

There was not a single concern running through her mind at the moment that wasn't you, because you were the most important thing to her. You were her girl.

During the time you spent thinking about your next words with her eyes staring into yours, tears started slowly rolling down your face.

You shook your head, "You can't help me." you whispered.

"Why not?" she asked desperately. "Talk to me, my love."

You moved your gaze to look at anything but her, "It's just the way he is. As long as I'm in school, and probably even after I graduate, he'll always be like this."

"Who? Who is he?" her eyebrows furrowed.

You looked back into her eyes, and the look that was held in them said everything that she needed to know, "Your dad?" she said shock, and you nodded.

"Your dad did this to you?" she repeated.

You nodded once again, "He's made it seem like he's only proud of kids who bring home A's on every test. The second I bring home anything less, he flips out." you quietly confessed.

Her jaw clenched at your words, "I don't care who he is, no one puts their hands on you. Your own father especially. I swear I'm gonna-" she began, starting to pull away from you but you stopped her.

"No," you said, and she turned to look down at you, "Please don't go." you whimpered out and her gaze softened while her heart broke seeing you this vulnerable.

"Okay. Okay, I won't go. I'm here, darling." she said, gently pulling you into a tight embrace.

She held you for a few minutes before remembering the injury you had, "We should get some ice for that bruise on your face." she suggested, but you shook your head against her chest.

"Tomorrow. I just want you to hold me right now." you said and she complied.

"Let's lay down then, yeah? That's probably gonna be more comfortable than standing." she voiced, and you let her guide you to her bed.

She laid down and allowed you to curl up to her however you wished. Her arm immediately wrapped securely around you while your head rested on her chest.

You sat in comfortable silent for a few minutes until she spoke up, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You were so quiet that anyone would've thought you had fallen asleep if you didn't respond a few seconds later, "I didn't want you to worry. You have an entire country to take care of, so I tried to just deal with it myself." you explained.

"Love, you can always come to me no matter what. I don't care if I have a million priorities to keep up, you'll always be my number one. I don't want you to ever think that you have to go through anything alone." she responded, rubbing her hand up and down your back in a comforting manner.

You sighed, "I guess I was just scared. Scared of bothering you, and of what he might do if he found out that I told someone."

"Well you don't ever have to go back there. I can stop by and pick up your stuff whenever he's not home, and you can stay here with me." she spoke and you looked up at her.

"Really?" you said.

She nodded her head, "Of course, princess. And I bet my mother will be thrilled to hear that you're staying. I think she loves you more than she loves me." she chuckled, and you giggled.

Her heart fluttered at the sound of your laugh. It never failed to make her heart soar.

"I love you, Shuri." you said with a content sigh, letting your eyes fall shut.

"I love you too, beautiful." She looked down at you with adoring eyes. "Griot, turn the lights off." she told the A.I, and he did as asked.

She lightly scratched you back, watching you relax in her arms and drift off before falling asleep herself.

[nyctophobia-au]

Where I've Been

Okay, so, 'sup babygrills. This is going to be a bit of a lengthy post, but I feel like I should update followers on here as to where I've been because I haven't been active for, like, months.

If you don't care to read all of the stuff under the cut, that's fine. Here's my TL;DR: I've been having issues with mental illness, trauma, motivation, gender dysphoria (?), and have been busy with college and YouTube/social media stuff. However, luckily my HK special interest has returned and I plan on posting more often hopefully. (Mild cw for mental health mentions ig.)

Okay, so, to begin, I've been gone a lot due to responsibilities outside of making Nyctophobia content. So, up until recently, I've been working on graduating from college. I've been finishing up my final class this Summer, but last quarter in the Spring was really difficult for me time-wise and mental health-wise. I've had a lot of issues with depression and anxiety throughout my life, and being at college was torturous and sapped all of my energy. It did not help that, last quarter, I had to be there at the college for six hours of my day five days a week. It was not easy to make art for myself and my channel, much less for this blog.

Outside of college, and I've mentioned this before in passing, but I also make YouTube videos and, at the moment, YT is my income (alongside comms as well). I've been pretty focused on keeping my my schedule at least a little bit consistent, and that alone has been draining and tiring. It also affects the kind of art that I can create, as I have to draw certain things for certain videos. I've been really weary when it comes to making content as of late, and I really need to take a small break so that I can work on stuff I actually want to work on rather than being stuck drawing certain things for the sake of videos I'm not inspired to make.

Pivoting more into specifics about my mental health, I have been needing to see a therapist for a long while, but I haven't had the motivation or the funds to pursue that option up until recently. Hopefully, I will be attending therapy soon. Last year in, uhm, September I had a particularly bad mental health episode and I've come to realise that some events that happened during that time have left me with trauma that I'm still currently working past and healing from. I've had issues with self-harm, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and self-perception for a long time, but in the Spring they were stifling and impossible to ignore. Lately, they have been better, though. So, that's nice. There hasn't been just the usual stuff lately (oh no, that's be too easy), but I've gotten jumpscared with gender issues (hooray, my favourite /s) during this time, and am struggling with my self-perception regarding my gender up to current day. (Hi, I currently go by Rot or Sexy Fictional Bug Enthusiast and my pronouns are they/them, but they may very well be they/he soon). Also, I had a bad identity crisis a couple of months ago and had to do this whole rebrand thing that was a lot of work and it kinda sucked away a lot of energy and time.

On top of all of that, ya boy's special interest metre has been focused primarily on OC stuff and other things outside of HK. It's pretty well-known that I have autism and Hollow Knight is one of my special interests. I'm unsure how it works for most people, but my fixations tend to come in waves and fluctuate (though super special meaningful ones stick for a long time). So, like, I had this whole issue with my mind always being fixated more on things outside of HK. It's been my OCs for a few months, but alongside that, I also suddenly became enraptured by The Owl House and my Digimon special interest sleeper agent returned for a hot second there. As of recently, I've been interested in HK again, but have been afraid to start/work on projects related to my AU because of me having to work on OC content for my channel and also for my friends who are invested.

As of right now, I have some more time on my hands to make the content I want to make, and my HK fixation is back (thank fuck). I've generally been doing a bit better in the mental health arena, but I will also be taking some time off of YT and posting videos regularly in favour of focusing on making stuff I want to make. So, like, expect me to be more active here for some time. I might be finishing a fic in the next month (hopefully) as well, and I have some general comic and art ideas. I just want to draw Auric again, god dammit. My beloved. <3

Anyways, thanks for reading if you did. Just figured I'd make a post about this for people who thought I died or something (and for the people who were once interested in my projects on here and are starving for content, lmao).

[realasslesbian]

Also, lemme paint a picture for you, of maybe the lowest moment of my life, due entirely to the robodebt scheme, since I'm so good at 'fun creative writing' lmao

It's been raining all week. The roof of the car that I live in is leaking right on my pillow, but there's not much I can do about that except put a takeaway container that I found outside in the gutter on my pillow and empty it every fifteen minutes. I've just come from the doctor where I spent my last $50 getting a large skin cancer surgically removed from my shoulder. The doctor, who had his nose wrinkled the whole time, because I hadn't showered in a whole week, told me to 'try and keep the wound clean'.

I drive to the backstreet behind my work, where I have to be at 6am the next morning. As I turn into the street, my car stops. I wrap a plastic bag around my twelve stitches and get out in the rain to push the car off the road. After half an hour of tinkering, I figure out the fuel pump has shit itself. Thank god for my 6.6GPA science degree, I know exactly how to fix it. So I call up the nearest mechanic (a two hour walk away) and reserve the part for when my paycheck comes in next week. By this point I've busted open three of those stitches. But it's not like I can go anywhere and do anything about it, so I just try and thread them back together as best I can (yes, it does hurt, a lot) then I smother it in antiseptic and hope for the best.

I get ready for bed, by constructing a gutter out of plastic bags to divert the water from the leaking roof off my damp pillow. I'm pretty exhausted at this point, so despite being wet from the rain and sticky from several days of unwashed sweat, I fall right asleep. I'm occasionally woken up by hoons screeching by, slamming on the horn when they see a car with foggy windows and screaming 'wake up' as they go by. I'm sort of used to this frequent nightly reminder of society's active disdain for the less fortunate.

I go into work the next day at 6am. I work most shifts alone, but at swap over my co-workers make sure to let me know I look and smell like shit. They know I'm homeless. They don't care. No one does. Well, that is except for the dog walker who calls the cops on Day Three of me being stuck in the same spot. The cops give me a move on order. Thanks to my first class legal honours degree I know I have 24 hours to comply before they can do anything. My paycheck comes in at midnight, so I'm hoping to have my car back on the road the next day.

I eat some white rice, take a leak in an ice cream container, and go to sleep under my makeshift gutter. I wake up in the morning to absolutely excruciating pain in my jaw. I dunno what it is, but it's the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. There doesn't appear to be anything immediately wrong, other than swelling in my gums, so I just down half a packet of pain killers and make a note to swing by the pharmacy for something stronger on my two hour walk to the mechanic today. It would later turn out I had developed bone cancer in my jaw from the abscess an untreated wisdom tooth had created.

Anyway, five hours and about 20km of walking with a 10kg fuel pump hanging off my one good shoulder later and I'm back at my broken down home. I have about three hours to get out of here before the cops show up to fine and/or arrest me for 'camping illegally' on a city street. Usually replacing a fuel pump would take me half hour, max, but I'm in significant pain. The painkillers the pharmacist gave me are helping, but I'm still borderline delirious. I spend a long time just laying under the car, the greasy city rainwater in the gutter running directly into my now infected surgical wound, just clutching my face, trying to make the pain in my jaw stop. I kind of want to cry, but I ain't cried since I was a kid and I just don't really know how to physically do that anymore. I lay under my car, not really knowing how much time had passed, but pretty anxious the police would show up any minute.

In my semi-delirious state I think about how it wasn't supposed to be like this. I'd worked so hard at my education for nearly a decade for it to not be like this. And yet the Australian government had swooped in and destroyed that burgeoning career for no other reason than wanton malice. I was supposed to be sitting at a nice dry desk, on the upper floors of some top tier law firm's CBD office tower. But I couldn't be admitted as a lawyer with a welfare debt to my name, even if it was obviously fabricated. My greatest discomfort should have been the squelch of rain in my nice shoes when I accidentally stepped into a puddle on the city street. It should have been beyond my comprehension to be laying in a gutter, not even worried about the dirty water in my busted open surgical wound, because of the overwhelming pain of some as yet unknown malady in my jaw. I would never have to know how many people (mainly men) will go out of their way to make a homeless person's life just a bit worse. I would never have to know how little it would take for friends and family to abandon me. I would never have to know that 'unconditional love' doesn't really exist, not when the government says people like me, people with welfare 'debts', don't deserve anything at all. And even back then I knew my 'debt' wasn't a real debt, but no one would believe me. Still not many do, but back then there was no class action, there was no royal commission, there was just the government's propaganda machine against dirty dole bludgers like me.

Anyway, I got the fuel pump in and, while I probably shouldn't have been driving in my state, I drove to the nearest doctor, the one who had originally done the cancer excision. I don't remember too much, due to the pain, but I do remember him saying things like 'what drugs did you take' and 'I'm not sure there's much of a point in me cleaning this up if you're going to not take care of it'. Such is life, I suppose.

I was fairly new to being homeless at that point. I'd only been on the streets a couple months. I've learned and toughened up a lot since then. I still have days and weeks and months where everything goes wrong, but I'm more prepared for it. For example, I try and keep antibiotics and prescription painkillers on hand, even if I have to lie to get a renewed prescription. I've upgraded to a good van and I voluntarily spend my days under it, learning everything I can, fixing and maintaining everything I can. I keep a close eye on the weather. I stay out of populated areas, even if that means staying unemployed, because in the long run, I'll save more money not paying the fines I get from nosy cityslickers than I would in a job. Also I taught myself how to hunt and forage, which reduces my grocery bill significantly. I've basically just accepted survival as the only option.

So I'm sorry if I come off a bit feral to anyone sitting pretty in their nice little house, with their nice little shower, and nice little toilet, and nice little $20 steak they bought at the supermarket, and their nice little as yet unchallenged fantasy land where they have more in common with politicians on $900 000 a year salaries than with the homeless, and their nice little government-sponsored ideas about how anyone the government says is a bad person is in fact a bad person, and their nice little personalities where it's apparently acceptable to have a dig at the traumatic experiences of people who have endured a hell that is so unimaginable, it must be a lie, no matter how fucking watertight the evidence is.

Actually lemme fact-check a little here, because turns out I'm not sorry for being feral. Actually I think the real ferals are the people who choose to ignore the factual, legally-proven, federal court-backed, royal commission-backed experiences of robodebt victims, and instead choose to dismiss, harass and abuse some of the most vulnerable members of society who have endured wrongs and horrors most people can scarcely imagine. I can't even begin to understand the mentality, the lack of basic human decency, that would be required to stoop so low. I could not possibly look on anyone, even my worst enemy, in such a situation and think to open my mouth and tell them 'lol you're lying get therapy uwu'. I just don't understand what has to be fundamentally wrong with a person for them to act this way. But I see it so much, most people are apparently of this calibre, and I'm apparently one of very few people able to see what tf is wrong with it. So I guess that's just another reason I'm better off being a feral out in the bush. I'll take torrential rain, the blistering heat, brown snakes, red backs, shitty dirt roads and plagues of rats over humanity any day.

[alexjcrowley]

Severitus Headcanons, I guess (pt. 2)

Quick introduction: this is the second part of a post written more than a year ago when I was strssed for am exam because, guess what, I am now stressed for an exam. Here's the last post

As you'll also find in that post, here's the disclaimer, more or less modified.

Obviously I don't support the terf bitch, the only reason why in the year of our Lord 2023 I am writing something like this is because fantasizing about yet another fictional father-son relationship to make up for the one I lack takes the edge off my stress for exams and...well, other stuff.

I don't give a flying fuck about the Snape discourse, I don't care if he is good, bad, or in the middle, I did not write this to be accurate to the books I haven't read or the movies I hardly remember, I wrote this because it's comforting to me. So if you are personally offended by Severitus as a concept or Snape in general, don't make me part of your grudge, because I don't care for it. There are better ways to spend your time rather than insult me.

As I've made patently clear, I don't know Harry Potter that well, so if there are inaccuracies, I'm sorry. I linked my last post because these headcanons take place in the same "universe" as my last post, so you may want to read that too.

Let's begin.

Snape only uses his Legilimens ability on Harry to win at cards.

Harry only learned Occlumency to stop losing at cards (it may or may not have been Snape's purpose from the start).

"Do you have...a seven?"

"No luck. Now stop trying to get inside my head, literally."

"...you're getting better at this."

"Cards or Occlumency? I bet they go hand in hand."

"Shut up."

The hardest thing to adapt to when Harry starts Hogwarts is new boundaries. Harry and Snape have to pretend they don't know eachothers. Especially with Harry being a Gryffindor, Snape can't even use the excuse is looking out for a little Slytherin. But the necessity to protect The Boy Who Lived from all dangers hidden at Hogwarts (and the urge to look out after Harry who has a special ability in putting himself in trouble) is too strong to ignore. So now everybody thinks Snape is just really weird about Harry, he never lets him out of his sight, he is almost following him around and also they fight a lot in class. Honestly it's a bit weird to see a thirty-something years old professor have beef with an 11-year-old, but nobody dares to bring it up to Snape, they're scared of him, alright?

So the whole...turning down Draco's friendship is real pickle. Like, yes, being close to Draco, who is Lucius's son, is a bad idea because Lucius can't find out Snape is working for Dumbledore and Harry literally lives with him but also purposefully antagonize Draco Malfoy? On your first day? That's simply suicidal.

"Why did you have to be so...stubborn with him?"

"Me? I'm the stubborn one? He insulted Ron!"

"Whom had known for 2 hours then!"

"Well, I only needed to know Draco for five minutes to understand he was a bully and I am not friend with bullies."

Snape wants to reply but he is stunned for a moment. That's an admirable stance for an 11 years old. Merlin, if someone told me years ago I'd hear this coming from James Potter's son...

"It wasn't the worst decision you could have made. That was Draco Malfoy. His father, Lucius, is...a dangerous wizard. Not accepting his friendship will certainly breeds problems, but you could have hardly afford the scrutiny you would have been submitted by such proximity to the Malfoy family. You'd need to be a far more cunning Slytherin to avoid giving yourself away while making...friends with Draco, and you're a foolishly impulsive Griffindor, as we've witnessed today."

"Even if it was bad choice, I wouldn't have turned my back to Ron."

"I am well aware of that, Harry, but would you be so kind to let me believe in all the years I've brought you up I instilled some sort of Slytherin smarts in that red and gold head of yours?"

It's not fair, Severus thinks, it's really not fair. James Potter was the rich kid who strutted Hogwarts halls like he owned them and his son turned himself against an entire house not to turn his back towards a kid he met on a train. One day, Severus will have to tell Harry about his parents. He won't lie, he has never been one to sugarcoat things, but he doesn't want to tell Harry who is father truly was either. The side of James Potter people don't talk about, people turn a blind eye to, because it was just with Slytherins and everybody knows they're bad news anyway, because it was him and nobody cared if it was him. Harry doesn't deserve to know the truth, but one day he'll have to.

Harry didn't exactly took well the news (well, news to him) that Draco was Snape's godson. When Draco told him Harry couldn't believe it. He said it was joke, that he was lying. Everybody seemed to know at school. When he asked Snape for explanations, he said he "didn't want to burden him with this information", that was also "never relevant until this moment" for him. It doesn’t calm Harry down, on the contrary. He locks himself in his room. The only reason Harry doesn't fully blow a fuse is that they're at Hogwarts now. Of course, he can't tell Ron and Hermione why he is upset. Really, Draco Malfoy? Snape is his godfather? In which alternate universe? Sure, Draco is a Slytherin, but he is also pretentious, and whiny, and he is always ready to go tell his father things, and he expects to be treated like royalty by everyone and he is a bully! Snape hates all of these things, how is that even possible that he is connected to someone like Malfoy? Everytime Malfoy flaunts how being Snape's godson gives him certain priviledge, Harry wishes he'd known a spell to shut him up. And no, this isn't jealousy, it's something else that right mow he cannot name, but it's definitely not jealousy. And it's not jealousy because he knows Snape doesn't care about Draco more than he cares about him. Draco may be his godson, but Harry is his...protegè? Maybe? The exact definition of the nature of Harry and Draco relationship has been a bit foggy. Whatever, it's not important the title or anything, he knows Snape cares more about him, right?

Snape is torn between keepinp up apperances and following his heart. As disgustingly sentimental as it may sounds. Draco and Harry fight ever more than he precicted. And as head of Slytherins and Draco's godfather the only sensible behaviour for him to follow would be take Draco's side everytime, he knows that. But no one could prepare him on how hard it is, especially when Snape knows Draco is wrong, to look at Harry and call him a liar when he denies to have started the fight, an insolent and a brat. He explained him he has to do it, no one can suspect, but Harry is just a kid, of course there's hurt in his eyes when Snape says those things. He pretends to yank Harry from an arm to some classroom so he can give him a proper scolding, while the other kids who witnessed the fight chatter about the tremendous punishment Snape is going to inflict on Gryffindors' golden boy. Some of them try to subtly follow Harry and Snape, hoping to hear some of the insults the Potions teacher will throw at Potter and make gossip out of it, but Snape glare at them so hard some think it's a new kind of spell. When they're away from indescreet eyes and ears, Snape lowers himseld at Harry's level. "It's just pretend. Don't believe anything I say in front of the Slytherins and in front of Draco, especially. You're good kid, Harry." he whispers. "But I was right! It wouldn't be suspicious if you tell them I am right when I am! Draco pushed me and-" "It's not that simple, Harry." A sentence Harry will grow tired of hearing pretty soon. "And now go to your dormroom!" shouts Snape at Harry, theatrically, in front of the students who waited to catch a glimpse of Snape's rage. Snape is pretending to be be angry, but when Harry looks at him with fire in his eyes Severus knows he is not faking him.

Snape cannot stop directly Draco from harassing Harry, but he can alternative ways, after all he is a Slytherin. He opted for convincing Draco that fighting Harry Potter is a waste of time and all of the public insult matches he gets up to with Harry doesn't make him look good on his curriculum. Draco has an ego and Snape knows how to play with it. Snape does care about Draco, in his own way. He is not surprised he turned out the way he did, snobbish and egocentric and with a mean streak to him- he is after all Lucius's son and a Slytherin, you couldn't expect a Hufflepuff behaviour. But, because he knows Lucius, he can also tell that he and Draco are different. Surely Draco resembles Lucius physically, but it's clear he is putting effort into acting like his father. His meaness is not as nonchalant, one could say, as Lucius's. Snape pretends not to notice. He really did wish Draco didn't always use Harry as an assistant to prove the world he is just like his father, especially when he is better than him.

In the rare occasions Snape is forced to give Harry punishments he doesn't deserve (very rare occasions, since Harry usually breaks four rules a day)

At some point, way earlier than Snape wanted, Ron and Hermione found out Harry had been growing up with Snape. Which was weird, to say the least, but for very unexpected reasons. First of all, because for how much they argue in class you can tell they've got something personal going on, but "father-son" relationship is not what you would expect. Second, because Ron especially couldn't believe someone could ever entrust Snape with a child. When Harry told him in muggle children stories usually wizards and witches are evil and eat children, Ron thought it was about Snape. Having lived with Dursleys for a few years, though, Harry is very firm in defending Snape from accusation of being a bad guardian/parent. Snape can be hard to deal with sometimes, sure, but there's a difference between that and bad guardians, Harry knows, he's been through it. Snape doesn't deserve to be put on the same level of the Dursleys.

It's also weird that Harry and Snape live together for Ron and Hermione because it's just so much harder to hate Snape. It's not like they suddenly love him as soon as they find out he's Harry's guardian, but damn. You just cannot just things anymore. It's not even "it would be impolite in front of Harry", more often than not Harry is openly fighting Snape when he thinks he did something unfair, but because now you know Snape is not The Worst Person Alive. What is Ron suppose to say when he hets a low grade in Potions? Oh, Snape is probably a frustrated asshole who tried to get back at me for his sorry life? THAT MAN BROUGHT HIM, HARRY AND HERMIONE SLICED FRESH FRUIT FOR A SNACK WHEN THEY SPENT SUMMER AFTERNOONS AT SPINNER'S END. HE ACCOMPANIED HARRY TO RON'S HOUSE. He stayed over for tea once with his mother. You just cannot pretend he is the devil who spends time huddled on his home to making up new ways to torture his students anymore. He medicated Hermione when she hurt her knee falling from a swing. You can't hate the man who put a hello kitty band-aid on your knee (Hermione always brings with her her own small aid kit, funny ban-aids included).

Make no mistake, same goes for Snape. It's pretty hard to maintain your reputation as unsufferable professor when two of your students hang put by your house an awful lot. It's harder to be strict with them. And he does want to do that, Snape prides himself in projecting his image as a hard professor to deal with, who requires respect and the maximum effort in his subject. Ron sucks at Potions, and Snape is not going to give him better grades just because he is Harry's friend, but damn it's just...harder to do that thing when you don't care about how you students perform when they don't strive for perfection. Now he is disappointed. Disappointing in Ron Weasly. Disappointed for Ron Weasly's grade. He shouldn't carr about it! And also it's not fun anymore to tease Miss Granger. Now when she raises her hand Snape has resorted to tell her he knows she knows the answer, so why doesn't she give the rest of the class a chance? See, it lacks sarcasm, it lacks spite, it lacks maliciousness, it lacks...Snape's treadmark snarky attitude. "You're becoming soft, Severus" sometimes he sighs to himself, after missing what he would once consider a brilliant opportunity for a nasty comment. He then looks at Harry, Ron, Hermione, or whatever other kid his tongue now decided to spare by force of habit, taking a huge sigh of relief becayse Snape's remark has been less cutting than they expected. "Maybe it's not a bad thing" a voice in his head suggests. But what if his students lose respect for him then, it's always either feared or loved right? "You'll cross that bridge when you get there" a softer voice answer.

Speaking of failed Potions classes, Snape really can't hide his disappointment for Harry's grade. He'd thought living with him he would have learned something, even just observing him preparing potions as a child- they used to do this a lor when Harry was little, Snape bewed potions while Harry stayed in the same room, drawing or reading or making muggle homework or even helping sometimes. Harry is average at best. And Snape is only being fair, doesn't matter their relationship, he doesn't give him a point more or less on his homework, his work ethic is very strong. Snape considers this his greatest failure in Harry's regards.

But guess what he is great at? Bleah, Quidditch. Snape didn’t understand the appeal of the sport when he was at Hogwarts and he doesn’t understand it now. Harry blabbers to him excitedly about brooms and snitches and points and teams, but Snape barely understands him. "If only you were to pour such enthusiasm in more useful activities, like studying for Potions class". Harry puts on a face and looks away so Snape doesn't see him. He can't utter a word of Quidditch that Snape starts lecturing about "more useful activities".

"I am merely worried, Minerva, that pointless glory achieved in...sports will lure his mind from his studies. I wo't let the boy turn into a good-for-nothing brawny knobhead like all athlestes. " Severus complains to professor McGonagall. "He shouldn't waste away the little cleverness he has." He adds with a calculated insulting remark, in fear he let too much of his true feelings show.

"First of all, Severus, not all athletes are good-for-nothing brawny knobhead. There's nobility is sports." Minerva lectures him.

"You would say from such an unbiased point of view." Severus retorts. It's no secret Minerva is the biggest Quidditch fan in the school, her enthusiasm can trump the one of the students.

"Secondly, Harry has had an eccellent education and a dedicated" she says, stirring her tea while giving Severus a knowing look "he is not a knobhead and he will never be. About being brawny, I don't see how a but of exercise wouldn't help in preparation for darker days."

She and Severus drink their tea in silence.

[flambeaufelid]

Warrior Cats Chronological Liveblogging Masterpost

Hello, and welcome to my attempt to read through all of Erin Hunter's "Warrior's" (AKA "Warrior Cats") books, in the order shown here. I've previously read basically everything released before the third Dawn of the Clans book, so ~half of these wont be blind reactions, though it's been so long since I read these that I don't remember a lot of them well. Still, understand that this blog will often contain spoilers for books other than the one a post is about, as I reference future material!

Dawn of the clans:

The Sun Trail:

Prologue and chapter 1

...And that's all for now. Hit keep reading if you wanna hear why I'm doing any of this though.

Warrior cats means a lot to me.

Growing up, I had a strange relationship with reading. Until I turned about five and really tried to read a book for the first time, I was convinced that I hated reading. Then once I'd tried it, I loved it, but was convinced that I'd only be able to understand kids books or manga.

Of course, I was wrong. I was more capable than I thought. But bigger, more serious books... they were strangely intimidating to me.

So. One day, me and my sister are at swimming lessons, but there's enough of an age gap that we weren't in the same class. We'd both have to wait like half an hour for each other to be done.

I had made the mistake of not bringing anything to do. But my sister had.

Warriors books. But specifically, the manga.

Warriors having manga spinoffs is one of the weirdest marketing gimmicks ever, but it worked very well on me. A more traditional book might have scared me off.

With no other options, I picked up- if I remember correctly- Tigerstar Sasha book three.

For the record, this is an absolutely CURSED way to get into these books. It was so far disconnected from the main series that it was practically it's own thing. Not to mention it was the finale of this little spin-off.

Still, it was mildly entertaining.

And then a kitten fucking drowns.

That's fine. After all, there's no way they would really kill off a literal kitten. I continued reading.

But it never showed up again.

I reached the end of the book. Kitten still dead.

I leaned back on the uncomfortable poolside bench, mind fucking reeling. It was the most brutal thing I'd ever read. I felt a little sick to my stomach.

But, oh how I wanted more.

I proceeded to read every Warriors manga my sister had brought. Then every manga my library had.

This continued to be a cursed way to read this stuff. The clans are portrayed as distant, ambiguously villainous, and almost irrelevant. The characters the manga feature are fucking bizarre. They occasionally do weird things to the cannon.

But I loved it all. I wanted more.

But I didn't get more. I ran out.

There was no other option. If I wanted to read more Warriors, I'd have to read the books.

...I didn't start with the first one. But I got to it eventually. I got to them all.

I credit Warriors with making me truly love reading. It's a debt I cannot repay. The Erins are responsible for making me the person that I am today.

So it's a shame that. Uh. The books are...

....................not always very good.

In fact, Warriors kinda sucks sometimes. It's worldbuilding is nonsense, it's characters are idiots, and the books are so repetitive that there are tons of scenes you could take out of context, remove the names from, and then show me... And I'd have trouble telling you what arc they were from, much less what specific book.

I've tried to do this whole "read Warriors chronologically" like five times. I don't think I've ever gotten past sun trail.

The hope is that if I make this blog, maybe I'll be able to keep with it enough to get properly re-invested. Not to mention that one of my motivations for wanting to get back into the series is the distant idea that I'll write some fanfic- so, these posts can act as notes about things I found interesting, that I can possibly refer back to.

Also, I've heard some fucking crazy shit about the newer books I've not read. I so desperately want to know the details.

It's a long road I walk now.

[n0thingiscool]

The Apple App Store's rating system is fixed and Notability nuked itself

Apple's App Store rating is a joke. It has to be. There's no fucking way Notability's rating is still sitting at almost 5-stars after what they just did to their graphic interface. The downgrade pissed every Notability user off from every corner of the internet. Literally every single recent review on the App Store is a lowered star rating and a dig at the asshole developer, Ginger Labs.

It's pretty obvious Ginger Labs is perfectly happy taking payment from its user base while also expressing how much it hates them. "Thanks for the cash but fuck you." More importantly, we have the Apple App Store doing a blatant bold-faced lie. The App Store's review board for Notability has seen a stream of people changing their rating and review of the app to something angrier and lower - yet the store's star rating hasn't budged. In contrast, I've witnessed apps who made shit decisions on the Android Store app ratings plummet in less than 12-hours. (Looking at you, Cocone.) I'm not seeing this on the Apple App Store at all. Something's fucky.

Notability has been the premier note taking software for iPads and Mac interfaces for easily half a decade. Maybe longer, but that's how long I've used it for. Every student on my campus loved it back in the day. It was simple and used to only cost a $9 flat rate. It ran well and predictable for years but then all of a sudden Ginger Labs decided to fuck with its user base (for literally no fucking reason other than greed). Their first fuck up was when they told their thousands of users that the $9 one time license was changing to a $15 monthly subscription. That was a HUGE "fuck you" to students and other note takers who had become reliant on the app to get through their classes and projects. Ginger Labs had to walk that decision back because it pissed their user base off and, if I can recall, I think it was against the Apple App Store's TOS.

Fast-forward to 2023 and we're seeing a whole new scam from Ginger Labs in that they gave no warning before updating the entire Notability interface in one night - in a way nobody asked for. They took away useful tools everyone liked, changed the whole app's UI design absolutely, while continuing to ignore all the requests their user base has been asking for, for at least the last five-years. Why? "To AtTrAcT NeW UsErS" - according to their Spez loving reddit page.

At this point, it's safe to say Notability - and anything Ginger Labs works on, needs to be bypassed for the competition. Ginger Labs and Notability are no longer a trustworthy software/company to give money to. All anyone is paying for, in the Ginger Labs environment - going forward, is to be perpetually be ignored and fucked with. No one needs that.

Back to the real point, though. If Ginger Labs being assholes isn't bad enough, the real rub is how Apple is backing their bullshit. Personally, I only use Mac products for school productivity while using Android for daily usage and this is a clear example of why: Apple's got some Yelp style "pay to play" bullshit going on with their app ratings system and I want no part of it. This whole "Editor's Choice" business is an example of why I stay the fuck away from Apple as much as I can. Apple is actively hiding app ratings while telling you what they think is the best on the front page of their store. Really, Apple? Out of the hundreds of other competitors? Really? Clearly, it's a paid status thing.

In conclusion - Apple's "Editor's Choice" and its store are a farce. We all know there's no benevolent "app store editor" out there handing out free "Editor's Choice" awards. If that were the case, then there's no fucking way anyone handing out free "You're Doing Great Sweetie" awards would look at Ginger Labs's behavior in the last five-years and maintain Notability is still doing great. Especially after what they just did to their interface.

It's pretty clear Apple's App Store ratings are fixed because Ginger Labs/Notability have been treating their customers like trash for a while but the App Store ratings refuse to reflect that in any real time way. I know a lot can be complained about within the Android App Store environment but at least you can see when a software developer fucks up in real time on their store. You can't say the same for Apple.

[ramblingsofuncertainty]

Old Entries

Ramblings

Sunday

3:15. The silence is nice. I can talk to Allah swt and I feel safe at this moment. The stillness of the night isn't stifling. I don't turn on the fan even though it's hot. I like the silence. My thoughts are quite too

7:10. I don't want to get up but I've already jumped off the bed. Need to get breakfast ready. Need to take medicine. Need to hurry hurry hurry.

9:15. Panic and dread.

11:50. Relief. Exhaustion. 

2:42. I had this really intense need to be talking about it with Saadia. Can't call her cos she's probably sleeping. And this urge might become less and then I'll make excuses to myself to not call her. But I wish we were exhausted and lying in her room ranting. Or maybe not even that. Just being quiet. She'd be watching something stupid like NCIS or suits or something and I’d be squished in her giant beanbag (territory Id claimed long ago) I remember the neck ache I got when Id been squished in it too long. Her mom would poke her head in and shake her head at us and bring us pasta. Or chicken bread! Man, I miss that chicken bread. The squishy peices of corn that would pop in your mouth and the hot buttery peppery chicken.

She knows me inside out. I don't want to burden her right now. She can't do anything about it being so far away.

I'm happy, reminiscing while writing about her, and it hasn't made me sad, in a surprising turn of events. I think my circuitry is messed up. But happy accidental serotonin is still serotonin and I'm grateful.

Monday

Didn't write the whole day. Brain feels like a fog. No emotions. I just need sleep. 

Tuesday

9.:40. Stopped to have a conversation with a squirrel. It seemed interested, but then decided it didn't have the time. Squirrel business called. And I was late for class

9:43. Needed to make a call and that was it for the day. Cue the mind haze. All the emotions all at once. And none at the same time.

Music to shut out the thoughts. Helped a bit.

P realized something was up. As much as I felt cheery and awake at the end of the day, but she knew something was off. I couldn't put a finger on it til she said it. Despite trying trying to distract myself, I still felt like there is a pulling, scratching inside. I'm craving something and I don't know what it is. Bit it's like a dull sort of scratch, like the echo of a thing

Thursday

4:57. Missed fajr. Feel like shit. Had nightmares, woke up feeling more exhausted than when I slept. I haven't been able to dream for like five or six years. But nightmares are becoming a thing now.

8.25. Tried to wake up but the day already feels exhausting and I don't want to deal with it

9:20. Fell asleep and woke up in a panic. There's so much that needs to be done. I have so much work. How can anything feel exciting when there is always anxiety and panic that's flooding my brain. 

9:55. My joy in realizing they've made eggs for breakfast today is fleeting. The eggs are burnt at the edges and dry. I still eat them, my mouth feels like what I imagine it must feel like to wake up from surgery, desperate for water. I'm being ungrateful and I dont like it. It's food. Why am I being like this?

Cant feel much today.

4:50. Decided to take a nap. Woke up in a panic again because I thought I'd slept for three hours instead of one. Body hurts and I don't want to get up. I'll procrastinate more and then the day is over and I've done nothing.

8:05. Feeling good. Found myself humming something. Surprised enough to want to write it down. I feel like I can get something done. Making tea, then getting down to work. I feel like I'm in flow. Hope this stays!

P.S. it didn't stay. Something happened and all sense of time and work and sanity was gone. (Writing this on Thursday)

Friday

I broke the streak today. I didn't want to write down anything the whole day so now I'm writing it at the end of the day. I woke up with a numbness in my body. Had nightmares again. It's getting both more difficult and easier to get up. I can't explain it.

There's this short stretch of trees lining the football field that blooms with these hanging yellow flowers that always snaps me back to the present and gives a couple of seconds of relief everyday. Today it just made me annoyed (there aren't any blooms but the walk usually is still pleasant) because I realized the absence of that relief and that is what jolted me out of my thoughts. Not the relief but the lack of it. 

Everything felt off today. It's exhausting living with myself. 

I came back and slept. I just want to sleep. Forced myself to eat. I can't work. I can't work. I can't work. I'm trying. I have class at 6am. I don't want to be. There's too much noise. Writing all these things down is making everything more concrete. It's the fig tree again. From Sylvia Plaths Bell Jar. But the roots shriveled up and wilted and the trunk is hollow too. No possibilities lying blackened at my feet. They are a distant memory, haunting  the air with a rotten smell. 

(P.S. (writing this on Saturday: I feel disconnected reading what I wrote last night. I don't want to linger on it. That person was there. So was one who was not in that state. I feel like a conduit, in this moment, reading the previous entries, they feel like versions of me that exist and existed, a product of the things happening to me at the time)

Saturday

Today I felt disconnected, outside of my body. Woke up tired again but almost mechanically, went through the motions of getting up and getting through the day. 

I'm relieved though. Beats yesterday in any case.

Saturday/Sunday:

(A summary): I did not open this up to write anything for the past two days because I was in a good place after a very long time. I passively tried to understand what triggered it but couldn't. Coming back to why I didn't write. Writing things down forces me to confront what's going on in my head and usually that untangles whatevers up there and when the thoughts become clear, they are usually not very pleasant. And so I wanted to live in denial for a little bit longer. 

Sunday

9.09: Panic again. but dull. I have to work. There might be eggs. 

11.06: Mediocrity scares me. I don't want to be a blob of nothingness. I have worlds inside of me, I have been so many me-s, they were all people with thoughts and emotions and intelligence. I feel like I have lost grip of so many of those versions of myself, and of the potential that they all had. Now everything I do feels like I am dragging myself through a thick sludge of effort, pushing pushing pushing. My head feels dull and more empty than it used to be. 

The air feels thick. Dead, no crispness in it, just a lingering heat and smell of dead grass

Monday

4:40. Unraveling. The air is nice today, feels fresh and crisp. I can smell the freshly mowed grass of the football ground as a linger on my way back

5.:15. A summary of today: Flow state. I found myself quite unexpectedly in a state of flow, like everything was aligned and I was getting things done. Things seemed to be rolling off of me, I just kept working like nothing mattered and I actually felt happy with the work I made, and when I made something not so good, it didn't stop me. It felt like I side stepped a ditch that would have pulled me in, and I was just able to brush it off so easily and move on. I felt like a person. I felt complete. Like otherwise there's always echoes of me slightly lagging or moving ahead and I'm just trying to keep track of the pieces to move together and making the effort of carrying all the scrambling, falling, scattered pieces keeps me occupied

6:20. A word out of place. And it started this echo that kept reverberating and bouncing back and forth off the walls of my mind. And it shook everything out of place. Like a tiny tremor that upsets the precarious balance that had been a happy accident. 

The crows and their noise just before maghrib remind me of Karachi and the breezy evening air, that smells like dust and sticks to your face on the sheen of oil covering your sticky skin at the end of a long day. The smell of gasoline and petrol heavy and clinging to your clothes, coming home with you

Tuesday

My thoughts are not my own. Not writing today. 

Wednesday

I like this moment. Its the end of the day and I linger going back. My walk is deliberately slow and I focus and at the same time watch without seeing, the details of the accumulated dust on the sidewalk. The cars passing by seem slow and fast at the same time, their noise amplified for some reason. The sound is grating but I cant hear it even though everything feels heightened.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

[aetheternity]

I'll admit it's exciting. (Armin x reader)

Synopsis: Being your professor's dirty little secret. His pet.. Sounded too good to refuse.

Warning: Smut in the later chapters! 18+ only

"Good girl.." Your lip tucked itself beneath your tooth. Spine tingling at the intoxicating scent surrounding you.

You coaxed a breath off your lips as the almost inaudible creak of the desk under your professors weight made you sit up straight. His arms locking you in place.

You looked into his soft blue eyes feeling a tinge of entrapment at the way he had you locked in.

"Do you understand now?" His surprisingly large hands caressed your shoulder.

"Y-yeah." If you could see your own face you'd probably be embarrassed but you were currently helpless to the tiny bits of touch he allowed you.

Your elbows pushed you up just a little bit closer to his chest. His touch disappearing too soon.

"I think you'll be ready for the test in a couple days." And suddenly every bit of him was walking away and back to sit at his desk. "You should still study though. This stuff has been difficult for you."

~~~~

"Y/N."

The tip of your nail stayed fidgeting between your lips.

"Y/N."

Words flew through your brain but it all continued to just be flushed straight out again.

"Y/N!" The book flew from your grasp landing with a clatter that attracted glances from all angles.

"Are you alright Y/N?" Eren asked, concern etched into his deep sapphire eyes.

You let out a harsh exhale. "I was, until Sasha stopped my heart." You held a palm up to your chest, glaring over at Sasha.

Mikasa blinked boredom sunk into her features. Her cheeks forced into the palms of her hands as her elbows stayed firmly planted into the table. "New class?"

You nodded, shutting your binder before promptly flipping it open again.

"You'll be fine." She muttered, staring at you with her own version of concern.

"How can you say that? I had to transfer from a different class a month after the semester already started. You know how much stuff I've already missed! Not to mention I had originally thought this class was gonna be next semester me's problem." With a groan you let your head flop harshly onto the mildly sticky table in front of you.

"I think what Mikasa was trying to suggest was that Mr. Arlert has always been said to be a very gentle and caring professor." Sasha said

"You can always take office hours if you really have a hard time." Eren suggested

"Thanks Eren, but I think you're forgetting that I hate doing anything outside of class that won't immediately get me a passing grade."

Eren just shrugged, moving to stuff his notebooks into his own bag. All of them genuinely looking as though he'd just reused them from high school. Each one with a rip in the first page or the spiral unraveling.

"Welp it's 2:00." Sasha reminded you. And you groaned so loud you could practically feel the stares from other tables touching your soul.

"Maybe I'll fall down the stairs and break my ankle before I get up there." You slung your bag onto your shoulder hanging your head as you walked off.

"I'll have your favorite donuts in my room after you get out!" Sasha called

"You should've started with that!"

You made the walk so much longer by dragging your feet up every stair individually and rubbing a finger to your temple. So much so that it surprised you when you walked into the classroom and no one was in there except..

"Oh hello."

Hot..

So so very hot..

His smile sparkled only futher brightened by his deep blue eyes. His short blond hair parted slightly over his forehead. His blue button up was cuffed up against his forearms revealing a very slender but still fairly muscular set of hands. He probably had a nice chest too.

"You must be Y/N." He chuckled and before you could reassociate he was giving you a whole new list of things to think about as he bent over his desk to retrieve a piece of paper.

"Here's the syllabus. You're starting kinda late so it will be helpful to you to come to office hours. My office hours are at the bottom here." When he reached forward to point his scent caught you by surprise. A sweet almost fruit like smell wafted up your nose. "I hope you'll catch on quickly. Sit wherever you'd like."

His remark barely registered in your mind, your mouth hung open immediately slamming shut as the class quickly began to fill.

Before you could get swept up by the people flooding into the room you made your way to the front plopping down into the seat closest to the window. When you looked up again from where you'd yanked your binder almost haphazardly out of your bag, you caught the quickest wink you'd ever seen in your entire life.

Or maybe it was your imagination.

But the way he leaned a little closer when he approached you wasn't.

"Front row? Good choice."

Regardless of the heart problems he'd recently caused you he was moving on. Quickly silencing the class and starting the lesson.

Hot.

The only thought racing through your head.

Hot. Hot. Hot..

He was pretty! When he turned off the light his eyes didn't dull in the almost blinding way in which they shone. His hair fluttered over his forehead and ears and his shirt seemed to hug his chest tighter every time he reached up to turn off the projector or even just to reach a high spot on the board.

You already knew everything from today was going in one ear and out the other but it was really hard to give a damn when your professor's pants cupped his ass they way they did. His dark shoes clicked across the floor and-

"Do you understand any of it? I know it's your first day."

You blinked up at him hoping your eyes weren't as wide as they felt or that you weren't popping your mouth open and close like a suffocating fish.

He smiled, flipping the paper on the desk around till it faced him. "Can I?" He reached for the tip of your pen and as you let it go your fingers brushed in probably the strongest current of static that had ever touched your body.

"Don't worry ok this is just a practice test I wanna see what you know." He said, leaving a couple marks on the paper. He then pointed to the two empty test questions. "Don't leave anything blank ok."

This time when he walked away you were without a doubt certain he'd winked. When you looked down at your paper again you could see 3 checks on the paper in the light blue ink you were using and a little smiley face in the corner.

Your chest honestly had no right fluttering the way it did over something so trivial.

The class was only an hour and forty minutes but when it was over you felt like you'd only been seated there for ten minutes. When you handed the test paper back he sent you one final wink that made your knees buckle.

"See you next time." He said and you had to forcibly stop yourself from shuttering.

You half speed walked half ran out of there as soon as his classroom door had shut behind you. All the way to Sasha's dorm room.

You slammed it open already knowing Sasha only kept it locked when she wasn't in there. Your chest was heaving and you held onto the door frame for support. Noticing the immediate and visible flinch from Eren and Sasha.

"He's. Hot!!" You gasped for air before walking in and sinking to the floor in front of Sasha. She didn't budge as you fell against her shoulder just wrapped an arm around your shoulders hugging your back. "Oh god he's so hot.." You breathed into Sasha's collarbone.

"Looks like she did learn something." Eren muttered

"No! You don't understand he's like so pretty!"

Mikasa didn't even try to hide the way she rolled her eyes and Eren just sighed.

"Aww you've got a crush on your professor that's adorable." Sasha said, reaching into the box next to her, grabbing your favorite donut she pushed it into your open mouth pulling it back slightly to allow you to chew.

You sobbed a little before sighing and falling back into Sasha's neck. "What the hell am I gonna do?" You sighed

"Focus on passing the class is probably the first step." Eren replied

"Now you're just being silly." You replied, rubbing your fingers into the floor.

Sasha brought the donut back up to your lips smiling as you took another bite. "I wanna see him now! Isn't he the really young professor? Like he's supposedly only twenty five as of recently and got hired less than a year ago."

"Yeah.." You quickly put your password into your phone, turning the screen so Sasha could see.

Mikasa and Eren scooted closer as Sasha took a closer look. "He is pretty." Mikasa was the first to speak.

"Why do you just have his picture pulled up? How're you already being creepy?" Eren questioned

You scoffed, "I just happened to be looking on Instagram during a quick bathroom trip.. and I just so happened to look for him.. it's his fault for making it easy." You snatched the donut from Sasha taking a bigger bite.

"Yeah no I agree with Eren this is cree- AW HE HAS A DOG!" Sasha snatched the phone zooming in on the puppy in his lap.

"Actually it's his family's dog. Her name's Pumpkin and he goes home as often as possible to see her. A small two hour train ride to be exact." You sigh briefly "I've never really liked Terriers as a dog breed but that one's so cute.."

"Is the dog cute or is it the guy holding her?" Mikasa questioned with a little smirk.

"Not helping Mikasa.." Eren interjected "What are you even thinking? No matter if you like professor Arlert or not he has to keep it professional and so do you."

"Eren, look at the puppy." You took your phone from Sasha turning the screen back to face him.

He glanced down at the image then back into your eyes with a raised eyebrow.

"Puppy!"

"Creepy!" He pressed the power button on your phone and you deflated against Sasha's legs letting your phone turn over onto its face.

"I'll never understand why you don't go for a degree in hacking or something the way you always manage to pull up information on people." Mikasa shook her head.

"Probably going to be stuck with more math classes for one and secondly when I become a supervillain I don't need everyone knowing it was apart of my major." You replied, with an exaggerated eye roll.

Sasha shrugged, "If it was your major I'm pretty sure everyone would understand your descent into madness."

"I can't believe you just said that.." Eren groaned, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"Me or her?" You asked

"Yes!"

~~~~

Thursday came too soon. Or maybe you should say, finally Thursday is here! You jumped back and forth between the two but by the time you slid into the honestly uncomfortable classroom seat and placed your bag between your legs you knew exactly what you felt.

"Professor!" A female's voice caught your attention and you turned slightly to see a short brown haired girl running into the classroom.

"You were right about what I was missing! Once I applied what we talked about in office hours it became so simple."

"That's what I like to hear Petra." He winked as he flipped through a stack of papers on his desk.

Wait, had he always done that to all the students or had you just not noticed last time? You felt your shoulders hunch but they were instantly picking back up again as he slid a piece of paper onto your desk.

"You did pretty well on that practice test. Seems like you'll be up to speed in no time." He smiled, a deep warm smile that made your stomach squeeze.

Your lips curled upwards and you quickly moved to hide it behind your paper as he walked away.

"You too huh?"

You felt your skin practically vibrate but you hoped and prayed it wasn't too noticeable.

"Wh-what?" You glanced over at the girl Petra who sat only one desk away from you. Her features flat and her eyes dark in the middle an almost scary contrast from earlier.

"You're into him too?" She muttered

Was it that obvious? Stupid question. How could you be so obvious?

"I don't think you'll win out." She continued and before you could question it, she pointed to the back row.

It seemed almost like a tussle as Mr. Arlert was being held hostage by another young female holding his hand. He smiled mildly awkwardly as he spoke with her, nodding his head to everything her and the other girls surrounding her said. The first girl running a thumb over the back of his hand.

You felt your skin prickle and you exhaled loudly. "So.. I'm guessing you too.."

Petra blinked at you then quickly shifted around in her seat. Mr. Arlert quickly approached the front of the room clapping to get the classes attention. And with that the lesson was beginning.

You noticed from the clap at the beginning of class to the last word uttered that not one word in Mr. Arlert's lesson had actually registered in your mind. Your thoughts too full of Petra's words, her blank almost villainous expression as she'd talked.

And that girl's hand. That annoying girl in the back row. You peeked your head back there looking at the now empty chair. In fact the entire classroom was empty and had been for at least 15 minutes since you continued to struggle with stuffing your binder back into your apparently shrunken bag.

"Need help?"

You bit your lip and looked away as he came closer. You weren't really standing up straight but you immediately noticed the way he towered over you. His fingers so delicate in the way they brushed over yours sliding the irritating object into the confines of your bag.

"Thank you.." You whispered

He chuckled, "No problem, happy to help."

His eyes didn't leave yours for an almost uncomfortable amount of time so you shifted your feet backing away a little. He seemed to notice and placed a hand on the back of his neck, backing up himself.

Oh no. Now he was getting uncomfortable.

He made his way back over to his desk but not before you'd slipped in something to ease the tension. "Sorry for over staying my welcome.."

He let out a soft chuckle. "You're not bothering me plus there are no classes in here for two hours after mine on Thursday. You can stay as long as you'd like."

"O-oh." You face palmed internally at your stupid reply. "So.." You began again. "Do you mind if I asked you how you're such a young professor.."

His eyes flickered up from the work he'd been filling out. "Well, I skipped a couple grades and I was in college by 15. I'm actually still in college now but I was an assistant teacher at 18 for about three years for a high school a couple blocks from here before I became a full fledged teacher and then I worked at the same school as a teacher for three more years before I finally left and started teaching here."

It should've been obvious from the start that he'd worked tireless hours of school to get here at such a young age. Not to mention probably having worked just as hard in the gym. He'd only leaned back a little bit in his chair but it was enough for you to have a perfect mental image.

Your eyes flicked up to his much softer more.. Arlert like smile? Maybe? It just felt like the kind of smile he'd give a friend and less like the smile he used in the classroom. Not that that one felt fake, just.. different.

"Do you.. I mean.. have you always had girls?.." His eyebrows scrunched as you spoke. You pointed to the back of the classroom. "You're young I mean, do girls always touch you like that?"

He blinked up at the ceiling then back down to you. Your breath hitched as he pulled himself up from the desk walking closer to you.

"As soon as they find out I'm not that much older than them? Yeah."

You probably should've stopped but your brain was suddenly working independently. "Does it?.. Do you like that kind of attention?"

He sat down on the desk crossing his arms over his chest and his leg over his knee. He spoke his head. "Not normally no."

"Normally?"

He stood again but this time he stopped directly in front of you. Sharp blue eyes cold and yet warm and vibrant. The desk creaked under your weight as you leaned back into it. His hands at your sides, his breath tickling your upper lip.

His thumb came up to graze your cheek but was quickly removed and planted back on the desk. "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded way too eagerly and-

So so so much softer than you'd even thought imaginable. His nose rubbed against yours and he was pulling away. Too soon.

You grabbed the back of his neck, yanking him back to you. Immediately delighted by the warm touch of his pretty pink lips.

He pulled back and you yanked him forward. Over and over again with soft peppered kisses. And then one slightly longer one where he was comfortably mushing his lips against yours.

[lacharcutiere]

still [sawamura daichi]

1,6k words

previous | masterlist | next ➪

part eight of i’m gone i’m gone i’m gone miniseries. you can only put these things off for so long.

JST: japanese standard time (GMT +9). EST: eastern standard time (GMT -5). EDT: eastern daylight time (GMT -4).

tings // fluff, a little bit of angst, kinda suggestive at the end ?? // i swear this søng is abøut eating øut my best friend's pussy - cøzybøy // dm, ask or comment to be added to taglist ! minors dni.

☾𓆙𓂻

— JAPAN, SUMMER 2024.

the summer passes like this: you and daichi laughing too loudly in busy restaurants and train cars; having arms around each other in the back of taxis on the way home from clubs; making instant udon at three a.m.; walking up and down the neighborhood a hundred times; laying silently side by side and not needing to say anything. it's a routine, it's familiar—it's home.

a couple weeks before you're set to head back to new york, daichi asks you a question as you lay next to him on a blanket in your driveway, staring up at the stars.

"have you decided what your plans are after college?"

"i'm gonna come back here."

"i thought you wanted to go to grad school? you can do way better in the states, especially with a degree from columbia."

you roll onto your side so you can look at him better. "i know. but i've been away too long already. i miss you."

he gives you a little smile. "but i'm right here."

"right here is pretty fucking far from america."

"hm."

"hm."

that's the end of the conversation.

— 2 AUGUST 2024. 23:09 JST.

everything happens the exact same way it has for the past three years: he takes you to the airport. you try hard not to cry; you say your goodbyes. check-in, security, buy some candy to eat at the gate. board the plane. sixteen hours later, you're in america.

one thing was different, though.

when he said goodbye, his lips touched yours.

you don't stop thinking about it for weeks.

☾𓆙𓂻

— AUGUST TO NOVEMBER 2024.

slightly relieving is the fact that amid thesis writing and too many classes and working an internship under one of your professors (that one's nice, it even earns you enough to get a small apartment a few blocks from campus), there proves to be little time to be spent missing daichi.

you finesse your schedule to fit weekly facetimes on friday evenings (new york time) and shoot random texts back and forth about your day between classes and during meals, and without much space for anything else, it's enough. good things are worth waiting for, anyway.

— DECEMBER 2024.

but then winter sem break rolls around and there's no school so it's back to having too much lonely alone time with your thoughts. you write daichi a christmas card and drop it off at the post office. it's early this year, but oh, well.

☾𓆙𓂻

a week before christmas you receive a call from an unknown number. the phone speaker crackles when you accept the call.

“hello?”

“hey.” the voice on the other end is bright, smiley, accented. it’s tōru.

“tōru? what’s up?”

“i’m outside,” he says, “come down and meet me?”

you’re a little confused, but you decide to humor him. “uh, okay, give me a minute… do i need anything?”

“bring a coat, it’s cold out. i’ll be waiting down here.” the call ends.

a few minutes later you push through the doors of the building to be met with a brisk wind and tōru standing by a payphone, grinning.

“do you have your subway pass?”

you feel inside your pocket for it and nod.

“good,” he says. “come on, we’re in a hurry.”

“where are we going?”

“downtown.”

“ohhkay?”

he laughs. “‘s not anything you won’t like, promise.”

you follow him into the nearest subway entrance, lost in thought as you push through the barrier and step onto the train. it's only when he nudges you and says, "this is our stop," that you realize you've been looking at the ground the whole time.

tōru notices how absent you seem to be and asks, "are you okay?"

"i would be if i knew what was going on," you respond.

"yeah," he says, leading you up the stairs and into the terminal, "yeah, i think you will be."

you're in grand central. tōru asks if he can borrow your phone for a second. when he hands it back to you, he doesn't say anything, just takes you by the arm smiling widely and leads you into the fray of commuters that fill the station.

"tōru!" you groan, "can't you just tell me where we're going?"

"magnolia," he replies simply.

"we came all the way here just for coffee?"

"mhm."

"tōru!" he stops walking and turns back to you, trying and failing miserably to stop grinning for a second. "what the fuck?"

"come on," he says, "you'll like it."

"we've been here before! what's so special about—"

"you'll see."

☾𓆙𓂻

coffee in grand central is surprisingly good. it's also surprisingly expensive. ah, well, it's new york. new york has much more to offer than just overpriced cafés.

such as... this. such as a laughing man that leads a remarkably pissed-off looking girl by the arm, towards this stupidly good, stupidly overpriced café.

the pair are weaving through a stream of people, almost there, and then they're there, and the girl is looking much less agitated now. she looks somewhere between crying and wanting to run in the opposite direction. thank god, she chooses the former.

he loves you. so much.

☾𓆙𓂻

"daichi?" you mean it to be a scream but your voice cracks a little and it comes out airy.

he has the exact same look on his face that tōru's had this whole time. "hi."

"oh my god, what the fuck?"

"you said it was lonely, tōru told me maybe it would be nice for you to have a date for new year's, i had some extra money saved up. so i came."

"you— what?" you look back at tōru. "you planned this? just? last minute?"

"nah," daichi laughs, "no, i meant to come visit you for christmas a while ago. i already had tickets and everything, i was gonna tell you but then i got your card and figured it might be more fun if it were a surprise."

"oh my god." that's all you can think to say.

— CHRISTMAS 2024.

you can't even explain how good it feels to wake up and walk into the living room to find daichi asleep on your couch on christmas morning, how good it feels for it to not just be you. the whole time he's been here, though, you've forced yourself not to think about the fact that he's going back home in a week and a half, forced yourself not to do anything just yet. soon, though. just a few more months.

☾𓆙𓂻

when he wakes up, you're making coffee for the two of you.

"merry christmas," he says, wrapping one arm around your shoulders. he places a card on the counter in front of you. "open it."

its message is simple.

you do as it says.

"i, uh, haven't gotten you anything yet, but—"

"daichi," you laugh, "it's okay. and um, i may have also not been able to get you anything. also because i didn't know you'd be here."

"wait, wait, i'm not finished."

"okay?"

"what do you want to do after you're done this year of school?"

"i already told you," you say, "i'll move back home."

"no, what do you want to do? you want to go to grad school, right? continue studying here?"

"no, i just want to stop waiting." you sigh, a little frustrated. "i don't wanna have to keep putting this off, it's been—"

he cuts you off. "i'll be here."

"huh?"

"i'll be here. or wherever."

"i don't get it?"

you've always loved the way daichi's nose scrunches up when he smiles. "you're the one planning on studying more, not me. not immediately, anyway. i'll go with you."

"daichi."

"what?"

"you're fucking joking."

he laughs; you look so confused right now. "i'm not. promise."

"i don't even—"

"hey."

"hm?"

"think you can handle long-distance for five months?"

"uh—" you inhale sharply. "yeah."

"good," he says, "then we don't have to keep putting this off."

it's been five months since you last let your lips touch his. it still feels just like the first time it happened.

— 31 DECEMBER, 2023. 19:36 EST.

he tries not to let you pay for dinner, but in the end, you slip the waiter your card while daichi's in the bathroom. it's his birthday; it's your treat.

and after dinner, there's that new year's eve party that tōru's been going on about. it feels good, so good, not to be there alone. it feels good to watch the broadcast from downtown and count the seconds to midnight as daichi's arms are wrapped around you from behind. the clock reaches zero; daichi kisses you hard. you're both drunk on champagne.

you watch him smile across the room at tōru, who's got his girl on his arm. the two of them look happy, too. everything is warm.

— DEPARTURE: 3 JANUARY 2025. 08:15 EST.

daichi's asleep next to you when the alarm on his phone goes off. you'll miss not waking up next to him for the next five months, but at least that's all it will be.

he makes faces at you in the mirror as you both brush your teeth; keeps trying to tug your sweater off when you get dressed. you spend these thirty minutes laughing with him until it hurts. the two of you take the subway back to grand central; make out in a corner of the terminal while he waits for his train to jfk international to arrive.

"see you in may."

— 21 JANUARY 2025.

taglist: @sakruisin-thru @softetsurou @oligbia

[wondernimbus]

a day in hogsmeade — ron weasley

pairing: ron weasley x female!reader

summary: ron weasley may be one awkward lad who can’t hold reader’s gaze for any more than ten seconds, but he is also terribly endearing. 

a/n: @glisseoo​ asked for some ron fluff so i shall deliver

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work! 

"You do realize you've been staring at me for the past minute, right?"

The redhead next to her flushes the same hue as his hair and puffs his cheeks out, gaze skittering away. "I wasn't," he says indignantly, sounding far too defensive, snorting out a laugh as though the mere idea of it is outrageous. “Why would I be.. ha.. staring at you.. ridiculous.."

[Y/N] shakes her head, grinning.

Ron Weasley is one awkward lad; it has only taken her an hour into their date at Hogsmeade to realize this. Part of her had been expecting it ever since he'd come up to her in the Great Hall three days ago, a furiously blushing mess as he blubbered something about asking her out. Looking back on it, despite him having rambled on in front of her for about half a minute, all she can really remember—all she'd vaguely made out at that moment through his constant stammering—were the words "Hogsmeade" and "this Saturday" and "want to—um—go with me". 

She’d said yes, of course. Ron Weasley may be awkward, but she can't deny herself the pleasure of going on a date with a very cute—and apparently very funny, according to the rumors—redheaded boy. 

And to be honest, his awkwardness is quite endearing. [Y/N] finds herself laughing every five minutes or so whenever she spots him downright staring at her—and whenever she catches him, he always tears his gaze away and pretends to be preoccupied with something else.

Ron does it again now, as [Y/N] surveys the Honeydukes shelves and glances at him out of the corner of her eye. The effect is almost immediate; the moment her eyes land on his, he looks away, hand flying up to randomly pluck a box of—ah, Cockroach Clusters—off of the shelves.

"Interesting choice," muses [Y/N], turning around to properly face him, twiddling with a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans in her hands. "Can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone pick up a box of Cockroach Clusters for their own enjoyment—it almost always has something to do with some sort of practical joke.”

Ron coughs and puts the box back on the shelf. "Was just looking."

[Y/N] purses her lips together to contain the giggles threatening to burst out from behind them. She smiles down at her feet for a moment, lips pinched in a poorly-concealed smile, and then gestures to the row of Cockroach Clusters. "Well," she shifts on her feet, "Have you ever tried them?"

Ron's eyes widen. He practically blanches and says, "Never. My brothers—Fred and George—tricked Percy into eating it once.. don't think he was the same ever since."

[Y/N] laughs at this. Ron looks up, seemingly pleasantly surprised at her reaction, and then laughs quietly under his breath, hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "That does sound like Fred and George," [Y/N] giggles. "Do you take after them?"

"Gah, no." They’ve started walking now, Ron keeping pace next to her in the narrow aisle, their shoulders brushing slightly. "Mum would have a heart attack. She’s got enough on her platter with two troublemakers in the family already."

[Y/N] raises her eyebrows and glances up at him. "You sure you aren't one? I’m in your Potions class, you know. I’ve heard you talk back to Snape plenty of times."

Ron flushes red not for the first time that day. "Can't really help it. He’s a bit of a git." And then he adds, "Sorry."

"Oh, don't be." [Y/N] waves a hand in the air as though to brush it off. "You’re not wrong. Can’t keep his nose out of other people's business—you know he gave my friend detention once for disrupting his class when all he did was sneeze?"

"I remember that. Wasn’t that Ernie?"

"Exactly—Ernie Macmillan. Snape made him clean the trophy room."

Ron makes a sound in the back of his throat like a snort. "Ah. The trophy room. Probably didn't have much to clean, then. I scrubbed the bloody hell out of those trophies four years ago when I got detention."

[Y/N] laughs, nudging him lightly by the elbow. "And you say you're not a troublemaker."

This time, Ron doesn't blush beet red; he actually laughs, and [Y/N] is pleased at how he's managed to ease up a little. Shrugging, he admits, "Suppose I am. Not as bad as the twins, though, as I’m sure you know."

"I and the rest of the castle," [Y/N] affirms, giggling. They’ve reached the cashier by now—and speak of the devil; the Weasley twins are standing in line, though their backs are turned. "Isn’t that them?" asks [Y/N] curiously, looking to Ron for confirmation.

But the sight she's met with is rather comical. All the color seems to have drained from Ron's face; he looks like he's seen a ghost. Gaping a little, eyes wide in what looks like panic, he clears his throat and says, "I think we should go."

But luck is not on Ron's side, because either Fred or George—[Y/N] can't really tell which one—turns around, and at the sight of their younger brother, beams widely and exclaims, "Ron! Fancy seeing you here, dear brother!"

"Fred," says Ron through gritted teeth, and then, once the other twin has turned around, "George."

"Shopping for sweets, aren't we?" grins George. 

And then, seemingly at the same time, their gazes land on [Y/N], who stands at Ron's side, amused. An identical flicker of surprise crosses the both of their faces before Fred manages to say, with his eyes darting between the two of them, "Is this what I think it is?" 

"Oh, my." George’s mouth has fallen open in an incredulous laugh. "Is ickle-Ronniekins on a date? with [Y/F/N], no less?"

[Y/N] side-eyes Ron to see that he has tensed and is glancing around as though in search for the nearest exit. She scoffs a little at the twins, and, sending them an exasperated look, scolds them by saying, "Oh, leave 'Ronniekins’ alone. He’s been nothing but sweet the entire day."

Their grins grow even wider. "Isn’t that right?" says Fred, tone still teasing. "Well, I must say: We're proud of you, Ronniekins. See you've finally found it in you to ask out the girl you've been obsessing over for two whole years now."

[Y/N]'s eyebrows rise up in intrigue. Ron's cheeks, meanwhile, flush an even darker shade of red. "I'm not—" he begins.

"And since you two are together—"

"We’re not—" Ron tries again. 

"—you ought to start teaching him how to play Quidditch, [Y/N], you being a Hufflepuff chaser and all," Fred continues smoothly. Up ahead by the cashier, someone has successfully made their purchase; the twins take a step back, moving up the line without even looking behind them. "Ron’s planning on trying out for the Gryffindor team next year, you see."

"What the—how do you know that?” Ron gapes. 

"We’d teach him ourselves," says George, sighing, "But Ron's temper is a little—ah—"

"Fiery?" Fred suggests.

"Let’s just say one time he grabbed my Beater bat in mid-air and whacked me upside the head with it."

An amused laugh leaves [Y/N]'s lips before she can even think about suppressing it. "Is that true, Ron?" she says, tone playfully scolding.

Ron rolls his eyes, grumbling, "That was after they jinxed my broom to let out farting noises every five seconds."

Another laugh. "Interesting," she hums. "Well, thanks for the tip, you two." And then, narrowing her eyes at them good-naturedly, "I’ll be sure to teach your brother Quidditch—with a method that doesn’t involve farting jinxes, of course."

Fred and George beam. They’re up next in line. "I bagsy best man at your wedding," Fred announces, swiveling around to face the cashier.

"No, I do—" argues George, turning around to pile up the sweets in his arms on the counter. 

Moments later, the twins are waving their goodbyes, all the while dramatically sobbing into their hands and saying something about their little brother growing up too fast. Fred pats [Y/N] on the shoulder as he passes by, saying in a hushed voice that he'd totally meant for Ron to hear, "Take care of ickle-Ronniekins for us."

And then [Y/N] and Ron are left in the Honeydukes shop, Ron with a flushed face and [Y/N] heavily amused. "That was.." she exhales, laughing as she slides her box of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans across the counter. "Quite something. Are they always like that?"

"Every bloody waking moment," complains Ron, shoulders sagging as he practically deflates against the counter, leaning his hip on it. "Sorry about them, they're.."

"A bit much?”

"That’s an understatement," Ron comments, obviously still spiteful.

"Did you really hit your brother with his own bat?" she glances at him, eyes alight with genuine curiosity as she takes the paper Honeydukes bag from the shopkeeper with a polite "thank you". 

Making their way to the exit, Ron nods, his own eyes shining with a kind of fieriness that [Y/N] can't help but laugh at. Passionately, he says, "And I’d do it again."

She starts chortling at this, walking through the door as Ron holds it open for her. “Interesting group of brothers, you all are," she enthuses, smiling at him somewhat sympathetically once her giggles have faded. It’s still snowing outside; she pulls the ends of her scarf tighter around her neck.

[Y/N] purses her lips, falling quiet for a moment as though pondering over something, and then, her lips tugging up at the edges, she looks up at him and asks, "And have you really been obsessing over me for two years?"

Ron's eyes grow wide and they skirt away almost immediately, hand flying up to scratch the back of his neck like some sort of defense mechanism. "I—I don't—" he sputters out," I mean—not obsessed—" and then he pauses, as though to start over. Shoulders deflating, he mutters, eyes still downcast, "I've.. always found you really pretty, is all."

[Y/N] scuffles her feet against the ground. The smile tugging on her lips is far too insistent, so she just lets herself succumb to it and grin down at her shoes before she looks up at him, eyes alight with mirth, and says, "It's fine, Ron. That's really sweet of you." And because she has a feeling he doesn't want to talk about his—erm—feelings anymore, she asks, "Do you want to go into the Three Broomsticks next? Grab some butterbeer, maybe?"

Ron nods. But his eyes don’t fail to catch onto the way she’s rubbing her naked hands together—she’d forgotten her gloves. He doesn’t pause to ask and instead takes off his own immediately, handing them to her without quite meeting her eyes.

Despite the rush of gratitude this tiny act gives her (and the butterflies it lets loose in her stomach), she holds her palms out at Ron in a stopping gesture, hurriedly saying, “Oh, no—keep them, Ron, your hands will get cold—“

“Just take them,” Ron says, still abashed. “Can’t have you freezing to death.”

She pauses, another fond smile tugging on the corners of her lips, and then exhales defeatedly and takes the gloves from him, putting them on. “Well, I doubt I’d freeze to death,” she mutters, “but thank you.” Once the gloves have fitted snugly around her hands, she looks up at Ron, smiling softly, and says, “Ready to go, then?”

“Yeah, let’s—oh, blimey. I forgot. Wait here!”

Before [Y/N] even begins to register his words, Ron has disappeared and is dashing back into Honeydukes, leaving her standing outside, bewildered.

Isn’t he something else—leaving his date behind, alone in the snow. [Y/N] can’t help but laugh, giggling to herself as she clamps her hand over her mouth, earning strange looks from Hogwarts students passing by. 

Ron Weasley is awkward and a bit of a mess around her, but [Y/N] finds that it’s quite adorable. And it’s certainly an assurance to know that she’s not the only one venturing into unknown territory—this is her first date, after all. And to be completely honest, she’s enjoying it. Initially she thought she’d be having too hard of a time dealing with Ron’s overbearing awkwardness, but it’s quite the opposite, as she’s grown fond both of it and of him in general.

And that fondness only multiplies when Ron bumbles out of the Honeydukes shop a few minutes later, holding an entire block of wrapped chocolate in his hands, which he hands to her.

“Thought you might like it,” he says, abashed, only managing to hold her gaze for a few moments before his eyes are darting away again. “Would’ve bought it earlier.. got distracted..”

[Y/N] tells herself that the pink blush that is no doubt spreading across her cheeks is most definitely because of the cold and not because of a certain Ron Weasley.

Feeling a thousand things all at once—all of which (so be it) have something to do with Ron—she smiles, all crinkled eyes and dimpled cheeks, and stands on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

Flushing, she pulls away. This time she’s not quite meeting his gaze, either, as she says, “Let’s get going, shall we?”

Without waiting for a response, she scurries away, cheeks a blazing shade of red as Ron stands there, hand coming up to brush against the spot on his cheek where she���d kissed him.

[poppinisperfection]

Cool. || Peter Maximoff x Reader pt. 1 ||

Peter Maximoff x fem!human!Reader

(Y/n) is history teacher.

Requested.

Word Count: 3543

Notes: Peter acts a little strange in this, he's not being cold on purpose - so keep that in mind. Let's all presume (Y/n) is an independent woman who doesn't let an aloof guy ruin her day 💫 it's more of an introduction, so sorry if that dissapoints y'all. I hope you enjoy this extremely long piece of writing, let me know what you think. Requests are open 🙌

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @scorpionchild81

Masterlist

I flicked the indicator, as it clicked rhythmically and signaled my next turn. Grasping the steering wheel tightly, I wondered whether the direction I was heading in was the right one. My eyes drifted down to the small business card that was beginning to wrinkle from the amount of times it had been read and re-read.

‘Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York’

With a deep breath, I pushed my foot gently on the accelerator and turned the wheel - solidifying my decision. I drove down the graveled driveway as the evening sun pierced through the acres of fields and forests that dotted the landscape. This place was unlike any school I had ever seen. I had taught at various institutions of all kinds during my training, but something about this place was like something out of a fairytale or Jane Austen novel.

The old academic building grew closer as I prepared to slow down my vehicle and stop at the entrance. I peered around, trying to see if there was any places dedicated for me to park; but as far as I could tell, this was the only appropriate place for me to stop. 

I pulled out my key and felt the car’s engine fade to silence. I didn’t notice how comforting the gentle grumbles of the vehicle had been until they were gone. Now, all that was left was my mind and the thousand worries that crashed around inside it. I'm not a mutant, but I often wonder if being anxious about everything is some sort of weird useless mutation that I unfortunately had. 

Before I could become consumed by my menial fears, the vintage wooden doors opened up as if on cue. A man in a chair wheeled out as his familiar face smiled at me, and I was honestly quite awe-struck by his sudden appearance. I had spoken to Professor Charles Xavier on the phone before (for the job interview), and I had watched him on television a few times, but something about actually being near him was so incredible. This man changed the lives of so many people, possibly even the world.

I took a deep breath in and returned the kind smile, opening my car door and placing my feet onto the ground - the gravel crunching underfoot.

"Professor Xavier, it's so good to meet you." I spoke nervously, unsure of what I should do with my posture. Should I shake his hand? Should I high-five him? Should I bow? Okay maybe those last two were a bit far-fetched...

"The pleasure is all mine, (Y/n)." A voice rang through my head, as if it were my own thoughts speaking to me. But I recognized the voice, a smooth English accent that belonged to the world's most famous telepath.

"Incredible..." I breathed. Some might find it intrusive or freaky, but I was quite honored and honestly dazzled by his abilities. A figure appeared behind the wheelchair-bound man, distracting me from my child-like awe.

"Don't be a such a show-off, Charles." my attention turned to a tall man wearing a pair of glasses and a smart checkered shirt. "Good Evening, I'm Hank McCoy." he piped up cheerily, holding out his hand for me to shake. I absentmindedly took it, a bit starstruck by the world-renowned engineer, scientist, blue-furry man, and genius.

"(Y/n) (L/n)." I eventually spoke up, causing Hank to raise an eyebrow at my words.

“’(L/n)’? You're the new history teacher?" I nodded at his question, "Oh wow, you came so highly recommend that I presumed you'd be a bit more... experienced?" he chose his words carefully as to not offend. I know that most people picture an old greying woman who wears outdated fashion when they think of a history teacher...

"Oh, I'm young, I know." I explained with a bashful chuckle. 

“Hank, you of all people should know greatness is not defined by age.” Charles turned to his colleague. 

“I read that you graduated Harvard at 16.” I blurted out. 

“15, actually.” McCoy mumbled humbly. Xavier gave a satisfied smile as his point was proven. 

“(Y/n) here was top of her class, and I have no doubt that she’ll be a wonderful addition to the school.” the wise mutant stated, assuring Hank and giving me a boost of confidence. “Come inside, Hank can carry your bags for you, won’t you?” the professor inquired cheekily as McCoy threw him a look of slight distain. 

“Somedays I wish I wasn’t born with super-strength...” the academic man shook his head - the comment laced with light-hearted sarcasm - before heading to my car and pulling out my two bags, not even giving me a chance to politely object to the offer. 

“Ignore him, he’s just grumpy because he’s not on the mission.” Professor Xavier chuckled, turning his wheelchair around and beckoning for me to follow him inside. 

“I only trust myself to pilot that beauty.” Hank mentioned wistfully, probably referring to his famous aeronautical creation.

“’The mission’?” I questioned with intrigue, trailing behind him and entering the grand entrance.

“The X-Men are on a routine escort mission for the President at the moment,” my attention turned away from the antique décor as I choked on my breath slightly at his words. Of course I had heard of the famous troop of mutant heroes, but it just suddenly became so real. I was living where the X-Men lived. You know, the same X-Men that saved the world from complete destruction. “I was hoping they’d be here to show you around - but duty calls.” Charles finished. 

“Oh of... of course, duty...” I managed to mutter out eventually, earning a slight laugh from the Professor. He didn’t need to be a telepath to read my mind right now. I was so obviously astonished at the whole situation. I couldn’t believe that I was finally here, after months of thinking, considering, and second-guessing. I knew it was a risk, and I couldn’t even return to my parents if it failed.

Let’s just say that my folks weren’t very supportive of my decision to teach at a 'mutant mansion', as they would call it. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was bravery; but I ignored their advice and became determined to come to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngers. Now it was my only chance, since my family won't be welcoming me back anytime soon.

I followed Charles around, as he showed me all the rooms and explained some of the history as Hank make the odd comment or interjection. Most notably that the house was actually only a few years old, owing to the fact that the school had been blown up and rebuild a year ago. That was a fact that I could’ve gone without knowing. All I could do was hope that it didn’t blow up again, or at least not when I was around anyway. 

"Your classroom will be right next to the library," Xavier motioned towards a pair of wooden doors that lay open for students to walk freely into, "and feel free to check out any of the books as well - I have a few secret shelves for teachers, with some unregulated research papers on pre-20th century mutations, if that sounds interesting to you?" he added with a playful smile, as I nodded my head in admiration. This place sounded like an absolute dream, and I've only been here for less than an hour.

-------

As we strolled (and wheeled) down the wooden hallways, I noticed the students disappear one by one. By the looks of it, the early night had truly set in, and the majority of children were either in their rooms studying or hanging out in a common area.

"I suppose there's nothing more we can show you until the class starts tomorrow morning, I was really hoping that the team would be back by now..." Xavier gave a short sigh and furrowed his brows slightly, "But I suppose I've prolonged your tour as long as I could. Perhaps Hank, you could show (Y/n) to her room and she can rest in preparation for tomorrow." his smile returned as he asked his colleague for another favor. McCoy nodded his head and gave me a polite smile, still carrying around my bags from earlier. Maybe he didn't anticipate the Professor giving such an expansive and detailed tour of the mansion, so the bags must've been getting burdensome at this stage.

The spectacle-wearing teacher walked ahead of me and strolled towards the grand staircase that lead to the upstairs area (which we had previously travelled to earlier, but it's mainly bedrooms that we couldn't intrude into). I trailed my fingers along the carved bannister of the staircase, admiring the craftsmanship. Considering the school had been blown apart; this place looked as though it was straight out of a historical drama. The Professor could've went for a more modern update, like the ones you see in magazines and government buildings - but something about the simplicity of 1980s architecture just seemed cold and clinical. I'm glad they kept the historical charm alive.

"So you're really not, well, you know..." Hank broke me out of my daydreaming as he turned his head slightly and paused at the top of the steps. It took me a second to register what he was asking, but then it hit me.

"A mutant? Oh," I gave a meek smile before answering, "No I'm just a regular 'homosapien', completely boring." my sentence ended with a light chuckle at my own expense.

"Then you'll be the first non-mutant teacher here, you're making history." McCoy replied with zest as he began to walk down the hallway again.

"I thought I was supposed to teach history, not make it." I chirped from behind him, earning a snort and chuckle from the nerdy fellow (I know, I know - I'm a superb comedian).

As we passed by the student rooms, I could hear the various sounds emerging from behind their doors. One was gossiping loudly to their friends, another was blasting ABBA and singing along, and I could've swore that I heard some quiet sobs escaping through the keyhole of one door. My face fell into a frown as we passed by, and Hank paused slightly, before turning to me.

"That's Sophie Smith's room, she's homesick a lot." he whispered to me, his features showing concern. "You might have her for a class, so maybe keep an eye out if she's struggling." Hank suggested, as my heart went out for this student. I gave him a nod before we continued on our neverending journey towards my room.

Eventually, we stopped at the end of a corridor and my guide dropped my bags carefully on the wooden flooring. He twisted the door knob with one hand, and I watched as the door opened and revealed my bedroom.

"’Home sweet home’, as the saying goes." Hank uttered with a light tone. I stepped into the room and took my bags from the floor, carrying them in with me.

"It's so..." I breathed, observing the room.

"I know, we were supposed to get the curtains changed last month, but there was a mix-up and it's been dela-" he tried to explain, but I cut him off.

"Oh no! I was going to say, 'It's so perfect'." I clarified, brushing off his embarrassment at the state of the curtains (which were beautiful anyway). I stepped forward and placed my bags at the end of the bed while gazing at the beautiful room. This place was growing on me more and more with each minute that passed. 

“I’ll let you get settled in for the night then, there’s a copy of your timetable on your desk - it has all the information you’ll need for classes and etcetera.” Hank gestured to the neat pile of paper sheets on the wooden desk, “There’s always food in the kitchen, feel free to eat whenever and whatever you want.” he added, as my attention turned to my empty stomach. I will definitely be visiting the kitchen after I get settled in. 

“Thank you, for everything.” I beamed, unable to truly express my gratitude. He returned the smile and nodded, before shutting the door and returning to his business. As soon as his footsteps disappeared, I fell flat on the quilted bedsheets and sprawled out, giving out a pent up sigh. It was the kind of sigh that released anxiety and replaced it with assurance. From the looks of it, things were going to be alright - and there was nothing more satisfying that knowing you made the right decision. 

My brief escape into my feelings was cut short, as my stomach audibly warned me that it was running low on fuel. I turned my head and looked over to the beside alarm clock, reading the time; ‘8:24p.m.’

“Hmm,” I mused as I considered my options, “I should probably read you first...” my eyes drifted to the timetable that sat untouched on the desk. My belly did not agree with this decision, as it grumbled once more. “Okay, alright... yeesh.” I placed a hand against my abdomen, trying to settle the noise. “Food first, read later.” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and resolved to make my way towards the school’s kitchen. 

-------

Finding the kitchen was no problem, as the Professor showed it to me at least three times earlier. I guess he really was trying to stretch that tour out as much as possible. A few of the older students who were hanging around glanced at me as I entered the room. I couldn’t tell if they knew I was a teacher, or if they just thought I was a new student; either way, they didn’t stick around to find out. The group of teenagers grabbed their snacks and left the room once their privacy was interrupted. Honestly, I just think they were gossiping about some pop music band and didn’t want a stranger listening - so I didn’t mind their swift exit. It left me with some privacy as well, which was nice. 

I noticed a small radio sitting in the window sill, and decided to switch it on to break the silence. A static noise rang out as I extended the antenna and turned the knob carefully. Soon a voice grew clearer, and I had reached a station playing something. I just let the song play out, since I didn’t want to bother with searching the airwaves for something else. 

I stepped over to the pantry and surveyed the contents carefully. I was starving, but I couldn’t figure out what for. I picked up a loaf of bread and placed it on the counter, deciding it would have to be a PB & Jelly sandwich. Grabbing a plate, I began to craft my makeshift dinner. Absentmindedly, my head began to sway gently to the tune that played through the tinny radio speaker. It was one of those cheesy love songs that are always playing these days. There was something so catchy about those songs, and instinctively I began to mouth the words and drift into an MTV daydream. 

My brief escape from reality faded away as I noticed a clinking noise coming from the glass and cutlery. It was almost like an earthquake, but I knew that New York was unlikely to experience that kind of disaster (well I hoped so, at least).

A bright light shone outside the window, and I stepped closer to peer out. The basketball court had opened up and revealed a massive basement beneath it. A few seconds later, a black jet descended gracefully from the dark sky and lowered itself underground while the whole mansion trembled with the power it created. I swiftly grabbed the jam jar as it almost slipped off the edge of the counter, and stared in awe. 

“So that’s where they keep it...” I breathed out as the basketball court returned to its normal state, as if nothing had happened. I stood in wonder for a few seconds, still holding the jar tightly in my hands. That was probably the most of the X-Men I’d be seeing tonight. I’m no expert on presidential mission debriefing, but I presumed the team of elite heroes wouldn’t be mingling with the common folk upstairs for at least an hou-

“Ugh, this song’s a real bummer.” 

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a voice suddenly quipped from beside me. My attention hastily turned to a combat uniformed young man - quickly flicking through the radio stations. I stared at him, half confused and half terrified of his sudden appearance. Slowly I began to recognize his features; silvery hair, aloof attitude, and of course, the recognisable X-Men uniform. 

“Hey - you’re that guy...” I tilted my head slightly as I spoke without thinking. In a split second, he appeared at the fridge wearing an entirely new outfit, this time more casual. The music had changed to something more rock-y and alternative, matching his aesthetic. I was almost certain of it. I couldn’t remember his name, but I’ve definitely seen him with the X-Men on the news. I was almost certain of it.

“Nah, you’re thinking of a different guy.” he responded without second thought, while lifting out a can of some kind of soda. I felt my mouth contort in confusion, bemused by his comment. 

“I...” my thoughts paused to phrase my words correctly, “You were just wearing an X-Men uniform, you’ve got to be him.” I managed to retort, causing the confident fellow to raise an eyebrow. With the blink of an eye, he had disappeared from my sight again. 

“So, you don’t even know his name - and you’re convinced he’s me?” the silver-haired guy stated nonchalantly from behind me as he sipped on his drink. I gasped and grabbed my chest in surprise, not expecting him to sneak up behind me like that. I gave a sigh and prepared to answer the question. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and wracked my brain for a moment, “Peter, right?” I sighed, finally recalling the speedy mutant’s name. I looked up at him and expected some sort of witty remark. Instead, he just stared at me for a few seconds. I avoided his gaze awkwardly and looked down at the jam jar that still sat in my hands. Clearing my throat, I placed it carefully onto the counter beside me - trying to distract from his sudden silence. 

“Oh.” I mumbled at the change of topic, “I am. Only arrived here a few hours ago. The Professor showed me around earlier, with Hank, I saw all the classrooms and it was really quite-” I harped on, “I'm sorry, I'm rambling..." my voice lowered, as I watched the casual fellow open up a bag of pretzels and munch on them absentmindedly. He gave a soft chuckle at my apology.

“So, you’re new here?” for the third time, he appeared in a different location, leaving me to turn around one more time. He faced away from me, opening a drawer and surveying its content silently. 

"Cool." he replied simply, placing a few more pretzels into his mouth.

"Cool." I repeated gently, trying to decipher his aloofness. This 'Peter' was blunt, distant, and almost cold. It was as if I had offended him somehow. I stared at my surroundings for a brief moment, before deciding to get off of the wrong foot.

"I'm sorry if I was rude earlier; or was it that I couldn't remember your name?" I tried to find the reason for his indifference, wringing my hands with nerves. Peter raised an eyebrow and scowled slightly at my question.

"Rude?" he asked with a shocked tone.

"Yeah, I thought I offended you?" I explained.

"Nah, nah, we're good." he shrugged my theory off and zoomed over to the bin, throwing the crumpled wrapper in it. "I gotta go now, X-Men stuff." Peter turned to me and excused himself. I gave a soft 'oh' in surprise, and held out my hand for him to shake (just a teacher habit, I guess).

"Nice to meet you anyway, Peter." I smiled at him. The silvery guy just stared at my hand and then looked back up to me - but for some reason, avoided my eyes.

"Cool." he said again, before disappearing from sight; leaving me standing there, alone, holding my hand out for no one. Slowly I lowered my wrist and cleared my throat.

"Cool..." I said to myself, still entirely confused by the interaction. My attention quickly turned to the change in music. The radio suddenly shifted from the grungy tunes, back to the end of love ballad that I was listening to earlier. He must've changed it back. I tilted my head and stared at the little radio in the window, listening and thinking.

Maybe he wasn't as cold as I thought. Maybe I'll try and get a better conversation from that silver-haired boy tomorrow. Maybe I'll get that handshake from him. Maybe.

Still, the only thing that matters right now is that I eat that PB&J sandwich.

-------

[agustdiv1ne]

candy hearts — TEASER

♡ READ HERE ♡

pairing: choi yeonjun x reader

genre: childhood best friends to lovers au, fluff, angst

wc: tbd (projected to be 10k+)

summary: spending valentine's day with your best friend had become a sort of tradition for ever since you were seven years old. despite the twists and turns in your friendship as both of you grew up, the one thing that never changed was the box of candy hearts that he placed in your hands every year.

warnings: tbd, none in this snippet

TEASER

tuesday, february 14th; age 12

you leaned your head against your palm as you zoned out in your last period class. science had never been your favorite subject, even less so given that your teacher had been informally dubbed the school's wack job. 

as the day had dragged on, you realized that the holiday wasn't as widely celebrated in middle school. the so-called 'special' day was reserved solely for the few couples on campus, most of which had been dating for only a couple weeks. you bet most would be broken up by next month, the typical cycle for immature, hormone-riddled relationships. 

but back to your science class.

you felt your eyes nearly roll into your skull as your teacher excitedly explained the concept of genetics and punnet squares. what a riveting topic to listen to for an hour on valentine's day. however, you couldn't focus on his boisterous ramblings when your mind was chock-full of bitter thoughts of how your best friend had decided that he couldn't be seen with you at school. 

okay, maybe not back to your science class. you were too distracted, too bothered, to concentrate.

because while yeonjun had promised to not leave you behind in middle school, it grew exceedingly obvious, as the year went on, that he had lied straight to your face. this holiday was only a painful reminder of that fact.

you couldn't entirely blame him, though, the vast sea of middle school causing you to slowly drift apart from each other as you both tried to find where you fit in. he had made new friends easily, the shy boy you once knew emerged from his shell, countless peers recognizing him for his impressive talents in baseball, in dance, in singing, the list could go on. he was good at everything that he tried his hand at, and by the middle of seventh grade, he had become the campus' golden boy. even the eighth graders knew him!

this came with a cost, however, and that was leaving you, his best friend of five years, behind (for the most part, at least).

you had found your own friends, of course. you had to, or else you would have been deemed a loner, and no one wants to be a loner in middle school. it was uncomfortable, having to talk to people you had never interacted with beforehand. despite this, you had found yourself a little group through your art class: yeri, chaeyoung, and yuqi. they had welcomed you into their trio easily. though it felt weird to have friends other than yeonjun for the first time, you were happy. well, uh, besides the whole yeonjun thing.

with only one class with him, it was easy to not speak to each other during school. your hangouts were now confined to after school, when he wasn't surrounded by his new friends and could make time for you. you never tried to talk to him about it, scared that he'd twist your words and it would destroy what semblance of friendship that remained between you. honestly, you wished that you could go back to elementary school, when things were easier, when you could talk to him at school without worrying about the consequences of doing so. 

yet you knew it wasn't that easy. this wasn't elementary school anymore.

your eyes subconsciously trailed over to the boy in question. you were supposed to hang out with him after school, but there was always that one insecurity that rattled around your mind:

what if this was the year that he finally blew you off? for good? 

you shook your head, going back to the worksheet your teacher had passed out as you were distracted by your thoughts. punnet squares, okay. one parent with a dominant and recessive gene, one parent with two recessive genes. now fill in the squares…

"hey, y/n."

your head shot up from at the sound of his voice. eyes wide at the fact that he was speaking to you at school. it had been months since he had last done so.

"oh, hi yeonjun. what did you need?" you sent him a tight smile, not that he noticed. twelve year-old boys were never most observant.

he placed a box of candy hearts, the same thing he gifted you every year, on top of your desk. it was blank, no message or name in sight.

"i wanted to give you this before i forgot and it got crushed in my backpack." his voice quietened, almost as if he didn't want anyone to hear what he had to say next, "we're still hanging out after school, right? like we always do?"

you nodded, and he shot you a small smile, "great, thanks."

he walked away. as soon as he sat back down in his seat, his friends were punching at his shoulder, teasing him, asking him if he was dating you. you could hear it all from where you were sitting, but you wished you couldn't after what he said next.

"me? with her? no way, we're just friends. i could never see her like that."

you never truly realized how much he truly meant to you until you no longer hung out until after school, but this? this hurt. it made your chest ache when you saw his borderline disgusted face at the insinuation that you were dating each other. what was so bad about you for him to have that reaction? was it your hair, your face, your acne? you found yourself mentally paging through every possible flaw you saw in yourself until the bell rang, signalling the end of school. 

yuqi walked up to you at the front of campus, immediately spotting the forlorn look on your face, "hey, you good?"

"uh, yeah, i guess. listen, i have to go meet up with yeonjun. catch you later?" you asked.

"yeonjun, huh? are you sure you're not dating him?" she smirked, and you rolled your eyes, your mood worsening even more.

"we're just friends," you spat, turning away from her, "he'd never like me like that, anyway. i have no chance with him. i'll see you later, yuqi."

the further you walked, the worse you felt about how you spoke to yuqi. she didn't deserve to deal with the brunt of your wrath, it was uncalled for. you wanted to run back to school and apologize, but you were sure she had already been picked up.

you'd have to make it up to her tomorrow.

as you neared the supermarket a few blocks down the street from school, you could see yeonjun waiting near the entrance, his foot tapping against the sidewalk impatiently. his bike sat next to him, which explained how he arrived much earlier than you.

"took you long enough," he teased as you approached, but you didn't answer, only sending him a half-hearted smile in return. his grin fell, eyebrows now furrowed. oh, now he noticed how you were feeling? typical. "you okay?"

that was the second time you had been asked that now. you wanted to say no, you definitely were not okay, that it hurt to hear him say those words earlier, that it hurt that you couldn't even talk to him during school. you wanted to tell him that you felt abandoned, you wanted to tell him that he broke the promise he made a year ago, that ever since the first day of seventh grade you felt left behind. you wanted to ask him why he even bothered hanging out with you when he couldn't bother even speaking to you at school.

but you didn't.

instead, you plastered an artificial smile on your face, trying to make your voice sound a little more energetic than you felt, "yeah! i guess i'm just tired. science wasn't exactly fun today, y'know?"

"tell me about it," he laughed as he walked beside you, easily accepting your excuse without prying. you wished that he would have pried. "he's the weirdest teacher i've ever had, i can't believe he hasn't been fired yet."

"right?" you replied as you walked down the aisle full of candy. you picked out one of the overpriced boxes of heart-shaped chocolates before walking up to the register. you tried to hand some of your money to the lady helping you, but yeonjun swatted your hand away.

"nuh-uh, you're not paying for this," he argued.

"but-"

"no."

you visibly deflated, scrunching your nose at him in distaste. he simply grinned at you in response.

"ah, young love," the cashier sighed as she took yeonjun's money. your heart clenched, thanking her before you two walked outside again, the air cool against your skin, the sun glaring into your eyes, the weather the complete opposite of your mood. you glanced over at yeonjun. you wondered why he hadn't protested when she said that. you didn't ask.

his hand found yours, dragging you around the corner behind the building. your heart raced, skin heating up slightly at the contact. your reaction couldn't have meant anything. no, you couldn't like him like that. you were friends, nothing more, nothing less.

as you sat next to each other behind the supermarket, unwrapping and eating the chocolate that he had bought you just a few minutes ago, you realized that you really couldn't deny it anymore: you were in love with choi yeonjun, your best friend, and you couldn't do anything about it.

hope y'all are excited :) if you would like to be tagged when the full fic is posted, please send me an ask!

→ © to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[dallonm-archive]

[image description: a wideshot of the san francisco skyline, tinted orange by a sunset. Above the skyline, in a white serif font reads "REVELATIONS, REVELATIONS." in all caps. below, in lower caps reads "update #2" /end id]

Revelations, Revelations | Update #2

Hey besties! I've got a funky little RR update

I've had a little bit of a love hate relationship with this book in the last two months but I am loving it right now! I think my struggles came from how I didn't really accept that this book is Hard to write. like it's complicated! and it's set in another country in another era like idk what to tell you! And accepting that was such a weight off my shoulders because I'm not putting the blame on myself. I also was really stuck in part one's problems and I had to be like <3 bestie <3 abandon it til post draft editing. So right now it's like:

Part one: I see it as a little stray cat in an alleyway that I kneel down in front of like pspspsp :) and then it hisses and bites me because it is actually a feral raccoon. Definitely not where I want it to be but like I can fix him

Part two: super fun!! A lot of deeper (and messier) elements are introduced here and I feel like the story's ~vibes~ have clicked. It's a lot of fun and it's getting complex. Whilst there's conflict going on in part one there's definitely this false sense of stability and then part two hits all of them like a baseball bat

My drafting has been much more chill and non linear too, just writing the scenes I want to and then connecting them together. I've been focused less on rich prose/descriptions and more on prose that explores character and it's been very refreshing! I love my flowery prose but I think it's easy to get caught up in. I'm also no longer going to do chapter by chapter updates, both for plot privacy but also because this story is very delicate both in content and the drafting process and I don't just want to expose the bare bones of that, you know? So I'm just gonna do some sectioned rambles and talk about a couple chapters under the cut!

also no longer doing multiple taglists because i can't keep up so! general taglist, ask to be added or removed! ; @kowlazovdi @avi-burton-writing @ryns-ramblings @kitblogsthings @ezrathings @aetherwrites @radiomacbeth @bijouxs @bookphobe @haldimilks @alicewestwater @bookpacking @shaelinwrites @onlyganymede @theelectricfactory @write-like-babs @oceancold @veiliza @sidhewrites @wolf-oak @oasis-of-you @coffeeandcalligraphy @cecilsstorycorner @howdywrites @keira-is-writing @flip-phones @svpphicwrites

Only major change to report is I switched to alternate POVs instead of multiple chapters at a time in one POV because I'm insane <3 I had a lot of fun braiding POVs in Life Cycle of Massive Stars and wanted to try it here and it works much better! Though at this point I am simply ignoring the existence of part 1 because it really was the guinea pig part LMAO i experimented so much with structure and form and now it's a mess but it's <3 a future problem <3 i'd rather have one messy part than a whole first draft that's behind on my growing ~vision~ of the story.

[image description: a slightly purple tinted photo of two arms extending from the top and bottom of the photo, cropped to only show their hands. Their index fingers touch. in the middle, in a white serif font reads "dorothy" /end id]

Not a chapter, I had a lot of trouble with Dorothy in part 1 but I still love her so instead y'all are getting a mini character ramble! I felt really bad about her for the longest time because I've only been writing her since last summer whereas I've known Felix since like 2018 so there's naturally an imbalance, but I Do Not like that!! And she's really taken her time revealing herself, but I am ~fascinated by her.

I feel she's best summarised by this disillusionment for her life but mostly herself, because she's framed her whole identity by illusory perceptions of other people: a mother she doesn't remember, a girlfriend she breaks up with every six months but still shares a bed with, a twin brother she hasn't seen in person for four years and still sees as a teenager drenched in religious manipulation. It's a lot! She assumes that she feels dissatisfied with her life because she's without her twin, but then Felix returns to her life and shockingly this does not fix all of her problems??? She also doesn't know how to be alone, which definitely will not get better after Felix returns oop

The day her brother decides to leave, Dorothy is home alone.

Her San Francisco apartment is hollow like a hungry stomach. Three days ago, she drove Jolie to the airport then came home to cover the bathroom mirror with towels. On the first day she took an extra shift at the book store, drove through Sea Cliff at sunset, bumped into Mona on the stairwell and joined her and Margot for wine and slipped out when they began arguing over rent and office interns, started then discarded a portrait of a fictional girl and slept from two to five in the morning. On the second day she worked and spent an extra hour designing a window display on science fiction that she put together on the third day. Cut and painted a rocket ship on cardboard that she’ll have to scold kids for tugging, then get scolded herself by their mothers.

The day I finalise a design for their apartment it's over but I call this trick Trying To Get Around The Fact I Made Characters In Their Earlier Twenties Live In San Francisco (cw: drowning)

The apartment is nicer than her, but it’s been home for three years and they get $100 off rent each month because Jolie tends the garden and looks just like the landlady's daughter that drowned in the Pacific.

I don't think I've talked about Jolie much here which is funny because she is probably the most well-received amongst my friends! They love her so much and it's because she's a hot but slightly toxic lesbian smh, I'm like no seriously she does some fucked up things and they're like you promise?? Some funky facts:

Her real name is Jolene and she hates it except when the Dolly Parton song came on, that gives her a god complex

We are going to ignore how I accidentally named two characters after words for beautiful and pretty in French we are going to pretend it was intentional because when this gets published a uni student could get some good analysis out of that in their Intro to Literature class

She joined the cult with her mother at 13 and left as soon as she turned 18 LMAO. She was Dorothy's only connection to the "outside world" and the only reason she was able to leave

Her dream job is gardener/florist! We get it I watched Bly Manor last November. She's also a bartender

would probably have this on her car /j

[image description: a close up of a car sticker of a frog above "MILF" in green caps. below "MILF" reads "Man I Love Frogs" /end id]

Dorothy and Jolie have always been on and off and building tension but Dorothy realises this can't keep going when Jolie gets into a barfight at work and Dorothy feels Insane because she's the only one concerned?? (cw: blood, mild violence)

“You’re lucky it’s not broken.” She angles Jolie’s face, hand under her chin. Even with red blotted around her nostrils and lips, mulberry lipstick smudged, she still smiles like her bruises are a trophy. It’s a surprise she doesn’t dwell on it: it’s just some blood, doll, nothing to worry about. She didn’t even strike that good. Her technique was all off. If she shows her face back here I’ll just teach her how to punch properly. The worst part is over and I’m a big girl. Do I look upset? Am I crying? When they drive home, she’ll ask to stop and see if she can get free cigarettes or beer by holding her nose and making herself cry. She’ll probably ask Dorothy to hit her so it starts bleeding again. But she’s quiet, leans against the basin and lets her dab damp towels on her face. It doesn’t take long to clean up. It was just some blood.

“Nursing,” Jolie says.

“What?” “You keep saying you want to go to school but don’t know what for – nursing. You’re too good at taking care of people.”

That ending is like Top Three dialogue lines that made me really Concerned for how this character arc is gonna go :) but don't worry about it y'all. I do think Jolie genuinely loves Dorothy but that does not mean! the relationship is healthy!

Basically I love her a lot now that I know her better and I am excited to see where she goes! I think the biggest part of her arc is motherhood/daughterhood and TBH as a recently realised trans dude it took me a Minute to feel entitled to write her story? But being a cis woman shaped my life for two decades and getting to navigate that and being a daughter from a perspective that's totally distanced from myself is very helpful. It's about the inherent admiration and pain that comes from being a mother's daughter! (cw: blood, diet culture/disordered eating)

She lies next to the table and presses her forehead to the glass corner and imagines what would shatter first: the glass or her skin. And she imagines being a girl again, with French braids and too much baby fat in her cheeks and being picked up by a mother before the blood stains her hands and then her dress. She’d tell the mother she just wanted to read her magazines, the dog-eared articles about divorce and top tips for menopause and the benefits of eating half a grapefruit before your calorie-counted meals. And the mother would just brush the bangs out her face, press a pack of thawed peas on the wound and let her choose between the band aid with hearts or the band aid with flowers. And maybe the mother would know she did it for attention because they both know a daughters cry slices oxygen like glass to skin, but she’d still detangle her curls in the evening and kiss her forehead goodnight and serve her breakfast in the morning with half a grapefruit – the other half on her own plate, untouched and left to rot.

[image description: an orange firework exploding against a black sky. across the photo, in a white serif font reads "the last 10 hours of 1986" /end id]

This is technically two chapters, one in each POV and they close part one! Title is v explanatory and they're meant to be framed like a countdown - my plan was for the scenes to get shorter as it gets closer to midnight and that didn't really work but? The twins def get messier as the countdown goes down and THAT is what we like to see. This is also the only end of a part where the twins are separated but don't worry about it hehe :)

Dorothy

This chapter is like the First Time Dorothy does something for herself and. Good for her!

She’ll publish poetry under a pen name and horror short stories under another. She’ll paint indigo mountains and magenta oceans and not care when the colours stain her clothes. She’ll teach Felix how to blend acrylics and he’ll teach her how to remember piano notes and they won’t argue about who abandoned who. When Mona and Margot break up, she’ll go down to comfort Mona or Margot and then kiss Margot or Mona. She’ll move out and tell neither of them. She’ll find a landlady with a dead daughter and get a discount on an ocean view apartment with wall-length windows. Isaias will move in next door and they’ll have weekly dinner parties with wine that costs more than $10. She’ll go vegan. She’ll be so in tune with herself she won’t need to read magazine horoscopes or pay $50 for a psychic reading that assumes she knows her grandparents. She’ll know when she’s happy sad angry and why. She’ll take portrait commissions so she can afford a therapist. She’ll love her life and ignore that there’s no space for Jolie because she wants there to be. She’ll need nobody except herself. She’ll try and make things with Jolie work. She’ll kiss a random girl at midnight to see if it’s any different. She’ll go home after the countdown.

I had the revelation (aha) of Isaias and Dorothy as besties and I am OBSESSED! I love Isaias but struggled with his role so I'm really happy about this. Like he practices calligraphy and writes poetry titled after his favourite plants is he not the ideal character!! Hoping this will make it easier to learn about him so we can get that fun content

Felix

Felix's is fun because he makes the best decision of his arc but also the stupidest fucking decision of his arc. He truly has the range NOBODY is doing it like him. Here's a part that mirrors the excerpt above because even when they're apart Felix and Dorothy are like hmm we Will Be Intrinsically Connected (cw: drug, vomit and sex mention sorry he's going through it!!)

Two hours before midnight and Felix is alone in the bathroom. The party he abandoned synths through the ceiling. He plays Love My Way on his Walkman. Highest volume. Eyes closed. Imagines 1987 and decides he’s going to be honest about everything and nothing. He’s going to tell strangers at bars that he studies Literature at Stanford. He’s going to date a girl and pretend he has parents to introduce her to, that he grew up on a farm in Ohio and was secretly raised atheist, lie about what lies his parents told him. He’s going to grow out his hair and and blend cyan on his eyelids and send polaroids to his father with no return address; burn his fingertips on a candle flame like Michael will burn the photos of his son. He’s going to adore himself. He’s going to quit smoking and start jogging. He’s going to fuck Pacific Heights husbands whilst their wives sleep in the master bedroom and maybe they’ll angrily call him when they’re served divorce papers and hang up when he laughs. He’s going to get promoted to Assistant Manager and not care that his job is dead-end. He’s not going to kiss anyone at midnight because he doesn’t want to. He’s going to flush the cocaine because he doesn’t want it. He’s going to stare at his reflection until it moves for him. He’s going to vomit in a minute. He’s going to pierce his right ear with a sewing needle.

Felix at the end of part one: I give no more fucks!!! I am going to do whatever I want!!! Life is too short!!!

Felix at the end of part two:

[image description: screenshot of a tweet by @/idksomedumbshit. the tweet reads, "i can't mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one boys" /end id]

I do think it's iconic that this time last year Felix was a repressed Christian boy and now his dream is to be a homewrecker THAT is growth. I also got to write Felix and Jolie which was fun because they do Not like each other <3 but they respect each other <3 but only sometimes <3 They have their first little bonding moment where Jolie pierces his ear in their bathroom but then Felix says something to piss her off so Jolie is like hmm okay time to chose Violence. This dialogue is funny because Felix does not really hate himself at this stage Jolie just knows she's gonna fuck him up by saying that !! My life would be so much easier if these twins had a normal relationship with the concept of being a twin but also this story would be very boring

The needle pierces his skin and he doesn’t feel it. Only the tequila swirling behind his eyes. The sting of the light-bulb. Jolie speaks again, “but she looks just like you, doesn’t she? Not the same of course, but enough to see each other in each other. That’s the worst part, right? To see the person you hate on the face of someone you love?”

[image id: a photo of the ocean with cliffs in the background, tinted orange by sunset. in the middle, in a white serif font reads "1/10/1987" /end id]

This chapter is so CUTE and also my first successful attempt at a different form that I can consistently keep in the narrative <3 I really like the idea of a fluid novel form that's adaptive to how the character's perception of the world would change which? Idk how much I can maintain that but this definitely follows it. I need to fine tune the execution but the concept is shots and transcript from a camcorder recording and playing with what the camera sees/doesn't see. The title is what the tape would be labelled, and on 1/10/1987 (american dates throw me off omfg) Beau takes Felix to a seaside town for his birthday and yes it's gay <3 but it's also just a lot of stupid dialogue which was very refreshing because I overthink dialogue so much I always think it has to have deeper meaning when sometimes its like....characters can sometimes...have Fun together. They are simply displaying Relationship Dynamics!

BEAU: Okay, give me a second…(the camera zooms on Felix) There we go! Right, okay, so it’s Saturday, January 10th, 1987, what’re doing out here today?

FELIX: What is this, an interview or something? You sound like a TV host on those morning shows.

BEAU: Oh my God no they’re so annoying, don’t compare me to those.

FELIX: No but I can imagine it perfectly. You’d just be all (holding a pretend microphone) Gooood Morrrning from sunny San Francisco! My name is Beau Teixeira and—

Beau: (laughing) Shut the fuck up!

I love this chapter a lot because you can definitely tell that their dynamic has Shifted but also! They are still just friends being friends and I really want them to just kiss already but also I love the natural progression of friends to lovers....falling in love and not realising it and then suddenly it all makes sense...

BEAU: You wanna try filming? It’s easier if you hold it on your shoulder. Like this. Put your hands where mine are.

[How their fingers whisper against each other. How Beau’s cologne smells of lime and tangerine. ]

Beau steps back into view, runs a hand through his curls. Leather jacket flutters in salted wind. Behind him the sunset flickers over waves like a candle flame. He smiles at the camera.

BEAU: I think you’re a natural! You’re definitely gonna be first choice for cameraman on my shitty morning show.

[How Felix smiles at him.]

(cw: next paragraph talks about the AIDS crisis)

Whilst this is a Fun And Cute Chapter there is more depth to it since the last time we see Beau and Felix before it is the first time they open up about the AIDS Crisis and their fears surrounding it. I have a lot of complicated thoughts about writing this part of history that I could write about all day but it boils down to the fact that "so many queer stories are centred around queer trauma and tragedy and queer people deserve to read stories centred around love and happiness" and "with a queer novel set in 1980s SF it'd be just as bad to completely ignore what happened" are two things that can coexist. I definitely think stories centred around the crisis are necessary (recently read The Prettiest Star by Carter Sickels and highly recommend! Also has a similar camcorder function and an emphasis on preserving. Also made me cry) but shouldn't be the default, especially in a story that if published would have a queer readership, so whilst it's something I want to explore I want to do it in a way that ultimately celebrates queer happiness, love and life. Definitely way more that could be said about this and the function of queer trauma in queer narratives but! Both Beau and Felix feel a need to not only capture as much as possible, but to capture it specifically with the intent to look back in the future, as well as a general We Are Going To Try And Find Happiness Wherever We Can. Also feel like a lot of Beau's character clicked whilst writing it which was very fun!

[How Beau wouldn’t say where they were going but cracked before they left San Francisco because he had too many stories to tell: five year old burning his tongue on café tea, six year old falling into waves and being unbothered, seven year old plucking chrysanthemum petals from stranger’s gardens. How Beau has an orange car freshener and missing headrest on the passengers seat. How Beau drove a longer route because it was closer to the coastline. How Beau played Pet Shop Boys’ Please and knew the words to every song. How Felix realized that he did too.]

[image description: a man and a woman sit next to each other on a bench. the photo is taken from behind them. in the background, you can vaguely see water, hills and the golden gate bridge. across the image, in a white serif font reads "everything the same about dorothy and felix" /end id]

Little title explanation: part 1 has two chapters, "Everything Different about Felix" and "Everything Different about Dorothy" which introduce their relationship + impression of each other after not seeing each other in person for four years (and also how they have images of each other in their heads that are false but they're attached to and it's really not helping the whole complicated twin relationship thing but don't worry about it) and I'd like to expand on that in part two so! An attempt was made. This takes place the day after the above chapter on the twins' actual birthday, the first one they're celebrating together since they were 18 and the first one in the "outside world" so it's a moment!

I'm not happy with how this chapter came out but I think it's just because it's an important one to me! Partly because it helps cement the idea that in spite of their complex relationship, Felix and Dorothy never stop being twins and they never stop loving each other even on the days they dislike each other. But mainly because: these are two adults who lost their childhood to trauma and they finally have the freedom to live their life and! Sometimes that means living for the inner child that never got to be a child. As a certified Adult With Childhood Trauma having a chapter like this was v important because trauma never leaves you but that doesn't mean you can't be happy!! Also it's just. cute. They run around San Francisco, bake a really shitty birthday cake, talk about whether or not San Francisco is real, I want what they have. There is underlying conflict because hoo boy there is Shit simmering rn! But it was nice to have this and the previous chapter as just like. Two little golden moments you know. Calm before the storm if you will

Midnight. Dorothy lies on a mattress on the floor in an apartment in San Francisco. Her brother’s head in her lap. “You know what’s crazy to me? Nobody ever asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. That just wasn’t something we were allowed to think about. I know it’s depressing, I just think about that a lot.”

Felix keeps his eyes on the ceiling. The clock ticks. “Well, what do you wanna be when you grow up?”

“Astronaut, of course.”

“I was gonna say astronaut.”

“You definitely weren't,” she says. “Besides, I already claimed it.”

He looks at her. “I was thinking it. Before you said it, I claimed it in my mind.”

“That’s not how it works. I can’t read your mind.”

Felix sits up. “Wait, you can’t? Gee Dotty, some twin you are.” He grins. So does she.

Usually I am like. I don't think they would care too much about the twin thing. But I also think they would definitely joke about it, like if someone asked a stupid question Felix would be like "well of course we can read each others minds, dont you know how twins work?? like right now my twin sister who is my twin is thinking about giving me, her twin brother, $200" But lets end this on an excerpt where Dorothy doesn't give him $200 but she does think Oh How Did I Spend Four Years Without My Brother

(cw: death mention + missing persons mention, plane crash + boating accident mention)

Dorothy is used to his presence, has been for a year: coffee stains on the table, cupboards left open in the kitchen, clustered ashtray in the living room, hair gel and Jazz aftershave behind the bathroom mirror, Queen or Bowie or Alphaville sifting from his room. His voice. How he always knocks on her door to say goodnight. How he weaved himself into the ecosystem like air but tonight she watches her brother do nothing but breathe and she remembers waking up every January 11th in 1983, 84, 85, 86, and chucking a towel over the bathroom mirror. How she told strangers at bars that she’s an only child; or that she had a younger brother, but he died in a plane crash or a boating accident or went on a hiking trip and never came back, was likely immortalised as a John Doe in Oregon or Nevada records. How she went four years without coffee stains and open cupboards and goodnight knocks and Queen or Bowie or Alphaville renditions when he forgets that she exists in this space too. How hollow those four years were.

And that's all I have to share! I'm not sure when the next update will be, but I much prefer this format of talking about the story! If you read this far I love u <3

[twoidiotwriters1]

June, 1976 (WITT One-Shot)

A/N: If you want to remain in the taglist pls interact with this one-shot even if you haven’t read book 4-5 yet. A like or a comment is fine, the people who don’t want to continue reading obvsly do not interact and I’ll delete from the taglist :) -Danny

Words: 2,590

Series’ Masterlist

Emily was tired, but she'd spent all day overthinking and she was done, it was time to grow up.

She could hear Lily Evans' voice ushering Severus Snape away, he'd been coming around for several hours during the day trying to apologize, but he'd finally crossed a line.

"It's not your fault, you know?"

Matthew's voice caught her attention, he'd stopped at the foot of the stairs, one hand propped on the wall.

"Snape and Evans have been fighting for months now, I think it's because of what he's been doing with the Slytherins... you know, the cult stuff."

Emily averted her gaze to the fireplace.

"I know..."

Matthew hesitated, he'd promised himself that he wouldn't go back to being Emily's therapist, but something was different this time, it wasn't her usual kind of sulking.

"Are you okay?"

She looked at him over her shoulder and frowned.

"I'm not the one who got called 'mudblood' by a close friend."

"No, you weren't," He admitted. "Which is why it's so strange to see you all sad."

"I'm not sad."

"Is this about James?"

He didn't want to know, but alas, he'd asked.

"No," She made a face. "I don't think I care about him that way anymore."

"It's easier said than done," Matthew crossed his arms, his shoulder now leaning on the archway of the stairs.

"What do you want, Ruddy?" Emily groaned.

"I don't want anything from you," The boy replied. "But I have the feeling that you need to talk."

"I do," She said. "Not with you, though."

Matt nodded, he sighed.

"Good luck, then, have a good night."

"'Night."

Emily watched him disappear up the stairs, she didn't know why, but the memory of his burning gaze before he kissed her came back then, his intense determination as he held her closer... That moment Emily had found herself unable to move away, to say no. She wished she had his courage to just do stuff even when he was intimidated by them, she needed that kind of bravery tonight.

Lily Evans entered the tower two minutes later, Emily stood up abruptly and the redhead came to a halt.

For a moment none of them spoke, then Lily's face showed tons of fatigue.

"What now? Is it your turn to call me a stuck-up bore because I didn't agree to go out with Potter?"

Emily shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Can we talk?" She asked shyly. "I promise it's not a trick... I'm sorry."

Emily's behaviour towards her was usually hostile, tonight her voice was gentle, and even a little afraid.

"You're sorry?"

"I don't expect you to believe me," Emily continued, lowering her gaze. "I know you and Snape were close — I don't understand how can you like him... listen I suck at apologies, can't you just say it's alright so we can go to bed?"

Lily crossed her arms, standing straighter.

"No, I think I want you to try harder."

Emily groaned, she sat down heavily and started to think her words carefully, Lily inched closer.

"Boys can be cruel when they're not thinking — Anyone, really... I've been brutal myself — Matthew and I almost stopped being friends a few months ago, because I don't like talking about my feelings," She laughed dryly. "I don't know what is it about today that it just... I don't want to be a tormentor my whole life, let alone to someone who is... tolerable. I'm sorry for making your life a living hell these past few years."

Lily sat down, although she kept the seat between them empty to keep some distance.

"You didn't make my life a living hell," She replied. "I... can admit you're a bit clever... even likeable — that last match when you threw Lewis a bludger after he called you a midget... it was kind of funny."

"The boys walked me everywhere that week, they thought Ernest was going to try and get back at me," Emily bit her lip, but she was now smiling. "I mean, I lived in fear for days! Thinking he would spike my drink at some point with poison or something... Until Matthew cornered him outside D.A.D.A. class one day, poor Lewis... he looked so small in comparison..."

"Anyone looks small next to Matthew, he's a giant," Lily grinned. "Well, if it's any consolation, I was planning on murdering you in a much classier manner than poison, but since you've apologized, I guess I won't have to kill you after all."

Emily snorted, her eyes lingered on Lily, who looked like she'd been crying for most of the day, and yet still had enough energy to sit down and talk with the girl she'd detested for the last four years.

"Why are you being nice?" She asked in annoyance. "I mean I'm glad you're kind of accepting my apology, but I thought you'd be a bit colder, walking away before I could even finish..."

"What kind of person do you think I am?" Lily raised a brow, with the orange light coming from the fireplace her green eyes looked far more intense than usual. "If I'm honest, you should thank Remus... he's tried to convince me that you lot are far better than you look..."

Emily sighed, when she was young she'd do mischief for fun, but now that she was older, and considering all the weird stuff that was happening outside the school, she was starting to think that maybe her group of friends were indeed changing for the best.

"I'm going to be honest with you too, Evans," The girl took a deep breath. "Being the only girl in my friend group is turning out to be pure torture. I'm in desperate need of a girlfriend."

Lily's mouth twitched a bit, but she didn't laugh.

"What makes you think I want to be your friend?"

"Oh, I don't think you want to," She raised a brow. "But maybe if we're on good terms I'd be able to ask you for a tampon without having to swallow my pride first."

Lily did laugh at this, she shook her head. "Holy Merlin, Sultens, you're loopy."

"You would be too if you were seated next to Sirius every day!" She paused. "So... are you willing to make peace?"

Lily examined her carefully, four long years of quarrels sat between them, but a lifetime of friendship could be ahead if Emily was truly sorry. She was a nice girl, and really smart too, she was annoying only when she was taunting Severus, and he was no longer her friend.

Lily stretched out her hand.

"Very well, but if you go back the deal is over and we'll be less than strangers, understood?"

"Sure."

She retreated her hand before Emily could grab it.

"Hang on — this is not Potter's idea, right? You're not trying to be my friend just so I date him later?"

"Lily, if anything I hope you and James never date," Emily snickered. "Nothing personal, you're just way too good for him."

"...Alright."

They shook hands, she'd meant what she said about it not being personal. James was a boy, a very silly one at that, and even though they were really close friends, Emily was no longer a blind supporter of his doings.

Funnily enough, this seemed to be related to Matthew, she couldn't stop thinking about that kiss! Merlin, he was a good kisser...

She shook the thought away, now was not the time for nonsense.

"I'm very honoured to be your acquaintance, Evans," Emily grinned.

"Call me Lily. Only Professors call me Evans... and Potter, but you know I hate that."

"Got it, Lils."

July 1996

"...I don't think this is right," Mel tilted her head. "Brownies are mean to be brown... not pitch-black."

"You burned them," Harry was standing behind them with his arms crossed, clearly upset.

"How could you burn them, Erick? They were in there for five minutes!"

"Are you sure..." Erick stabbed the mixture with a knife and made a face. "Ugh — they're still liquid in the middle!"

"How the fuck did you do this?"

"I thought it would work just the same if I doubled the heat and put less time," Erick sulked. "Ovens are weird."

"This is why we told you to stay out of it," Harry replied. "You don't know how muggle stuff work."

"I do know!"

"Then why did you burn the brownies?"

"Don't fight," Mel intervened, grabbing the platter and throwing its contents away. "Oh well, at least we ruined my birthday cake and not someone else's..."

"That's not okay," Harry frowned. "You should have a proper cake."

Mel looked at him and grinned. "I'll eat yours, then."

"How's everything going in here?" Emily walked in, behind her Lupin followed.

"Uncle Lu!" Mel rushed over to his side and hugged him, the man chuckled. "You came!"

"Well, hadn't been around for your birthday in a long time, I thought you'd like it," He said, lovingly patting her back.

"I do," She beamed. "We kind of ruined the cake, though, so we should buy doughnuts or something."

"It's a good thing I brought this, then," Lupin lifted his bag and placed it on the table, inside there was a beautifully adorned red velvet cake.

"You just saved my birthday!"

Harry and Erick shared a moody expression and grumbled complaints, Lupin laughed.

"The kids insisted on doing the cakes this year," Emily explained. "I told them it was not an easy job, but they insisted."

"Mel and I have done this before, Erick was the one who wanted to be in charge when he can't even make tea without magic," Harry glared at him.

"Muggles stuff are too complicated, alright?" He huffed.

"I don't mind," Mel said without paying attention to them, she was still beyond happy with her uncle's presence. "I wanted to give my mum a break, Leggie's been a bit hard to handle lately..."

"Is he?" Lupin looked at the little boy Emily was holding. "Is he ill?"

"No, he just cries a lot," The woman sighed. "Wakes us up every night."

"I thought that forcing my mother to bake when she's clearly too tired to be doing anything apart from feeding a baby was a crime," Mel stated. "So I took care of it."

"Then Flint messed it up," Harry taunted.

"And then you fixed it, Uncle Moony," The girl smiled. "So there's no harm done, right boys?"

She looked over her shoulder, raising a brow as if urging them to stop bickering before they embarrassed her in front of Lupin. Both mumbled their agreement, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Lovely," Mel looked back at the adults. "Who wants lunch?"

Mel and Erick were in the kitchen talking in hurried whispers, she appeared to be upset, the young man too. Emily and Remus were in the drawing-room, Harry was upstairs changing Reg's diaper.

"Do you know why they're arguing?" Remus asked, staring at the pair.

"Dumbledore came by this morning before breakfast," Emily sighed, leaning her head back on the couch. "Talked about this mission he had for Erick — you know how eager to help that boy is... so of course the old man came and put his offer on a silver platter, and Mel won't let Erick go on his own, so being the generous soul Dumbledore is," She said sarcastically, "He said she could go too if she wanted to."

"Really?" Remus frowned. "Well... he's been giving her lessons for years, Mily, perhaps he knows she can handle it."

"I don't care," She said bluntly. "That's my daughter, my daughter. Matt's daughter. How can he continue to risk my family's life like it's nothing?"

"You know Matthew did all he that because he wanted to, Dumbledore had nothing to do with his decisions."

"I know," Emily took a deep breath. "But he's got a lot to do with Mel's... she idolizes him."

"You think so?" The man looked over his shoulder again, staring at his goddaughter.

"I don't see why else she'd be so keen to follow his orders..."

"Maybe because she feels guilty?" Remus offered. "After what happened in the ministry..."

Emily pressed her lips together, she didn't want to talk about that.

"That's not her fault and she knows it. I told her it wasn't."

"You weren't there," He said gravely. "She went out of control. I had never seen anything like it, her magic was dark— I mean that literally. All the spells she did came out pitch-black. Dumbledore was the only one who could put a stop to it."

Emily's eyes grew worried, she looked over her shoulder as well and her gaze landed on Mel.

"You think it could be the same thing that Ariana Dumbledore had? That disease?"

"No one knows what happened to her," Remus said. "Not even Matthew knew, and he was part of the family... but it could be. Maybe Dumbledore knows something we don't, maybe this will help her... perhaps she needs this."

Emily stayed silent for a moment, then she groaned.

"I hate that we're always meant to trust him blindly."

"He's lived a hundred years, he might be wiser than all of us, don't you think?"

The woman scoffed, she looked ahead, deep in thought.

"A hundred years... Matthew couldn't even make it to twenty-one! James and Lily barely did... Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban — But at least we all knew how the war looked like then, Remus. We fought for years... my daughter just turned sixteen, she still goes to school!"

"And yet she's already done her fair amount of fighting," The man raised a brow. "We didn't have the experiences she's gone through when we were her age. I stand with Dumbledore, she can do this."

"I'm not saying she can't," Emily grabbed the empty plates to take them to the kitchen. "I'm saying she shouldn't have to sacrifice her youth. Dumbledore asks for too much, I'm sure he's got someone else that could help him with the mission, but he's obsessed with making Mel his perfect copy."

Remus didn't try to argue back, little could convince Emily at this point, she'd never been a fan of Dumbledore, and after Matt's death it was no secret that she openly disliked him, but she still followed his orders, because she knew Dumbledore was the only chance they had to win this war.

Mel and Erick entered the room, neither of them angry, which made Remus think they had reached an agreement.

"I should leave," The man stood up. "Leon's been quiet, maybe Harry managed to make him sleep."

"Or maybe he's just playing with him," Emily stood up as well. "Really, I never thought Harry would get so attached to a baby..."

"I'll miss you, Uncle Lu, I hope to see you soon," Mel said, her eyes avoiding to look into Erick's direction.

"Me too, little Em," Remus hugged her tightly, he whispered in her ear. "Be good to your mother, alright?"

Mel looked at him with confusion, but she nodded anyway.

"So?" Emily crossed her arms. "What are you going to do?"

The young witch stared at her mother, Remus knew that expression. It was true and very strange, how she could have her dad's gaze even though her eyes were exactly like her mother's, but he knew that look, he'd seen it in Matt the last time they had spoken. Mel was done being a kid.

Taglist.

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