#i was streaming this to my friend and she was like heckling me about my colour choices I WAS TRYING TO DO BRIGHT COLOURS. IDK. ITS MY FIRST | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vhstown · 6 months

Text

CAN SPIDERS SCREAM?

POV: 1610!MILES 🗡️ [halloween one shot]

summary: What's your favourite scary movie?

word count: 2.4k

content/warnings: depictions of murder, blood and stabbing

a/n: unedited :/ tew busy and i have never written fic that isn't x reader so! that's all erm have fun?

“Oi, Miles — wake up, mate.”

With slight surprise, Miles opened his eyes to see the dimly lit living room. Freeing himself from the confines of his friend’s shoulders, he blinked a few times to make out a rather bemused-looking Hobie. The punk’s eyes left his a moment later, and Miles was soon bombarded with the troubles of a movie night with people who had never had Netflix before.

“Give me the remote back, I just wanna—”

“We are not watching Ghostbusters again, Pav!” Hobie let out a slight laugh as a stream of web, and then a remote control, flew past him — right into Gwen’s hand.

“Ghostbusters is a perfectly fitting title for the occasion!” Pavitr protested, Hobie narrowly dodging the hand that flew up in frustration.

“He’s got a point — that Murray lad is scary lookin’,” Hobie chimed in. Gwen narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say “thanks a lot, Hobie”, before turning to Miles.

“You know what? Maybe Miles should pick. He’s been asleep all night anyway.”

“Hey! Not my fault my ma’ made me clean the whole house ‘fore you guys got here!”

Miles’ eyes felt like closing again at the memory; who knew using your webs to help with chores would need so much clean up afterwards? Not one of his brightest ideas, since he was all out of webs now. Though he would’ve been out of a home if his mom saw the kitchen covered in them.

“Where are your parents anyway? Perhaps on a romantic outing?” Miles rolled his eyes, like it’d do anything to subdue Pavitr’s less-than subtle expression.

“On Halloween night? Your lot must love a thrill, mate.” Also a lot less-than subtle — thanks a lot, Hobie.

Cheeks prickling with warmth, he snatched the remote from Gwen’s hand, frowning at the TV screen. Halloween movie…

“Well, if he’s anything like Rio and Jeff, he should be able to pick a movie.” Gwen crossed her legs, and everyone else shuffled back on the tiny couch.

“Thanks,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. Gwen’s knee, Hobie’s elbow, and Pavitr’s stare prodding him at either side, Miles sifted through the different shows and movies.

“How about Annabe—”

“Nope nope nope…!” As the preview came up, Pavitr shielded his eyes. “Anything besides dolls.”

“At least it’s better than Ghostbusters,” Gwen muttered under her breath as Pavitr peeked through his fingers.

“Oi, Gwendy, cheer up, yeah?” Miles ducked his head as Hobie reached over to slap Gwen on the shoulder. “She looks just like you!”

“Hobie!” was shouted from both ends of the couch.

Miles smiled, and grimaced. At least the two of them could agree that Hobie wasn’t any good when it came to movie nights.

Looking through the movies, none of them really interested Miles, or his friends. Each one would be met with an excited “wait!”, and then a disappointed groan, or another heckle from Hobie (it was one way to decide not to watch the movie.)

“Dude, Halloween’s almost over. Let’s just watch Ghost—”

“Just gimme a sec…” At this point, Miles had given up on listening to anyone, clicking through titles after a glance. It wasn’t like it was helping, though.

“Pick your favourite, or something,” Gwen suggested with just as little enthusiasm.

“Well it’s not Ghostbusters…” he mumbled to nobody in particular.

“Hey, not you too, Miles!”

Scream 2 appeared for probably the 5th time on screen. It’d have to do, he supposed.

“You guys seen Scream?” His tone didn't have enough energy to sound like a question.

“Well Hobie hasn’t, because he lives in the stone age,” Gwen started. “And he looks like Ghostface.”

“Don’t need ol’ Ghosty when we’ve got murderers in government.”

“Dude.” All Miles got was a shrug from Hobie, and then a sigh from Gwen. Crossing her arms, she fell back on the sofa with a creak.

“What? Fed up already?” Hobie questioned, brow raising by a twitch.

“It’s been like, 4 hours and all we’ve been watching is Ghostbusters. We ran out of popcorn ages ago.”

“You guys finished the—” Miles stood up, looking into the bowl. All that was in it was his reflection, staring back at him with disappointment. “Damn…”

“That was all Gwendy — swear on my life.” Hobie declared half a moment of silence later.

“Was not!”

“Okay, okay! Fine! Let’s just watch Scream.”

Miles turned on the movie, chucking the remote on the spot he was sat in. The introductory sequence started, and the room went dark with the screen.

“I’m gettin’ more popcorn — caramel popcorn." That got a groan out of everyone.

“If y’all use your webs…!”

He didn’t finish his threat as he walked into the kitchen — his mom could probably do that for him anyway.

The kitchen door swung open, shutting on its own weight. Miles held his wrist out to the cabinet, but all that came out was a click — out of webs. Right, of course.

A crackling bag of “Crunch ‘n Munch” caramel popcorn on the stove, Miles leaned his arms on the counter, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. He’d been feeling groggy since he’d woken up, but the dreary tiredness was still lingering. Maybe sitting out here with microwaveable kernels popping on the stove would help. Stretching and letting out a groan, the cheap decorations on the windows caught his attention. He could guess that people were starting to head back from trick-or-treating. It was late, after all. Miles had grown out of it, at least for this year. Going out with his friends who technically weren’t meant to be here wasn’t exactly a good idea, though. Besides, being Spider-Man for Halloween again wasn’t really doing it for him.

Both of his parents were at work, but it didn't bother him too much. They were always busy, and so was he. All of them were keeping Brooklyn safe in their own ways, he supposed. And having the house to himself wasn't so bad.

Faint murmuring — excited, or panicked — could be heard from the living room. Miles laughed through his nose, the crackling of the popcorn getting louder as he haphazardly reached out to flip the bag. That was, until, a searing, high-pitched noise rang out.

Miles almost jumped, before realising that it was coming from the phone: the old-fashioned cordless phone his mom kept for emergencies, or, for making sure he was “actually at home like you said you’d be, because if you and your friends are out somewhere I don’t know about then—”

Better safe than sorry, he thought, picking it up without any thought but an exhale.

Click!

“Hello?”

The faint whirr of static could be heard on the other side; it was dull among the pop of the kernels and giddy buzz from the living room.

“Hello, Morales.” Okay, definitely not his mom.

“Uh, who is this?”

“Take a guess.” Miles took the phone away from his ear, frowning at the screen. These types of phones didn’t seem to give any useful information.

“Ganke? That you?” he humoured.

“Try again. Two more guesses.” His half-smile immediately dropped.

“Okay, nope. This is weird.”

Declining the call, Miles put it back on its stand, rolling his shoulders in discomfort. It was probably just a prank — kind of creepy nonetheless.

Krrrrr….! Miles’ attention quickly turned back to his popcorn, registering the smell of burning. Damn it…

Wooden spoon in hand, he turned off the stove, biting his lip as he assessed the damage. A second barrier of defence against his friends, at least. Come on man, you gotta wake up—

RIIING RIIING! Miles cursed under his breath, and then winced in guilt.

RIIING RIIING! Again? Well, it could be his mom.

RIIING RIII—

“Hello?”

“Why’d you hang up? Don’t you want to play a game?”

“Okay dude seriously? Couldn't you be at least a little original? I don’t have time for this, I literally just burnt my popcorn!”

Miles didn’t know why he was suddenly ranting to a stranger on the phone, but maybe it’d get them to break character, or something. It must be some kids behind the stupid crackly voice — or maybe it was his dad. He tried to stifle a laugh at the thought of his dad trying not to laugh and his tightened expression, even though nobody would hear. Well, whoever this was might.

“You’re making popcorn?”

“Uh-huh. Was gonna watch a movie, actually. And relax — you know, without weird phone calls at midnight.”

“How about this? I ask you a different question this time.”

“Yeah? What is it?” Miles let out a sigh, hands on his hips as the burning died out in the pan.

“What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“Not even a little improv..." he mumbled under his breath. Might as well stick to the script. “Uh, I dunno. Scream?”

“Scream? That one where the murderer wears a mask and goes around killing people?”

“Yeah, and where the murderer makes dumbass phone calls to their victims beforehand.”

“But that’s your favourite?”

“No..."

There was a pause on the end of the phone, before the modulated voice replied.

“You know... me neither.”

Bzzzt!

“Hey, what the…?!” Miles looked around him, but couldn’t make out anything. The power was out. “You can’t be serious…”

“Scream’s too old-school, don’t you think?”

There were equally confused reactions from the living room, and the voices of his friends got louder as he stepped into the hallway, phone in hand.

“Guys?” he called out, cordless phone by his hip and his own phone flash pointing into the hallway.

“They won’t hear you,” the voice from the phone said. Miles stopped, turning his phone and seeing something catch the light. "When you scream."

Moving, it shot towards him, his web-shooter sputtering empty air at the knife that surged past mere inches away from his face. No webs.

“Guys?!”

Miles pointed the flash up, only to see what looked like a Halloween mask that was melting: Ghostface. He would’ve laughed; it was crude at best. But right now, it was terrifying.

He booked it for the living room, pushing against the door only for it to push back against him. Locked — the panic surged in his chest, but his Spider-sense hadn’t gone off.

Thunk! Knife in wood — right where his face was a millisecond ago. His cheek stung only for a moment before he grabbed the knife out of the door, holding it to the darkness.

His mouth opened, and then closed. Should he call for his friends? Would it put him in more danger? Why couldn't he... Where did the masked person go—

A short breath came out of his throat, strangled. And then hot searing metal, right through his stomach. Why couldn't...

No, the metal wasn’t cold — it was the blood. The pain only seared for a moment, when the knife was pulled out. Miles’ hands went to the growing patch of darkness near his abdomen, bile in his throat and eyes wide, stinging from the dry air.

It was suddenly cold, and his mind was blank. Something that sounded like wind — a laugh, emerged from behind him.

He didn’t feel the second stab.

“Oi, Miles — wake up, mate.”

“Give me the remote back, I just wanna—”

“We are not watching Ghostbusters again, Pav!” Hobie let out a slight laugh as a stream of web, and then a remote control, flew past him — right into Gwen’s hand.

“Ghostbusters is a perfectly fitting title for the occasion!” Pavitr protested, Hobie narrowly dodging the hand that flew up in frustration.

“He’s got a point — that Murray lad is scary lookin’,” Hobie chimed in. Gwen narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say “thanks a lot, Hobie”, before turning to Miles.

“You know what? Maybe Miles should pick. He’s been asleep all night anyway.”

“Huh?”

“We were doing fine!”

“No we weren’t, Pav — I was about to fall asleep.”

“Like Hobie said, Murray is a good representation of the horror genre!”

“And not the literal ghosts?”

“The ghosts too!”

“Hey.” Miles flinched a little at how close the voice was. “You alright? You look a bit pale, mate.”

The three of them went silent, attention turning to him. Hobie’s expression was laced with concern. Miles just nodded, though he wasn’t looking at anyone. He was fine, right? That was…

“Yeah, yeah — I’m cool. I just…” That wasn't real. He was fine. “Tired. Ma’ made me clean… and stuff.”

“Where are your parents anyway? Perhaps on a romantic outing?” He glanced at Pavitr, but it didn’t do anything to subdue Pavitr’s less-than subtle expression.

“On Halloween night? Your lot must love a thrill, mate.” Also less-than subtle. If it weren’t for the fog clouding his head, he would’ve been annoyed.

“Just watch… Anabelle, or something.” The sofa creaked as he pushed off of it. He winced at the feeling of his abdomen reeling in on itself. “I’m gonna get some—”

Two eyes met his: the reflection in the popcorn bowl. It was empty. Figures...

“That was all Gwendy, swear on my life.”

“Was not!”

“Oh, Miles is mad guys.”

“Hey, don’t look at me.”

It wasn't real.

“It was literally Hobie!”

Just a dream — of course.

“Miles…? Where are you goi—” Pavitr’s voice faded as the kitchen door swung shut behind him.

“Just need to call my mom,” he muttered to himself, grabbing the phone off the stand.

“Mira — I’m going to call this phone, okay? You need to call back from the call log. I'm showing you once.”

“Like—” This…

The call log appeared on screen.

Incoming:

31 OCT. 11:42PM Accepted

31 OCT. 11:40PM Accepted

31 OCT. 4:21PM Missed

Only the last one was his mom. Miles clicked out of the call log, met with the tiny blue home screen. It read: TUE 31 OCT.

The time right now was 11:39PM.

RIIING RIIING!

RIIING RIIING!…

His friends were in the other room, still arguing about what to watch.

“…Anything besides dolls...”

“…It’s better than Ghostbusters…”

“…She looks just like you!…”

"...Hobie!..."

…RIIING RIIING!…

With half an inhale, Miles picked up the old-fashioned cordless phone, thumb over the green button. It was the phone he’d answered before, and for some reason, minutes into the future.

The phone he’d answer many, many more times to come.

thanx 4 reading! thats it okay cya i havent slept more than 6 hours in a hot minute goodnight x_x oh n tagging @phoenixinthefiles :P

find my masterlist here !

96 notes · View notes

tmisaccidentreportbook · 2 years

Text

Oh... Hello.

OK. So we’ve all seen the nonsense that’s happening on Twitter. How Rusty Quill are dropping these crumbs and we are all losing our minds. There are some smart, rational, composed folk amongst us that can decode these clues, that are able to put the pieces together and read the signs gifted to us from these laughing gods. But I am not of this breed. I’m foaming at the mouth and twitching slightly, trying to keep the screaming at a level that you could be forgiven to mistake it for a tea kettle.

Now, I have been an avid fan of TMA since 2020. Yes, yes, I was brought on late. A dear friend of mine had been recommending it and then possibly regretted her choices and association with me as the new hyper fixation grabbed me by the throat and she endured months of my stream of consciousness ramblings in her DMs. But I burned through them. In a manner and at a rate I have since been told was rather alarming. It was 2020, I was going through it. We all were. No doubt that will be discussed.

But the point is, I wanted to do a relisten because there were periods where I was getting through upwards of 5 episodes a day, and I know that may not sound like much but I was still working full time and I just kept going. So, I’ve missed things, it’s blurred a little. I was planning on maybe starting in the new year, maybe on Halloween, i.e. anniversary of the Eyepocalpse. But then this all started and now violins of the main theme are singing in my blood and ALL THE THOUGHTS are resurfacing and, c’mon, @dodgylogic has a busy life to lead and doesn’t have the time to answer all my screaming voice messages, although does have the time to laugh at them apparently. And I hope you will too. Laugh, heckle, scream at me in the tags, I want this to be a discussion along the lines of a poorly disciplined A Level English Lit class.

So, I’m going to do a relisten. An episode a day or so. 2 years on. Much in my life has changed since the first listen but, oh so. very. many. things. haven’t...

I think this podcast was recommended to me at a time when I was white knuckling through life. I think it was while season 4 was still coming out, late season 4. I was hemmed in by 2 pandemics, isolated and burning out at a terrifying rate. This podcast helped me reconnect with a dear friend and it was so much easier to scream about what I was hearing than scream about what I was living. I remember being in certain places when I first heard some lines, I remember exactly what I was ‘thousand-yard-staring’ at in some cases.

I’m white knuckling again, but this time, I know where the good handholds are.

So with that, buckle in kids.

This is The Magnus Institute’s Accident Report Book and I’m the Designated First Aider.

Supplemental: So in going over some old messages, turns out it’s 2 years to the day that I started listening to The Magnus Archives, 13th October 2020... I feel seen and I don’t like it!

#MAG000 #designated first aider #introductions #the magnus archives

2 notes · View notes

malkumtend · 4 years

Text

I Like Your Laugh (A CrowSquirrel AU - Chapter 15)

The shadows of the approaching night scattered around the mountain. Light faded from the hollow, as sunlight sank under the mask of clouds. In the distance, a faint sound of thunder roared over the mountain’s peak, growling like a rabid cat.

It was time.

Crowpaw would have felt more tense if he wasn’t so overcome with disgust. His pelt was wet and slimy with mud from the stream, it oozed over his short fur and caked on his skin. He could have retched at the sour scent of wet earth, especially when it was being rubbed over his face.

“Any more great ideas from you Thunderclan cats?” Crowpaw said sullenly. He was suddenly muffled as the strong paw covered his face with a slab of dirt.

“Yeah, don’t get it in your eyes.” Brambleclaw shot back, it was clear he was smirking even if Crowpaw couldn’t see. “I never expected you to be such a cleanpaw.”

Crowpaw rubbed the dirt from his eyes, careful not to take away too much. He glared at the larger cat, also streaked from head to tail in mud. “What, is this how you typically wash yourself?”

Brambleclaw snorted, “Just shut up and have another roll around.” He did the same himself, laying down by the pool’s edge and twisting his body in the mud. He wandered by Tawnypelt, checking that she was covered as well.

Crowpaw cringed, but he obeyed. It was better to be safe than sorry, and he had to admit, it was an extremely clever idea. With this, it would be much harder for the Tribe cats to spot them or recognise their scents.

Once covered by the thick sludge, Crowpaw darted an impressed look at the she-cat who’d given them this idea. He couldn’t help but smirk as her usually bright ginger fur dripped with wet brown darkness. Just the kind of idea she would make up.

He climbed up to solid ground again, wincing as he felt the clods of dirt slide down his wind-flattened coat. At least it will come off easier for me than the others. He didn’t want to think how long it would take Squirrelpaw to get all this stuff out of her fluffy body.

“You alright?” A soft voice mewed. Crowpaw tensed, meeting Feathertail’s eyes gently. It was impossible to ignore the affection when he knew what he knew. She looked over him carefully, as if worried.

Crowpaw shrugged, “It’s just a bit of mud. It’ll wash out.”

She blinked at him graciously. Her silver fur was now very much dark and faded into the shadows well. “It’s not ideal though.”

“No, but no point complaining about it. It has to be done.” He sneered, “At least your fur is used to getting wet.” He needed to act normal, he’d told her they’d still be friends no matter what he decided to do, he couldn’t let her think he was suddenly uncomfortable around her.

Feathertail’s tail curled in amusement, “Water usually doesn’t leave me looking like my father.”

Through their laughter, Tawnypelt’s voice cut in, “We better get going soon. It looks like rain’s coming and we can’t let the mud get washed away.”

Crowpaw’s eyes widened. She was right, the clouds did look like they would start spilling water soon. They needed to get back to the Tribe, quickly. Feathertail nodded at the she-cat, jumping up; her tail curled around Crowpaw’s back, maybe keeping him steady as he pulled his paws out of the mud.

She really was keeping a close eye on him.

He thanked her with a flush.

At least she still seemed comfortable around him.

Now soaked in mud, the cats began their journey back to the cave. At the front, Brambleclaw sniffed the air cautiously every few moments before pressing his nose down to the path in order to catch their scent trail again. At the top of the ridge, he paused to take another hesitant sniff at their surroundings before relaxing. He turned back to the group with a heavy nod. “Let’s go.”

They stepped down, padding down the slope again. They were now back in the Tribe’s territory. Crowpaw, like the rest, kept his senses fixed at every moment he could. Even if Squirrelpaw’s plan kept their pelts hidden in the growing darkness, they couldn’t underestimate the persistence of the Tribe cats who knew this land as their own home. One wrong move could mean incredible danger for the group. Crowpaw could still feel a sting on his neck, where a Tribe cat had struck him before.

He shook his head, silently growling. I’ll pay them back for that. He knew that they wanted to get away without any injuries, but if he needed to fight, he would fight with no mercy. These cats had taken their friend hostage, they had delayed their journey, they deserved nothing but the sting of Crowpaw’s claws.

He had to be patient though. First thing’s first they had to get their way back. And that was harder than he’d hoped. With the gathering night and the dull grey of the mountain, it was hard to identify any sights that might signal they were following the right direction. All they had were their own noses, with Brambleclaw pressing his nose practically against the stone floor to follow the trail. The Windclan cat sighed, they just had to hope for the best at this point.

He was suddenly aware of the warmth at his side; he did not cast a look there for fear of losing focus. His face still heated up though.

He wondered how she was coping, what she was prepared for. Was she preparing for a fight or a quick escape? It was her brother they were rescuing after all. It was probably a silly thought. Feathertail wasn’t the type of cat who would lay a claw on anyone, she hadn’t even moved in the arms of a twoleg for fear of hurting the kit.

She was just that kind.

And she wanted him.

Crowpaw still couldn’t grasp that. A cat had feelings for him. A cat he held as one of his best friends. She’s confessed that she wanted them to be something more. Mates. Crowpaw gulped as the word entered his mind.

So, did he want the same thing?

By all accounts he felt he should. He felt comfortable around Feathertail, she was one of the most blissful cats he’d ever known, he trusted her with all his heart, and she was incredibly beautiful. Crowpaw was sure any Riverclan cat in his position would immediately see stars if they had this kind of luck.

But Crowpaw wasn’t a Riverclan cat.

And it wasn’t that fact that put him off.

Sure, it went against the Warrior code, it was a blatant spit in the face to years of clan boundaries, years of culture, and if any cat in Windclan knew about this they would more than definitely want to rip him limb from limb for even considering such an idea.

But it wasn’t that.

It was the fact that even though he considered every positive aspect of the cat he held so dearly, he felt nothing different. He just felt the same. The same way he had felt about her whenever they went hunted, talked or laughed together. She was precious to him, but…

If he loved her as well, surely he would feel something different. Something more.

Or was that just some stupid kit fantasy? Was love meant to be like this? Just having someone you felt you could trust enough to spend the rest of your life with. Was it really nothing else?

Maybe… should he give her the chance? Maybe something else could grow from it if they tried? But what would happen if he did and it turned out he didn’t like her like that? That would just add to her pain.

He didn’t want to hurt her.

But how could he not?

She was hurting enough as it was. If he was going to give her an answer, he’d have to do it after they rescued her brother. Crowpaw cringed. Her brother who had been right in his suspicions. He dreaded thinking how that cat would react if he found out about this.

Crowpaw bit the inside of his cheek, hard, feeling vindicated by the pain. He shouldn’t be thinking about things like that! For all he knew, the Tribe were still waiting for the group to return with a full army of guards.

For all he knew, they were walking straight to their graves.

He groaned silently. Sometimes he wished he could have a shred of optimism.

The path became steep, littered with sharp, crooked rocks that Crowpaw vaguely remembered from earlier. They were on the right track then. He felt a flashing, grudging, respect for the brown tom at the front. He was leading them well.

Though not well enough that he didn’t hear what Crowpaw heard.

Low, muffled voices. About a tree-length behind them. Crowpaw’s pelt prickled with alarm. The Tribe.

Thinking quick, Crowpaw whirled on his heckles, feeling a cat beside him. Feathertail. He dragged her with him behind a large rock at the side of the path, surprised by how light she was. The others turned to him, and he waved his tail towards the other rocks, hoping they would understand his signal to hide.

Thankfully they did, their shadowed forms crouching beside the other rocks, hidden in the darkness. A few moments later, Crowpaw heard the voices become clearer, passing by their hiding places. He peered out cautiously, keeping himself concealed, and saw a patrol of Tribe cats pass by, their mouths full of freshly caught prey. Around them, the hulking forms of the guards stood around them, tensely protecting their tribe-mates.

Crowpaw held his breath, expecting any one of their enemy to suddenly turn and see where he and his friends were hiding. His claws unsheathed in preparation. But there was a moment of hesitation between the cats and they passed on without so much of a sniff.

The mud really had masked their scents. Crowpaw let out a silent breath of relief. Thank Starclan he wasn’t sagging with dirt for nothing.

He stepped away, realising he was still holding Feathertail behind the rock. He let out an awkward laugh as she turned to him. And he realised just how small she’d become, as well as the two green eyes looking up to him.

“Oh.” Crowpaw sighed, half-relieved that he hadn’t put Feathertail into an embarrassing position. He smiled at Squirrelpaw teasingly, “That’s twice I’ve saved you these past few days.” He chirped.

Briskly, Squirrelpaw shoved him away, her eyes glazing past him with a clear glint of annoyance. Crowpaw’s back fur lined down in surprise. “Don’t expect any favours from me.” The ginger molly shot back, a little more bite in her tone than usual. “I would have heard them.”

Crowpaw felt his eyes narrow, his neck fur spiking with a wounded anger. What was up with her? “Well you didn’t, thanks to me.” He hissed. Immediately, he regretted it. He sighed, they couldn’t afford to start fights right now. “But,” His tone smoothed over, “They would have found us if it wasn’t for your mud plan.” He mewed gently, “That was really brilliant, you know.”

He smiled at her. Truly.

She didn’t return it. Her face twisted away from him, padding away with her tail raised high. “Thank you, but now isn’t the time for compliments.” She meowed dryly, it was hard to see her expressions under the darkness and the mud. “Come on, we can’t let Stormfur wait on us.” She waved her way back into the group as they went back onto the path.

Crowpaw stared after her for a moment, his mouth hanging. His breathing became slow and cold. W-What did I do? Why was she acting so strange? She’d been ignoring him all day, but she’d never been so openly dismissive.

Had he actually upset her somehow? His heart sank. If he had, he hadn’t meant to.

“Crowpaw,” Brambleclaw’s hushed, but urgent, voice broke in. “Come on.”

Gradually, Crowpaw stepped out, his brow knotted in frustration as he looked ahead at his friend. She never looked back. He felt Brambleclaw give him a light press on the pelt with his tail. “Thanks for warning us. That could have gone bad.” He mewed lightly.

Crowpaw gave the cat a wave of his tail, but he didn’t say anything. Brambleclaw shrugged and padded towards the front again. Feathertail wavered at the back until she was beside Crowpaw. She kept next to him, her ears more alert than before, gazing around in case any more of the Tribe were behind them. “Can’t be that far now.” She mused.

Crowpaw nodded, trying to give her as much time as he could. But his mind was torn on two things already. One on making sure they wouldn’t have another close call with the Tribe, the other focused on wondering what it was that had gone wrong between him and the cat he’d bonded with so closely.

Crowpaw felt he could cope if she didn’t want to hunt with him or travel with him, but the turn of her head and the sight of her back, never flinching away from forward, even if it was just her focus on the mission, that hurt astonishingly so.

“Quiet now.” Brambleclaw whispered, “We’re getting close.” The florescent glow of the moon began to glimmer in the sky, banishing shadows from the mountain. It began to sparkle on the sight of the river, casting tiny stars in the ripples. The cats followed the sound of the water, noticing it grow into the growl of the waterfall.

Crowpaw shook his head until his senses were now pure on their goal. It wouldn’t be long now. They all stepped up the steep path until they reached the edge of rock where the water flailed over in a hissing white shower. They had reached the top of the falls. Crowpaw’s lip curled. Just below them was where Stormfur was being held.

A fresh dampness came over Crowpaw’s head, he looked up to the white clouds. If he listened close enough, he could hear the rain pattering heavily, growing near, as well the grumble and crash of thunder, maybe even lightning.

“Storm’s coming.” He observed. Maybe if the storm became loud enough it would help distract the tribe, giving the cats enough time to rescue Stormfur. Still, it wouldn’t help the fact that there was more than certainly a horde of guards around where Stormfur was being held.

“Let’s go!” Squirrelpaw hissed, her tail lashing indignantly.

Crowpaw couldn’t help but agree with her, they needed to get Stormfur out quickly. Whatver as awaiting them wouldn’t go away if they stood there waiting to grow roots.

He peered over the lip of the waterfall, trying to find a clear way down to the cave. He could see the deep shadow of the path, leading to their destination. He tensed when he saw another shadow, the one of a cat padding sluggishly towards the entrance. Another cave guard?

Wait… no? This shape was huge! Far too big, even for the tribe cats! It was bigger than any cat he’d ever seen, maybe even bigger than some dogs!

“What’s that?” He meowed cautiously, leading the group’s attention to the shape.

A flash of lightning answered his question.

He wished it hadn’t.

The group let out a collective gasp of horror as the lightning gave them a full look at the huge, tawny coloured ‘cat’ advancing to the cave. It’s eyes burned with orange desire, a hunger. It’s teeth were open in a hissing maw, a large tongue tracing a set of fangs larger than Crowpaw’s own paws.

So this was what the Tribe were so afraid of…

Sharptooth!

The creature slunk behind the waterfall. And then the screaming started.

A cry of terror erupted from what seemed like a hundred terrified throats. Beside the strong beating of the rain, the shriek of the tribe and the hungry growl of their predator sliced through the night.

Crowpaw couldn’t close his mouth. The creature was worse than he’d ever thought. How could they get past such a menace?

“Come on!” Brambleclaw cried.

Crowpaw turned on him, his eyes wide with disbelief. Is he crazy?! “Down there?” He was glad the rest of the cats looked just as horrified. “Are you mouse-brained?” They would be slaughtered!

Brambleclaw ignored the judging eyes, bounding down to the entrance. “Think! With Sharptooth in the cave, they won’t notice us! This is our best chance to rescue Stormfur!”

He didn’t wait for another retort as he slipped over to the entrance.

Yeah, he’s off the deep end. Crowpaw mused to himself. But still… there was a point to his madness. The cats wouldn’t notice them through all their screaming, but it still lingered that that beast could see them!

Crowpaw groaned. What choice did they have? He followed where the brown tom led. He heard the others behind him as he kept his balance on the wet rocks, just about holding himself steady on the slippery surface. With a grunt, he bounded down to the entrance, where Brambleclaw was looking around desperately for a way through.

The sight was awful.

In the pale glow of the moon, Sharptooth cast a terrible shadow along every wall of the cave, towering over everything. He sprang around the cave, growling like a twoleg monster, its claws already dripping with dark blood, and its jaws wide it a brutal snarl. Crowpaw felt his stomach twist with a terrified sickness; how could the tribe believe any cat could defeat this thing?

The Tribe cats were scrambling around in a mass of panic, crying and shrieking as they raced away from the danger. Crowpaw felt some jostle past him, not seeming to care about the cats who had returned. Brambleclaw had been right.

Crowpaw twisted towards the tunnel where Stormfur had been herded to. Just by the entrance, a cave-guard was desperately clamping himself to the lion-cat’s neck. The beast roared in savage fury, moving its paw to the cat and tearing through his fur with claws larger than a cat’s teeth. The fur parted like the claws were running through snow. Then it flung its huge neck to the side, whipping the guard away from it, the cat smashed against the wall with a horrible crunch, sliding motionlessly to the ground, leaving a dark smear stroking down the stone.

The huge cat licked its lips, satisfied, before springing to the other side of the cave where it stretched up clawing at the wall, where a white cat trembled, hoping to avoid the vicious weapons reaching for her.

Crowpaw could tell it was a molly from the weeping and the pleading.

He felt the need to retch. If he didn’t know better, he might have felt some kind of sympathy for why the Tribe had been so desperate.

The entrance was clear though.

Brambleclaw sprinted forward, “This way, we have to do this for Stormfur!”

Crowpaw didn’t argue. Holding his breath, he followed to the entrance to the cave of pointed stones, the others not far behind him. He grimaced as he passed by several cats, some screaming for their Tribe to save them, some simply limp in silent terror, some dragging their wounded tribe-mates along, ignoring the blood leaking out of their wounds. The smell of blood was now ripe in the air, it sent a wave of panic down Crowpaw! They needed to get Stormfur out of here now, before they ended up on the end of the creature’s wrath.

At the actual entrance, two huge guards still kept watch, their eyes wide in fear. Their pelts prickled with realisation as they saw the cats bounding towards them, crouching down into a fighting stance. Crowpaw’s mouth opened in shock. They were still going to keep Stormfur prisoner with all that was currently happening? Either they were stupid or brave.

Crowpaw settled on the former as he realised whatever they were, they were going to fight the clan cats. His eyes narrowed, and his paws pulsed. Bring it on.

Brambleclaw looked similarly ready for action. “Now!” He roared, leaping onto one cave-guard. The cat let out a cry of astonishment as he was pushed back by the large brown paws. Brambleclaw struck out, catching the guard with a heavy paw, sending him to the ground. He didn’t wait for the cat to jump up as he pounced onto the cat, tearing into him with a flurry of blows to his exposed chest.

The other guard looked on stunned, and Crowpaw recognised him as Crag, but not caring as he leapt by the huge tom, raking him against the ears as he did so. Crowpaw landed with a snarl, hissing with pleasure as he saw Crag wince at his bleeding head. Then the guard growled, pouncing forward with a furious leap. That’s right, come and get me.

Now the entrance was clear.

Tawnypelt and Feathertail wasted no time as they burst through to where their captive friend was. Crag seemed to notice, his fur rising in alarm. “No!” He cried, beginning to turn back.

“No you don’t!” Crowpaw hissed, leaping in front of the tom. The guard stared with fiery eyes at the apprentice. The cat towered over Crowpaw, but the Windclan cat didn’t move. He wouldn’t give this flea-pelt any time to halt their rescue.

“Do you see now?!” Crag demanded, his voice strained with fury and terror. He craned his head, indicating to where the screams were erupting. “Do you hear them?! Do you see why we need the silver pelted cat? This has to end!” He cried, as if casting one last plea.

Maybe Crowpaw could see, but he didn’t really care. He growled, advancing forward. “We are not part of your prophecy!” He puffed his fur out in an attempt to look bigger.

Crag let out a snarl of frustration, his stare widening as something seemed to break inside him. “You fool!” He erupted. He pounced forward, his large paws moments from catching Crowpaw’s fur. The apprentice swiftly dodged it, slamming his paw into the cat’s side. It would have been a direct hit to his ribs.

But Crag only muttered a small grunt before turning back.

Crowpaw’s stomach sank, his blows wouldn’t do much damage to the large cat. Crag pounded forward again, and Crowpaw swiftly dodged back, he needed to rely on his speed here. Hopefully he could tire the guard out before landing some decent strikes to him. Unfortunately, Crag was faster than Crowpaw had anticipated.

With a spasm, the guard burst forth with a heavy strike that hit Crowpaw on his back. A pounding agony immediately took hold that made Crowpaw stagger, how could any cat be that strong. He let out a breath, leaping out of the way as Crag struck out again.

“You little insect!” Crag screeched, using his large tail to swat the leaping tom. Crowpaw hit the stone floor with a moan, glaring at the guard as he approached him, pure white fury on his muzzle. Crowpaw grit his teeth as he tried to rise up again, but it wouldn’t be easy with the stinging tremors on his back. He needed to think of something fast.

The apprentice tried to get to his feet, but another blow came thundering across his muzzle. Crowpaw’s cheek panged with agony, but he was just able to find his footing before his face hit the stone. He spat, trying to regain his sight from the swirling vision. He exhaled weakly, turning to see the dazed shape of Crag approach again, his pawsteps heavy and menacing. It looked like he was growing tired of this fight.

Worry tightened Crowpaw’s throat, he was quickly realising that he was losing this battle, badly. He needed to do something soon, but with his head spinning like this, his advantage in speed wouldn’t do him much good. It seemed all he could do was wait for more hits to come.

Then Crag buckled back in pain, turning as Crowpaw saw a glimmer of dark ginger fall away from behind the guard, her paw wet with blood. Crowpaw’s eyes widened. Crag turned to the new challenge, his back lined with deep cuts down his flank.

“Come on then, lion-chow!” Squirrelpaw seethed, her fangs on open display as she stared unflinchingly up at the reeling guard. New worry seized Crowpaw. What was she doing? Surely, she knew that she didn’t stand a chance against this threat.

Something flashed in Crowpaw’s mind. Something familiar. The sight of Squirrelpaw staring down two massive kittypets. The sight of her taking on an impossible fight.

For the group.

For…

Crowpaw found his vision was beginning to focus again.

Squirrelpaw ducked under the swinging paw coming at her, rolling swiftly to her feet and landing a scratch on Crag’s left back-leg. The tom hissed, kicking out with the leg. Squirrelpaw threw her neck back just in time, quicker than Crowpaw had ever seen her, before she burst forward again to sink her fangs into Crag’s tail.

Now the Tribe cat yowled as he viciously lashed his tail to shake the apprentice off, but Squirrelpaw held on, tugging, drawing blood and ripping fur and flesh. With a flame of ire, Crag kicked out again, his claws curved and glinting. This time he hit his target, just on the cheek. Squirrelpaw was torn away from the tail, but not without tearing away a bloody chunk that made Crag scream.

Crowpaw watched, as if it was slow motion, as Squirrelpaw landed with a thud against the floor. She got up quickly, hissing, her teeth clenched. She didn’t look too hurt. But Crowpaw saw it. The scratch marks along her cheek, bleeding, a deep horrible crimson that didn’t belong on her ginger fur.

Now, Crowpaw felt something black and foul boiling in his blood. His sight set on the guard, red with fury. Biting back any pain wracking in his limbs, Crowpaw burst to his feet, just as Crag began to stalk towards his friend again.

He couldn’t take on this cat face on without getting another set of blows, so Crowpaw did the only other thing he could think of.

He sprang, landing on Crag’s back and ferociously pierced the back of Crag’s neck with his teeth, while latching his claws deep into the tom’s chest. Crag howled, shaking fiercely to throw the smaller cat off. But Crowpaw only tightened his grip and bit harder, only edged on by the painful groans the Tribe cat made.

How’s this feel? Crowpaw thought bitterly, moving his paws down, scratching raw lines into the cat’s fur. His answer came with a choking gasp. Crowpaw saw something move, looking down to see Squirrelpaw burst forward again, striking the guard’s legs with a series of hard swipes.

Now, his legs becoming torn, Crag began to stagger, still shaking himself with the last of his strength. But both apprentices’ did not give up in their assault. They dug and they struck the same vital points over and over again, until finally Crag’s feet collapsed, bringing him down with a dull bang.

Crowpaw held on for a moment, until Crag’s last weak struggles faded, leaving him gasping in agonised terror on the floor. Crowpaw rose up, leaving the tom to groan miserably, a puff of triumph escaping his mouth.

They’d made the guard pay.

Crowpaw quickly looked up to where Squirrelpaw stood panting, hoping she wasn’t too hurt. He relaxed as he saw her keep her footing, scratched and scraped, but nonetheless better than their opponent.

There might have been a word said between the two if, at that moment, Tawnypelt and Feathertail didn’t coming racing out of the cave of pointed stones entrance. Another purr of relief escaped Crowpaw as he saw Stormfur behind them. His eyes were wide with fear and confusion but he looked unharmed.

The reunion was short lived though as another crash of lighting cracked the cave with light. Crowpaw twisted round, and his heart surged with horror. Sharptooth was slowly padding away from the cave, not at all fazed by the scratches across its large body. From its mouth, it carried the white molly Crowpaw had seen earlier. From the permanent gape on her muzzle, a thin line of blood bubbled down her jaw, and her paws weakly struggled in a fruitless attempt to escape her fate. Then the light went black, and the dark shadow of Sharptooth disappeared behind the waterfall, carrying away the smell of blood and fear with it.

For a moment, nothing but a horrible silence filled the cave. Crowpaw joined in. He had just seen a cat be carried away like prey. No…as prey.

The silence broke as the Tribe began to wail together, loss and pain raw in their voices. None of them looked to care about their intruders anymore.

“Out-now!” Brambleclaw exclaimed. No cat disobeyed. Crowpaw bounded after him, Squirrelpaw by his side, watching as the Tribe didn’t move at all. They all just sat, their heartbroken eyes to the floor, frozen with fear, still with the memory of another loss.

Outside, where the rain was now battering the ground and thunder boomed from every cloud, the cats could smell Sharptooth’s scent growing faint as it stalked away with its prey. The rain covered Crowpaw’s whole body, washing away the mud, but he didn’t shiver from that.

Not after everything that had just happened.

Brambleclaw sniffed the air, nodded towards the other cats and began to lead up the rocks where they had come from. They could finally leave this terrible place behind. Crowpaw limped slightly from the sting of his fight, but he kept straight. Not stopping until the wailing of the Tribe and the crash of the waterfall had grown silent under the crash of the weather and the mist of the night.

Crowpaw swayed his eyes over to their rescued friend. Stormfur was curled beside Feathertail, his eyes glassy in shock and sadness. Crowpaw remembered how he had been the one to originally grow so close to the Tribe, it was only natural that he was the most betrayed by their intent. At least, they hadn’t hurt him.

It seemed every cat was aware of Stormfur’s expression, all silent by the horror of what they’d seen. Hesistantly, Brambleclaw turned to where the grey tom was slowly padding, his amber eyes brimming with pity and a small bit of relief. “It’s good to have you back, Stormfur.”

Stormfur lethargically rose his head to where the brown tom stood. His eyes blinked, as if he was just realising that he was safe. Crowpaw saw his tail curl more tightly around his sister’s. “Thank you all for coming back for me.”

Crowpaw let out a surprised mew. “Of course we came back. We weren’t going to leave you there.” Was that not obvious? He was one of them.

Stormfur turned to the apprentice and for a moment Crowpaw wondered if he’d accidentally sounded too harsh. But the Riverclan tom just looked gently at him, his eyes seeming to give another thanks before he curled back into his sister’s pelt. Feathertail looked desperate to hold him nearby, to never lose his scent again.

The siblings were together again, like they belonged. Crowpaw felt his muzzle warm.

A pinching feeling made him cringe however. How would Stormfur react when he found out what Feathertail felt for another clan’s cat?

He swung his tail. It wouldn’t help to think on that, the two were united and didn’t look like they were going to part again any time soon. Feathertail had that on her mind now, and that would give Crowpaw plenty of time to think this through.

First things first, they needed to get out of this rain.

Crowpaw screwed his eyes a little at the rain belted his short pelt, it almost stung when it hit the spots where Crag had wounded him. But it wasn’t enough to slow him down. Brambleclaw had taken on a guard on his own and he was doing just fine, Crowpaw felt a begrudging urge to do the same. And Squirrelpaw had…

Squirrelpaw!

Crowpaw whirled to his side where the ginger cat walked next to him. She looked steady enough, the mud washing away to reveal her bright fur again. She seemed to feel the eyes on her as she met Crowpaw’s gaze.

Really met his eyes.

For the first time in a while.

The awkwardness seemed to spread over her as well as she sniffed, her eyes casting away, low. “Is there something on my face?” She quipped, craning her head to where the scratch mark ran across her cheek like red riverlines.

She may have seen it like a joke. But Crowpaw wasn’t laughing. If she hadn’t intervened, Crag could have done him some real damage, but she had gotten herself hurt as well. He moved himself closer to her, examining the wound. “Are you okay?”

“Better than him, I guess.”

Crowpaw chuckled dryly, “Moss-brain.” His tone lightened as he remembered how they had been earlier. How she’d avoided him, pulled away from any contact he attempted? His gaze dropped.

“What’s the matter?” Squirrelpaw spoke up, making Crowpaw shift. She looked over him worriedly, “Is your back hurting too much? I can ask the others to stop if we need to.”

“No.” Crowpaw meowed, he didn’t want the group to stop know, they weren’t out of the dark yet. “No, I’m alright.”

She looked again, pointedly, at his scraped and bruised pelt.

“Well, alright enough.” Crowpaw said. His paws seemed to slip a little as he walked, his lips went thin. He needed an answer, but his stomach still twisted with worry for the answer. Gently, he met her eyes again. “Squirrelpaw… did I do something wrong?”

The ginger cat let out a mrrow of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… to you?”

“To me?” Squirrelpaw mewed, her brow raising, but her eyes still flashing with concern. “No. Why?”

“It’s just that you don’t seem like you want me to talk to you.”

Squirrelpaw’s eyes widened crazily, her jaw hanging. A quick breath escaped her, her tail fluffing up in embarrassment. “O-Oh.” She coughed, “Um, no, you haven’t done anything wrong, Crowpaw.”

The Windclan cat’s whiskers curled with alleviation at that. She didn’t sound like she was lying. He hadn’t upset her, at least, thank Starclan. But his muzzle still curled with wonder at why she had been like she had.

Squirrelpaw could see the question in his eyes. She turned, looking at her paws. Something glazed in her eyes. “You honestly haven’t done anything.” She cast him a fiery glimpse. “You’d know if you had, believe me.” The she returned to her paws, now wet and dripping with rainwater. “I-I’ve had a lot of things on my mind recently.”

Crowpaw’s tail curled, “About the clans?”

Squirrelpaw’s lips only thinned further, like she was sucking them against her teeth. Her lid dropped halfway, unreadable. “Yeah… stuff like that.”

Crowpaw felt his chest swell. She didn’t need to worry about that kind of stuff alone. Heck, she’d been the one who’d comforted him about their home’s safety days ago. Still, it wasn’t outlandish that she’d have those kind of thoughts still in her mind.

But Crowpaw still sighed in a small relief that it was just her needing some space to think. He grimaced, he needed the same thing himself if he was being honest.

He had to say something to help though. “If you need to talk, we can, you know?” He grinned cheekily, “Just because you usually talk nonsense doesn’t mean I won’t listen when you have something worth talking about?”

Squirrelpaw’s mouth kept thin, but it curled up a little. “Oh, be quiet. Maybe I just grow tired of hearing your voice every hour?”

Crowpaw rose his nose up playfully, “See, that’s the nonsense I love to hear out of your mouth.” That was only half-sarcastic.

Squirrelpaw shoved him away with her paw, laughing. Crowpaw was about to join her, happy that things were really coming back to normal, when he saw a fresh line of red leak out of her cuts. “You’re bleeding!” Crowpaw mewed, closing the distance between their pelts. He felt Squirrelpaw flinch, but she didn’t pull away.

“Y-Yeah. That’s what happens when you get cut.” She quipped, something was off about it but Crowpaw didn’t notice. Concern pounded all over him as he saw the blood begin to ooze, not even stopping as the rain soaked Squirrelpaw’s fur.

Crowpaw sighed, “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt.” He scowled, anger towards himself, at his weakness. “I should have been able to take down that river-rat!”

Squirrelpaw darted a look at him, pressing. “Don’t be a rabbit-brain! Of course, I was going to help you!” She cried, her tail batting him. Her face heated up. “I told you I wasn’t going to owe you any favours, remember.” Crowpaw was about to roll his eyes when she softly added on, almost silent by the rain, he might not have heard it if she wasn’t so near. “Besides, I couldn’t just watch while you got hurt. I had to do something.”

For a second, Crowpaw didn’t know what to say. He looked down, gaping, at the she-cat. She didn’t look like she would look up, her mouth twisted in some kind of humiliation. But she did. Her green eyes peered up, honestly finding his. Honestly showing that she truly wasn’t against him, even when they weren’t speaking. Crowpaw felt like a fool now for even thinking it.

But he saw the blood again, and the mutual care he held with her swelled over him again.

His tongue tenderly licked the wound before either could picture it.

He shivered at the taste of blood, but he felt a larger terror at the idea that Squirrelpaw would pull away again. Her face seemed motionless, wide eyed and open mouthed, mixed in so many ways that Crowpaw couldn’t imagine. Her face looked forwards again, fixed and direct on the path ahead, not making a single sound.

But she didn’t pull away.

That was enough for Crowpaw.

He looked to see if the blood would come back, and found it didn’t, yet he kept by her, sharing their small warmth. Honestly, her fur was so fluffy that the fur was soaked and sodden, actually making Crowpaw a little colder as he curled beside her.

But he didn’t complain. And neither did she.

Despite the pouring rain, and though neither cat could realise it, neither cat felt a little bit cold.

They were at ease.

#crowfeather #squirrelflight #Feathertail #brambleclaw #tawnypelt #Stormfur #the new prophecy #Warrior Cats #warrior au #warriors fic #Thunderclan #WindClan #crowsquirrel #squirrelcrow

42 notes · View notes

brownstonearmy · 3 years

Text

2021-06-26: A Symphony of Major Movements (Part 3)

Sunday September 6 (afternoon)

So technically we're starting this adventure a few minutes before the conclusion of the last session, because we're following what Lucky and Hilaria were doing just before that outhouse/sinkhole fight. Our nigh-inseparable duo is trying to fix the horror that's unfolding at the axe-throwing booth.

Before Brynnan turned the festival into chaos, this little booth was a place of skill and civility. Hit the target; win a prize. Now the axe-throwing booth has turned bloodthirsty. People are volunteering to be strapped to the targets and have axes thrown at them by strangers.

In this case, the rules of "hit the target; win a prize" still apply. It's just that the prize is someone's death.

Lucky has an idea to lessen the body count. "Use these pillows!" she says via Mass Suggestion. Bean bags and other soft objects are swiftly picked up by the participants and a bloodthirsty pillow fight begins. Nobody's gonna die from being bludgeoned by a plush duck, that's not gonna stop them from trying.

It is at this time that Lucky and Hilaria are reunited with Sparkle and Spleenifer. The outhouse/sinkhole fight has concluded, Yula's body is disintegrated again, and Maximum Bidet has left to search for other souls to purify. Now the party turns their collective attention to the stream of blood that appears to be trickling from underneath the final tent at the festival.

A magician in a top hat (because magicians can't NOT have top hats, right?) is preparing to saw a volunteer in half. The magician calls for volunteers via mass suggestion, and Sparkle nearly succumbs to the invitation (but doesn't, thanks to hanging out with Lucky). Hilaria, on the other hand, is delighted to volunteer for a cool magic trick. It's just a cool trick with set decoration that involves several dismembered bodies. Those are decorations, right?

Lucky's got experience for dealing with situations that go pear-shaped, so she sneaks through the audience in the stands and begins warming up her Mizzium Apparatus.

"Are you going to cut her in half?" Spleenifer asks the magician.

"No," the magician says. "I'll cut her into four pieces!"

This is Lucky's turn to shine. She activates the apparatus and triggers a wild magic surge. "I'll cut her into a MILLION pieces!" Lucky says as she poofs Hilaria into a gaseous cloud. A spotlight now illuminates Lucky wherever she goes, even in places where it would be impossible for a spotlight to be, because that's how wild magic works.

It's apparently in poor taste to upstage the primary performer, and the magician commands his thralls in the audience to deal with the heckling of Lucky. Detached zombie hands belonging to the audience members swarm together and converge on Lucky, who uses Thunderstep to attack the swarms and zip away.

Lucky takes a deep bow in the spotlight, as the magician unleashes an assault of psychic damage on her. Sparkle repays Lucky's favor from earlier, with a catchy little Didge-based jingle allowing Lucky to avoid the magician's Mind Fire.

There's a lot of psychic damage and inspiration and rerolls happening, but the party is holding steady. Spleenifer leaps to attack while screaming "I'm going to slather you with a tithe!"

A pair of flying swords zoom into the air from their respective places in barrels on the stage. Lucky is still busy bowing and the swords miss her. It's time to see what's REALLY going on, so Lucky casts True Seeing.

The weird thing is that not much changes. The magician still looks magician-y. The swords are still flying and the zombies are still zombies. But there's one curious addition to the scene that Lucky can now see: a halfling-sized jack in the box bearing a likeness of Brynnan's head.

Meanwhile, Spleenifer tries to grapple one of the flying sword and things do not go according to plan. Wild luck happens to intervene, though, and Spleenifer ends up kickflipping the sword to swing it around and get the business end pointed at the magician.

At this point, Sparkle is blocking the magician's path to Lucky. The magician demands Sparkle step aside, and Sparkle gives a cutting response in the negative. The magician responds by wielding his iron rod and bludgeoning Sparkle with it. Twice. For a big hurt.

Sparkle is almost dead at this point, but the other members of the party are involved in their own struggles against the magician, the swords, and the zombie swarms, and are unable to assist for the moment. Sparkle almost succumbs to a swarm of zombie hands, but Spleenifer summons yet another steed to push Sparkle out of the danger zone.

In case you were wondering, the horse's name was Desire (Also Matthew).

Lucky turns her attention to the weird jack in the box and prepares to cast Chaos Bolt on it. A lot of stuff happens at once here, so read this next paragraph carefully.

The magician sees Lucky casting a spell at what appears to be empty air and flees because he knows what's about to happen. Spleenifer releases the flying sword at just the right moment to have it leap from her hand and impale the fleeing magician. Sparkle drinks a potion to heal a few hit points and hopefully make it back into the double digits again. Lucky's spell goes off, reflects off the jack in the box, and smashes into Lucky. But Lucky uses her reaction to absorb the elemental damage with her sword, Papercut. The stored sonic energy from the chaos bolt is unleashed against the remaining flying sword, shattering it.

Whew!

Once the jack in a box (Brynnan in a box?) got attacked, its invisibility dropped and Brynnan's smarmy voice begins to speak through it. He taunts the party with a rhyme:

I am rubber and you are glue. Catch me and I'll listen to you. The festival's end is in sight But only if you can guess right.

If wrong guesses are more your speed, Then lots of health will be your need. But wait too long and then you'll see My friends have come to play with me.

Since attacking the box didn't work so well for Lucky, the party tries to approach it on foot. Except every time someone comes within a few feet of it, the box says something and teleports somewhere else. This goose chase goes on for a few rounds, so Lucky breaks out the big guns: Universal Solvent.

Rubber is something that can be dissolved with the solvent, so she sprays it on the box to defeat its wily test. The box promptly admits defeat (also in rhyme).

You've caught me now, that much is true. Guess I have to listen to you. What's your wish, and make it quick, My maker still will be a dick.

Lucky's wish is straightforward. She wishes for all the people who died to come back to life. And that's exactly what happens at the harvest festival. The death toll for this event resets to zero.

With the horror contained for today, Lucky throws a shirt in front of Hilaria's gaseous form and makes her reappear in human form. The spotlight is still on her, of course, and there is a round of applause as the adventure concludes for the evening.

Stay tuned next time for more!

#adventure log #dungeons and dragons #shits and giggles #harvest festival #magician #jack in the box #rhyme

1 note · View note

talpup · 4 years

Text

Lost Song: 8

Huzzah for the Smut Fairy! She finally decided to return to me so I could get this chapter written out. And in time for the 1yr friend-iversary with my bnha conspirator @inorganicone2230 Sorry about the delay everyone. Hope you enjoy.

Summary: The war between the Dragons and Griffons ended 233 years ago, and both races right along with it.

Or so it was believed. There are three individuals that will soon change that.

Kai is the last of the Dragons and he seeks to take what he sees as his rightful place and rule over all of Oblvi. Meanwhile, Shouta, the last Sphinx, wants nothing more than to do his job; keep the peace and and teach the young Fourth’s to hopefully avoid the mistakes of their ancestors. And Teris, a Foundling who is just trying to understand and survive in this strange new world that is supposedly her own.

All three have their own wants and desires, but Kai’s plans, Teris’ existence, and Shouta's past mean that none of them may get what they want.

This fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

8.1

Teris found the book on how Beasts tracked their prey interesting. Not only was she able to pick out signs of how Shouta had reacted to and found the Red Cap during their patrol three days ago. But she noted several things she had thought of as personal habits that, according to the book, were instinct. It was enlightening, and a bit unnerving just how beholden to her instincts she had been without even realizing it.

“Teris.”

Engrossed in reading, Teris startled.

Kai smirked. Finding the little jump and gasp she gave cute. The Beast within him hummed in satisfaction at catching her unawares. His ignited predatory instincts stoked higher. “Let’s hope you’re not so easy to catch for the hunt.”

“Catch? Hunt?” Teris asked.

Kai held her gaze. “Why do you think I gave you that to read? We’re going hunting. Or more correctly I’m hunting..”

Closing the book, Teris got to her feet. A part of her thrilled at the prospect of a chase. While another part of her tensed in defense at the answer she already knew. “What are you hunting?”

Kai stepped to her, voice deepening as it lowered. “Clever girl like you. I thought it would be obvious.”

Teris shivered more from his piercing gaze and seductive tone than his actual words. “You want to hunt me?”

Kai leaned forward, breath ghosting over her ear. “As badly as I know you want to be caught. Do you think you can make a good game of it?”

“Game?” Teris stepped back wearing a teasing smile. “So this is a game. Not a lesson.”

Kai grabbed her waist and pulled her back to him. “I’d be more than happy to give you a lesson if you’d like.”

Teris’ breath caught. Kai had this gentlemanly yet domineering nature about him that was both exciting and frightening. Any game the man chose to play, she was sure he would win. Even so, something deep within her wanted to challenge him and win. But the idea of being hunted by him for play felt too intimate. As much as she like Kai, she wasn’t ready for that. This world and her place in it were still too new and uncertain.

Kai saw the look in her eyes and reigned his desires in. “It’s a lesson of sorts. Though Beasts are known hunters, there might be occasions where you’ll have to run, hide, and cover your trail.”

Teris eased at that. It made sense. Especially since she was still learning and had yet to display her true form. If she got separated from Shouta and Hizashi while out on patrol and was attacked, her best bet would probably be to run and hide. “Alright. But you have to make it halfway fair and give me a head start.”

Kai’s earlier anger and stress, coupled with his heightened instincts made his eyes flash. “I don’t have to do anything.”

Even as she took a step back, Teris’ posture straightened in defiance.

While her submissive step back pleased him. Kai also felt a sense of pride at the fixed set of her posture. He didn’t want a scared, broken mate. Teris’ pride and unflinching strength is what had initially furthered his interest in her. Yet the way she continued to met his eyes and refused to bend was a challenge to his authority he found unacceptable.

All in good time, Kai consoled himself. Just because she was perfectly suited to be his mate didn’t mean she was his perfect mate yet. He had to bide his time and be gentle with her, least he scare her away.

Voice and expression softening, Kai stepped after her. “But I’ll do anything within reason for you, Beautiful.”

Teris slowly relaxed. Kai’s burst of temper had both concerned her and raised her heckles. But she forgave it. Everyone at Traverseen Hall seemed on edge because of these Council Elders that were arriving. As steady and sure as Kai was. It was little surprise that he would be too.

Looking to ease any of his stress that she could, Teris told. “I trust you to know what’s best for my instruction. You haven’t failed me yet.”

“And I never will.” Kai promised.

Teris wondered if that was why he had thought of this lesson. Because it would be a diversion from everything going on. After everything Kai had done for her, the least she could do was put up a good chase. She plucked a his button-up shirt. Raising to her tip-toes she kissed his cheek. “I’ll do my best to use everything you’ve taught me and make you proud.”

Kai’s heart raced at the sweet, tender affection. He wrapped his arms around her, tugging her close. “And I’ll be sure to teach you so much more, Beautiful.”

Teris gasped into his mouth, the kiss sudden but not unwelcome. Clutching at his shoulders, she shivered against him.

A low growl reverberated through Kai’s chest. The desire to claim near overwhelming. He pulled away. “I’ll give you eight minutes.”

The heady excitement of the kiss stoked her excitement over this lesson. There was no way she could win. But that wouldn’t stop her from trying. “And you have twenty minutes to find me.”

“I’ll only need three but I’ll hold off and take fifteen.” Kai said, a firm believer in delayed gratification.

“Cocky.”

Kai’s smirk was smug. “You have no idea.”

Cheeks heated in a blush, Teris ordered. “Turn around. No peeking.”

Kai slowly turned his back to the forest beyond.

In an impulsive move that surprised herself, Teris smacked his ass.

Kai barely jumped at the spank. “I’ll get you for that, Beautiful.”

“We’ll see.” Teris teased and tore off to the treeline.

She disappeared into the forest. First things first. She had to mask her scent. Not caring that it would leave a clear trail, her hands raked through the branches of young pines as she ran. Hands and forearms covered in the trees scent, she rubbed her forearms along her neck. Satisfied her scent was mildly dampened, she stopped and carefully backtracked a few paces. Eyes scanning the towering trees, she lept to a mid lying branch and hopped to a nearby pine. Continuing to do so, she made her way deeper into the forest.

Hands in his pockets, Kai patiently waited. He had tuned out his other senses wanting the added challenge of not knowing which direction his prey taken.

When the sixth minute hit, Kai was temped to turn around and start. His half hard cock was already eager to start the chase and catch her. But he kept his word. Slow as the time seemed to pass, he would wait the full eight minutes. Though he already doubted he would be able hold off catching her for the full fifteen he had said.

Teris jumped down from a tree and into a shallow stream. The water would cover her trail and wash away any scent she left.

At the eight minute mark, Kai turned around. The beast within him wanted to change into his true form. But he held back. The hunt would be over far too soon if he did that. Instead he strolled calmly and slowly into the forest.

The disturbed earth of her footfalls told of her path. He followed it. His nose was assaulted by the pungent smell of pine long before he saw the bent and broken saplings. From there her trail ended.

A rush of adrenaline shot through him. To think he had begun to get disappointed at how easy she had made it. Eyes scanning the trees, he looked for marks of where she had landed when she jumped. Not seeing any, he turned back the way he had come. He smiled, just barely able to make out a bit of scuffed bark. Clever girl.

Teris left the stream. She supposed ten minutes had passed since Kai would’ve begun his chase. It felt impossibly longer and shorter at the same time. Suddenly she heard him speak and was forced to slap a hand over her mouth to hold back startled squeak.

“Teris.” Kai thought into her head. He had broken down and changed into his true form. One might call it cheating. Teris likely would. But pursuing villains never played fair.

Teris halted. She turned in a circle. Ears listening. Eyes searching.

Kai “You did well masking your scent.” Kai spoke into her mind. He stalked through the forest, tail slowly flicking behind. She had either stopped moving or was moving too carefully for him to hear. “Your truly are a worthy prey. But you haven’t done that trick again. I can smell you, Precious.”

Teris’ eyes widened. He was clearly toying with her. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Deep enough into the forest that there weren’t any saplings, she looked up at the thick canopy. Should she try to mask her scent again? No. Bruising the pine needles would release more of their scent and act as much as a beacon as her scent.

Kai took a deep breath. The slitted nostrils of his true form expanding and contracting. “I have your trail now, Beautiful. Your sweet scent is like no other. The smell and image of you is marked on my very being. I’ll find you. I’ll always find you.”

Teris’ heart raced. Her eyes darted about the forest. She looked back the way she had come and bolted in the opposite direction.

“You’ve grown more excited. I can smell it.” Kai thought into her mind. “You’re making this too easy. Or is that what you want? For me to catch you? Do you like being chased? Is this what you wanted all this time? All you had to do was ask. I would've gladly hunted and caught you long before now if you had but asked like a good girl.” The excitement getting to him, Kai’s beastly instincts took over his mouth as he continued to speak into Teris’ head. “I’ll do so much more than hunt you down and catch you, Little One. I’ll pin you down and pump you full if you’d like.”

Teris tripped over her own feet, just barely catching herself. Surely Kai was just trying to make her mess up. Still, the prospect made her heart flutter and core clench. It stoked a hidden flickering incitement into a full flame.

“Is that what you want? For me to pin you down and make you scream as you take my cock. I’d stretch that tight little pussy of yours and ruin you. You’d be mine forever. You already are. You just don’t know it yet.”

Teris barely heard his last words. As hard as it was to ignore someone speaking directly into your mind, she tried. The feelings and images his words conjured were too distracting. Too enticing.

Kai growled. A different, more alluring smell that was still completely Teris tickled his nose. He shot up through the branches and took to the air.

Teris happened upon a clearing. It was futile to continue running so she decided to wait and make a stand. There had been nothing said about sparring. And she refused to go down without a fight knowing she technically wouldn’t be caught until he had hands on her and she couldn’t get away.

High above the treetops, Kai heard her stop running. For a second he wondered if she had given up. But that wasn’t like his chosen mate. Her instincts would be running just as high as his, if not more so. Kai might not know what kind of Beast Teris was yet. But he knew she was of a proud and ancient breed. She wouldn’t simply stop and call it quits.

Panting, Teris waited. Unbeknownst to her, her features sharpened. The soft peach fuzz along her face changed into tiny quills. Her senses heightened. She saw a wren snap up a grasshopper from more than a thousand meters away. She could see it so clearly she saw the grasshoppers legs and antennae thrash. Could hear the insects frantic clicks before it was swallowed up. A change in air pressure made her look up moments before a shadow passed overhead.

Kai was upon her. The world closed in. Heightened sense shrinking. Quills reverting back to peach fuzz. Before she could move, Kai had descended from above in a whip of wind and swoosh of receding wings.

Seamlessly, Kai returned to human form. He had Teris pinned in an instant. There was no chance of fighting. No hope of escape.

“Mine.” Kai declared, more breathless from excitement of the chase than the chase itself.

Despite the futilely of it, Teris tried to push him off.

Kai grabbed her hands and pinned them to either side of her head. “Mine.”

Teris growled. She belonged to no one unless she willed it. Her hips bucked under him, trying to unseat his straddling frame.

Kai sat more of his weight on her. An echoing growl rumbled from his chest. “Mine.”

Teris’ breath caught at the feel of a hard prodding length. Her body stilled, heart racing impossibly faster.

Kai hummed in approval. Mine. He thought eyes panning from her thrumming pulse point to her heaving chest. He leaned over her. Proud, smirking lips hovering inches above her parted ones. “You did well, Beautiful. But it’s time to admit defeat.”

Teris’ eyes hardened. Conflicting instincts raged through her. She would never admit defeat. She was meant to rule. But the feel and scent of the handsome Dragon was too appealing. Overwhelming in the best of ways.

Teris turned her head, baring her neck to the victor.

Kai’s head dipped. Nose and lips running up the column of her neck, reveling in her submissive state. He breathed deeply, savoring the scent of her. Mine. Good mate. His lips latched onto the curve of her neck, teeth sinking in.

Teris gasped, body tensing. Kai’s deep growl of warning the only thing that kept her still. She whimpered, muscles trembling. Conflicting instincts warring inside her.

Kai’s tongue laved at the flesh between his teeth, easing the sting. Teris melted beneath him, eliciting a pleased hum from the man above her. His teeth released. Shimmering gold eyes examined the mark in satisfaction. His pleasure diminished slight by the fact that it was only claiming mark and not a true bonding bite.

Nuzzling her neck, Kai murmured. “That chase was too easy, Beautiful. It’s almost as if you wanted me to catch you.”

Teris’ body arched involuntarily up to him. The low timber of his voice and heady scent of him making her core clench. She whimpered, arousal seeping from her quivering cunt, wetting her underwear.

Kai groaned, rutting against her. The smell of her essence blew his pupils wide. He lifted up enough to look her in the eye. “I’ve made good on my promise to pin you down. Would you like me to make good on the other and pump you full?”

Her body rolled against his in silent answer. But Kai wouldn’t award so easily. Her vocal consent wasn’t the issue. Rather it was his desire to hear her admit she wanted him to fuck her raw and make her scream. He wanted to hear her tell him how much she wanted him. How much she needed him. How he was the only one for her. And only he could suffice and give all she ever wanted.

“Tell me.” Kai spoke into her head, instincts to high to verbally speak.

“Kai.” Teris mewled, arms trying to pull from where he had them pinned. She wanted. Needed. To touch him. The intimacy of having him speak into her head only added to the heated heaviness that clouded all rational thought.

“Tell me what you want, Teris. All you have to do is ask. I’ll gladly give you whatever you want.”

Teris shivered. Kai’s resonating voice caressing her mind and body as firm and sensual as any physical touch.

“Do you want me?” Kai questioned, aching cock making him impatient for answer.

Teris nodded.

“Tell me.” Kai ground his weeping dick against her, uncaring of the wet spot that blossomed on his underwear.

“Kai. Please.”

“Tell me you want me. Tell me you want my cock.”

Teris broke. “I want your cock.”

Kai growled in pleasure. He reared up onto his knees and ripped off his shirt. Later he would frown at the undignified act. But with his beastly side in control, he didn’t care. He could barely think straight. Every sensation was heightened. Every need magnified. He fell back over her catching and bearing himself up on a strong arm.

Teris’ head tilted and raised. Tongue licking up his bulging bicep. She moaned at the taste of him. Head falling back, baring her throat.

Kai cupped the back of her neck. Hungry lips feasting on her throat. My mate. Mine.

Teris’ hands roved over his back, fingering threading through his hair. She pulled him off her neck, shivering in delight and ire at his indignant growl.

Before Kai could complain, Teris pressed her lips to his. Kai’s hand tightened around the back of her neck, pulling her closer. He quickly took charge of the kiss. Tongue leaking out to push its way into her mouth. Teris moaned around the heavenly wet muscle. Her thighs rubbed together seeking friction against her need.

Kai lapped at her mouth exploring every crevice. He mapped out her wet cavern, finding particularly sensitive areas that made her breath hitch. Taking note of what treatment made her body tremble in delight. Pulling away with one last nip to her lower lip, Kai moved back to her neck. His hands roamed over her body, raking fingers pulling up her shirt to expose her soft flesh.

Teris pulled her top off, tossing is aside. She made to pull him into a kiss again but was stopped by Kai’s large hand capturing her wrists.

He held her down, pinning her arms above her head. With a cocky smirk, he told. “You’re my prize, Little One. I won the chase. I get the reward.”

“You said I could have whatever I wanted.” Teris reminded.

“I said I would gladly give you whatever you asked. And you haven’t asked to touch me.”

Teris frowned, arms pulling against his hold.

Kai growled. “My prize.”

Teris stopped, arms relaxing.

Kai looked over her submissive position in approval. My mate. Mine. He thought, proudly. Leaning over her, he rasped. “You just lay back and let me have my way. I promise it’ll be the best fuck of your life.”

A thought stuck him then. Was Teris a virgin. Even running on instincts she wasn’t acting like one. The thought of someone having at her before him turned him feral. He growled low and long.

“Stay.” Kai commanded, hand pressing her wrists into the ground.

Teris didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare argue. Not with the way Kai had growled. Not with the way his scent had subtlety changed from assertive to aggressive.

It didn’t matter that Fourth’s were freer with sex. Or that Beastly Fourth's could have numerous companions before they were mated. Teris was his mate. Properly mated or not, she was his. The thought of anyone looking at, let alone touching her made him want to kill. With no challenger around to kill, Kai turned his attention to claiming.

He crashed his lips against hers. Ravenous hands pushing up her bra to grope her breasts. He kissed and bit a line down her neck. Mine.

Teris’ hands closed around clumps of grass least she disobey and touch him.

Kai’s eyes lifted. Looking between the twin mounds of her breasts to take in her beautiful face. “Good girl. My prize.” He spoke into her head, lips trailing up the soft curve of one of her breasts to pluck at perk nipple. “Be good and take it for me.”

His tongue flicked the hardened peak. Teris gasped at a hard, toothy suck.

“So sensitive.” Kai’s voice sounded in her head, hands moving down to her pants.

He made quick work undoing her belt and pants. And soon he was kneeling between her legs with her laid bare beneath him.

“So beautiful. More beautiful than I ever could’ve dreamed. And believe me, Beautiful. I’ve done more than dream about this. I’ve imagined taking you since the first moment I saw you.” Kai’s hand ran up her thigh and spread her puffy folds.

Teris tried to close her legs and shield herself from his devouring gaze.

Kai’s other hand tightened around her thigh, holding her open. His gold eyes flashed in warning displeasure. “Don’t you dare try to hide my prize from me.”

Teris’ hips danced, cunt aching to be filled. Never before had she felt such an overpowering need. Her legs butterflied open, all pride and ego gone. She would do anything. Submit to anything. So long as it meant Kai would stretch her open with his cock and fuck her.

“Please. Please, Kai. Please.” Teris whimpered, clawing fingers tilling the earth above her head.

Kai lost all control seeing Teris in such a state. To think his chosen mate wanted. Needed. Him so bad that she was a begging mess with just a single touch to her pretty pussy. He undid his belt and pants, shoving them and his underwear down.

He hissed at his rock hard cock springing free. It hit his stomach, leaving a trail of precum. He preened, letting Teris have a good look at the thick length that would be splitting her open.

Early in his prime, Kai had been able to ignore his beastly urges. It helped that there had been no one he found worthy enough to even seek release with. It made this moment all the more potent for him. Teris being his first.

It also meant that he devolved into pure base instinct. For while thinking Kai might've wanted to take his time and have Teris to touch him. To see and feel her kiss swollen lips wrap around his cock. His beastly nature needed to breed. It didn’t matter that there was no chance of pregnancy without them being properly mated. The need outweighed everything else.

Instincts ruling his actions, Kai grabbed Teris’ legs and pushed them back against her. The position would allow him to thrust as deeply as possible.

Teris squirmed, feeling further exposed at the mating press. The proud, assertive side of her didn’t like being at another's mercy. While she liked Kai. Found him strong, intelligent, handsome, and caring toward her. Her emotions hadn’t developed to the level of a trusting love that would have her fully and willingly submit.

Kai growled, hands tightening around her legs with bruising strength. He would have his prize and she would gladly take it.

All willfulness evaporated when Kai’s cock rutted through her slick folds. Kai shivered in pleasure at the silky, wet, heat. The head of his dick hit Teris’ clit making her eyes roll. Her wanton moan a sound that would ring in Kai’s ears forever.

He pushed in to the hilt in a single driving thrust, and was lost to the world. All that existed was the woman beneath him and her hot enveloping tightness. Never before had he felt such a delicious velvety wetness. Never before had he felt so divine. She was his goddess. And he was her lord.

Teris’ toes curled, back arching at the wide, deep stretch. Having been captured and held for a time only to escape and be brought to this world, it had been nearly a year since she had last had sex. But she could've had sex yesterday and this still would've felt like the first time.

It wasn’t just Kai’s impressive cock. It was the man. The Dragon himself. Molten gold eyes that could go from a comforting warmth to an incinerating fire in a flash. Strong, deft body that could protect and kill. Scent like arctic air and crisp, clean linen. It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.

“Kai. Please. Move.” Teris implored, unable to move her own hips in his vise-like grip.

Her wish was both his joyful command and an irritant. It rankled that she was still trying to rule things. Still trying to control. His mate must submit… Mate. Claim mate. Breed mate.

Kai pulled back and thrust forward. His hips slammed against hers with an echoing slap that satisfied. He groaned, feeling her cunt quiver around him, his dick twitching in response.

Teris gasped at Kai’s stirring cock. When he held still again, she opened her mouth to plead once more. Seeing this Kai growled. His punishing thrust knocked the air out of her. His chest rumbled in approval at that.

Finally he set a pace. It was hard and fast. Purposeful. Claim. Breed. Mate.

Sweat beaded on his brow. His rolling muscles glistened with the effort of his work. The sound of slapping skin and wet squelches filled the forest. Teris’ lewd moans and sweet mewls adding to the auditory harmony. Their mingling scent wafted through the air. Taken up by the breeze and deposited far and wide.

Teris held onto the tufts of grass for dear life. Kai’s impaling cock hitting all the right places. So driving and deep it made her see stars. She didn’t know how long he could last at such a pace, but it didn’t matter. She was already at her own climax.

Her quivering pussy clamped down around him as she was sent flying off the precipice. She cried out, back arching, body locking. Cramping fingers wrenched out clumps of grass. Green blades rained down around her head. She clawed at Kai’s arms.

Kai grunted at the squeeze of her milking pussy. The stinging scratches adding to the growing tight weight in his balls. With two more thrusts, Kai buried deep inside her with a guttural groan, cock coming alive.

Still floating on the tidal wave of her release, Teris purred at hot cum that further filled her.

Kai held still a moment, coming to his senses. His hand lifted, picking grass out of her hair. Lovingly, he smoothed her hair back and kissed her brow.

It was a strangely sweet act that contrasted beautifully from the hard, fast fuck. And Teris found herself purring again.

Kai blinked. Still lost in the moment he hadn’t registered her first purr. It was a tell that greatly narrowed down what kind of beast she was. He filed it away for later pondering. Right now he had more important matters to see to.

“Are you alright?” Kai asked, slowly pulling out and letting her legs fall. He wanted to watch his cum seep from her abused pussy. Wanted to push it back in despite no chance of pregnancy. But he had lost control and didn’t want to scare Teris off. He needed to prove her that he was a good, caring mate. Capable of seeing to all of her needs.

“That was… amazing.” Teris breathed, head and vision still hazy.

Kai kissed her. “We’re amazing. We could be amazing together all the time.”

Teris’ eyes widened, mind instantly clearing of its lustful fog. This didn’t mean they were mated. Did it? Both Shouta and Kai said that Fourth’s were freer with sex. Both had explained that mating required both parties to be knowing and willing of the bond. And while she had been very willing of the sex; she had not been knowing or willing of any lifelong connection. She wasn’t ready for that. Nice as Kai was. As much as she liked him. She didn’t know him well enough to be bonded for life.

Needing to be sure, Teris carefully asked. “So… What does this change between us?”

Basking in the heady endorphins and pheromones of his first real release, Kai was sure Teris would want to be his mate. She might even want to go again and become his mate this very moment. Much as he liked that. He would make her wait. His mate deserved to be bound to him in a proper bed. Not some filthy forest.

It struck him that she might not be ready to be mated. If that was the case they could be companions for a time. It would allow him to court her with her knowledge of it.

Nose brushing hers, Kai answered. “It changes whatever you want it to, Beautiful.”

“So we’re not mated?”

Kai ceased nuzzling her. “No.”

The beginnings of a frown tugged at his lips before she even asked her next question.

“And we’re not companions?” She asked.

“If you’re worried I wouldn’t accept you--”

“I’m not ready.” Teris said, cutting him off.

Kai’s expression hardened at her words and rudeness.

Seeing this Teris hurried to explain. “You’re wonderful and I like you. I like you a lot. But it’s only been a little over two months since I was brought here and told I wasn’t human. Before all that I didn’t even know Fourth's existed. Let alone that their was this whole other realm.”

She paused, thinking about the scarred man that had captured her. While now certain that he was a Fourth, she hadn’t know it at the time. The only thing she knew then was that his blue flames were clearly inhuman. She shook away the thought, wishing to forget the terrifying experience that she hadn’t told anyone about.

Looking at Kai, she went on. “It’s just a lot. Everything is still so new and unknown. I need to find my bearings. Learn to stand on my own feet before I go looking for a boyfriend-- I mean, companion.”

Kai was furious for a split second. She was already his. He had claimed her. He should just take her back to his Ilca dorm and lock her up until she learned her place. Until she learned who she belonged to. But even if he could force her to be his mate, he couldn’t act until he took his rightful throne. He couldn’t even tell her such things. Not with Council Elders arriving. Not with Aizawa being Teris’ Ilca Leader. If he became too aggressive and controlling, Teris could easily go to the Sphinx. As her Ilca Leader, Aizawa would have every right to keep her from him. If push came to shove it could turn into a challenge. And while Kai would love to fight and end the Sphinx, he couldn’t draw any undue attention his way. Not when his plans were so close to being enacted. Not when only a small handful of Council members were pledged followers of his.

“That’s rather rational.” Kai said, clearing his throat.

Teris relaxed, relieved. “You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.” Kai said. And he realized that he wasn’t. Not truly.

Teris wasn’t rejecting him. She just wanted to be a bit more comfortable and confident in this world before committing herself to him. Now that he thought about it, it was understandable. Having lived his own life with so much uncertainty. Not knowing if or when the ax the Council had hanging over his head would drop. Wanting to be able to stand on your own was something Kai could respect and appreciate.

Teris smiled, thinking Kai really was so sweet and caring.

Kai gave her a gentle kiss. “We can keep things as they are and simply seek release for now.”

Teris didn’t miss the ‘for now’ but chose to focus on the tantalizing prospect of seeking release with him again.

Kai pushed to his knees, and pulled up his pants and underwear. Teris sat up, pushing her bra back down and adjusting her breasts. Grabbing his ruined shirt, Kai laid it over her shoulders. A jolt shot threw him that went straight to his cock. The sight of her engulfed in his clothes had him wanting to shove her down and fuck her all over again.

But Ryuu, his mentor, would be arriving soon along with a handful of other Council Elders. Later, Kai told himself, aggravated that he had to refrain.

It irritated that he was coming away from this without her officially being his. It bothered that she didn’t even know that she was already his. But he could wait. So long as he didn’t have to wait long, he could be patient. If Teris wanted to wait until she was more comfortable and confidant in this world, then he would become the best damn teacher in Oblvi and see her so.

Gathering Teris’ clothes, Kai got to his feet and held a hand out to her. “Come on, Beautiful. There’s a nearby hot spring we can get cleaned up at.”

***So this fic will have a LOT more world building than my others. Please feel free to comment or send me an ask if you have any questions.

Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special thank you to those who have left comments and/or reblogged. They really mean a lot.

Special thank you to @inorganicone2230 who knows of my love for the mythic and encouraged me to start this fic without stressing about the other two I’ve got going. Your friendship means the world to me.

#bnha #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #yandere kai #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #yandere #my hero academia #au #fanfic #lost song

9 notes · View notes

ladymercytaylor · 4 years

Text

Last Christmas - Joe Mazzello x Reader (Holiday Series!)

Joe used to love Christmas. It was his favourite time of the year; usually spent with his family and friends drinking and eating way too much. But truth be told, he was dreading Christmas this year. Because one very important person was missing from his life. And it was all his fault. The whole sad story began the last year. Well…really 20 years ago, but shit hit the fan last December. You and Joe had met your first day of college. You’d been distracted, trying to fish your phone out of the bottom of your over-filled bag when you’d collided with an equally distracted ginger who’d been attempting to find the right building for his afternoon class. The map and all your books were sent crashing onto the concrete, which was quickly followed by furious apologies from both bruised parties. After embarrassed introductions you’d realised you were both heading to the same Intro to Literature Class and decided to walk there together (Joe was extra relieved as you’d been to that building that morning and he could follow your lead). And you were very kind, only teasing him for 5 minutes about him having been walking away from the Arts building. With a furious blush colouring his cheeks, he checked the map again only to groan loudly when he realised he’d been holding it upside down. And with that, you found your best friend. And that was how it stayed for the next 2 decades. The two of you were utterly inseparable, never going more than 2 days without speaking in-spite of his horrendous schedule. But it was always made easier with your job being an Associate Professor at NYU and your semester breaks were always spent jetting off to wherever Joe was in the world. He was always apologising and offering to pay for your airfare but you constantly refused, saying that you really didn’t mind.

And that wasn’t a lie – wherever Joe was, that was where you wanted to be.

Because you were hopelessly, completely and utterly in love with him. It took you an embarrassingly long time to figure it out, but in your final year at USC together you’d seen him hooking up with a girl from his Screenwriting class on the sofa when you came home early from your Shakespeare lecture. You’d immediately ducked back out into the hall, red hot tears stinging your eyes before it clicked in your brain. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t give to be that girl. But the fear of losing your best friend had you locking those feelings away in the deepest, darkest corner of your heart, concealing it from the world – and most particularly Joe. Of course a few people figured it out over the years; your mum, your siblings and your best friend Kate. But they were kind enough to keep it to themselves. Because to them, Joe was the dumbest man alive for not seeing what was right under his nose all along.

It was Christmas 2018 when everything changed. Joe was home for the holidays for the first time in three years and he was celebrating with a blow-out party at his Brooklyn apartment. Every one of his friends was invited; his other actor friends, college mates and of course his best friends from Bohemian Rhapsody. You’d been so relieved when you’d got the invitation 2 weeks ago. There was something you’d been desperate to tell your best friend – but it was definitely an ‘in person’ revelation and you’d been pre-occupied visiting your extended family before the holiday season kicked off.

So. There you were. Standing by the large living room windows of Joe’s apartment with a glass of champagne clutched tightly in your hand as you watched the thick flakes of snow drift down to the power-covered street below. “What’s got you looking so thoughtful over here?” a deep voice asked from over your shoulder. Looking into the dark glass you could see a familiar mop of blonde curls and turned to smile at Ben. There was an unlit cigarette dangling loosely between his lips and he was rugged up in his coat, scarf and beanie. Obviously about to head outside to abide by Joe’s ‘no smoking in the apartment’ rule. “I’m trying to work up the courage to tell Joe” you murmured. Ben immediately gave you a sympathetic nod, taking the cigarette from between his lips to fiddle with it aimlessly. “God, I don’t even know how you’re going to do that” “Me neither,” you sighed, “but it has to be done” “Good luck” he said with a half-hearted smile. “I’d do it now if I were you. If he plays another round of beer pong you can tell him but he’ll forget by morning” A loud chorus of cheers punched through the music; Joe’s team had evidently just won the game as you could distinctly hear him calling Sebastian “a little bitch”. “Go before you lose your nerve” were Ben’s parting words of wisdom before opening the window and climbing out onto the snowy fire escape. You took a steadying breath, willing the fingers clutching your glass to stop shaking. Before you could change your mind you crossed the small living room, downing the rest of your drink as you went. “Joe, I need to talk to you” your voice barely carried over Mariah Carey’s ‘Santa Baby’ that was pouring out of the speakers – but your best friend still heard you. When he turned you could see the slight redness discolouring his hazel eyes, but he was still relatively conscious so you’d have to settle for that. “Excuse me, gentlemen” Joe announced to his friends, who all gave him varying heckles in response, “but my petal needs me” Normally that nickname would have turned you into a giggling mess, but that night it shot a white hot stab of guilt through your chest. Joe pulled you into the deserted hallway, the crooning of Mariah deadened slightly. “What’s up, petal? This better be important to interrupt such a stellar beer pong tournament” he teased, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. “I…I” you stammered, heat rising in your cheeks. God this was so hard. Joe raised his eyebrows in a silent ‘go on’ gesture and the words spilt out of your mouth. “I got a job offer” “That’s great!” he grinned after a slightly stunned silence. “Don’t know why that was so-” “At the University of St Andrews” you finished. Joe paused, his arms half raised to give you a celebratory hug. “As in-” “The UK. Yeah” The Christmas carols and excited cries of Joe’s friends fell away, leaving you and your best friend for more than half of your life in silence. “Have you accepted it?” he asked after a while, confusion knitting his eyebrows together. You shook your head, your gaze falling to the toes of your black boots. “Do…do you want to go?” “I think so” was your meek reply. A soft scoff escaped Joe’s lips which had your head snapping up. “What?” “I’m sorry, petal, but I just don’t buy it” he shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest before leaning against the corridor wall. “Your whole life is here. Why would you want to leave that?” “My ‘whole life’?” you questioned, years of resentment suddenly boiling like magma inside your stomach. “My family isn’t here. Kate isn’t here – she’s in Scotland. The only things I have in New York are my job and you” “Then stay for me” he grinned, but there was something akin to fear clouding his eyes. “I can’t do that, Joe. Not anymore” you sighed, the decades of unrequited love crushing down on your shoulders. “I can’t spend the rest of my life following after you with the sadistic hope that one day you’ll finally see how goddamned in love with you I am” There it was. The dirty little secret that had been weighing on your heart for 20 years. Fear gripped every cell of your body, freezing you to the carpet. You waited for him to laugh. Or yell. Or just do anything other than stare at you. What felt like a decade passed, the only sounds were the thundering of your heart and the muffled sounds of Joe’s guests, who were completely unaware of your heart wrenching confession. “I should go” you managed to whisper through your aching throat. You turned to walk away but Joe’s hand shot out, wrapping tightly around your wrist. “Joe” the name was barely a whimper but it was all you could get out before Joe pulled you towards him, crushing his lips against yours. You responded immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips were everything you’d ever thought they’d be, warm and soft and felt like home. “What about the party?” you asked, reluctantly pulling back but resting your forehead against his. “Fuck the party” he whispered, his breath hot against your lips. “Stay. With me” You weren’t sure if he was talking about the job or you current situation, but you didn’t think too hard on it, allowing him to pull you into his bedroom, every other person in the apartment already forgotten.

You slowly blinked awake, roused by the cold winter light streaming in passed the open curtains. Snuggling back into your pillow you stretched out your arm, expecting to find Joe’s warm body next to you. But instead your hand wrapped around a sheet of paper.

Petal, Had to go, early meeting. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Call you later. - Joe

The butterflied that had erupted when you remembered the events of last night faded slightly. Who had an early meeting on a Sunday? As you re-dressed in your sequinned party outfit you told yourself that this was normal. Joe’s schedule had always been strange, and your best friend was constantly complaining that there was no such thing as “weekends” in the entertainment industry. So when you stepped out onto the frigid Brooklyn sidewalk in last night’s outfit you were convinced that you’d hear from Joe that night. Except that you didn’t. Or the night after. Or the night after that.

It was 3 days before Christmas when Joe finally surfaced. And it wasn’t even with a phone call. You were sitting with Ben and Gwil in their hotel suite, waiting for the two of them to finish preening so you could all head out for dinner before the two would return to London the next day. “Which glasses?” Gwilym asked, holding out two pairs. “Clear and square or black and round?” “Clear. Can see your eyes better” you answered immediately. The brunette grinned as Ben chuckled, sliding the plastic frames onto his nose. “So, tell us again how you scored that job?” Ben requested from his place in front of the mirror as he artfully applied gel to his blonde curls. “The school year went back in September” “All I know is that one of the professors got a little too friendly with a first year student. They thought it best to avoid the scandal and get someone in to take over. The press would have had a field day if he kept teaching” “I have to say - there is something kind of hot about the whole ‘Professor-Student’ dynamic” Gwil admitted, flopping down next to you on the end of his bed. “What exactly did you get up to at uni, Mr Lee?” you teased gently, but a full on belly laugh followed when he turned a violent shade of pink. “You know, I don’t think I want the answer to that” “Here here!” Ben agreed, his green eyes still fixed on his reflection. “so…after last night” he started, his eyes flickering to you in the mirror, “I’m guessing you’re not accepting the job?” “Still waiting for some more information” you murmured, your eyes falling to your fingers. “But…no. I think I’m staying” Both Ben and Gwilym watched a secretive smile twist your lips and they shared an excited glance. “So….anything happen last night you want to tell us about?” “I don’t kiss and tell, boys” “Ooooh!” they chorused. You let out an embarrassed laugh, your hands flying to cover your burning face. “Get it gurl” Ben chirped. All you could do was laugh louder and lean forward to bury your face in the comforter. “Stop teasing her and get ready, Benjamin” Gwil commanded, pointing to Ben’s lack of pants. “We’ll miss dinner at this rate” “Yes, Mr Lee” the blonde drawled as he turned back to the mirror. After a few minutes Ben finally moved away from his reflection, instead relocating to his suitcase where he began to stare at his pant options. “Typical” Gwilym chuckled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You followed suit, clicking on your Instagram app and scrolling through the latest photos. There was one of Kate, clearly dressed up to go on a date, another one of your cousin at her friend’s baby shower. But there was one that stopped you cold. You’d always meant to delete her. As soon as you’d found out Claire cheated on Joe she’d been persona non grata in your life and you’d thought it had been the same for your best friend. But the photo that glared back at you screamed the exact opposite. Claire had her arms wrapped so tightly around Joe’s middle it looked like she was trying to snap his spine, a ridiculous grin on her stupid face. The simple caption read “Finally got the one that got away! Best Christmas ever!” Ben’s question of the name of the restaurant you were going to fell on deaf ears and when the boys noticed your lack of reply they tip toed over to peek at the screen from over your shoulder. Both gasped quietly but you couldn’t tear your eyes off that fucking photo. “Is that the girl that –” Ben started but you cut him off. “Yep” “With his-” Gwil added and you nodded quickly. “Yep” “On his-” Ben continued. “Yep” you replied. “Jesus Christ” Gwilym muttered, still staring at the image on your phone screen. “I love Joe, but what a twat” “I’ve – I’ve got to make a call” you murmured robotically, standing up from the bed and heading out onto the balcony without a backwards glance. It was for the best that you didn’t turn around really, as you would have seen Ben mouth ‘Fuck’ to his best friend. Joe picked up after three rings, hesitation clear in his voice. “Hey, Petal” he managed to get out before you jumped down his throat. “Are you fucking joking, Joe? Claire?! Have you had a stroke I didn’t know about?” “I can explain –” he tried again but you were faster. “This is what you do after I tell you I love you? Sleep with me and then go running back to your scumbag ex?” you shouted. “I got scared” his meek reply sent your blood boiling. “Scared? You got scared? Try telling your best friend that you love them and then you’ll know what scared really feels like” you spat, your hand clenching so hard on the balcony railing that your knuckles popped. “Petal, don’t be like that” he groaned but all you did was scoff. “You know what? Fuck you, Joe” you hissed before smashing your thumb against the end call icon. You stayed on the balcony for a few moments, desperately trying to slow your racing heart and will down the tears that were stinging your eyes. With anger still flickering inside your chest you pulled up your email and began typing furiously.

That was the last time Joe heard your voice. He tried to visit you the next day, but you refused to open the door and he left dejected and cold. He tried again a week later after nearly a hundred unanswered voicemails but there was no response. He did see someone though, your neighbour Mrs Brookes. Who promptly informed him that you’d packed all your things and sublet the apartment – disappearing with only a rapid goodbye. He wasn’t surprised you left. He’d been expecting it really, after the way he treated you. But that didn’t stop it from breaking his heart. There were no words for how much Joe regretted what he did to you, and he knew better than to try and contact you again. Moving halfway around the world to get away from him sent a pretty clear message. But the regret never stopped eating away at his insides. And that was how he found himself standing on a snow covered London street on Christmas Eve. Normally the holidays were spent with his family, but Ben had recently been devastated by another bad breakup and had begged his former co-star to spend Christmas with him in his now empty apartment. Joe jumped at the chance, immediately booking himself a flight. He told himself that he was only doing it to help out a friend, but a niggling voice in the back of his mind kept whispering your name. The frigid cold bit at Joe’s exposed face and hands, the latter of which he quickly stuffed into the pockets of his black coat. Looking around at the deserted street, he watched the fluffy flakes of snow glide softly down onto the snow covered footpath as a melancholy sky escaped his lips. He’d been in London for 4 days and still hadn’t managed to work up the courage to try and contact you. He wasn’t even sure your phone number was still the same, he’d been too scared to text you. “Come on, Ben” he groaned quietly to himself, shuffling his powder covered feet. How long did it take to buy 2 bottles of Scotch? A loud laugh echoed down the street, freezing Joe to the spot. He knew that laugh. He’d spent 20 years with that laugh. It was hard to see through the curtain of snow steadily falling from the dark sky, but a few blocks down he could make out two figures walking towards him. One shorter in a bright red coat and the other much taller, dressed in navy. The man swore his heart stopped beating as he recognised the radiant smile on your face, but it immediately clenched when he realised who was making you grin. Gwilym’s mitten covered hand was holding gripping onto yours as he swung your entwined hands between you. More giggles pealed from your lips, each one like a knife through Joe’s chest. It wasn’t meant to go this way. This wasn’t meant to happen. “Oh, hi Joe” Gwilym stammered when the couple realised who they were walking towards. Joe smiled tightly at his friend before daring to peek at you. You were regarding him with a stone-cold face, all the light in your eyes that had been there only moments before now extinguished. “Funny running into you here” “Only bottle shop open near Ben’s place” Joe shrugged, his stomach twisting into knots. Tension so thick it was practically as solid as the surrounding snowflakes settled over you. “I might just go in and grab the wine. Be out in a bit, love” Gwilym offered, trying (and failing) to keep his tone light. Joe couldn’t help but scowl as he pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before ducking into the shop. “What are you doing here, Joe?” you asked, folding your arms tightly over your chest. “I came to spend the holidays with Ben. He’s not doing so great” your former best friend replied stiffly as he took in everything that had changed in the last year. Your hair was longer and a small gold charm he didn’t recognise was peeking out from the collar of your coat. His hands clenched when he realised it was probably a gift from Gwilym. “Ah, Emily” you nodded, kicking the snow gently with the toe of your boot. “And what are you doing here exactly? Shouldn’t you be in Scotland?” he asked, his words far more biting than he intended. “I’m spending the holidays with Gwilym” you replied stiffly, not raising your eyes from the footpath. “Meeting his family” you added quietly. “When exactly did this charming development occur?” Joe barked, anger flashing in his hazel eyes. “A couple of weeks after I moved, if it’s any of your business” you snapped back. Joe watched your eyes narrow dangerously. He knew better than to push you but he was so upset he just couldn’t help himself. “If you’re screwing one of my best friends I think it is my business” he shot back, his hands clenching so tightly in his pockets that his nails bit into his palms. “I’m not just screwing him, Joe!” you exclaimed, anger prickling up the back of your neck. “But I shouldn’t be surprised that you thought that. Sex is the only thing you want from someone, right?” Joe swallowed hard. He should have expected that. He deserved it really, but hearing it from you made it so much worse. It was as if all of the pain he’d caused you suddenly washed through his own body. “So…you love him?” the man in front of you asked after an awkward pause. You nodded. “Yes” “Petal, I’m –” “I don’t want to hear it” you interjected, the back of your eyes prickling uncomfortably. “You don’t deserve to apologise for what you did. You don’t deserve me, Joe” you murmured, the streetlight shining in the tears that were welling up in your eyes. A lead weight dropped into his stomach but he shook his head. “No, I don’t” he admitted and you watched the apple of his throat bob rapidly. He opened his mouth to continue but he was interrupted by the soft tinkling of the bottle shop’s bell as Ben and Gwilym stepped out onto the street each clutching a dark bottle. “(Y/N)!” Ben cried with far too much enthusiasm as he crunched through the snow to wrap you up in a tight hug. “What an unexpected surprise” “I’ll say” Joe muttered to himself, but a reproachful look from Gwilym had him shutting up with an embarrassed blush sweeping up his neck. “Are you coming to mine on Saturday?” Ben asked, his green eyes shining with excitement. “No, sorry Benny” you winced, “Kate’s down here visiting her girlfriend and they invited me over. It’s the first time I’m meeting Amira so I really couldn’t say no” “Alright” he conceded with a playful sigh. “But I want your word that you’ll visit before you head back up to Scotland” “Promise” you vowed, smiling weakly. “We better go, darling. We can’t keep your parents waiting” “Right you are, love” Gwilym replied, obviously eager for an excuse to leave. “I’ll see you boys later” “Behave!” Ben called out as the couple walked away, tucking the brown bottle under his arm to wave excitedly. Gwilym returned it with equal joy, but you could only manage a small half wave, your eyes still fixed on Joe. “Bye, petal” was his whispered reply as he watched you turn and walk away, hand in hand with your new love. And in that moment, Joe made a promise to himself. That as soon as you and Gwilym broke up he’d be there. To tell you what an idiot he’d been. That he’d loved you for longer than he wanted to admit but he was terrified of loosing you. That he’d do anything to have you back in his life. But he never got the chance. When he saw you again there was a glittering ring on your left hand and he realised he’d have to live with his mistake. Because really, it was all his fault. He’d ignored what was under his nose all along.

#gwilym lee x reader #joe mazzello x reader #borhap #borhap cast x reader #john deacon x reader #brian may x reader #queen imagine

92 notes · View notes

ditherwings · 4 years

Text

Magic Trick—A Good Omens Secret Santa Gift Fic

This is my belated GO Secret Santa gift for @hardly-functioning-morals! I’m sorry it’s late, but hope you like it!

Sorry about the odd formatting; I had to post this on mobile, and it came out a bit wonky. I expect I’ll cross post this to AO3 once I have a chance, and clean it up. My account there is bastet_in_april.

***

Magic Trick

by bastet_in_april (ditherwings), for hardly-functioning-morals

Aziraphale had always developed fascinations for peculiarly specific bits of human culture, and Crowley usually enjoyed indulging even the ones that he found a bit odd. What was the draw in Regency-period silver snuff boxes, for instance? It wasn’t as though Aziraphale had any particular use for them--he didn’t use snuff, and so had no reason to wish for a dainty container as a means to carry the stuff about in a pocket. Crowley saw little interest in collecting ancient leather-bound first editions with cracked spines and dusty pages, either. He didn’t read, he liked to insist, and, if that was a lie, then surely glossy coffee table books full of remarkable photos were more his style.

Still, Crowley loved to indulge Aziraphale’s fascinations. He enjoyed the excitement on his face as he examined a new find for his bookshop, turning the pages carefully with gloved hands. He loved the surprise on Aziraphale’s face when Crowley present him with a beautifully engraved little snuffbox, with mother-of-pearl inlay. He loved the way Aziraphale would expound on the delights of a new patisserie shop, and the way his eyes would roll up ever so slightly at the ecstasy of a perfectly prepared piece of nigirizushi.

Stage magic, though, was where Crowley drew the line.

It had happened while Crowley was asleep. In 1871, an up-and-coming stage magician named Alexander Herrmann parted ways with his brother Carl, in order to establish his reputation via a solo act. While Carl continued to tour Europe, Alexander headed for London.

In 1871, Aziraphale was still an angry, terrified recluse. It had been nine years since his fateful meeting with Crowley in St. James’s Park. He hadn’t seen Crowley since their argument, and he wasn’t sure whether he was more likely to dissolve into tears or shouting if he saw Crowley again, or, frighteningly, if he didn’t. So he stayed in his shop, fretfully conditioning old leather bindings and being increasingly curt with the few customers who dared cross the shop’s threshold. Perhaps the neighborhood noticed. Perhaps it was a concerned neighbor who thought that odd Mr. Fell really ought to get out of that dusty old shop more often who slipped the advertisement under the shop’s door. Perhaps it was simply a paperboy who’d been paid a bit extra to distribute the fliers. Perhaps it was chance. Perhaps it was ineffable.

Regardless, Aziraphale picked up the flier and was charmed and arrested by the image of the thin man with the goatee and curling mustache, dressed smartly in a black tailcoat and brandishing a magic wand. “Herrmann the Great!” it proclaimed. “Master of the Magical Arts! Now Performing at the Egyptian Hall!” The man was surrounded by whirling petals, playing cards, and doves in flight, and comically outlandish cartoon demons peered from the edges of the playbill to marvel at the magician.

Helpless, Aziraphale’s first thought was that this was exactly the sort of show Crowley would love--a perfect chance to see humanity’s remarkable capacity for imagination at work, while the demon snarked and snickered into his hand at the feats of “magic,” from where he sprawled into his seat. Aziraphale crushed that thought down into something small and sad, like a crumpled ball of paper, and tucked it neatly away. He took a deep breath. There was no reason not to attend the show on his own. He couldn’t hide in his shop forever, as the world continued to move around him. And perhaps Crowley would have the same thought, and Aziraphale might yet see him in the crowd at the Egyptian Hall, heckling the performer and downing expensive wine.

So it was that Aziraphale found himself in a packed theater, its ceiling bedecked with pseudo-Egyptian frescoes complete with strings of artistic renderings of hieroglyphic text (having resided in Egypt for a time during the Ramesside period, and categorically unable to resist reading anything with words on it, if it was within view, Aziraphale was rather bemused to find that the hieroglyphs on the column to the left of him read, “your mother keeps house with water buffalo, and your father smells of lotus root”). Aziraphale was disappointed not to spot a familiar shock of red hair, or a distinctively sauntering gait, amongst the theatergoers.

The crowd buzzed with excitement as Herrmann took the stage, looking theatrically dapper in a tailcoat and tophat, and slightly malevolent, with his goatee and curled moustache like a villain from a penny dreadful. He produced a deck of cards, seemingly from thin air, fanning them out in flourishes, conjuring them from audience members’ pockets, and then turning them into an explosion of colorful ribbons that streamed through the air. Aziraphale felt himself get drawn into the show, as pieces of set dressing--grand fruit trees, ruby-colored lamps, even a burbling fountain--appeared in puffs of incense-scented purple or green smoke. The crowd gasped in wonder or shock, as Herrmann unveiled each new wonder. He produced a dove from a woman’s evening glove, making her laugh with delight. To the surprise of the crowd a rabbit leaped from his tophat, after he tapped it twice with his wand. The onlookers erupted into delighted laughter, as the conjurer tried and failed to convince it to return to his hat, finally turning it into a monogrammed handkerchief, instead. Aziraphale marvelled quietly at the ingenuity of humans, to create miracles of their own. This was so different from the times he had witnessed angelic miracles being performed before crowds of humans. That had been a thing of terror, each witnessing mortal made small and helpless before the gaze of Michael or Gabriel. The magician, conjuring marvels and wielding powers the crowd did not comprehend, instead welcomed them into the experience with humor and charm, sharing the wonder of it with them, and delighting in their reactions.

Aziraphale thought again of Crowley, and bit his lip.

The magician waded a bit further into the crowd, pulling a shiny coin from behind a boy’s ear, and offering him the prize. He paused before Aziraphale, and doffed his silk top hat, offering it to Aziraphale, “You, good sir! Look into my hat! Can you confirm for the crowd that it is empty?” Aziraphale stood, peering into the hat, before agreeing for the rest of the audience that it was empty, and an ordinary hat, as far as he could perceive. “Thank you! Now I see by the lines of care and worry upon your brow that something troubles you, so I have the spirits to deliver a wonder to set your heart at ease. The imps and spectres have told me that what you fear shall not come to pass! Now, reach into this empty hat, and see the wonder the demon has delivered as a sign!”

Aziraphale reached into the silk hat, and felt his hand close around a smooth, round shape. He pulled forth a perfect, shining red apple.

***

Mrs. and Mr. Device were celebrating their anniversary by going on a short trip to the seaside, and needed a babysitter to look after six-year-old Magrat. Adam and the Them had each been given due consideration as potential sitters, but it was nearing end-of-term at school, and university applications and exams were making the teens look increasingly unglued. While Madame Tracey might be trusted with a small child, both parents agreed that Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell (retired) was a last resort, only in case of impending apocalypse, option. So, after some deliberation, and after Anathema’s cousin had begged off due to plans involving concert tickets, the professional descendant (retired) and witch (current) rang up Crowley’s mobile.

Crowley always sounded hunted when he answered his mobile, as if he were a bit worried about whose voice might be on the other, but was pretending at nonchalance. “Yeah, who’s this?” he asked. “Anathema Device,” Anathema answered.

“Book Girl!” Crowley exclaimed, relaxing. He’d attended her wedding, and known her for years, but some nicknames stuck. She rolled her eyes.

“Are you and Aziraphale free on Thursday evening? Newt and I are going on a day trip, and need someone to look after Magrat while we’re away.”

“And you thought you’d ask a demon to babysit?”

“I thought I’d ask my friend. Don’t pretend you don’t adore babysitting her. She told me that you read her stories, last time, and did all the voices.”

“What can I say, she’s a little hellion. What’s not to love?” Crowley hummed thoughtfully. “Give me a moment.” There was a pause in which Anathema could hear Crowley having a murmured conversation with Aziraphale, before Crowley lifted the mobile again, voice coming through clear and audible. “Sure, we can take her for the day. You two kids go have some fun.”

Anathema breathed a soft exhalation of relief. Promise secured, she began to let Crowley know exactly what he was in for.

***

Magrat Device did not want a babysitter. She was very certain that she should be allowed to stay up late on her own, thank you very much. She knew how to work a microwave, and had her parents on speed dial, and wouldn’t eat ice cream for dinner (honest!).

Her parents disagreed, which was why Crowley and Aziraphale were currently poring over a takeout menu, on her parents’ couch, trying to determine what one might order in to feed a six year old.

Anathema and Newt had named their daughter Magrat because Anathema knew the value, to a growing child, of being able to read one’s name in a book. Newt was pleased that this book, at least, while full of witches, fools, kings, and mistaken identity, did not involve an apocalypse.

It wasn’t that Magrat didn’t like spending time with Crowley and Aziraphale. The last time they had babysat her, they had gone to the park and Aziraphale had showed her how to feed the ducks, and Crowley had gotten her an ice cream, and then they had gone home and read from her favorite book--the one that had her name in it. But, the thing was, that had been when Magrat was five. Now, Magrat was six, and that was different. Six was grown up. Six year olds didn’t need babysitters, because six year olds weren’t babies.

“What would you like to eat, dear girl?” Aziraphale asked. “Is a curry too spicy? Or would you like some of the smoked trout and quiche from that lovely little cafe down the street.”

Magrat scowled, shoulders hunched up near her ears. “I don’t want anything to eat.”

“You’re a growing child. Can’t you try to eat something?” The angel looked pleadingly at her. “It’s alright if you don’t finish it, but I shouldn’t like to think of you going hungry.”

Magrat shook her head stubbornly.

“Tell you what,” Crowley said. “How about we order a sampler of a few things, and if anything piques your interest, you can try some of it. If not? Well, we’ll just leave the leftovers for your parents--save them having to cook tomorrow.”

When the takeaway arrived, it smelled enticingly of saffron, spices, butter, and fresh bread. Magrat stubbornly turned away, even as her stomach growled.

“Right,” Crowley decided, clapping his hands and straightening up out of his artful sprawl. “I know you don’t want to be babysat. Why would you? You aren’t a baby, and babysitting just sounds a bit demeaning. Or painful. The thing is, though, we aren’t just your babysitters, Magrat.” He tilted his head down to meet her hazel-colored eyes. She could just catch a glimpse of his bright yellow ones beneath the dark lenses of the sunglasses. “You’re a witch, so we’re your magic babysitters. Like when Hagrid took Harry Potter to Diagon Alley for school supplies.”

Magrat came slowly out of her slouch, considering this. “You’re not magic, though,” she argued. “Not like wizards, or witches, anyway. You’re an angel and a demon. You don’t have magic wands, or pointy hats, or cauldrons. You don’t pull rabbits out of hats. You might as well just be boring old regular babysitters, like Wensleydale or Auntie Sue.”

Aziraphale perked up, looking triumphant. “Oh, you think so, do you?” he asked. “Find me a hat, my dear, and we shall see!”

Crowley groaned. “Oh, angel, please not that. If she wants a rabbit, just miracle one up! Don’t you remember what happened last time? This is going to end in cream cake stains and tears--mostly mine--you mark my words.”

Aziraphale smiled serenely. “Nonsense, my dear. Now, Magrat, a hat, please?”

Magrat pulled a baseball cap from where it had been tossed onto the end of one of the umbrellas in the stand by the door. “It’s not the right kind,” she said.

“Oh, any hat will do. Now, I want you to check that it’s empty.” Magrat reached into the hat, feeling only the canvas material it was made from. “It’s empty,” she confirmed, interested in spite of herself.

“Right, now I need a magic wand.” Aziraphale looked around himself, as if expecting one might conveniently appear. It didn’t, so Azirphale snatched up a fork from the bag of takeaway on the table. He puffed out his chest, and cleared his throat theatrically. “Abracadabra expecto patronum bibbity bobbity expelliarmus!” The angel tapped the slightly rumpled baseball cap three times with his magic fork, and then picked it up and put it on his head. He wiggled his fingers, his eyes theatrically wide.

Magrat leaned forward, despite herself. Crowley covered his face with his hand.

With a dramatic, “Ta da!” Aziraphale whipped the cap off of his head and presented it to his audience. “One rabbit, as ordered!”

There was a pause. Aziraphale looked into the still-empty hat with bewilderment. Magrat and Crowley, however, were unable to tear their eyes away from the furry, bewhiskered little bunny rabbit that was perched comfortably amidst Aziraphale’s fluffy curls. His little pink nose twitched.

Slowly, Aziraphale’s eyes turned upwards towards his hairline, and he yelped, and made a grab for the rabbit, which leapt off of his head acrobatically and right onto the table, upturning the dish of eclairs, sending them flying through the air.

“What did I tell you?” Crowley asked, snapping his fingers. The eclairs settled back onto the plate on the table. And the rabbit was rather confused, but ultimately pleased, to suddenly find itself in the middle of a heavily guarded and carefully fortified garden of prize-winning vegetables (inciting wrath and suspicion of sabotage in the gardener, when he discovered the ensuing damage).

“Mmphghhahaha,” a peculiar half-strangled noise escaped Magrat’s mouth, like the first bit of water springing through the crack in a dam, presaging the deluge. She laughed until she had tears running down her face. Aziraphale, his face softening from bewildered shock to delight and fondness, laughed with her. Crowley, despite himself, let go of his second-hand embarrassment to join them.

The real magic trick, Aziraphale would explain to Crowley after the angel, the demon, and Magrat had finished their dinner, and demolished a respectable number of chocolate eclairs, was not pulling the rabbit from the hat. The real magic was surprise, wonder, and laughter.

#good omens #fanfiction #good omens fic #GoodOmensSecretSanta #aziraphale #crowley #stage magic #ineffable babysitters

36 notes · View notes

bygosscarmine · 4 years

Photo

We Who See Thestrals

A Harry Potter post-canon fic

Luna Lovegood X George Weasley

1860 words (total 10k)

Read Chapter 1

Read Chapter 2

3: The Difficulties of Employment

Halfway through the match, Angelina and Wood abandoned their heckling stream on Jordan's game commentary to get George some fresh air and slip him a few hangover spells.

Wood went back in without much further ado, but Angelina leaned over him as he slumped on the nasty alley wall.

"What's got into you, mate?"

"Angelina, I miss you," warbled George.

"Jibbering imps," she said. "What garbage. You know you and I weren't going to work out. It was too routine. And it was weird for us without…our other friends. We've moved on rather well, I thought. What's got you getting drunk during a lead-up match? Before half-time, no less? That's not you, George. You're worrying me."

"I'm worrying me," George muttered. "I don't know what it's about. I'll walk home."

"I'll walk you." She put an arm around his shoulders and started guiding him back down the street to his shop. He staggered slightly as they got to the door, and Angelina said, "Whoops," as the door opened under her hand. They walked in together, and there was a startled hiccup from inside. George focused consciously--it was Luna, stooped over one of the algae pets he'd stashed downstairs.

Three things happened almost simultaneously. His traitor redhead skin blushed so hard he could see it projecting beyond his skin, Luna jumped up saying, "Sorry, I lost track of the time", and Angelina did a double-take between them.

After Luna had hurried out the door past them, Angelina walked without hurry to the counter of the shop to get ready for a friendly interrogation. George wanted to hurl up his entire life.

"So. Luna's gotten lovely. She working here?"

"I can't…Angelina, have mercy. I feel like a baboon's behind."

"Fine," she said. "I am truly alarmed for you, George, but it's taken a new direction in recent minutes and I am fairly sure you'll live. So hang in there, drink some water. That's a love."

She walked back out. George mechanically locked the door behind her, and dragged himself up to the attic, out the cabinet, and down the stairs from his lab to his room. It felt like a very long way. He drank the water still on his nightstand from forgetting to drink it the night before, and tried to fall asleep.

He felt like hell the next morning, so he didn't even go up to his laboratory. The next day he had some meetings, so he apparated straight to Hogsmeade, then to Godric's Hollow. He ambled casually back in to his shop after a stop in one of the shops in Diagon Alley, saw the back of Luna, and quickly retreated upstairs again.

There was a bang downstairs the next afternoon, but he ignored it. Bangs usually meant someone was having fun, and he didn't feel much like fun.

Then someone banged on the outside of the cabinet door, and Rhodie came tumbling in.

"Mr. Weasley, please. Something's happened downstairs."

"What's happened?" he asked, insides turning to a Medusa's head of rising worry. "Is someone hurt?"

"I don’t think so, but I'm worried--Luna's in a state."

He hurried even more.

The shop was a near-silent scene of chaos. Two of the shelves had been blasted awry, while Luna pleaded, "Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum!"

A shield charm was between her and the wall, where green sparks were still flying from the Wildfire Whiz-Bang, and she stood in front of a small group of children who seemed to be petrified (possibly just by her terror) into staying still.

"Was she startled by the firework?" George asked Rhodie softly.

"Yes, I think so."

Luna's usually soft voice was defiant, threaded with fear, as she kept asking for her guardian to come, even while she tried to hold another spell. George walked first into her line of sight from a few steps away, then knelt in front of her, to not get between her wand and the threat she thought she was seeing.

"Luna, it's just a boggart. Riddikulus, say riddikulus."

He looked at the children behind her, and smiled. "Riddikulus!"

One of them repeated it, and another giggled. Luna whispered first, then said loudly, "Riddikulus!"

And she blinked, realizing where she was. Her wand dropped from her hand, and George started to grab it only to realize that she was dropping, too.

He caught her, the weight more than he had expected from feather-like Luna, and her fingers dug into his arms. "George," she said.

It was a question, but not about him.

"It's all right," he said, awkwardly holding her up from the side. "It was just a memory."

She straightened herself, gave a reedy laugh. "Not even a memory. Just a fear. A flash of green and a bang, like everyone's afraid to see again."

Not everyone had been at Hogwarts, when it all ended. And even of those, not everyone had lost people to loud bangs in childhood, like she had.

"Let's go get you a stiff drink."

She didn't lean on him on their way, which disappointed him slightly. It disappointed him in himself even more that he had kind of hoped for that. Since it was unfair to Rhodie, once at The Leaky Cauldron he set her up to take a nice break with a chatty witch up from the country and went back to the shop to help clean up.

Despite hearing all about Ms. Flybybough's garden tricks for repelling deer and snails, part of Luna's mind was very preoccupied with figuring out how she was going to move forward from this setback. Which taught her something, at least: she wanted to stay at the joke shop. After all, it hadn't been her idea.

"You need something to do with yourself," Hermione had decreed, the decision in her voice the same as when she had started any new project. "And it needs to be something where you'll be out with people. Don't argue. I'm not sure journalists are people, and if you do all your work by correspondence you aren't out with them. I'll ask Ron to get you a job at the joke shop."

The small part of Luna that always notified her when something was a bad idea, though she was going to do it anyway, flared. But she hadn't really puzzled much over why it could be a bad idea. Her new house was too new to have any comforting build-up of memories, and though it was an easy distance to London even without apparating, she wasn't good at organizing things, so she could only hope for other DA members to initiate meet-ups. For a while it had all been fine--being an adult and able to do whatever she wanted after graduating had been fun and new. But it had grown harder to not miss her childhood home, or Hogwarts, or even the bad days of fellowship in the Order of the Phoenix. Some, like Neville, thrived in the normalcy. She had thrived in times of disaster, as not needing to be normal.

But today she'd frightened children and had a panic attack.

And the Weasleys had been so kind, letting her come play shopkeeper. Which in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes meant playing shopkeeper who played with toys all day. She never did anything by halves (she was a Ravenclaw, after all) so she'd figured out everything there was to know about the items in the shop, without actually interrogating George about exactly how the enchantments on things worked.

And she'd liked going up into the laboratory and seeing the as-yet-unfinished ideas sitting around, gently sparkling with potential. She'd even started keeping a little notepad of ideas, which she felt needed a bit more work. But she might have to just pull a Gryffindor and talk about them before they were ready, because she liked her job here.

She also liked George. This was not a secret she tried to keep from herself, though she did usually pack it up like a roll of parchment for safekeeping at home before going in for work every day. After all, she'd liked George for a long time--most everybody had liked one or both of the Weasley twins in her year. Well, she supposed not everyone had liked them in the same way. But there had been a definite trend she had noted, of first being celebrity-struck by the two of them, and gradually beginning to distinguish them and pick favorites. Fred, with a slightly more manic energy and a tendency to wink at anyone he caught looking was the usual first favorite, with some moving on from him to the more self-assured and devious George.

This was probably part of why Luna's inner witch had hinted that coming to the shop was a bad idea. Other girls had moved on from their first-year crushes with a lot more grace, but....

"Blister-blots," said the familiar voice of Ginny, its slight rasp reassuring. "You've made a mess of poor George's beautiful shop. What have you to say for yourself? Oh, a Butterbeer for me, Tom. Mum's got all the kids for a moment but she better not smell anything stronger on my breath when I get home. She hasn't sent me a Howler since my marriage, but there can always be a first time."

"Did George call you here?"

"Not exactly," Ginny said, eyeing her friend dubiously. "I was out for errands and decided to drop in to see if he had a special order in for me. I'm trying to hide it from Harry until our anniversary. Harry is incredibly hard to hide things from, as one might suppose. George asked me to check in on you on my way out, which I thought uncharacteristically thoughtful of him. What happened?"

"I'm not sure," Luna admitted. "A firework went off with green sparks in it and I just was sure I was looking at a dementor or Death Eater. I've never had that happen before."

"Weird, isn't it? Really unpredictable, what will set someone off. Harry can't abide being in a tent but he deals with all kinds of explosions and nastiness every day. The other day I got incredibly upset, and couldn't figure out why, until my dad pointed out my mother's clock was jumpy about something Ron and Hermione were up to. Wish I hadn't had to think about that, since there's only so much danger a married couple could be up to at seven pm with their children at Granny Molly's. Oh, sorry," said Ginny, seeing the way Luna's face changed color. "I have the worst family trait. 'If I had to suffer the thought, now you do, too.' One of the few things Ron and I share besides the Prewett nose. Anyway, chin up. George deserves to clean up after other peoples' chaos a few times, and I despair of him ever having kids to really serve him right."

A silence fell. Ginny took a deliberate sip of her Butterbeer and grimaced at the sweetness. Then she gave Luna a sideways look.

"Let's take our drinks to a table, shall we?"

Luna did so, not wholly sure why but agreeable.

Read Chapter 3

#We Who See Thestrals #Luna Lovegood x George Weasley #Luna Lovegood #George Weasley #Ginny Weasley #Angelina Johnson #fanfiction #The three Broomsticks #HP

4 notes · View notes

emotionalsupportfiction · 4 years

Text

Something really bummed me out so when life gives you lemons… write stuff about it right? I admit this is more of a... “I just want to comfort myself” fic or Drabble but I still wanted to share

How would RGB comfort their crush in certain situations. Scenario is overthinking another person’s reaction. I have a preference for writing scenarios where the reader is the crush rather than an established relationship (BECAUSE I LOVE THE PINING. Its my favorite trope flavor!!), hmmmmmmmmmmm….

Also warning... I give really stupid nicknames, you’ll know what I’m talking about soon.

Python

Python tried as his best to read the message displayed on your screen as objectively as he could. He didn’t know your childhood best friend personally so there was hesitation on his end to say anything negative about them. He glanced at you sitting on the bleachers, then returned his focus on message.

—

You: sent an image

You: BESH! BESH! remember that competition I joined??? the writer’s thingy! well I WON. i thought i’d get an honorary mention but i got first place!

Their response came after thirty minutes

Besh<3: oh that’s great congrats

—

A bit dry, even for him, but he wasn’t about to jump to conclusions. You on the other hand rode that overthinking train hard and fast. More tears started streaming down your face, your sleeves could barely keep up with their flow.

“Maybe I’m overthinking things. I just I don’t know…” you managed to say through the stream of tears. “Ya expected a different reaction?” you nodded at his input.

He rubbed the back of his neck, he hated seeing you cry, double this time around since that writer’s competition meant a lot to you. Python witnessed how much effort you put into your submission, you even asked him to read it. You had talent, he’d told you time and time again but you always second guessed yourself.

Getting you to join the competition was a collective effort from him, Forsyth, Lukas, and your best friend, so even he was stumped with their flat reaction. He handed your phone back and pulled out a few more tissues, wiping your tears with them. “Geez sunshine, I ain’t gonna pretend I know what’s up with your bestie.” He sat himself right beside you on the bleachers, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Maybe you could ask them later? Get their side of the story first, I get that this stings. This is your big win and you wanna celebrate it with them.”

“Am I being selfish? I want them to be happy with me, for me. Maybe I’m asking too much? Maybe… my win means nothing…”

“Hey.” You turned your attention to him, more tears streaming down your face. Python reached out and wiped away the waterworks as best he could while a sigh escaped his lips. “You worked your butt off for that piece, its your time to shine, and shine you did. A victory party is in order, enjoy yourself, easier said than done given the situation but sunshine… don’t let one person rain on your parade m’kay?” he opened his arms slightly, motioning if you wanted a hug. You went in for a quick side hug then pulled away. “Sunshine…” he lightly tapped his knee against yours a few times “I ain’t the best stand-in for your best friend but I’m here for you. We could grab a bite to eat after class. Let’s drag Fors and Lukas into our little celebration if you’re up to it eh? Whaddya say?” he tapped his knee against your while wiggling his eye brows at you.

Hard to refuse that offer, seeing how much effort Python put into cheering you up. Your schoolmate always looked overworked and tired, a bit grumpy too. Like if you wasted his time he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you off but after getting to know him, he really did care about his friends and was supportive in his own special way. “A little party sounds like a great idea Py…” talking to him lifted some of the anxiety and sadness you were feeling, its nice to be reminded that there are other people out there who are rooting for you.

—

Later that night, after the victory party, you followed Python’s advice and calmly messaged your best friend.

You: hey besh, i want to talk to you about something , its been on my mind for awhile

It took a while for them to respond

Besh<3: what about?

You: remember when I texted you about my win? i don’t want to sound demanding but i just want to be honest. i was kinda disappointed with your response. kinda expecting you to be happier for me but something tells me you have something on your mind… you wouldn’t reply like that to me.

Besh<3: …

Besh<3: oh besh… i just didn’t want to ruin your moment. i really am happy for your win but a lot of things happened around the time you messaged me.

You: hey… talk to me okay? what’s going on?

Besh<3: well… we rushed Gouda to the vet cause he just refused to eat anything

Now that made sense, Gouda was their cat they’d had for as long as you could remember, no wonder they weren’t as enthusiastic.

Besh<3: vet said it could be old age and we might have to put him down

Besh<3: i really wanted to be happy for you. i’m so sorry, i should’ve tried to be happy for you. please forgive me…

You: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?

You: OMG BESH, Gouda is family! No! No! don’t apologize, you had a lot going on. i should apologize for not checking up on you first

Besh<3: i’m sorry…

You: i’m sorry too… i felt like something was off with your message but i went ahead and started overthinking things

Besh<3: i don’t want to play blame games besh but i am happy you opened up to me about your feelings. this could’ve been avoided if i’d been more open about what was going on my end

Besh<3: i just want you to know i’m so happy for you

Besh<3: you worked hard on that and you deserve first place

You: ;A; BBBBBEEEEEEEEESSSSSH!!!! i’m sorry for not checking up on you first

You: i want to give you a hug so bad right now! is it alright to ask about Gouda? its totally fine if you don’t want to talk about him. wanna FaceTime? i’m here for you okay, need to cry it out over the phone id gladly listen okay?

They FaceTimed you, you both had a good cry and talked for over an hour. That call made you feel a lot better and they promised to keep you updated on Gouda’s condition.

—

AAAsunshine: hey py-py thanks for cheering me up. talked to my bestie, they had some stuff going on but we sorted it out

mightyanaconda: glad to hear it sunshine and happy to help

AAAsunshine: ill see you at school tomorrow, night cobra

mightyanaconda: ugh… i have to see your face again tomorrow??

mightyanaconda: JK

mightyanaconda: ait see ya and sweet dreams sunshine 😘

mightyanaconda: btw just wanna say this. congrats on your win sunshine. ya worked hard and you deserve the win m’kay? yar a winner sunshine

AAAsunshine: ooooh praise from you??

mightyanaconda: heh savour it, praise from me is worth more than bitcoin 😎

AAAsunshine: 😒😒😒

AAAsunshine: wow such praise much wow. anyways, thanks again cottonmouth. night night

mightyanaconda: happy to serve… i guess. Sweet dreams 😉😘

Forsyth

Fosryth couldn’t have been happier for you, while you didn’t win the school talent show both the Glee club and Chorale group were battling it out to convince you to join either of them. All you wanted to do in that moment was to savour your accomplishment. Stage performance had always given you anxiety but their was this desire in you to perform as well. Fosryth, your sister, Lukas, and even Python had advised you to give it a shot, you had talent after all and that was worth sharing with the world.

You couldn’t help but smile at both the Glee and Chorale leaders but “I’ll have to think about it” was your response to their passionate invitations, Forsyth had to politely ask them to leave after they’d begun heckling you once more.

Once your “recruiters” left you poked Forsyth on the cheek “Thank you Fors.” You said in a sing-song manner, he came in for a big hug “Congratulations! I haven’t the clue why you didn’t win first place!! But you were amazing on stage!” he released you and took the guitar case from you.

“Oh you exaggerate! But I’m glad that’s over with, it wasn’t so bad.” You giggled to yourself “I might even try it again.”

You could feel Forsyth beaming with excitement “If that’s the case, the next time we have school event and in need of an intermission number you’ll be first on the list! I promise that! Why I’ll even plan more school events so you can perform more!!” he balled his fist in excitement. Without skipping a beat Forsyth changed the direction of the conversation “Oh! Do you want to stop by the café before going home? Just a small celebration, I know you must be tired but I’d really like to celebrate…” he paused for a bit, a very faint blush painting his cheeks ”… This with you.” He finished his sentence sheepishly

Either you were too dense or didn’t want to color Forsyth’s thoughtfulness. He treated everyone cordially and was always happy to help so you had assumed he was this nice to everyone. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, making you focus elsewhere.

—

mightyanaconda: sent a video

mightyanaconda: here’s a short video of your number bubbles, its got all the good bits in it

mightyanaconda: if ya want the full vid let me know

bubz: thank you python~

—

Your sister had always been your supporter ever since you were children. She wasn’t musically gifted herself so when you picked up singing and guitar, she backed you up by 2000%. That video would thrill her

You: sent a video

You: hey sis eat your heart out, your younger sibling’s a star!!

Focusing your attention back on Forsyth who’d been waiting patiently for your response, he gripped the handle of your guitar case nervously “I’m so sorry Forsyth.” you rubbed his arm “Python just send me the vid. I just had to send off to my sister right away about the café thing, I’d love to but don’t you want to drop off the guitar case at my place first?”

“Oh oh! Don’t you worry about me! I can carry this around.” He lifted the case like a dump bell. You silently admired how he had just flexed his rather toned arms at you but you more worried about accidentally breaking the guitar.

“I’m sure you’ve lifted heavier things Fors but I’d like to keep that as safe as possible? Minimize chances of damage.” He turned beet red. “I didn’t mean to-! Your things are important and I’d want to avoid anything that would damage-“ you pressed two finger on his lips “I get it Forsyth, its fine.” You smiled to reassure him

—

You set your case at the corner of your apartment’s living room and decided to check your phone as you made your exit. “Weird.” You thought, your sister had seen your message but no response came. Was your performance so dazzling that it left her speechless? You were sure the green haired bouncing ball of energy outside would agree but something about this didn’t settle well with you. Flipping through your contacts, you dialed your sister’s home phone right away but there was no answer. Your face began to dark as you stepped out the door, greeting Forsyth with a serious expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Maybe I’m just overthinking things but she hasn’t responded to me, I wonder if she’s okay?”

“Your sister I take it?” you nodded in response while you gave her cellphone a ring. Your call went straight to voice mail that prompted you to give her a call a few more times. After six called she finally picked up

“What do you want?” that’s not the greeting you had hoped for, she sounded really irritated

“Uh…” there was a negative vibe that seeped through the call but you tried your best to remain chipper “I sent you the video of my number for the talent show. I did it! Finally –“ you heard an exasperated sigh from the other side, stopping you from saying anything else.

“Look… you picked a really bad time. I’m just not in the mood right now okay?” that broke your heart, you were expecting her to be happier and excited like Forsyth but that wasn’t the case. Sadness and disappointed slowly began turning into mild anger.

“I don’t get you… you’ve been pushing me to do this since we were kids and now you just…”

She cut you off with another sigh that was much louder “I told you now is a bad time okay? Just leave me alone for a bit okay!?” and with that your sister hung up.

Forsyth tried his best to fish out his tissues to catch your falling tears but you’d already started crying a river.

—

He wasn’t sure how to comfort you, he had no words and he was careful not to say anything mean or negative about your sibling. The only thing he could offer you was a hug and you clung to him, crying it out into his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be this upset!” you were a blubbering mess “Its just a stupid performance, I’m blowing it out of proportion like a spoiled brat!!”

“Its understandable that you’d be upset. Your performance is NOT stupid or unworthy of praise! Don’t discredit yourself like that!” he hugged you even tighter, he could feel you getting hiccups from crying so much.

You pulled away, wiping both tears and snot off your face with another tissue. Your living was now littered with used tissues and another one was added to the pile “Was it wrong for me to expect her to be happy for me?”

“NO!” he shook his head furiously “I don’t know what’s going on with your sister but…” he took a long pause to gather his thoughts “You were amazing while you were performing. You’ve got both the talent and the passion for it, it really shows. The way you put so much effort when you practice and the emotion your voice carries when you sing. A voice like that should be shared with the world if you ask me so I’m really happy you went ahead and performed in spite of your nervousness. I’m really, truly proud of you.” He hugged you again, it was warm, sincere, and comforting. “I’ll… always be one of your adoring fans.”

Forsyth realized how over the top and mushy what he just said was, his face burned. “I-I-I know what else we can do to help you feel better! We never got to go to café, I’ll step out for a bit and grab some food there! I’ll come back of course!” he quickly let you go, grabbed his jacket and made a mad dash for the door. He was redder than a tomato, heart drumming rapidly against his chest.

—

You had very little time to process what had just happened, right on cue your phone started buzzing. You checked the screen and saw your sister’s name, you took a deep breath before answering the call.

“He-hello?”

“Hey… I’m really sorry about earlier. You could tell I was angry but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

You felt the tears well up once more “I should’ve been more sensitive to you, I could tell by your voice you weren’t in the mood, should’ve just given you sometime and talked to you once you were ready.”

“Nope kiddo, this is all on me. I suck at being your number 1 fan but I’m proud of you. You’ve moved on from singing on top of the bed to singing on an actual stage.” That was fond childhood memory, you both would pretend your parents’ bed was a stage or stadium, and you lip sync to your favourite songs while your sister pretended to be a fan in the crowd. “I watched the video, its not the full video so you better send me that so I can put that on repeat! You did an even better job at the song than the original artist! Can I put it on my tiktok and make you famous?” you could tell she was doing her best to make up for her outburst a while ago.

“Aw c’mon that’s laying it on too thick.” You breathed in deeply as you held the phone closer to your ear “Hey… I am worried about you, you know that right? So what’s up on your end?” you heard her scoff on the other side

“Don’t worry about that for now, I’ll fill you in later. I don’t want to think about anything negative and just want to celebrate this with you!” a beat passed “Also… I’m really curious who that green haired guy is in the video… your boyfriend? When did you learn to keep juicy secrets from me?”

Boyfriend? Green hair? Only Forsyth came to mind and then the memory of him holding you close and getting all sappy a while ago rushed through head. A hot blush raged across your face “He-HE isn’t my boyfriend!” you managed to sputter out

“Hohoho! He seems quite taken by you!” the relentless teasing continued

“What makes you say that?!” you tried to fan yourself to calm down the blush.

“Seriously? You saw the video right?”

Actually, you hadn’t watched the video of your performance. You swiped out from the call and checked the video Python had sent you. It started normal enough, you in frame, the video would cut out to a different portion of your performance but one segment really stood out. Who would’ve guessed that Python would mischievously add a clip of his best friend gushing about you.

“Oh…” you heard Forsyth sigh affectionately in the video “They sound like an angel Python. I can’t take my eyes off them… I could watch and listen to them all day and night…” the video transitioned back to you on stage.

You could hear your sister making kissy sounds on the other side of the line while laughing hard. Embarrassed beyond reason, you tried your best to clear things up with your sister. Forsyth could come back any minute with the food and you didn’t want to get caught talking about him. Your sister continued to tease you and ask you to call her back once you were done with your “date”. Circumstance must’ve been playing tricks on you, Forsyth so conveniently returned at that moment with food.

“Hoh? You left the door unlocked? I’ve returned with food though, sorry I took so long. I passed by another shop and bought you something from there as well.” You could hear your sister cackling maniacally before hanging up. Keeping calm after seeing the video was going to be challenge but you managed to have a small food party and update Forsyth that you and your sister were okay now. As it was getting late, he said he’d have to go but not before giving you one last hug. You bonked yourself on the head for being so oblivious to the possibility of him having feelings for you.

—

Superman: Happy to announce I’ve made it back home! I’m glad I was able to cheer you up even a little bit. I’m even happier to hear you’ve spoken to your sister.

You: Glad you’re home safe! Thanks Forsyth, I’d probably be sulking all night long if it wasn’t for you

Superman: I’d do anything to cheer you up. I’ll even act like a clown if it means putting a smile on your face!

You: Don’t over do it green bean.

You: Oh, I spoke with my sister. Apparently, she lost her job that’s why she was all bummed out.

Superman: !!!

Superman: Maybe I could help her out with job hunting? Although my contacts are from around our area, is she particular about the location?

You: Thanks Fors but my sis has a plan and sent her resume to several prospective employers. I appreciate the effort and concern though

Superman: Well anything to help you out

Superman: I mean anything to help someone in need out

You: I’m heading in for the night. Forsyth, thank you so much for being there for me, you’re the sweetest and the best. Night night. 😙

Superman: 😳

Superman: Sleep well and sweet dreams, can’t wait to see you tomorrow!

Superman: UH I mean, its always great to see you because I know you’re okay and not sick… and… and

Superman: You know what… I’ll just stop talking… Good night.

Lukas

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” Lukas gave you a gentle smile “I read your paper, your passion and grasp of the topic shined through. Professor Evans echoes my opinion, you wrote an excellent paper.” You couldn’t help but stare at the post-it your professor stuck on your hard copy.

“Your final research summary paper was an excellent application of all the concepts we’ve learned in class. I want to congratulate you on your effort and dedication, you’ve earned the A+ and, if you’d allow me, I’d like to add your work to a journal I’m working on. You will be fully credited of course, its just my personal collection of student’s work.”

You’d lost count at how many times you’d re-read the note, how many times you’d replayed the commendations. The high you were feeling was difficult to complain and you found yourself tugging Lukas’ sleeve “You helped me too! You proofread my drafts and pointed out areas of improvement. Professor also commended your paper!” he shook his head in response

“My input was probably only worth two-percent of your mark, everything else was your hard work. With that being said our A’s could only mean we’ve passed the course with flying colours.”

“That calls for a celebration! So another coffee party or…” you fished out your phone and hurriedly looked up something up “Do you want to try this place out?” he inched closer to you to look at your screen “This place has started selling coffee jelly but they’ve got other items on the menu.”

His eyes perked up at the word “coffee”, his favourite “drug” of choice “I do like the sound of that, I’ll just drop off something at the learning center and we can head out. I believe you don’t have anymore classes for the day?” you gave him a thumbs up in response and told him you’d wait for him outside the school. Perfect opportunity for you to text your cousin about your “little” academic victory. You’d always been close with your cousin, granted that you grew up together. Both of you lived in the same area, so you’d alternate sleepover parties in each other’s houses. For college though, you’d gone to different institutions, you’re cousin chose a place in your hometown while you went to a busier city’s university. Though you’d gone different paths, you still texted each other almost everyday

—

YouAbu: Cuz! I got an A+ on my final psych paper! When I visit for break you better treat me to pizza!

kingkong: What’s new? You’ve always been the smarter one so that isn’t news to me heh 😜

YouAbu: LOL What’s with that? You can’t weasel your way out of treating me with pizza!

kingkong: uh 🤨 why would I reward something that comes naturally to you? Learn to drive stick then come back to me xD

YouAbu: whatever 😒… you owe me pizza🍕🍕

—

What was that about? Everything your cousin said just irritated you for some reason. Granted they always had a certain “edge”, as you would describe it, in the way they talked that didn’t really bother you because you’d gotten used to it through the years. But something about this situation coupled with what they said irritated you.

—

Lukas was far too preoccupied trying to read your mood than enjoy his coffee jelly. He watched as you playing with the metal straw in your mouth as you drummed your fingers on the table. He cleared his throat to break the silence “Something’s bothering you I take it, I’m all ears if you’re willing to share.”

Pushing the metal straw away with your lips as you let out a dry laugh “Last time I checked I’m the one studying therapy…” he quirked an eyebrow at your response but continued to observe you, the way Lukas would look at other people, it always seemed like he was putting others under a microscope. You’d grown used to that habit of his, you didn’t find it off putting at all. “Have you told your family about you’re A?” you quickly changed the subject

“I doubt they’d care. You know my older brother wants nothing to with me, my father on the other hand would simply respond with something along the lines of getting good marks are what’s expected of me.” He gave a smile, the kind that was all show, the kind that masks something underneath.

You could relate to his situation at the moment “I know how that feels…” you took a long sip of your drink “I thought this person would celebrate with me but their reaction simply irritated me.” Stirred your drink with the straw

“Sounds like we only have each other to celebrate our personal victory.” He leaned in a bit “If it helps you take the edge off things, I don’t mind you venting to me.” You slid your phone to him, the exchange between you and your cousin on the screen. Lukas read through it, took a quick glance at you before closing his eyes with a sign. That was your cue, he signalling you to start venting.

“I just… everything they said rubbed me the wrong way. Especially that bit about me getting A’s expected, I don’t just sit down ,write a test or paper then manifest an A.” you tapped the table as you spoke “Good grades don’t just ��come naturally’ to me Lukas neither does it ‘come naturally’ to you.” you crossed your arms in front of your chest with a huff.

Lukas would be lying if he said he didn’t understand how you felt. “You don’t like it that people have a certain expectation of you.” You nodded in response “But you did expect your cousin to react in a certain way, did you not?” you flashed an angry look at your companion. Did he just defend your cousin? “I don’t mean to exacerbate your irritation. What your cousin just said, that good grades come naturally to you and are to be expected of you, failed to consider all the hard work and effort you put into your studies. As you said, we don’t just sit down and conjure up A’s.”

“What are you getting at Lukas?”

“I don’t know your cousin as personally as you do but I think they’re unaware that you find such comments disagreeable.” He tilted his head

“They’ve known me since we were kids.” He noticed your shoulders tense up as you said this

“You thought they’d react in a certain way and they thought you’d be okay with a comment like that.” He took a bite of his coffee jelly “The best option to take is to talk to them and let them know how they made you feel. The fact that you’re reacting this way, I can only wager a guess that your cousin means a lot to you and you put a great amount of trust in them.”

“Lukas… you’d make a good counsellor.” To which he shrugged “You don’t believe me? Would I lie to you?”

“You wouldn’t… I trust you a great deal, so my expectation is you wouldn’t say anything to deceive me.” He glanced at you before flashing a faint yet genuine smile. This was a rare occurrence, Lukas was showing vulnerability. Though he was very popular and well-liked in school, he didn’t have many friends and had trouble connecting with others. Something you’d observed was that he kept a lot of people at arm’s length and never truly opened up to anyone.

He looked at your sincerely “I think you need to hear this again. Don’t let the words of others undervalue your effort. You are a responsible, intelligent, and a hardworking person, I’m witness to those virtues and I admire you for them. All your successes happen by your own hand and not because you were born to succeed.” After speaking, he clinked his glass to yours. “So for now, let’s ignore those people who don’t understand and let’s celebrate our hard work?”

A smile cracked through your face, Lukas was right. It wasn’t fair to yourself, letting the words of others get you down and spoiling your day. “Thanks Lukas, I’m glad you’re here to celebrate with me.”

—

YouAbu: could we talk for a bit? You said something awhile ago that didn’t settle well with me

kingkong: yeeesh I treat you to pizza m’kay?

YouAbu: its not that, you said good grades are expected of me and that really irritated me for some reason

kingkong: but you’re smart

YouAbu: Cuz… I’m not just smart. I study really hard and put in a lot of work into my schooling. It really hurt me that all my effort was just swept under the rug. I might be coming off as sensitive but I just wanted you to know how I feel

The text bubbles below kept appearing, as if they were typing and re-typing what they wanted to say. Took a minute for them to respond

kingkong: just… growing up you always got good grades and made it look so easy but now I realize its not easy. You were always reading books or going over school stuff

kingkong: and I gotta admit… I was kinda jealous of you’re A+ and let the green-eyed monster talk for me… I’m sorry

YouAbu: Hey… we’re cool and if you ever got the impression that I was showing off or something, I’m sorry for that

kingkong: I don’t mean anything bad with what I’m about to say but cuz, you were born to stand out ya know? You’re smart, killer work ethic, and have a way with words. You’re not showing off, you’re just dazzling peeps by being you

YouAbu: You are laying it on thick there cuz, you might just get away from treating me to a pizza

kingkong: HAHAHAHA that was the plan! But, when you get another A+, what should I say to you?

YouAbu: nothing, just gimme a pizza

kingkong: that’ll break the bank cuz, maybe for every four A+’s I’ll treat you to a pizza

—

You: Hey Lukas thanks again for cheering me up and offering a different take on the situation

LukaJava: That’s no problem, I’m always here for you. How are you and your cousin if you don’t mind me asking?

You: We talked things through and they understood where I was coming from. We had a good laugh after

LukaJava: (“⌒.⌒”)

LukaJava: Glad to hear it

You: Hey Lukas, I didn’t get to say this cause I was so caught up with my troubles

LukaJava: ( ・◇・)？

You: I’m proud of you for getting that A+. We both put our blood, sweat, and tears into our final papers and got our hard earned grades. I know you have a complicated relationship with your family and you don’t open up to a lot of people but I’ll always be here when you need someone to share your achievements with okay?

LukaJava: ೕ(˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ๑)

LukaJava: That’s music to my ears. I don’t open up to a lot of people, that’s correct, but I consider you to be one of my closest friends. Your support, friendship, and understanding is worth more than gold to me.

LukaJava: Its getting late though, if my memory serves me well, you have a class tomorrow morning. Best we call it a day. Good night and sweet dreams

LukaJava: |[(*´ｪ`)]|zZＺ

You: Okay Lukas! See you tomorrow, good night and sweet dreams

8 notes · View notes

sorcerymuses · 4 years

Text

Cleaning Messes Chapter 6: “Social Media Storm”

Fandom: Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir

Ships: Kagaminette (in later chapters)

Rating: G

Warnings: Salt galore, Class Salt, S3 Salt, Lila Salt, Alya Salt, Adrien Salt

Word Count: 3,168

Summary: Pics or it didn’t happen, right?

More: <- Of Parents and Secrets/All Links/The Gala ->

Photos had been posted to Instagram of the outing. And then Alya posted on her own Instagram in response to several comments about how her posts were painting Marinette to potential buyers. Her mother said something to her, concerned about how her friends seemed to be acting. She'd asked Alya to stop jabbing at her clumsy moments on a public platform that could impact both of their futures. Sure, she could handle the heckling on the day-to-day, but that was when everything was private.

And in hindsight, particularly reading comments like 'just because she can take it, doesn't mean she has to' and 'did you get her consent to post those shots?' made her think about everything. She told her parents everything and she was honestly shocked to see the absolute horror on their faces. So, she set to work on fixing the problem that she hadn't been fully aware of.

After all, she couldn't talk to Alya as Ladybug when it wasn't her alter ego that had been wronged. And she had to do it in a way that would get through to Alya. So, she turned to Social Media. Pics or it didn't happen, right?

The picture with Kitty Section and Jagged was just the beginning. That was on the rock star's Instagram, captioned with a slew of hashtags praising the indie group and designer that had introduced them. And the timing was perfect.

By Saturday, her parents (and the parents of the Kitty Section members) had signed off on a contract for Marinette with BiLez Records and she made plans with Kitty Section to sign together on her vlog. So, they all met up at the studio with Jagged and Penny. Clara Rossignol was also there, gossiping with a few other artists that Marinette hadn't met. When they were all gathered, she turned on her camera to livestream on YouTube.

"Hey guys!" she greeted her viewers. "I'm so excited about today's plans! I'm sure by now everyone's heard of the new record company that Jagged Stone recently put on the map, BiLez Records, and I'm waiting in line with Kitty Section and several others to sign my first ever official design contract. Not to brag, but this'll make me one of the youngest professional designers in any industry! Obviously, I can't film in the signing, for security reasons, but censored pictures will be posted on my Instagram."

She panned her phone carefully to show the members of Kitty Section but keep everyone else in line out of the shot. She didn't want to put people she didn't know on her blog without their consent. Jagged Stone rushed up to her and slung his arm around her shoulders when she started giving more updates to her viewers.

"Hello fans of Marinette!" he greeted and Marinette went scarlet.

"Jagged please…," she mumbled.

"You know this most amazing designer in Paris agreed to be my Design Team Lead?" he gushed and she tried to hide her face. He grinned and backed off, ruffling her hair before he went back to the crowd of artists.

"He's so embarrassing sometimes…," she moaned. "Anyways, they're starting to let people in for signing, so I'll check in with you guys next time! Keep an eye on my Instagram for more up-to-the-minute updates!" she ended the stream and put her phone away.

As she'd promised, she took plenty of photos during the signing. One of herself signing her own contract (taken by Jagged), one with Jagged taken by Penny, and one of the Kitty Section members signing their own contract.

A censored version of the photo of her signing was posted to Instagram with 'Just got my first official job! You're looking at @jaggedrocknroll's official Design Team Lead! #rocknroll #professionaldesigner #newjob' for the caption. She captioned her shot with Jagged as 'Working with my fave rocker @jaggedrocknroll on the daily's gonna be Rock 'n Roll! #newjob #professionaldesigner #designingforarocker'. And finally, the picture of Kitty Section was posted and captioned as 'New all-star rockers on the scene! #contractshavebeensigned #lifechangingmoments'.

The two posts about herself and Jagged blew up almost instantly, with Clara out in the lobby spamming her entire feed with likes and comments.

Her photo with Jagged had the funniest comment of them all. '🎶🎉 First steps for a wonderful artist. Maybe you'll join another top chartist?' Marinette grinned at that terrible rhyme. When she left the signing room, she stuck out her tongue at Clara who retaliated with one of the goofiest anime style visual taunts she could muster and she could have sworn someone snapped a photo. She looked to see Rose with her phone up.

"Can I post this? Because it's just too cute!" the blonde gushed. Clara laughed and nodded.

"Sure, why not?" Marinette laughed. Within a moment, she got a notification of being mentioned by one @iloveunicornsandroses with the picture.

'Friendly taunting at the big signing event from @rhymingrossignol and @marinettedesigned! #secretbestiesiguess #socute' was Rose's caption and both of them got a good laugh.

"So, do you guys wanna go get some lunch?" Juleka asked.

"Can I come along?" Clara asked.

"Sure!" Rose gasped.

"I'll have to pass," Marinette sighed. "Kagami and I already made plans to get ice cream."

"Ooh, are you two dating?" Rose gushed, bouncing a little. She blushed and glanced at Luka. He simply smiled at her.

"No…we're just friends…," she sighed.

"For now," Juleka joked. Her blush deepened and she fled the studio. Before she made it to Kagami's to pick her up, Rose and Clara both updated their Instagram with photos of Kitty Section and Clara on their lunch outing. Clara's most liked post that day 'Spending time with new friends. #instantlyfollowed' included her @mentioning everyone in the band and her friends' follow counts increasing. Rose's most liked was a photo of her and Clara comparing song lyrics 'I smell a rocking collab…loving this new friend. #meetingnewpeople #songwriting'

Monday at school everyone was buzzing about her posts. Several of them were also raving about how Clara had commented on her post 'like they were friends'. Fortunately, she was running a little late, so no one had time to really stop her to try and talk to her. Her class started applauding her when she entered the classroom though.

"Congrats on the job, Marinette!" Adrien said with a grin.

"How'd you manage to get the job?" Kim asked.

"Well, it wasn't hard," she laughed. "Jagged's been commissioning me for a while. Ever since I made those sunglasses for him. You know, the Eiffel Tower ones that have been pretty much his exclusive shades since he came back to Paris?" A glance at the back of the room showed her that Lila was absolutely seething in her seat. "It's just lucky that I already built up a reputation with him and Clara before I started using Instagram," she said lightly before sitting down with Alya.

"Was that a jab?" Alya demanded.

"Of course, it wasn't a jab at the embarrassing photos you post of me without my consent," she said sweetly. She had no idea what was coming over her, or maybe she did. Jagged and her mother both had told her that she didn't have to take more than she was willing to. "I mean, it's not like at least two of the biggest names in Fashion follow me and the things I'm mentioned and photographed in could affect my business prospects later on," she finished with a shrug, pulling out her bag.

"Congrats, Marinette," Lila said finally as the classroom fell into a shocked silence at her comments. She glanced at her classmate, quirking an eyebrow. "I mean, being Jagged's head designer isn't as amazing as…you know…getting world leaders to agree on a plan to help with Climate Change…but…," she trailed off with a shrug.

"Pics, or it didn't happen," she bit. "I mean, Prince Ali is visiting for a Climate Summit. Jagged and Clara are providing entertainment for the dignitaries, so I'll be there. Surely you have an invitation as well, being such an influence with the dignitaries?" she challenged. "I'll be live on TikTok most of the night and I'm sure my followers would love to see you."

"Of course, I do!" Lila gasped. "Are you insinuating that I've been lying?"

"Well considering I mentioned you to Jagged over lunch after I signed with him and he hadn't even heard your name before? That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Well, I'm telling the truth," Lila argued. "And if Jagged supposedly told you that he's never heard of me when I saved his cherished puppy…maybe you photoshopped those photos in your post," she accused.

"Didn't she say it was a kitten before?" she heard Rose stage whisper to Juleka.

"Of course, I have a few commission slots open outside of my contracted work, we could get together before I go to the hotel to meet with Jagged and Prince Ali about their commissions for the Gala, Lila," she offered sweetly, diverting the topic back to the gala before Ivan brought up Rose's post and their own picture from the event.

"Are you sure that's a good idea…you know…trying to talk to the prince like that?" Alya murmured. Marinette smirked and pulled up her Instagram feed. She selected the right comment on her photo with Jagged and showed it to Alya.

'I will be Paris for a Climate Summit this week, maybe you will have time to talk about surprise? (rate translation)'

"Maybe he wants me to make a surprise for Lila, so maybe I should come back to that offer," she said aloud, relishing Alya's dumbfounded expression.

The surprise was a dress for Rose. Prince Ali was inviting her and a friend to the Gala that weekend. To get the small details, she did cheat and used the Rat Miraculous to shrink down and multiply. She also made a suit for Juleka, knowing that Rose would want to go with her girlfriend. The day after her meeting with the Prince, Marinette dragged the duo to one of the many restaurants that were very exclusive and expensive. Of course, she wasn't going to tell them that she was already finished with the outfits because finishing two very detailed formal outfits in eight hours was nearly impossible even for the most experienced creators.

"We're meeting someone here," she told the host.

"Your name?"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng," she provided.

"Come with me," the host sighed and led them to a table. The prince stood when they reached the table and rushed to pull out chairs. It was a process, but they all were seated.

"Are you all hungry?" he asked, indicating the menus on the table. "Order whatever you would like."

"I'd like a Chai Latte and the Lobster lunch special," Marinette told the server. Rose's already wide eyes practically bulged in her shock. Marinette hadn't even ordered the most expensive lunch on the menu, no that was the Kobe Steak platter that you had to schedule with your table.

"I'll have a Strawberry Crème and the Shrimp and Steak…medium," the prince said lightly.

"Um…ooh you have Orange Blossom soda!" Rose gasped. "I'll try that and a rare steak salad." Juleka mumbled something and the server somehow managed to understand what she'd ordered. "So…," Rose started when their server left to get the drinks. "Why did you invite us out, Prince Ali?"

"Please," he laughed. "To my friends, I am only Ali. And I wanted to have lunch with you while I am in Paris and have the time. I also wanted to give you this." He pulled out an envelope and offered it to Rose.

"Really? Surely you would have wanted to spend time with Lila…she's a good friend, right?" Rose commented as she opened the envelope.

"Who?"

"She's our classmate. I mentioned her to you yesterday when we were discussing the dress," Marinette provided, seeing that both of her friends shared a blank look, though she knew they weren't surprised. "What's in the envelope, Rose?"

"Let's see…a note?" Rose pulled the papers out of the envelope. "You are cordially invited to the Climate Action Commemorative Gala to be held at the Gran Palais on Saturday the twenty-eighth of September as the personal guest of the Crown Prince of Achu," she read. "Wait…you mean…"

"Will you accept the invitation? There is no one else I would like to invite besides my first friend outside of home."

"Can I bring my girlfriend?"

"Of course! It is a 'plus one' event."

"This is…oh my gosh…what will we wear?!"

"Ali already commissioned a dress from me for you to wear," Marinette laughed, pulling out her sketchbook. "That's why I was happy to be able to bump into him when I was meeting with Jagged yesterday." She showed off the design sketches for the couple's outfits.

"These are amazing, Marinette," Juleka gasped.

"Thanks. And in less than an hour after mentioning online that I could open three commission slots for Gala outfits, there were so many interested that I had to do a raffle and close the slots.

"Amazing what'll happen when you finally share your celebrity connections online," Rose laughed.

Marinette had no idea why she was nervous about asking Kagami to be her plus one for the Gala. They were friends and it wasn't a date, per say not that she wouldn't be okay with it being a date. Of course, she was also nervous about Kagami's overprotective mother refusing to allow Kagami to attend, even if she'd loosened up about letting Kagami get out of the house.

She came to the large estate after leaving Rose and Juleka with the Prince at the Louvre. Rose's Instagram was updated with a selfie taken with the Prince and Juleka 'Hanging out with @princealiachu after a great lunch! #icouldgetusedtothis #celeblyfe #jkbutnotreally'. Smiling at her friend's antics, Marinette went to the gate and rang the bell.

"Do you have an appointment?" a voice snapped over the speaker and Marinette sighed.

"Not exactly," she said lightly. "I came to see Kagami," she told the box.

"Come in," the voice sighed and the gate swung open. Marinette smiled and went inside. Kagami rushed out of the house and to Marinette.

"Why didn't you text me?" she demanded quietly.

"I have something to ask you and I didn't want to do that over text. And I know this is about the time you work on practicing your fencing," she explained as Kagami led her to what was clearly a training area. Kagami's mother was sitting on a bench, tapping her bokken impatiently.

"Interruptions are not appreciated, young lady," Mme Tsurugi snapped.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I didn't mean to interrupt practice. But you know…can I join? Mr D'Argencourt mentioned that I might be able to try again to join the team with a bit of extra practice. Especially with Adrien's slot opening up…"

"It's fine," Kagami stressed. "I train alone all the time. It'll be good for my technique to train with someone else for a little while."

"Very well."

"Great! I'll get you a weapon. Do you want to train with a fencing sabre or try out a bokken?"

"Bokken are heavier, right?" she asked and Kagami nodded. "The bokken then. Practicing with a heavier weapon could help my speed in matches."

"Clever reasoning," Mme Tsurugi noted. "I recognize your voice…you're Marinette, correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Marinette said, bowing a little automatically. "I'm…the one that answered Kagami's phone during the Friendship Day event…"

"Ah. You're also the one that Kagami has been spending so much time with. And you are part of Kagami's fencing class?"

"I'm in the beginner's course, but Mr D'Argencourt recommended that I practice with her for the upcoming trials to join the competitive team," she explained as Kagami fetched the weapons. "I asked Adrien, but he's dropping Fencing to focus on music and other stuff now that he has the choice…"

"I see."

Kagami got back and handed one of the bokken to Marinette. She took a moment to get used to the weapon before they started going through some drills.

Several hours passed before Marinette realized it. A sharp tapping on the ground and Kagami stopped mid-swing. Marinette barely managed to pause her own strike in time to avoid hitting Kagami.

"Would you like to join us for tea, Marinette?" Tomoe offered.

"Tea sounds nice," she said lightly and suddenly the invitation in her purse seemed to be screaming at her. She went to get her purse and opened it. "But um…I had another reason for coming by, actually…there's a big Gala after the UN summit this week…and I was wondering if Kagami could be my guest?" she asked, hoping that her wording had kept the request platonic. She knew that Tomoe was very strict and she didn't want to give off the impression that she was asking Kagami out on an actual date. Just in case the older woman was resolutely against her daughter dating another girl.

"Very well," was all Tomoe said. "Kagami, you'll take the time to coordinate your attire for the event with Marinette's."

"Of course!" Kagami gasped. "It'll be exciting to go to an event with someone besides Adrien. But how did you manage to get an invitation?"

"Jagged Stone and Clara Rossignol are providing the entertainment and I'm going to be there to direct their wardrobe teams."

"You? You can't be much older than Kagami…"

"Well, if Kagami was born in the year of the Dragon…and I was born under the Metal Snake…I'm actually younger than Kagami by a few months. I'm the youngest designer to land a job like this…"

"I see. Then you are to be commended. For the moment, shall we have our tea?"

By the time she had her next fencing class, she was halfway through all of her commissions, grateful for the team of costumers she now had at her disposal to translate her sketches and the corresponding measurements into actual outfits. With so many projects to finish within the two-week window that she had, she needed all the help she could get, especially when her own work kept getting interrupted by Akuma attacks. And she had a lot to do. The three outfits from her raffle, Jagged and Clara's clothes, Kagami's dress, and her grandparents had surprised her with the gift of them buying out the Gabriel brand right before it went bankrupt due to Gabriel being missing and having warrants for his arrest.

She came into the gym for practice with her hair in a messy bun and her classmates noted how 'frazzled' she looked. Mr D'Argencourt even asked if she would like to sit out on the practice. She'd declined his offer of rest and changed into her fencing gear.

After the practice, she felt a lot better. Fencing was a good way to decompress and step out of all of her (sometimes self-inflicted) responsibilities. After a quick shower, she went straight back to work on her projects.

The Gala ->

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #my writing #bee!juleka #fox!luka #turtle!ivan #cat!kagami #ml salt #fic: cleaning messes #verse: cleaning messes #(Marinette) the power of love so strong 🐞

6 notes · View notes

leupagus · 5 years

Text

you will miss the green and the woods and streams

A Schitt’s Creek AU thing I wrote for @broadlybrazen, which boils down to “lol what if Schitt’s Creek had been Schitt Records can you imagine.”

You’re welcome/I’m sorry.

***

“Okay, but why are you making me do this.” David doesn’t ask, because it’s not a question; it’s a declaration, something he’s learned in the long years since he and Stevie were coworkers, then friends, then — something, almost, not quite — and now they’re people who drag each other to shitty bars in shitty basements in shitty Toronto, except only Stevie is that.

“I’m not making you do anything,” Stevie lies right to his actual face as they collect her beer and his wine from the bartender. “You offered to comfort me.”

“I don’t think I said ‘comfort’ so much as I said ‘support you in your time of—‘“ he waves at her generally, carefully not to spill. “Loss, or whatever.”

Not that Jake qualifies as a loss, per se; he hadn’t even tried to get out of the contract, which Stevie keeps saying is the important thing. And David of all people knows that above-average sex can only take you so far when the other guy is an emotionally illiterate carpenter/rockstar who responded to a breakup text with “bummer :P”

“Well, this is you supporting me.” Stevie takes a swig and leans back against the bar; David admires the clean line of her neck and chest the way he’s done a thousand times before, absentminded appreciation the way he looks at a beautiful coat or listens to a new record; letting it slip through his fingers, like everything else.

“You’re not…performing, are you,” David doesn’t-ask.

Stevie gives him a long look. “You’ve known me for over two years,” she says, even. “Do you think I’m likely to break out into song?”

“You’re a talent scout for a major record label,” he feels obliged to point out.

“Uh, first of all, it’s not major, and second of all, so are you,” she says.

This is, sadly, irrefutable.

When Ira disappeared to God knew where with the keys to the Rose family fortune, their lawyer had pulled them all into the living room with a chipper expression and a folder. David hadn’t listened, the sounds of furniture, paintings, his life being carted out the door overwhelming everything else. But Dad’s voice cut through.

“Schitt Records? That was a joke—“ and it still is a joke, almost two and a half years later. The biggest joke in the music industry, and David hears the laughter everywhere he goes.

Roland Schitt had been managing his wife and an extremely chipper singer-songwriter who went by “Twyla” and did tarot card readings after every set. Schitt Records was worth approximately nothing; probably why the government had let them keep it. When Dad finally exercised his ownership clause and made Roland an ex-officio (read: non-voting) board member, Roland had actually cackled with delight and wished them all the best, taking his “President of” title and a small stipend with him. Jocelyn and Twyla stuck around, although David still isn’t sure that Twyla’s all that aware of the change in management.

And anyway, as far as David’s concerned, the only thing of value at Schitt Records, at least at first, was Stevie.

They’d put Alexis back in the studio for want of any better ideas; David had found a semi-decent, semi-sober songwriter to give her some of the songs Meghan and Ariana had rejected. “Pullin’ Up Alexis” didn’t so much as crack the top 200 but it had put Schitt Records in the black, at least, even if Alexis did go white-faced and brittle at the awful venues David coaxed her into for the better part of a year — county fairs and no-name festivals where the audience wanted to jeer and heckle, where her dancing would get her laughed offstage if her singing didn’t. But every time he’d tell her she could quit (she couldn’t) and that they’d find another way to get the company on its feet (they wouldn’t), she’d lift her chin and smile and ask her where they were going next, and David loved her more than he’d ever, ever tell her.

And when the tour ended, David gritted his teeth and went out with Stevie to find something else. They found Ronnie, who hates them all but has hands like an angel on the piano; Jake who’s prettier onstage than off but who can draw a reliable crowd; even Ray, whose one-man band act is surprisingly lucrative, though David suspects that’s because anyone who listens can’t actually believe what’s happening.

Schitt Records still isn’t worth buying, but it’s worth something, now; worth spending late nights in small towns, worth sleepless weekends working festivals, worth more than David had ever expected to find.

But he’s still looking, he knows, for something else.

Even more insultingly, the open mic has a theme; “90’s Nostalgia!” which means too many bad covers of Alanis and one truly offensive attempt at “I Will Always Love You” that has David ordering his next glass of wine in a pint glass.

Stevie is laughing, though — she’s happy, in tune with the crowd who are clearly here for their respective friends onstage, leading the shaky ones through their choruses and cheering with far more enthusiasm than is merited when each of them wraps up.

“This is horrifying,” David tells her as some guy in his 60s gets gently ushered offstage and there’s a blessed lull.

“I know,” Stevie replies, eyes shining. “It’s great.”

And it is, in a weird way that David would never have enjoyed in his other life; he would never have set foot in here, would never have been friends with someone as grounded and solid and plaid as Stevie in the first place. So he takes a drink and doesn’t suggest they leave, but does pick a fight about sending Ray to ACL.

Stevie obligingly takes the bait and they’re halfway through the comfortable old argument about riders when David realizes the strummy-strummy lala in the background is a) recognizable, b) good, and c) infuriating.

The guy onstage is best described as “unprepossessing accountant,” wearing an ugly shirt and ugly slacks and uglier shoes and an astonishingly ugly fringed vest that’s probably (hopefully) a joke, judging by the wolf whistles from a table near the stage. But he’s got a smile like a searchlight as he rounds the corner of the first verse:

“I’m caught up in the midst of you And I cannot resist…”

David flails around until he makes contact with Stevie’s — okay, her face, which she’ll probably complain about later, but he’s too incensed. “He’s singing Mariah?”

Stevie swats his hand away. “He’s not bad.”

“I—“ David clutches at his pint glass. Fringed Vest, still grinning into the crowd and unaware of David’s newborn vendetta against him, continues.

Boy, if I do The things you want me to The way I used to do Would you love me, baby Hold me, feeling now Go and break my heart

The entire bar joins in on the chorus, Fringed Vest leading them like some hick accountant Pied Piper:

Heartbreaker, you got the best of me But I just keep on coming back incessantly Oh, why did you have to run your game on me I should have known right from the start You'd go and break my heart

Fringed Vest does not, thank God, try his hand at rapping the break but the crowd seems reluctant to let him actually finish the song, the choruses getting progressively louder and more boisterous until Fringed Vest puts a line underneath and steps back from the mic and they finally take the goddamn hint.

“That was—“ awful, he’s about to say, but the problem is that it wasn’t. There’s not a whole lot a Canadian accountant can add to Mariah Carey, especially with the advent of Lip Synch Battle. But it hadn’t felt patronizing or mocking; Fringed Vest knew every word, sang with a voice that couldn’t hold a match to Mariah but still expressed some sort of longing. He’d been joyful, earnest where most people tonight had clung to trite. It… worked.

He’s even more enraged.

“C’mon,” Stevie says, slipping through the crowd with the weary ease of someone who’s been doing this half her life. David tromps behind in her wake, bumping up against the same people Stevie glides past and almost losing her twice before she gets to the dinky curtain that is the backstage and ducking inside.

Which smells like vomit; David immediately flips through the various acts tonight and makes a bet with himself that it was the very sweet otter with the beard and the accordion even while Stevie is making her way over to the side of the stage where Fringed Vest is talking to somebody else and drinking — god, Red Mountain, David is vetoing any contract Stevie tries to push on this guy for that alone.

But Stevie’s introducing them and Fringed Vest extends a hand. “Patrick,” he says, grip firm. Up close he’s — not attractive, exactly, no eyebrows to speak of and a haircut that screams middle management, that smile still the most interesting thing about him. But it’s very interesting.

“David,” he admits, aware of Stevie’s narrowed eyes.

“David Rose,” Patrick says, worryingly. “You own Schitt Records.”

He blinks; this is possibly the first time anyone’s said the name of the company without smirking. “Co-own,” he corrects.

“You manage a friend of mine,” Patrick continues, “Ray? Butani?”

“We only manage one Ray, don’t worry,” Stevie tells him.

“How are you friends with Ray?” David demands. “He plays a vibraphone.”

“We both went to Rotman,” and that explains so much about both Ray and Patrick. “He was pretty excited when he signed.”

“Yes, the glamour of the pub circuit,” David says. “Who can resist the allure of all this,” and he almost hits a girl with beads in her hair and a banjo in her hand climbing onstage.

“It’s got its charms,” Patrick says, still smiling.

#schitt's creek #david/patrick #schitt records #schittalking #ficcage of interest #this story happened mainly because I finally bit the bullet and listened to Noah Reid's album #which hit all my 'very impressed‚ was not embarrassed at all‚ and I thought I would be' buttons #and was like 'oh no what if Patrick had written this instead'

154 notes · View notes

torestoreamends · 5 years

Text

Mine to Make: Chapter 20

One year later, what will Albus and Scorpius have made of their future?

Beta’d by @abradystrix.

N.B. This fic is now complete both here on AO3. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride!

Read it on AO3

XX Epilogue

When Albus wakes up he feels gloriously warm and well-rested. His limbs are heavy, but the good sort of heavy that says they’ve done a lot of work and now they’re recovering. His head has the faintest niggle, but that’s to be expected given how loud last night was and how much champagne he drank at the after party. All in all, he feels excellent.

It takes him a few seconds to become aware that the bed is empty next to him. That’s not really surprising either, though. Judging by the sunshine streaming in through the curtains that they forgot to close on their way to bed last night, it’s nearly midday. Scorpius will have been up for hours.

Albus rolls out of bed, rubbing his eyes. He pulls on the first t-shirt that comes to hand from his bag, a fiery orange league one, and wriggles into a pair of jeans, then he runs a hand through his hair and sets off down the three flights of stairs from his old attic bedroom where they’re staying while they’re at his parents’ house.

The kitchen is in chaos, the way it normally is here. Harry is rushing around trying to sort out the first dinner preparations, and he already looks stressed. Ginny is the centre of calm in the room, doing yesterday’s washing up and offering Harry soothing words. James is sitting at the table heckling, and Lily is cross-legged in the middle of the floor, playing with the cat.

They all look up when Albus comes in, and Ginny is the first one to get to him, her hands still covered in soap suds. She beams and wraps him up in a tight hug.

“The Prophet is raving about yesterday’s meet. You’ve done so well.” She kisses him on the cheek before releasing him. “Your interview’s in the paper too.”

“Be careful when you read it,” James advises. “There might be some drool on the photos – Scorpius was a big fan. Having said that, there’s a photo in here for you, too. They’ve finally announced his promotion. Who’d have ever thought that my useless little brother would end up as half of the wizarding world’s favourite power couple?” He sighs but comes bouncing over to slap Albus on the back. Albus winces and ducks away from him.

“Thanks, James,” he groans, rubbing his back. He sits down on the floor next to Lily and leans against her side when she squeezes his shoulders.

“It’s a really good interview,” she murmurs. “You’ve done really well. And everything they’re saying about the race is true too. I don’t think I’ve had so much fun in my life before.”

Albus wrinkles his nose. “It can’t have been better than breaking into a pyramid.”

“It can,” Lily assures him. “Anyway, that’s work. Which automatically makes it about thirty percent more dull.”

Albus grins and pokes her in the arm. “Liar.”

“Fine. Maybe only twenty percent more dull.”

Albus laughs, scratches the cat under the chin, then gets up and goes to find a copy of the paper. There are two on the table, and when he turns one of them to the back page his dad comes and reads over his shoulder.

“Haven’t you already read this?” He asks, glancing up at Harry.

“A couple of times,” Harry says with a smile. “Do you mind if I read it again?”

“No. But I think you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculously proud of you.”

Albus rolls his eyes but a glowing smile spreads across his face as he reads the report from last night – the first meet of their new league. He’s not sure what his favourite bit of it is. He likes the opening, which describes the crackling energy in the air at the Harpies’ stadium before the start of the racing. He remembers the roar of the crowd so clearly, carrying through the warm, clear summer air. He’d stood in the mouth of the tunnel to the pitch and looked up into the packed stands and a shiver had run through him. It was one of those rare moments when he’d realised how special a night it was right then, and he’d been able to capture every second of it to remember back later.

There’s a bit in the report about the brutal carnage of the mass start race, and it makes him smile because last night’s race was nothing on how they used to be. It did look fierce though, from the ground. Fierce and spectacular, just the way it was supposed to be.

The rest of the report is mostly dedicated to the outcomes of the racing. The writer praises the quality of the competitors, and Albus feels flushed with pride as he reads the names of all the people who he knows, the ones who’ve been working so hard to make the meet successful and exciting. There are a couple of newcomers to the league who Albus never raced against but who he’s certain would have had a chance of beating him, and there are all the names of his old friends and competitors too. And amongst it all is the undeniable fact that he was the one who started all this, helped pull it together, and make it work. He can’t help but feel that’s far more exciting than winning any race or meet for himself.

“Are you glad now that I persuaded you we could do this without breaking the law?” Albus asks, glancing up at his dad.

Harry grins at him. “It’s almost enough to make me glad you broke the law in the first place so you could find out that you wanted to do this. But don’t tell anyone that or I’ll lose my job.” He ruffles Albus’s hair and Albus ducks away from him, brushes his hair back into place, and starts flipping back through the paper to find his interview.

Harry squeezes his shoulder and goes back to his frenzied cooking, but Albus can feel his dad’s eyes on him the whole time, and whenever he glances in Harry’s direction he sees that his dad is grinning broadly, all his stress long gone.

The interview is just before the sports section, and Albus doesn’t bother to look at the text – he still remembers what he said – but he looks at the photos. They’ve come out well. In most of them he looks put together and at least vaguely like he knows what he’s doing. The best one is the biggest. A huge photo of him wearing his old racing clothes, the jacket slung over his shoulder so his tattooed arms are on full display, with the scars visible underneath. He’s got his flying goggles round his neck, his hair is wind-ruffled, and he’s looking off into the distance like he hasn’t even noticed that the camera is there. Even he has to admit that he looks alright.

“That’s Scorpius’s favourite one,” James says, sneaking up behind Albus and resting his hands on his shoulders. “That’s why he’s gone for a walk – to cool off.“

Albus shrugs his brother off. “Where’s the one of him that I’m meant to be falling in love with?”

James grins and starts riffling forward through the pages. “It’s right... here.” He stops and makes a ta-da motion at the paper.

The photo of Scorpius is accompanied by a headline and article, and Albus looks at those first, knowing that once he starts looking at the picture he won’t be able to stop.

Malfoy promoted again

One of the Ministry’s most talented young Unspeakables has earned his second promotion in under a year. Scorpius Malfoy, 25, took his first position at the Department of Mysteries last November, after his prominent role in the foiling of a plot to murder Harry Potter and ultimately assume control of wizarding Britain. Malfoy has also been credited for finding Harry Potter’s youngest son, Albus, who had been missing and presumed dead for several years.

His promotion coincides with a restructuring of divisions within the Department of Mysteries, and Malfoy will be responsible for the management of the Temporal Research Division, reporting to the newly appointed Head of Research...

Albus scans further down the article but it just goes on to talk more about the restructuring, which isn’t all that interesting. Instead he turns to the far more important matter of the picture that goes with the article, which might be his favourite photo of Scorpius ever.

He’s leaving work, coming out via the phone boxes. There are a couple of books hugged to his chest, and he’s still wearing his swirling Ministry robes, so he looks important and grown up. His hair is a bit messy, and there are faint shadows under his eyes, but there’s a big grin lighting up his face. Even though his head is down, and he’s clearly thinking about something, whatever it is is making him radiantly happy. He looks like exactly what he is – a ridiculous nerd who loves his job and his life. It sums him up perfectly, and now Albus wants nothing more than to find him and kiss him, because he’s so hopelessly in love with this man.

“Is Scorpius out in the garden?” He asks the world at large.

James smirks. “Told you you’d like the photo.”

“I think so,” Ginny says, ignoring James and looking across at Albus. “He might have gone for a wander across the fields, but he should be getting back now. I told him brunch would be ready at one, and Draco will be here soon too.”

“Great,” Albus says, getting to his feet. “Thanks, Mum. I’m going to find him.”

“Don’t be too long,” Harry calls as Albus races for the back door.

“Don’t have too much fun,” James adds, and Lily smacks him on the leg. Albus hears him whining about it as he heads across the patio and out towards the road.

It doesn’t take him long to find Scorpius. In fact, Albus almost falls over him as he skirts round the broom shed. Scorpius is sitting with his back to the closed doors, gazing out across the countryside, and Albus doesn’t see him until the last second. He grabs hold of Scorpius’s shoulder hard to stop himself collapsing into his lap, and when he does fall, he manages to land in a heap on the ground next to Scorpius rather than on top of him.

“Hello,” Scorpius says, rubbing his shoulder and looking at Albus in surprise and confusion. “Nice of you to drop in. Where did you come from?”

“The house.” Albus tries to arrange his limbs in some sort of sensible way, like he’d meant to sit down next to Scorpius. “You’re on the floor. I was expecting to find you walking.”

“No, I was sitting. Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself when you fell, did you?”

Albus shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. And I didn’t fall, I sat, in a very dignified way.”

Scorpius nods, slow and mocking. “Very dignified. Very deliberate. You’ve never been more graceful.”

Albus nudges him. “Shut up. I had a lot of champagne last night. I’m doing well.”

Scorpius grins. “Don’t forget about the Firewhisky too. I saw that.”

Albus drops his head onto Scorpius’s shoulder with a groan. “You weren’t meant to see that. Now I’m going to get a lecture about how I’m not meant to be drinking.”

Scorpius wraps an arm round him. “No, you’re not. But it was your big night and they’re your sponsors. It would have been bad business to say no. And you’re very cute when you’re drunk.” He ruffles Albus’s hair. “You get affectionate, and your cheeks go all pink.”

“No,” Albus moans, hiding his face.

“Yes,” Scorpius laughs and kisses him on the temple.

“I hate you,” Albus says, squirming away. “You’re so mean.”

“If I tell you how brilliant you are and how much I loved your interview in the Prophet this morning will that endear me to you in any way?” Scorpius asks, taking hold of his hand.

Albus lifts his head. “It might. James mentioned that you liked the photos.”

Scorpius nods, eyes glittering in the summer sun. “I liked the photos.”

Albus smiles and squeezes his hand. “I liked your photo too. A lot.”

“That one of you with the jacket,” Scorpius says, fanning himself with his free hand.

“Were you thinking about work while you were smiling to yourself like that?” Albus asks, grinning at him.

Scorpius shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure I was thinking about you, actually.”

“Oh,” Albus says, mouth opening a little in surprise. He looks at Scorpius and Scorpius looks back at him, then they move as one.

Albus threads his fingers into Scorpius’s hair and Scorpius wraps an arm round his waist to pull him closer as their mouths meet in a hungry kiss. Albus squeezes his eyes shut and sucks on Scorpius’s lower lip, enjoying the way Scorpius’s breath hitches and his grip tightens on Albus’s t-shirt.

“Have I mentioned this morning that I love you?” Scorpius asks, pulling back to rest his forehead against Albus’s. “And that I’m very proud of you?”

Albus grins at him. “You have now. And have I mentioned that you’re a beautiful nerd and I feel so lucky to have you?”

Scorpius trails a finger over his jaw. “I’m always delighted to be your beautiful nerd.”

“Come here,” Albus breathes, and drags him in for another searing kiss.

It’s easy to get lost in their own little world, surrounded by the peace of the summer afternoon. There’s birdsong in the orchard, the scent of Ginny’s sweet peas fills the air, a gentle breeze ruffles the hedgerows, and Albus and Scorpius are entirely alone together. Or at least they think they are.

They’re so oblivious to what’s going on around them that they don’t realise they’re no longer alone until someone clears their throat close by. They spring apart instantly and look up to see Draco standing looking down at them, an expression of faint amusement on his face. Instantly Albus’s cheeks burn, and Scorpius flushes bright pink as he leaps to his feet.

“H-hi, Dad. I didn’t realise you’d arrived already.”

“I got here early,” Draco says, smirking. “Harry told me you’d gone for a walk together.”

Albus gets up too, smoothing his t-shirt out. “Scorpius did. Go for a walk, that is. I went looking for him, and then I found him, and... He wasn’t walking anymore.”

“No, I can see that. Would you like me to go away and come back in a few minutes?”

Albus bites his tongue so he doesn’t answer an immediate yes. Scorpius swallows and glances at Albus.

“I, um... I’m not sure that would help. It might make it worse. Anyway, we’re done now. We’re fine. And you’re here!” He smiles at his dad and throws himself into a warm, solid hug. “I missed you.”

Draco hugs him back. “I missed you too. The papers inform me that you’re both doing well. And I’m glad they keep me updated because it sounds like you two have been too busy to write letters.” He releases Scorpius and comes across to hug Albus too.

“I wrote to you last week,” Scorpius says indignantly. “Which was two days ago.”

Draco smiles. “I’m just teasing.” He lets go of Albus and looks between the two of them. “Did you enjoy last night?”

“It was stressful,” Albus says, glancing at Scorpius. “Just to start with. Then it was fun.”

Scorpius beams back at him. “It was the best night ever.”

Albus thinks about the crowd leaving the stadium at the end and filtering out towards the Apparition points scattered around Holyhead, the atmosphere bubbling with laughter and happy chatter, a good proportion of them wearing the new league merchandise and planning how they were going to get to the next meet.

“It was pretty perfect,” he admits quietly.

Draco gives him a very serious nod. “I’m glad. You deserve it. You’ve been working so hard.”

“Now we just have to make sure the rest of the meets go as well.”

“But first,” Draco says, “you get to have a day off and celebrate. Speaking of which, I think your dad has brunch ready.”

His dad hasn’t just made brunch, he’s laid on a feast. There are stacks of blueberry pancakes, the most glorious Eggs Royale, plenty of crispy bacon and sausages, and a heap of homemade toast and jam that Scorpius finishes before Albus has had chance to decide if he’ll have any room left for it. There’s also Prosecco that Albus can only assume was provided by Draco, because he’s the only person in the room who would have suggested having bubbles with brunch.

By the time they’re done eating, Albus understands why his dad was looking so stressed before. What he doesn’t understand is how they’re supposed to manage the second feast that’s already being prepared for dinner. He’s not sure he’s even been so full in his life.

They spend the early part of the afternoon lazing around in the living room. Lily thrashes James at Wizard’s Chess, and the cat climbs all over Draco, who seems both alarmed and pleased by the sudden show of affection. Albus sits with his head on Scorpius’s shoulder and naps until James loudly announces that instead of playing Quidditch – because he’s a good brother and doesn’t want to leave Albus out – they’re going to go for a walk before dinner. Albus rubs his eyes and resists pointing out that the sort of walk James probably has planned will leave him too tired to do anything for days. Thankfully, Ginny intervenes on his behalf, and they all agree to a gentle stroll across the fields while the dinner finishes cooking.

It’s a noisy, energetic party that sets out from the house. James and Lily are behaving no differently to how they did during the walks Albus remembers going on as a child – chasing and laughing. Harry and Ginny follow along behind, holding hands and chatting to Draco who’s walking with them. Albus and Scorpius bring up the rear, arms linked, Albus leaning against Scorpius’s side.

The sun is blazing down on the tranquil countryside, and there’s a bright blue sky overhead. A couple of gnomes chase each other through the crops, and Albus can’t stop smiling. The last couple of days have been perfect in a way he hasn’t felt for almost as long as he can remember. It’s like all the disparate pieces of his life are falling into place. The league is working out, his family are all here and happy, and things are going just as well for Scorpius as for him. It’s almost a year since Scorpius came back into his life, and it’s taken time, but he finally feels truly content. This isn’t how he’d have ever imagined life being, but now it’s here he’s delighted with it. There’s just one last thing he needs to do before he can settle in and enjoy what promises to be the best summer of his life.

“You’re looking very happy,” Scorpius says, nudging him gently in the arm.

“Am I?” Albus asks, grinning up at him.

Scorpius nods. “You look especially cute when you’re all smiley.” He touches Albus’s cheek. “You’ve got a dimple. I like it.”

“You’re a dimple,” Albus retorts, elbowing him.

Scorpius’s smile spreads wider across his face. “Is that really the best you can do?”

Albus looks at him, trying to think of a snappy comeback, then he nods. “Your face is too handsome to insult.”

Scorpius’s eyes shine with delight, and he wraps his arms round Albus and squashes him in a hug. “You. Are adorable.”

Albus pretends to grumble and squirm, but he ends up planting a kiss on Scorpius, and by the time they surface the others have got far enough ahead that they’re out of sight.

“Anyway,” Scorpius says, as they set off to try and catch up. “You didn’t tell me what you were smiling about. I know when you’re happy about something. Were you thinking about yesterday?”

Albus shakes his head and swings his and Scorpius’s hands between them. “No, I was thinking about you.”

Scorpius squeezes his hand. “Were you.”

Albus nods. “I was. I was thinking about how the only thing left to do before my life is completely perfect is to ask you to marry me.”

Scorpius pauses in his stride and looks at Albus. “And is that something that’s likely to happen soon?”

Albus gives what he hopes is a non-committal shrug. “It might be...”

Scorpius’s grip on his hand tightens. “Because you already know what my answer will be. In fact I don’t see why we don’t just skip all the formalities and declare ourselves-“

Albus kisses him to shut him up. When he pulls away he takes both of Scorpius’s hands. “No skipping anything. This is the only thing in my life that I’ve ever not done spontaneously on an impulse. Let me do it right.”

Scorpius bounces on the balls of his feet and beams at him. “You’ve got a plan? You’ve really been thinking about this? Albus! What are you up to?”

Albus shakes his head and lifts a hand so he can press a finger to Scorpius’s lips. “I’m not saying anything. Wait and see.”

“But I’m terrible at surprises,” Scorpius says against Albus’s finger.

Albus sighs. “I know. But it’s not like you’ll have to wait long.”

Scorpius lights up. “I won’t?”

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

“But-“

“No buts. And I’m not talking about this any more until after dinner.”

Scorpius’s eyes go wide. “After dinner?” He makes a sound so high-pitched that Albus can barely hear it and starts waving his hands around like he doesn’t know what to do with them. It’s like he’s fourteen again and Albus has just announced that his birthday present will be a lifetime supply of Jelly Slugs. He looks ridiculous, and Albus is so hopelessly in love with him that he catches hold of Scorpius’s flailing hands and kisses him again.

“Breathe,” he advises when they part. “You do want to live until after dinner, don’t you?”

Scorpius nods very fast.

“Then I would say that breathing is essential.”

Scorpius nods again and gulps in a breath. “Okay. I can do that. I can definitely-“ He beams at Albus, and his smile is so bright that it makes the summer sunshine seem dull in comparison.

“You’re perfect,” Albus tells him, giving him a little nudge.

“You’re going to ask me to marry you,” Scorpius replies, nudging him back.

“Maybe,” Albus says, nudging him again. “It’s a surprise.”

“It’s a surprise,” Scorpius agrees, skipping a step as they set off walking again. “I don’t know that anything’s happening.”

“It’s just a normal day,” Albus says soothingly, already struggling to keep up with a now very bouncy Scorpius.

“Completely normal. Totally normal. The most normal day ever.” Scorpius drops his hand and dances off ahead.

“Can it be a totally normal, slow day?” Albus asks.

“Oh.” Scorpius deflates ever so slightly, but when he comes back to Albus’s side he beams at him and gently links arms with him, seeming quite happy to trot along at the sedate pace Albus is setting. “Is this okay for a normal, slow day?” He asks after a few dozen steps.

Albus squeezes his arm and nods. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“It’s easier to breathe when we’re going slower too,” Scorpius admits, and Albus ducks his head to hide a smile.

“That’s good then. Breathing is good.”

“Breathing is to be encouraged.”

“I like you better when you’re not suffocating.”

“Do you think?” Scorpius asks.

“Yes,” Albus says. “Yes I do.”

They make it back to the house in one piece. Scorpius has stopped bouncing and hyperventilating, but he’s still beaming. His smile is so wide that Draco frowns at Albus when they walk into the kitchen. Draco is the only person who knows what Albus has planned, because Albus had to talk to him about it partly to ask for permission but mostly to ask for advice. Albus half rolls his eyes and gives a little shake of his head to indicate that Scorpius is just being ridiculous, and Draco smiles and rolls his eyes back.

The walk they went on wasn’t that long, but it’s left Albus feeling more unsteady and tired than he wants to admit to anyone, so he sits in his spot at the table to wait for dinner to be served, while everyone else apart from Harry goes next door for a game of Exploding Snap. Normally he’d help his dad with the cooking, but today he just wants to sit quietly. It doesn’t work though, because as he sits there, panic creeps up on him.

He starts to feel nervous for the first time. Up until now he’s been completely confident in his plan, and until last night he hadn’t had time to doubt himself, but being faced with the prospect of actually putting the plan into action is an entirely different thing. It’s stupid, because Scorpius is bathed in the sort of radiant glow of joy that he normally reserves for his birthday, Christmas, and particularly special date nights. It’s quite clear what his answer is going to be. But that‘s not stopping the swarm of Doxies that are buzzing around in the pit of Albus’s stomach.

What if he doesn’t live up to Scorpius’s expectations? What if he comes over all tongue tied and can’t get the question out? What if he falls going down the steps to the garden and at best makes an idiot of himself and at worst ruins everything by having to go to hospital? What if getting engaged somehow ruins their relationship, and they both regret it forever? A thousand different scenarios chase each other round and round inside Albus’s head, and apparently it’s really obvious that something’s wrong.

“Are you feeling alright, Albus?” Harry asks, glancing up from his cooking. “You look a bit pale.”

Albus hoists a smile onto his face. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired, I think.”

Harry frowns, not looking entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push it. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”

Albus nods. “Thanks, Dad.” He clenches his fists on his knees under the table and tries to stay put, but worry is tightening his chest and at the same time he feels shaky and tired. He wants nothing more than to be alone now, possibly to sleep for a while, so he gets to his feet and leaves the room, aware of his dad’s eyes on him.

He finds Scorpius and picks his way across the room to him. Scorpius beams when he approaches and reaches a hand out to him.

“Are you going to play? James is cheating. We need to gang up on him.”

“I’m not cheating,” James says indignantly, although his ears go red, a sure sign that he’s definitely cheating.

Albus takes Scorpius’s hand and squeezes it. “No, I’m going to go upstairs for a bit before dinner.”

Scorpius shifts onto his knees. “Are you okay? I can come if you want.”

Albus shakes his head. “No, that’s okay. I’m fine, I promise.”

“Do you want me to come and get you when dinner’s ready?”

Albus manages a small, unsteady smile. “That would be great, thanks.” He lifts Scorpius’s hand so he can kiss it, and when he lifts his head he realises that Scorpius’s smile has faded completely, so he leans in closer and strokes Scorpius’s hair.

“Don’t worry about me,” he murmurs. “Please. I love seeing you happy. It’s nearly dinner, which means it’s also nearly after dinner.” He flashes Scorpius a hopeful smile and it works. The joy rekindles on Scorpius’s face, and he leans his head into Albus’s hand.

“Alright. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

“Thanks.” Albus bends down to drop a kiss into Scorpius’s hair, which leaves him feeling more than a bit dizzy, then he flees up the stairs to his room.

When he gets there he sinks onto the bed and curls up on his side, holding his churning stomach. He’s only realising now just how exhausted he is. After two days in a row on the go his limbs are heavy and stiff, and he feels lightheaded. He doesn’t have the energy to be worrying about proposing as well. Maybe this was a stupid idea. He’s pushed himself too far and now he’s paying the price.

He squeezes his eyes shut and digs his fingers into his hair, covering his face with his arms. He’s aware that he’s drifting, somewhere on the edge of sleep, with time passing in fits and starts, of seconds that feel like hours and minutes that feel like no time at all. The nausea from his churning stomach washes over him, and he struggles to fight it down. This isn’t a time when he can be ill. He won’t let it happen. All his family are downstairs, this is meant to be a good day, and for all his worries he really wants to propose to Scorpius.

The world fades away, and he must doze for a bit, because when there’s a soft knock on his door he jumps awake, a rush of adrenaline surging through him. It leaves him breathless and shaking.

“C-come in,” he calls, sitting up and trying to steady himself, one hand pressed to his chest.

He expects Scorpius to be the one to come into the room, but it’s not. His dad stands on the threshold, looking uncertain but concerned.

“Hi,” he says. “I... I wanted to check to make sure you were alright, but you don’t-“ He gestures to the room. “Do you mind if I come in?”

Albus turns his back on his dad but shakes his head anyway. “No, it’s okay.”

The floorboards creak and then the bed sinks as Harry sits down. “You’re not feeling very well,” his dad murmurs, and there’s something about it being a statement rather than a question that makes Albus not want to deny the truth.

“Not really,” he whispers back. Admitting when he needs help is something that he’s still struggling with, and he’s proud of himself for saying it.

“What’s wrong?” His dad asks, inching closer to him round the side of the bed, until he can reach out to put a hand on his shoulder.

Albus shakes his head. “I’m... I’m really tired. I want to sleep, but I... I can’t let Scorpius down.”

Harry pauses, and Albus can feel him considering the right words. “Albus... Scorpius wouldn’t be disappointed in you for looking after yourself. I think he’d be pleased.”

Albus gulps in a breath and lifts his head to look at his dad. “I know, but... I-I told him I was going to propose to him after dinner, and I want to... I really really want to.”

Harry blinks. “You’re planning to ask him to marry you?”

Albus rubs his chest and lies back down on the bed, but he twists his body round so he can still look at his dad. “Yes. I am.”

For a moment Harry’s expression is pure surprise, but then he starts to smile, and there’s a warm, glowing pride that comes shining out of him. He reaches out to rub Albus’s shoulder and ruffle his hair. “That’s brilliant news.”

“I know. And I have to do it. I want to do it. But...” He clenches his fists in frustration and buries his face in his blankets. “I need it to be right and it won’t be right when I feel like this. It won’t be how I want it to be.”

“Maybe you don’t have to do it today.” Harry’s fingers brush lightly through Albus’s hair, making him shiver. “Maybe it can wait. Scorpius isn’t going anywhere. He’ll understand.”

“I think...” Albus murmurs into the blankets. “I think that- that Delphi would have been delighted to know that something she did to me... stopped me asking Scorpius to marry me when I wanted to.”

“Perhaps she would,” Harry says. “But I also think that looking after yourself and making sure that things are right for you isn’t an admission of defeat. I’d say it’s more of a victory, actually.”

“Doesn’t feel like a victory,” Albus mutters. “It feels like she’s winning all the time.” He wriggles away up the bed and pulls the pillow over his head. It plunges him into warm darkness, and he can faintly smell Scorpius’s shampoo on the fabric of the pillow case.

He sighs and thinks about Scorpius’s bright smile, and about teasing him earlier in the sun drenched field. It’s moments like that which remind him he’s so in love with Scorpius it hurts. It makes his heart ache in the best possible way, like there’s too much love inside to be contained. All he wants to do is try and express that feeling in any way he can. He wants to keep reminding Scorpius that he’s here forever, that he’s really committed to this, to the two of them; that he believes in them. That’s why this has to be perfect: because the best time to tell Scorpius how he feels is when he’s proposing. If he can’t find the words then, how will he ever?

“I just want you to know,” Harry says softly, rubbing a hand down Albus’s back, “that you’re free. She’s not you. She’s not your illness either, even if it feels like she is. Your life isn’t a war, Albus, either against her or yourself. You can and should choose to do whatever you want. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think Scorpius wants perfect speeches or grand gestures. He wants you. And maybe that means waiting until tomorrow to get engaged, or maybe it means him coming up here so you can talk to him now, but whatever it is I’m pretty sure he’ll be delighted with it.”

Albus lies there with his eyes closed and lets his dad rub his back for a few moments longer, then he takes the pillow off his head and blinks blearily at the room. “Remember when I used to think you were wrong about everything?” He asks, inching onto his knees and trying to brush his hair into some sort of order with his fingers.

“I don’t think I would have dared come up here to talk to you,” Harry says. “I’d have sent your mum.”

“Probably sensible,” Albus says, twisting round to sit with his back against the pillows. “If you’d tried, I would have yelled at you.”

“But you’re not going to yell at me today.”

Albus smiles and shakes his head. “Not today. For one thing I don’t have the energy, and for another... I think you’re right. About Scorpius. And about Delphi... I guess if anyone knows what it’s like to have someone looming over them it’s you.”

“You can’t escape the past,” Harry says. “But that doesn’t mean you should let it hang over you. The past is the past. The future is yours to make.”

Albus gives a dry little laugh and looks down at his knees. “She used to say that. It’s annoyingly good advice.” He runs a hand over his face, closes his eyes, and draws in a few long, slow breaths. His body still feels sluggish and heavy, but his head has stopped spinning and he doesn’t feel sick anymore. Some of his nerves have calmed down. From the kitchen he can smell the delicious scent of dinner wafting up to him, and his stomach rumbles.

“Can I come down for dinner and see how I get on?” He asks, looking up at his dad.

Harry frowns at him. “You don’t have to ask permission to eat.”

Albus shakes his head. “Right. Sorry. Old habits... I’ll come down and have some food, and then after that...” He leans across and opens the top drawer of his bedside cabinet. There’s a little box in there, a bit bigger than a ring box, with his engagement gift inside. He tucks it into his pocket and flashes his dad a smile. “Just in case.” Then he closes the drawer and gets to his feet.

He sways on the spot, and his dad gets up and catches hold of his arm.

“Do you need help?”

Albus thinks about the three steep flights of stairs down from the attic and nods. “I think so, today.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Harry says, and they set off carefully on the long journey downstairs.

It’s loud and hot in the kitchen, even with all the windows and the back door open. James is telling terrible jokes, fuelled by a couple of glasses of Draco’s finest wine, and Lily and Draco are both laughing at him, which is only encouraging him. Harry and Ginny are trying to hide amused smiles while they chat together about something that Albus can’t hear. Scorpius is occasionally contributing to the joke telling, but mostly he’s telling Albus about something work-related that he probably isn’t meant to be talking about, but he sounds too excited to contain himself. Albus is listening while he picks at his green beans and Yorkshire pudding. He doesn’t have much appetite and his head has started hurting again, but his dad’s food is so delicious that it’s worth at least trying to eat it.

With the heat and the noise, he feels far from perfect, but when Scorpius is beside him talking and smiling he doesn’t really care anymore. That pressure of affection is building up inside him, and he can feel the box in his pocket digging into his leg. This might not go the way he wants it to, it might even go spectacularly badly, but he’s going to try it.

Once all the plates are empty, Ginny gets to her feet and starts clearing the table, and Albus’s nerves spike inside him.

“Let’s have a break before dessert,” Harry says, leaning back in his seat. “I’m too full to move now.” The rest of the table makes noises of approval, and Albus glances at Scorpius.

“I think I’m going to get some fresh air. Do you want to come?”

Scorpius’s expression goes from an unrestrained grin to something nervous and sharp, but his eyes don’t lose their shine for a second. “Okay.” He gets up and offers Albus his arm. Albus is grateful to take it, and he leans against Scorpius’s side as they go out into the twilit garden.

It’s so much cooler out here. A gentle breeze sweeps over them, and Albus closes his eyes and inhales. It’s quieter too, the silence broken only by late night bird song and the rustle of the leaves in the orchard.

“Can we sit?” Albus asks, gesturing to the steps that lead down onto the lawn.

“Of course.” Scorpius helps Albus sit on the top step, then plops down next to him and wraps an arm round his waist. “How are you feeling?”

Albus rests his head on Scorpius’s shoulder. “Less than ideal, but I’ll live.”

Scorpius kisses him on the forehead. “Let’s have an early night tonight.”

Albus nods. “I’m not going to object to that.”

They lapse into silence, and Albus enjoys the feeling of Scorpius breathing against him. It would be so easy to drift off to sleep right here on this peaceful evening, but he can’t sleep yet.

He lifts his head and turns to Scorpius. “You know I want to ask you something. And I’m sorry it’s not going to be perfect, but... I hope it’ll be okay anyway.”

Scorpius sits up very straight and clasps his hands in his lap. Albus notices that his grip is so tight that his fingertips have gone white.

“Are you nervous too?” He asks, glancing at Scorpius’s hands.

Scorpius looks down and laughs, tucking his hands into his pockets instead. “My incredible boyfriend is about to propose to me. Yes I’m nervous. And excited. And... a lot of things. I’m a lot right now. This is a lot. I- I’m rambling. Sorry. Go on.”

Albus smiles. “You’re really cute when you ramble.”

Scorpius goes pink. “I’m glad it’s working in my favour.”

“Everything works in your favour.” Albus puts his hand in his pocket and closes it round the handle of his wand. He twists the handle between his fingers, then sighs and lets it go. “I was going to cast stars in the trees and make everything look beautiful,” he says. “But I think if I did that now I’d just pass out. Or set the orchard on fire.”

Scorpius shakes his head. “I don’t need stars. It’s okay. You’re enough.”

“My dad said you’d think that,” Albus says, ducking his head. “I still think you deserve stars though. You deserve everything. You deserve the world. I wish I could give it to you.”

“You’re the world to me,” Scorpius murmurs, reaching out to take Albus’s hand.

Albus grins. “That’s really soppy.“

Scorpius grins back. “I know. It’s your fault.”

“Alright.” Albus squeezes Scorpius’s hand. “Hold the soppiness for a second while I do this.”

“You mean this isn’t going to be the soppiest bit yet?” Scorpius asks.

“It might be.” Albus lifts their linked hands to Scorpius’s mouth and they both press a finger to his lips. “Now sshh.”

Scorpius nods silently and sits and smiles at Albus. It’s at that point that Albus realises he didn’t need to cast stars in the trees. The sun is sinking behind the orchard, and the real stars are coming out overhead. The light from the house is bathing the garden in a golden glow, and Scorpius’s eyes are shining as bright as the silver moon overhead. It’s perfect just like this. Everything is perfect when Scorpius is part of it.

“A year ago,” Albus says, and his voice catches in his throat so he coughs and tries again. “A year ago I was trying to hide from myself. I was unhappy, I was lonely, I didn’t think I could have any of the things I wanted. And then you walked through the gates of the Training Ground, and it was like the first piece fell into place in my life.

“We went and got coffee, and we talked, and I had no idea how I’d ever managed to walk away from you. My life is exponentially better with you in it. You bring me sunshine, and stars, and magic, and... you make me believe that I can have a future; that I deserve a future.”

He swallows and looks down at his hands. “That day a year ago, you connected me back to the life I was missing, and I know now that I could have it all without you, that I’m wanted here and that there’s a life for me here. But the truth is that I want to share this life with you.” He glances up at Scorpius. “When I look at my family I want you to be there too. When I come home I want to be coming home to you. When I’m having a bad day I want to have the hope that you’ll be there to help. And when I’m having a good day I want to share it with you. I hope that you know – I know that you know – that I’m staying forever, but I want the whole world to know that. I want you and them to know how much I love you, and I want to stand up and promise that I’ll never leave you, that I’ll love you no matter what, and that my heart will belong to you forever.”

He pauses, and Scorpius seems frozen, gazing at him with sparkling silver eyes, mouth slightly open like he’s lost for words, then he looks down and rummages in his pocket for the box.

“This isn’t a ring, I’m sorry. I-I asked your dad how I was supposed to do this, and he said that when he and your mum got engaged they went and got their rings together, and I thought it was a nice idea, so I-I thought-“ He shakes his head. “Anyway. This is a gift for you, because I love you, and I-I just want to ask...” He exhales a shaky stream of air then breathes in again through his nose and squares his shoulders as he looks right at Scorpius. “Will you marry me?”

Scorpius covers his face with his hand, and for an alarmingly long time he doesn’t say anything. Then he drops his hand and reaches for Albus, pulling him in for a tight hug, and Albus can feel him shaking. It’s difficult to tell if he’s crying or just overwhelmed, and Albus doesn’t know how to ask, so he just holds onto Scorpius and messes with his hair and kisses his cheek until finally Scorpius pulls back and looks at him.

There are tears on his face, but he’s smiling, and he cups Albus’s chin with hands. “Yes,” he whispers, and his voice breaks. His smile widens like the sun emerging from behind clouds. “Yes of course I’ll marry you. Come here.” And then they kiss, and Albus is pretty sure the only reason he’s not crying too is because he’s so tired. Now the nervous energy is wearing off his hands are shaking and he feels exhausted right to the core. All he wants is to curl up by Scorpius’s side and sleep.

“What were you saying about this not being perfect?” Scorpius asks when they part, and he’s wrapped an arm round Albus and Albus has his head resting on his shoulder again.

Albus shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

Scorpius squeezes his shoulders. “I’m not disappointed. I could never be disappointed with you. Can I open this?” He points to the box that Albus is still holding loosely in his hand.

Albus nods and sits up a bit. “Yes, go on.”

Scorpius takes the box and opens the lid to reveal the pair of tiny silver cufflinks inside. They’re set with stones that look like rubies, but Scorpius frowns down at them then glances at him.

“Those aren’t jewels. What is it?”

“It’s Fiendfyre,” Albus says. “Crystallised Fiendfyre. You can sort of freeze it. It kills it, so it’s safe, but it looks really cool. And... look closer.”

Scorpius takes one of the cufflinks out of the box and inspects it. “There’s a bird on it.”

“An albatross,” Albus says with a smile. “Like your Patronus.”

Scorpius grins and looks at him. “Have I mentioned today that you’re perfect?”

“I’m not sure,” Albus says happily. “Maybe you should say it again just to make sure.”

Scorpius puts the cuff links safely back in the box, then leans over and kiss him. “You’re perfect, and I love you. And you want to know the best bit? You’re my fiancé.”

Albus blinks at him. “I... I am. I hadn’t thought of that. I’m your fiancé. And you’re mine.” Happiness wells up inside him and his grin is so wide it hurts his cheeks. “We’re going to get married.”

“Yes,” Scorpius says. “Yes we are.”

“I heard something about marriage,” Draco says behind them, and they both jump and look round to see him walking across the patio holding a bottle of champagne. “We were wondering if we’re allowed to come out and join you now?”

Albus looks at Scorpius and nods. “I think so.”

Draco smiles and calls back to the house. “They don’t mind us coming outside.” He draws his wand and conjures up some chairs on the lawn, then looks back at the pair of them. “Is it good news?”

“It might be,” Scorpius says brightly. “Does everyone know this is happening?”

Draco shakes his head. “Not yet.” He sets the champagne down on the ground as the rest of the family comes out of the house and joins them in the garden, Lily sitting on the steps just below them, James hopping up onto the wall, and the adults taking the chairs.

“We thought it was too nice an evening to stay inside,” Ginny says. “I hope you two don’t mind us invading.”

“No, it’s fine.” Albus waits until everyone is sitting down, then he squeezes Scorpius’s hand. “It’s good timing actually. We’ve got some news for you.” He looks at Scorpius and gives him a nod.

Scorpius doesn’t look at the others when he speaks. He keeps his eyes on Albus and beams at him. “We have. Albus and I are engaged.”

There’s very little surprise at the announcement, but there’s lots of joy. Harry comes over and gives Scorpius a tight hug. Draco nods and smiles at Albus as he starts summoning delicate crystal champagne flutes from thin air. Ginny crushes them both in her arms and kisses Scorpius on the cheek. Lily high fives Albus and tells Scorpius to look after him. Even James manages to resist making puking noises, instead ruffling Albus’s hair and telling Scorpius that ‘it’s going to be nice to have a sensible brother for the first time ever’.

The garden feels very bright and cosy. Draco’s champagne tastes like starlight and joy. Albus is happy to curl up next to Scorpius and drift contentedly in and out of consciousness, surrounded by the buzz of his family’s chatter.

A year ago he wouldn’t have dared to dream about a night like this, but now it’s his reality. He’s home. He’s got everyone he loves with him. He’s engaged to Scorpius and they’re building a life together. None of that means that things are perfect, there’s still pain that will never go away and healing is going to be a lifelong process, but he’s no longer alone. He’s safe, he’s happy, and he’s facing life with both feet on the ground.

At one point he drifts awake to feel Scorpius press a gentle kiss to his shoulder where he has a scar in the vague shape of a pair of feathered wings, and he remembers what his dad said earlier. He’s free. The future is his to make. And here he is, making it his way, with the people he loves by his side, just the way he’s always wanted to.

THE END

10 notes · View notes

your-anxious-nightmare · 5 years

Text

Adventures in Dad-ing (10)

Summary: Virgil’s having a hard time and Roman comes to the rescue. Word Count: Relationships: Almost official Prinxiety. The next chapter it will be. Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, (because i know this has problems, look up the tag adventures in dading or dad virgil on my blog archive and you’ll find all of them) Tags: @katatles-the-fish @karma-the-tax-collector @analogical-mess (ask to be tagged xoxox) Warnings: R*pe mention twice (it is written like that though) Ao3

“Virgil, I’m going to be honest with you, she has a solid case. Meghann is claiming she was under duress when she left the hospital, and she has records from therapy to prove it.”

“This is going to be a long battle, and it may not end the way you want it too.”

“We can try our best, but it’s looking grim.”

Virgil is running low on hope. He’s been to four meetings with Remy’s lawyer friend, Nathan, and has yet to hear good news. How a woman that conceived a child under r*pe, neglected said unborn child in the womb and left without a trace when the kid was finally born could have any rights for custody was beyond unreasonable.

Unfortunately though, she never signed over her rights as Patton’s biological mother, and with falsified documents from therapists that don’t exist, her case is looking great.

Virgil had no one to back him up. His parents haven’t spoken to him for years, he had no friends from his past, no one in his life even knows who Meghann is. To put it simply, he was screwed.

He was sitting up at the table one afternoon, head in his hands and tears streaming down his cheeks when Roman calls. He couldn’t bring himself to answer, chest heaving with silent sobs, instead watching the screen fade to black before a message popped up.

“Hey Virge, I know you’ve got tomorrow off, wanna do something? There’s a couple of Disney movies on at that old cinema, we could even take Patton if you’d like.”

Amongst all the stress of the impending case, Virgil had completely forgotten about his not-quite boyfriend. They had been on a few dates, Virgil took him to the theatre, Roman took him to an observatory, they had both gone to the park with Patton to meet up with Logan several times after school. But the week and a half since getting the papers, Virgil had said all of maybe four words to the teacher.

Noting that it’s during the last break of school, he replies quickly, asking the man to come round when he was finished. The affirmation text is quick, and it takes Virgil the whole hour and a half to clean himself up before picking Patton up from the school and getting the house tidy.

A knock sounds at the door at exactly 5:30 pm and the small patter of feet sends Virgil’s arm flying out to catch his son.

“No running in the kitchen.” He turns the boy around and straightens up to turn off the stove before following the boy to the front door.

“Mr Phillips!” Patton shouts, barreling into the man's legs as the door is pulled open, nearly sending both of them onto the cold steps. Roman catches his balance and picks the eight-year-old up with ease, swinging him around in a hug.

“My darling Patton, I haven’t seen you in years.” Patton giggles as he’s pulled in for a hug, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck.

“We had school a few hours ago silly!” Roman tuts, proclaiming how it’s far too long before turning to the shorter man leaning in the doorway.

“Good evening Virgil, you look dashing as always.” His hazel eyes shimmer as he looks the man up and down, smirking at the Harry Potter patterned pyjama pants. Virgil just rolls his eyes, welcoming the man inside before closing the door.

“Patton, go wash your hands.” The boy nods quickly as Roman sets him back down, almost immediately running off down the hall. Virgil goes to speak when a loud bang sounds down the hall.

“I’m okay.” Virgil chuckles before leading Roman to the small kitchen table.

“I’m sorry about the short notice, and for ghosting you the past few days. There’s been a lot going on.” Virgil takes a set of plates from the kitchen cupboard, laying them on the bench and starting to dish out the meal.

“It’s no problem, I understand. I’ll still be here when you’re ready to talk.” Roman smiles, pulling off his hoodie to reveal a t-shirt with Chewbacca on the front. Virgil raises an eyebrow before snickering and turning back to his job. He quickly finishes and turns in time to stop Patton running behind him, turning him so he goes around the counter instead of in front of the stove.

“Mr Phillips, you can sit here.” Patton pushes the man towards the seat nearest the door, placed between where Virgil and he usually sit. The young boy grabs a set of cutlery from the drawer and places them on the table, climbing up as Virgil places the plates on the table. Roman smiles and sits down, draping his hoodie over the back of the chair.

“Thank you, Virgil, this looks amazing.” Using the cookbook he’s had for almost twice as many years as Patton’s been alive, Virgil had made spaghetti and meatballs. To him, that seemed pretty mundane, but the compliment still brought a light blush to his cheeks.

The three eat in what would be silence if not for Patton’s excited storytelling of both things he had done at school and home. The adults can’t stop laughing between stories, playfully teasing each other as Patton exposes their embarrassing mistakes.

“And one time, Miss Heckle from the older kids class came in and Mr Phillips spilt water on her and everyone laughed.” Patton smiles widely, tongue resting between his teeth as he watches his dad snicker behind his hand.

“Okay, enough stories. I think you’ve embarrassed both of us enough, you little munchkin.” Roman smiles, thoroughly blushing.

“I have to agree. Go clean up and get in your PJs and then we can watch a movie.” Patton nods and climbs down, knocking his fork onto the floor and splattering sauce across his chair. He pulls an innocent face and runs off before Virgil can tell him to clean it up.

Virgil picks up the plates as Roman takes the dishcloth from the sink to clean the boy’s mess despite the younger man telling him not too. They tidy up quickly, washing the dishes and leaving them in the rack to dry before wandering into the small living room.

The two adults take a seat on the small two-seater couch, Virgil turning on the tv before sitting next to the teacher. Patton comes waddling in, dragging his blankie behind him before climbing onto the couch, squishing himself between the two men. Roman laughs lightly as the tired boy curls into his father’s side, thumb securely in his mouth. There was definitely enough space on Virgil’s other side, but the older man attributes it to the boy’s protectiveness of his Dad. Patton asks to watch a Disney movie, and Roman is quick to suggest Cinderella, getting an excited agreement from the boy.

Not even half-way through the film, Patton falls asleep, curled against Roman with one hand grasping his dad’s shirt and the other still in his mouth. Roman’s arm rests on the boy’s back, rubbing small circles as he sings along quietly. Virgil can’t help but snap a quick picture as he stands to move his son to his bed.

“I can carry him.” Roman offers, noting Virgil’s own tired look. He smiles lightly before leading the man to Patton’s bedroom and helping him tuck the boy in, flicking on the night light before pulling the door mostly closed.

“Thank you for tonight Roman.” Virgil leads the man back to the living room, both taking their seats on the couch to finish the film.

“As I said, it’s no problem. I quite like seeing you, and seeing you with the adorable bean is even better.” Virgil smiles before turning back to the tv, scooting ever so slightly closer to the teacher. Roman notices, moving his arm to rest along Virgil’s shoulders.

The film finishes and Roman looks down at his chest to see Virgil frowning.

“What’s wrong, ShadowHeart?” He asks, brushing the hair out of Virgil’s eyes as the younger man turns to face him.

“Can I rant to you about my first world problems?”

“Always.” Virgil nods, sitting up and clasping Roman’s hand from his shoulder, holding it between both of his on his lap.

“Basically, Patton’s mother came back,” Roman’s eyes widen, an almost happy look gleaming in the green pools. “Not a good thing, don’t smile yet.” He nods quickly, straightening his face and turning a little bit more towards the troubled man.

“Backstory time, buckle up Princey. She was possibly the worst partner I could’ve ever had. I was young and naive and I just wanted someone to call my own, no matter the stress or trauma it would cause.” Virgil explains the conditions in which Patton was made, leaving out the part where he was forced into it.

“She found me at work that day I was late and gave me a handful of papers. She’s taking me to court for custody of Patton.”

“There is no way in hell that woman would ever win a case for custody after that.”

“I have no proof, it’s my word against hers. She has all these reports from therapists saying she was going through a tough time, painting me as the abuser, I have nothing. I have no one to back me up bar myself.”

“You have me.” Virgil looks up, tears in his cold eyes as Roman’s face hardens. “If you will let me, I will stand by you through all of this. I will back you up, I’ll find a way to get Patton’s records and prove he was treated poorly in utero. And I will stand by your side through it all, as Patton’s teacher and, if you’ll have me, your boyfriend too.”

“Roman, I couldn’t-”

“You’re not dragging me into anything Virgil. I want to help you. You and Patton have an amazing life here, I don’t want her to ruin that. She has no backing for being a good parent, she’s coming back when he’s 8 years old, long after he would’ve needed her most. You have raised Patton to be such a kind, smart young boy and it’s time you don’t have to brave it alone. Let me help you, even just as a friend if you’d prefer.” Roman rambles, grasping Virgil’s hands tightly.

“I don’t know.” It’s been years since he’s called another person his partner. After Meghann and that man that told Patton lies he wasn’t sure if he knew how to trust another person like that.

“You can say no Virgil, I’m not going to force you into this just because I have feelings for you,” He pauses, taking a breath as he watches Virgil’s fingers run over his knuckles. “I can tell you this isn’t how I wanted this to go. I had planned to take you to dinner and make a dramatic speech over a glass of wine and you’d fall head over heels for me in an instant, but I guess I can compromise for a night of spaghetti, Cinderella and backstories.” Virgil snickers, a smile reaching all the way to his cool eyes.

“I want to say yes. I want nothing more than to call you mine but…” He fades off, looking across the room at a picture frame of himself and Patton, “I want him to be safe.”

“We can ask him,” Virgil looks back in surprise. “We can ask Patton tomorrow or another day, whenever you’re comfortable, how he would feel. His opinion matters too, especially if he thinks it’s a bad idea. If he’s okay with it, you can answer then.” The smile returns to his face and Virgil can’t help but lean over, pressing his lisp to Roman’s cheek.

“Thank you.” Virgil stands to put on another movie, but neither pays attention, both too caught up in the man curled up against their side. Not halfway through, Virgil is fast asleep, curled up against Roman’s chest, the latter having laid down to best situate the two of them. Legs intertwined and hands rested softly on chests and mid backs, both sleep soundly through the night, leaving the world’s problems for later.

#adventures in dading #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #patton sanders #ts patton #familial Moxiety #saners sides au #dad virgil #little patton #teacher roman

7 notes · View notes

queengeekrose · 5 years

Text

Setbacks and Mental Health

As some of you know, I started streaming on Twitch last summer, in July, as a way to help me manage my mental health and deal with some of my issues that I have because I'm almost completely housebound. Being housebound like I am means I have very little interaction with other people, except online, and what I do have tends to be limited to doctors and other people who are also ill, or to people who are seeing me in a very limited set of circumstances, most of which are not positive, and people tend to judge me rather harshly for, for a variety of reasons. It makes my introverted nature and extreme shyness and social anxiety a lot harder to deal with, especially since I hear a lot of very rude comments whenever I go out, because I have very good hearing, and sadly, I am far too used to hearing this type of thing. I've been hearing abusive comments thrown at me since I was old enough to understand words, from one person or another. Most of them I can just let roll off my back, but some bother me, a lot. I get triggered, in the true meaning of the word, by some of the comments and I start to backslide into mental health issues that are scary and it can take days, week, or even longer to pull myself back out of those pits. I haven't really talked about it with anyone online, honestly, but maybe I should. Maybe I should bare my soul and be honest about what happened to me over time, instead of just hinting at things and letting people draw their own conclusions. It might help me deal with things too. I'm not really sure.

Some of the things I've taked about in my writing, extensively, happened to me. Others I drew from experiences I helped others get through. All of them however do have more than a large helping of truth to them, when I was describing the hardships of abuse, mental torture, rape, violence, kidnapping (someone I knew in college was grabbed by an ex and held against her will for about six days, she was extremely traumatized and had to leave school because of it by the end of the semester and ended up moving in with me for a few weeks before that, because she felt safer around me than anyone else), eating disorders, anxiety and panic attacks, and painful shyness. I have even talked a bit about PTSD in my stories, and ADHD. All of these things I'm pulling from my own experience, to make my writing as real and human as possible, even though I'm trying to write a character other people can relate to as well. What I'm trying to do is flesh out enough realism to give 'you' a backstory without taking over whatever headcannon you are creating for yourself in the story, when I do that, so I borrow very heavily from my own experiences to keep the experience geniune and grounded. I want thing to be so real you can picture them vividly in your head and immerse yourself, not get lost because something seems inauthentic or wrong, so I tend to pour myself into the writing, more and more, as time goes on. And it's somewhat cathartic too, to a degree, to write about some of the issues I've been through. Don't misunderstand me in anyway please. It's still extremely hard to think about to talk about with anyone and still feels like an open and bleeding stab wound most days, but maybe now it feels like the knife has been removed and the bleeding has slowed a bit, to the point it's not so dangerous anymore. I can cope with things a lot better, most of the time. My writing gave me a lot of my mental piece of mind back.

And then I found streaming and the online communities on Discord and Twitch. This really turned around a lot more then. I had suffered a major mental setback when my father died, even though we were estranged, for a variety of reasons, and mental health had reached an all time low. I went to a doctor and started some new medicines, which helped, slowly, and after about four months on them, I was able to function somewhat normally again a bit. That's when I found Twitch and really threw myself into streaming, modding, and Discord, communicating with people that way. It helped me pull myself back out a lot faster and basically reset my mental health meter to normal much more quickly and stay balanced, with fewer slips. I still had a few day to day struggles with things, like remembering to eat, something I had gotten out of the habit of doing much of, or really at all, when my mood swung started to slip. It had been nearly a year, really, since I had eaten normally, if I'm being honest. That means, as of writing this, in February of 2019, it's been over two years of me having little to no appetite, often skipping meals or forcing myself to eat just one meal a day. I had a lot of medical treatments in there too that made me nauseated and I threw up anything I did eat. Sadly, I never lost a large amount of weight and I am still rather overweight. I did lose some, not that I was really trying to at any point, I just haven't had the appetite or desire to eat anything and facing for often seems like too much for me.

Twitch helped me find people with similar interests and helped me find new areas I was able to absolutely shine in. It didn't matter that my legs didn't work normally, I had a natural talent for keeping communities in line as a moderator on streams for other people. So what if I was a bit overweight? I could make badges and emotes that people liked. Who cared if I struggled with shyness in person? The internet was a great buffer and it meant I never actually saw who I was talking to directly in my streams. I was just talking to names. And yes, sadly I did get trolls. But not that many really, compared to a lot of women I've talked to. I figured it was just soemthing I'd have to live with. Mostly I got them early in my streaming career and they came in and heckled me about my weight, I kicked them out and it was over, I moved on, no harm no foul. I mostly even forgot about them pretty immediately. They didn't leave any lasting impact on me because as I said, I've been hearing that kind of comment, or ones like it all my life.

The trolling I got last week on Wednesday night was different though. For the first time ever it was very sexual in nature. It made me extremely uncomfortable. There were three trolls involved as well. The first was fairly harmless, just egging the second on, who I warned several times, then timed out and eventually banned. The third crossed several lines and has caused me so much emotional and mental distress I have been struggling with severe relapses of my major depressive disorder, PTSD, and even dissociating, which my family doesn't know about. I don't know how to tell them about it. They think it's just me spacing out or my mind wandering, not that I'm literally unable to answer and I lose chunks of time, even if I've answered. I didn't even realize I had been dissociating again until a friend told me he had said things to me and I couldn't recall any of those conversations, nor most of the evening really. I realized I had large gaps in my memory of what had been going on with small breaks in the fog that were clear, what usually happend when I'm having my episodes, and I knew I had to do something. I had to take a step back. I don't dissociate unless something is seriously wrong, obviously.

Now, I'm sure all of you are wondering just what happpened that triggered me so badly that night. I'll explain. First, those two trolls shook me up pretty badly. Like I said, I'm extremely introverted and streaming is already a struggle for me a lot of the time, even if I put on a good front and can act like it's no big deal. Inside, I'm terrified. It wears be down and wears me out. Dealing with trolls in my own stream is hard on me. (On other people's channels, I have no problems, when I'm the mod. I know it's my job and they trust me to handle things.) Secondly, there was a later troll who came into the stream who sent me a direct message, without ever addressing the stream, asking me personal questions like what I was wearing, then trying to buy my panties for insanely large amounts of money. That triggered my PTSD very badly. In college, I had had a guy attempt to sexually assulat me and call me a whore, offering me increasing large amounts of money, much the same way. I only got away because I kicked him off me and screamed for campus security, who heard me and hauled him off. I never told my family about it, mainy because I hate talking about it and don't want to bring it up. I will say though, I don't think he was getting up quickly from my kick at the time. It was before I was in a wheelchair and I had a very powerful set of legs and actively practiced kickboxing. But regardless of that, it triggered me very, very badly the other night, and I'm still suffering occassion episodes. I have a doctor's appointment scheduled very soon, and I intend on talking to her about what to do then, if things haven't gotten back to normal by then, but in the mean time, I'm immersing myself in my usually stress relieving activities and taking a short break from Twitch and twitter to get my mental health back in order.

Sadly one of the side effects of all the mental health issues I struggle with is terrible insomnia. It means many nights I'm unable to sleep, or sleep only a few hours. I know it makes my friends and family worry, but I can't help it. It's all my brain is letting me get. I nap when I can. If I try to sleep more, I have horrible, terrifying nightmares and sleep paralysis. I also just can't sleep. I'm really trying to do my best here everyone. Please know that. I appreciate the worry. Just know I'm still here, struggling on, one day at a time. That's the real meaning behind #PMA (Positive Mental Attitude) after all. Just doing my best, moving forward a day at time and not giving up. It's also why I try to pay it forward as much as I can and make sure everyone else is happy and taken care of too. Stay safe and happy everyone. I love you all!

QueenGeekRose

#pma #real life struggles #dissociation #ptsd #mental health #major depressive disorder #coping #handling setbacks

2 notes · View notes