#my classes start so soon... god who knows how much time ill have to draw

[glasskoi]

sketches from chapter 16 of every time's the last time

[metukika]

ok you needing a second to understand that tumbel in tumblr saved me from my embarrassment for having misread your message xD hell yeah haha

maybe you could write us a lil post about your favorite character & why they are that :D (soz for not doin it myself i‘m not feeling like putting anything out there today)

and don‘t decide that you won‘t ever contribute to a bigger project that touches people yet !!!!!! YOU‘RE SO YOUNG you‘ve got the whole world waiting for you and you‘re ALREADY so good at art though. your art is already touching people, no reason why that shouldn‘t work if you should ever work with others on a bigger project!!! GET OUT THEREEE i mean also take your time but IF YOU WANT THAT ABSOLUTELY SHOOT YOUR SHOT KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN FOR OPPORTUNITIES i‘d personally love to see your work in something bigger :D nothing‘s set in stone <3 <3 <3 !!!

aww thank you so much anon! idk who you are but youre so kind to me... thats so nice!

about the whole future thing... i know i have a lot of time but i think because of some stuff coming up soon (when i leave school) im stressed about the future and my decisions in it entirely. idk what im gonna do if i need to go to the military lol like what job to take... i havent started driving and i dont understand shit about all the other stuff thats attached with going to the military im just stressed in general. i dont wanna end up staying in my parents house forever ig.

but i have a lot of time and i know that even if my connection with my friends fade away when they get recruited (which is... also something that could happen... oh god i dunno how to make irl friends) i still have my family, and probably the online world too. if i open commissions im pretty sure id get some work, but i dont think i could do that too much cuz i hate drawing things i dont wanna draw.

but, again, who knows what will happen. ill be fine haha, especially if there are people like you who care enough to write messages like these. most of my online friends are from twt so its always nice to see a tumblr fan <3 thank you anon.

(im realizing how depressed this is all making me sound like i promise its just my school hammering in the importance of the military signs up like i dont even know what part of the mess ill be in most of the time theyre teaching shit that doesnt concern me. im okay, im not dying!!)

now to actually talk about my favorite character! woohoo! happy topic change!

for the two people who read this and the one thats actually gonna read till the end, im putting a cut so this isnt annoying on ur dash (note to anon: this post is so so fucking long i know u prob asked me my fav character to cheer me up but dont force urself to read this whole thing just to be polite lmaooo but id appreciate it if anyone did cuz holy shit)

something that ive realized a while back is that usually when it comes to favorite characters of media, i have a type.

when i made this the character i had in mind where souda (danganronpa), aiura (saiki k) and teru (mp100).

after making the tweet i also thought of denji (csm) who fits right in, and also bakugou (mha) who doesnt, but he looks like half of the characters i did mention lol.

i think the whole social but nice thing came to because of all those shows and stories where the popular kid in school is the mean bully.. maybe i dislike this trope cuz i havent personally experienced any kind of bullying in my school, even as an observer so i cant relate to the experience of having this type of antagonist. the worst it ever got for me was when in fifth grade a girl made fun of me for crying and no one laughed. (shes still in my class over six years later and shes really nice not ufhduh were not friends but were friendly and i dont hold a grudge). maybe its just cuz im wholesome so i dislike any type of negative character. maybe.

that might sound stupid cuz i said i like bakugou, who i used to think of constantly, like for the entirety of 2021 he was in my mind it was annoying. but idk man not all my favs fit into this category ((shinguuji, saihara, yuuko, tweek (who also looks like them! what the fuck!) yuudai from sakana (why are they all blond?!? and men. more female characters what the fuck) barf bag (yes im an object show fan good morning)))

anyways. i like the popular but nice trope is what im saying. why are they all simps? i dont know honestly only one of the characters that i mentioned at the start is simping for someone i ship them with (terumob) (but the reason i even like teru in the first place might be cuz i saw terumob art, thought it was cute, and decided to search more art. i do that with a lot of characters when i dont watch the show (from the original list ive watched all of saiki k, watched playthroughs of the first 2 dr games, watched like a season of mp100 years ago and watched like 2 seasons of mha even before that. i get my filling of plot and character from meme videos, fanart, and fanfics. i understand enough.) and i get hooked on the ship (more examples include akiangel, kiribaku and the two gay boys from evangelion. a lot of homo happening. also whatever the fic version of this is but with denji and yoshida).

about the simping and the bakugou being mean-- i accept my character's flaws!!! i dont erase them!!! bakugou is an asshole and thats why i wanna see him get punished and learn from his mistakes, even if its a little hard! a great fic where this happens (but isnt the main storyline) is quirk: knife! which is probably my favorite non ship heavy fic, check it out!

my fav characters have flaws but just like how you need to embrace flaws in the people you love, whether that means helping them get better or accepting them, i embrace these flaws cuz it makes them who they are! souda, denji and auira wouldnt be themselves if they werent pushing the lines with their crushes and idk what the fuck bakugou would be if he wasnt what he was.

alright lets actually start talking about my favorite character now.

so, right now, my favorite character of all time is-- ding ding ding-- kazuichi souda! who i already mentioned.

look at him! idk if the one and a half people who are reading this know him, but if u know denji, who is a more popular character atm, then imagine that but more wimpy.

the first time i encountered this character i was watching game grump's playthrough of the second game. i watched their first and enjoyed it but didnt really join the fandom. i didnt know anything about the second so i was going in blind like arin and dan, so theres a chance that whatever i thought about the characters was biased and connected to how they feel.

at first i really liked his design. a lot of the characters have small and complicated details but souda is probably the most simple design, not including hinata, but unlike him souda has a lot of bright colors that draw the eye in! i dont particularly prefer designs with sharp teeth but i think its a pretty nice quirk, since its another part of him that makes him look intimidating. theres a headcanon that he filed themselves but i honestly think he wouldnt do that, and prefer the headcanon that its genetic, even if it makes less sense. but danganronpa, and their designs, dont make sense. i think these little strange quirks are better when they arent thoughtout or have reason. he has sharp teeth becuz. just cuz.

if u dont know what happens in the game im just gonna say that the plot doesnt really matter, cuz really the only growth souda experiences is with his relationship to hinata (the main character) and his trust to his survivor friends that makes him stronger and convinces him to leave the virtual reality. im not gonna be talking about the plot in detail. i also havent watched the anime so im not gonna get into whatever he does there. i do know that he makes some cute faces in it, which is pretty awesome.

but, yeah, besides his design, at the start i truthfully didnt really like him lmaooo he was kind of stalkerish towards sonia (ill prob get into their relationship later), he is also a wimp but honestly... i get it hes stuck in a killing game i would be scared of anything too. i feel like of all of the cast, from all the games, souda is probably one of the best depictions of an actual teenager that might exist. of course he has his obnoxious moments, but in a way that a dumb teenager would have. i dont know when i started liking him, maybe after discovering soudam? hmm.

kazuichi is the ultimate mechanic, which is one of the talents in the game that actually gets used? he makes the communicators in chap 3 and fixes the elevator in chap 4. besides that, he is also important to the second chapter since he helped tie up komaeda and he also brought hinata to the diner, though that has nothing to do with his talent.

he learned to be a great mechanic from working at his dad's repair shop or garage or whatever its called. its mentioned that their family is pretty poor, and i think the concept of a character being at one point or another un-wealthy pretty interesting (did that come strange? sorry). he worked to help get their family money he is a good boy, he mentions being better than his dad too. he doesnt look like the typical mechanic, except from the greasy hair and jumpsuit (im talking specifically about his color scheme) and thats another one of those quirks that make no sense but i just like haha

speaking of his parents, lets talk about a popular headcanon that fans have of souda's dad (before we start i wanna state that my opinion on this topic and the topic of souda relationship towards sonia and his trust issues were all stem from an analysis video of him on youtube, if u know u know, so if i want someone more competent talking about it go there, but if u dont care enough to research it or ure only reading because u like me and wanna hear me talk about something i care about dw im gonna go into detail about these anyways

the hc is that souda's dad physically abuses him. i wanna talk about why dont agree (if u wanna skip this part ill put *** when it ends so just go there <3). this hc stems from a story he tells hinata in one of the free time events where he didnt go to his previous school trips because he wanted to save money for his family, even though he really wanted to go, and he says something along the lines of how his dad "beat the crap outta him" when he didnt go.

do i think his dad hit him? probably. i dont really know how common this type of discipline is in japan, or in places with more un-wealthy people so this might be normal to them. does that make that okay? obviously not. but if the only example we get for him hitting souda is after souda does something good for the family in his own expense, it wont make sense for his father to be mad about it, right? i think he was upset his son had to give up his happiness for them, even if it was to save money. the analysis vid said it might be souda just using more dramatized words for it. He was hesitant to tell hinata that he was picked on at school, i dont think hed just admit to being abused so casually. i think his dad might have smacked him from time to time when he was younger but probably stopped the more souda grew up. if his dad really hated him he wouldnt beat him after doing something that would benefit the dad, is what im saying.

also i think that the way souda acts doesnt reflect someone who would be regularly abused... its not like im an expert, but if we for example look at tsumiki, who was canonically abused and bullied regularly, we can see a great difference. yes, souda tends to be caught off guard or scared of stuff, but usually its less of other people and more about the situation around him. he was scared of monokuma and the monobeasts and the morning after the killing gama announcement. he's also generally not that apologist about his stupid behavior... for example he doesnt feel remorse for tying up komaeda, and even threatens to tie up kuzuryuu too. i also think he said something about wanting to punch one of the other guys? this might be cuz he tends to blurt out his thoughts stupidly and doesnt know how to hold his tongue (something that, if he was abused, would probably get him in trouble) but he never recoils from what he said. he whines about being judged, like after letting slip that he was thinking of sonia in a creepy way, but he never goes back and is afraid that someone might punish him or hurt him. like how tsumiki apologizes for the smallest thing at claims that she'll take any punishment.

it might also be because i generally dont like hcing characters with abusive parents haha. i know for a lot of characters its a part of what makes them who they are, but if thats not the case i feel like its always to excuse the character from some frowned upon trait they have.

its a bit difficult to explain so ill take an example from a different character from a different show. todoroki from mha was abused as a child, and its a part of what makes him him, and its a big part of his character, even if hes not in that situation anymore. i wont deny it. now, theres a hc that some people like to believe about bakugou's parents, specifically his mom, being abusive. this isnt canon. first of all everyone is entitled to hc what they want but a lot of the time i feel this is a way to explain his asshole behavior (also i just love mitsuki). i dont like excusing his fucked up actions and blaming his parents. i think that him being an asshole from the ideals that he himself made is kind of what made him interesting. he believes in what he learned from his own experiences that he and only he had. his stupid child thinking made him the gross person he is, and thats way more interesting than blaming his parents' behavior, like we can do with reason in todoroki's case. todoroki acts antagonistic at the start of the show because of the pressure his dad put on him.

now going back to souda, by making his dad abusive a lot of people linked that to him being a creep towards sonia. while i do see how his parents and their expectations might be a motivator, i prefer to blame souda himself for his wrong actions. i dont want to excuse his actions like that. its more interesting to see him grow from the ideals and reasonings he made himself.

***

now let's talk about his relationship with hinata! woo!

canonically, hinata is the person souda is closes to in the game, even though most of the time hinata is just tolerating his stupid behavior. except in his free time events maybe. their relationship is probably the biggest character development souda gets.

lets talk about his past a little more.

souda tells hinata that he used to be picked on for looking like a nerd. he had black hair (but i hc it more like dark brown, because reminder this is a post gushing about my fav character first and an canalization second), brown eyes (in hc world dull pale brown cuz a lot of the char's eyes are dull and pale colored) and glasses (hc: thin and rectangle shaped). he's not really a nerd... except that he's probably good at math and that type of things, since he builds machines and all. if i remember correctly, he says his bullied got away with what they did because he tends to be naive and trusts too easily. he was also used by his best friend that cheated off of his test, blamed souda for it (which he didnt really mind, showcasing how much not a nerd he is if he doesnt care about his studying and tests like that) and then kinda ghosted after feeling bad. but at the time souda was really heartbroken and felt betrayed, this whole situation gave him trust issues because that his naive heart cant tell when someone really wants to be his friend or if they'll drop him when they dont need him anymore.

souda and hinata start off being friends because souda didnt like any of the other guys enough (fair enough, hinata is the most normal one lol) and he tolerated him enough to go to the diner on the second island to spy on the girls with him. at the time kuzuryuu was still an asshole to everyone, but the two do get friendlier after the second trial (survivor boys bff agenda. i did say "bff coded" didnt i?)

souda tells hinata that after his ex best friend left him, he kinda went through something-- he dyed his hair, put in contacts, and pierced his ears (which i like to think was really scare to him) (and i assume this is when he started to wear bright colors, but i like to think he was always a fan of them (aiura and teru kinnie)) to make himself more intimidating (like i said in the list! remember the list?!) so that he wont be picked on. i assume the bullying he experienced was more emotional that physical, and he was probably called names for his nerdy appearance and was made to do tasks for toxic friends and somethings like that. tsumiki was physically bullied and she has bandages all over her design while souda rolls up all his sleeves and has his collar bone exposed while there is no marks on him. maybe he's have some scars from beginner's mechanical mistakes but thats hc territory.

anyways, because of his appearance change, he got some attention from flirtations girls and said that it had intimidated him. i imagine that while he was in his nerd looking mode, he didnt get much attention from the other sex so when they only started approaching him with the assumption he's some punk badass, that was probably a bit overwhelming for him and thats why he has a strained relationship with the female sex. he does kind of sexualize the girls, specifically in the second chapter, but honestly its not really that bad. it kind of even feels a little forced, like he said nanami had "huge jugs" and wonders if this "is what moe gap is" or something like that but he doesnt even say anything about wanting her lmao. the only girl he really shows any interest is sonia, and he mostly gushes about her beauty, instead of her body. not that thats really any better ofc.

he does get along with some of the girls or at least acts normal and not incel-y towards them, like whenever he's angry at saionji, when he felt awkward next to tsumiki or when he made minimaru for owari (though he did mainly do that to impress sonia). when alter ego enoshima suggest putting him between her boobs or whatever batshit crap she said he just yelled he's get crushed, so like. good for him for not being toooo bad. so yeah i do think there are reasons why souda's best friend woudlnt be a girl (for now, at least) and thats why it really is hinata.

and while hinata has other friends, his and souda's connection is special <3 some examples: he is friends with nanami, but they dont really get each other, or at least hinata doesn't feel too connected at her at times cuz shes like a robot and doesnt really get emotions to the full extent. canonically, his and komaeda's relationship is just not... bros, yknow? whatever it is its not "bros". he and souda are bros. i know that he and kuzuryuu consider each other brothers but i feel like while the friendship they have is great, hinata would be more comfortable just letting loose and being stupid with souda. they could connect by being stupid together and distracting one another from the bad in the world by being fun. cuz souda can be fun when he isnt stressed.

but since souda is an emotional character (i dunno if i mentioned this, if u didnt know souda beforehand hes emotional as shit and cries constantly, my beloved) they can get close the two of them emotionally and are empathetic enough to be able to comfort each other. that is, when souda trusts his enough to do that.

thats right. as much as id like to say souda is loyal like a dog, he doesnt really show that in the game lol. because of his experience with his ex friend, souda has trust issues, which i think i already touched upon (idk this is so fucking long im tryna go thru this one topic at a time but good god) and these issues come up in his and hinata's relationship, mainly chap 4. to put it simply cuz honestly the plot doesnt really matter in this context: souda suspects hinata to be a traitor, and because in chap 4 the characters are not allowed to eat, this probably makes him more stressed and causes him to think even more rationally. after the chap is over, in souda's last free time event, he invites hinata to the beach and order him to punch himself.

his actions are really silly here, but basically: hinata shows in souda trust, which makes souda feel like a bad friend, because he couldnt bring himself to trust hinata even though hinata didnt do anything wrong. he feels that their friendship is unfair and that he's the cause of this problem. so i guess he knows he'll get into an argument or a fight because of it, or maybe he wants to give hinata a reason to not trust him so he bring hinata to the beach so they could fist fight. but souda doesnt like to harm people cuz soda is a good boy tm so he asks hinata to do the work for him (which he does not do lol. they communicate and talk like normal friends). this is where souda tells hinata about his past being bullied, after in the last free time event hinata said he could see souda hanging out with the cool kids, so this is where he confides that hes not a cool kid. anyways souda comes to the conclusion that hes more scared of being a bad friend and a coward because of his trust issued that actually being betrayed, and tells hinata that he'll trust him. hooray!

in my mind they are suchhhh good friends. i dont mind shipping souda with a lot of the characters, but it think their friendship is the most important to me. i love them!

now lets get into his relationship with sonia!

i do, in fact, think that his crush on her is fake. i do think he believes in it. but he does not realize that the created a version of her brought on by her general politeness, her status as a princess and her beauty, in his mind that every day strays farther away from the real sonia. he denies her liking of the occult and other scary stuff that turns him off and he acts shocked when she admits to being a virgin (yikes. at least he doesnt really shame her. i think it just ruins his image of her-- again, yikes-- but he ignores it mostly. like he ignores her, the real her, most of the times)

i dont know why he needs a romantic relationship specifically so desperately, but i can think of why he wants that puppy love admiration that he has for her. she, or at least the way he makes her in his mind, is wildly out of her league. sure he wants a girlfriend, but deep down he knows hell never get her. thats why when she turns him down again and again he only gets hurt for like a minute. she even suggests she would rather he be the blackened in the 4th trial and he gets over it pretty quickly. this is the reason he wants to like someone out of his reach so much-- because he cant get hurt from her. he isnt being betrayed or heartbroken like his ex best friend did to him (yes this is about the trust issues again) because he never expected to be with her in the first place. by expecting failure by chasing a girl that is so so out of his league (a pretty perfect princess) he knows what he gets when hes turned down. to him, this is better than actually making an effort with someone he is genuinely attached to because in that case he might actually get his feelings hurt. we see this with his relationship with hinata, though it isnt in a romantic sense. sadly, after they become close friends, he still chases after sonia, but that might be because the player isnt guaranteed to play all of souda's free time events.

this stuff probably will take time for souda to understand. ofc this doesnt really justify his actions and creepy behavior towards her... i like to think that at some point (i constantly forget that dr is a game about killing each other and the apocalypse, but ig this can take place in here too since they both survive) he understands where his problem stem from, maybe with a conversation with hinata or kuzuryuu and he learns and he asks forgiveness from sonia and changes his behavior. the long and hard way!!! my boy did something stupid and he has to make up for it!!!! he will take responsibility because thats what good character writing is!!

itll probably be difficult to come to terms that the girl in his mind, that i do believe he actually fell in love with, is not real. he will cope <3

briefly i'd like to mention souda's and kuzuryuu's relationship i think they are bffs #2 honestly i feel that the both of them plus hinata could be the best trio they are such wholesome guys from all corners of the bro spectrum let the be friends<333 idk maybe even add owari. owari and souda sibling energy <3 this is just hc territory at this point. mioda and souda sibling energy!!!!! for more kuzuryuu and souda friendship read the fic Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi's Guide to Despair Disease: A How-To Take Care of Your Friends(?) Without Spiraling Out Of Control Story. still a wip.

hmmm that was a lot. lets talk about some hcs cuz believe it or not i dont just think of his as what he is canonically, but also what he could be!

ok lets talk about appearances (still canon atm:) he is short-- one of the shortest guys in the cast cuz fuyuhiko and teruteru dont count (thats a plus) and he is, sadly, pretty ripped. it makes since cuz he prob carries heavy stuff and moves his arms a lot for his talent of being a mechanic but when a (male) character is TOO ripped and not for a good reason (for example theres a good reason why nidai or oowada are physically strong cuz of their talents, and some characters are just himbos that deserve it like momota) i just look at them like :|. but it think souda deserves some strong arms <3 he is a cuddler. he would. i just dont think he's impressively ripped. like i think he could sprint fast, but not for long, and that girls wouldnt flawk him for his arms (if they already knew who he was) cuz all in all he is still a wimp loser and he will stay as such, please and thank you.

im a big fan of his narrow eyes. theyre just. dont make sense on him i love it. just like the sharp teeth, he is blessed with looking the opposite of his personality.

now lets talk about post canon appearances! in the world of canon, where the most tragic event in history happens and they were a part of the despair refinements and they live the neo world program (i always forget they dont live in my lil modern day normal aus, ugh), i think he would wake up still looking like how he did in his depair era. idk how long theyre like that but this is my personal hc: hair that reaches his chest, some ugly dulled down pink still sticking to the tips of his messy hair, no hat </3 but his hair is long enough that he doesnt have that hedgehog thing going on </3, no contacts, no glasses, probably scars over his arms and one over the side of his lips like that rio penguin from madagascar (also curse that show for making my tiny stupid child brain think there are penguins in the desert. at least there are such a thing as beach penguins... hmm). i think he would cut his hair to be shorter that it is in canon, a bit longer than hajime's and would resemble saihara's except brown, parted and no ahoge. he wold be dispensation by the length. he would also wear a cap (the normal way) and with his natural colors back, he would look very snuggble :)) he would hug everyone he would be the comfort giver at least to the survivors (this is the part where u realize how insame i am for him lol)

in a world where the end of it didnt happen, i feel like he would feel kind lonely for a while after school, and wouldnt care enough to wear contacts and would go back to glasses, and he wouldnt dye his hair (i just really like his naturality okay i know i said i liked him at first for his colors but this is character growth! he is learning that he doesnt need to be intimidating to get friends!!!) his hair would be a little longer than canon but not by much. i just have this au where he works in an office and there he meets kamukura (who, personality wise is just hinata but depressed) and they become bffs dont at me, and this is how he looks in that au, wearing a button down without the tie and the sleeves rolled up. i do think hed wear obnoxious colors in his free time tho <3

maybe i should get into ships a little? mostly i shipped him with tanaka because i love me some rivals to lovers that isnt angst filled and is mostly just petty. theys either be salty towards each other or tanaka would be very intense in his friendship and souda would be tsundere-ish, not the obnoxious type tho. imagine how denji acts towards yoshida. (denji and souda are actually really alike. before i knew anything about csm my twt mutual told me id prob like denji cuz i like souda and.. well he was right)

but recently i dont really focus on shipping souda with anyone as much as i focus on his friendship with hinata (am i the only one who watched gg compilations and put their faces behind the silly conversations? like i imagine their sprites laughing while the video plays. is that weird? them and also saihara&momota. cuz theyre the same relationship!!! tactful mc and their friendly dumb bro! they!!!). also if u recall i made that drawing of souda with a bunch of ships so its not like loyal lol.

also why are souda and tanaka together constantly in the anime... i think its the end song where theres a slide show of all the characters in class in places like a picnic and the beach and stuff and the two of them are almost together. theyre at the very least friends. that dynamic where they both look intimidating but theyre both so fucking stupid. frienemies. <333 they are so <333 theyd be friedns at least!!! thank you for the anime for realizing that.

i also like to imagine that he and tsumiki would be friends <3 they were both bullied, they both cry a lot and arent really taken seriosuly, at least when it comes to their emotions. i think theyd hug and cry together and be friends :) also as couple they could be very cute.

i dont really know what more to say... i think this is it! i dont know what about kazuichi souda makes me love him so much. he is flawed but not to the point of being unlikable. he is unique but can easily be related to! i care about him so much... the amount of aus i come up and put him in... i dont post so much about him, but know he is my love. ofc i dont have romantic feelings for him some ppl just thirst over their favs i wanna preface that aint the case. not cuz of his age (im close to him in age) but cuz i just... dont feel and romantic or thristy feelings towards anyone so istg if anyone says something stupid to me about that.

thats all! i think this is the longest post ive ever made? when i got this ask last night i thought id write about all those characters i mentioned at the start but then when i went to bed i thought about my answer and realized i have a lot to say lol.

to the one person who actually read until the end, if u even exist (who knows myabe this was for nothing, i still had fun), you're insane. and i hope u have a great rest of ur day. if u didnt know who souda was before this... well u certainly do now (also why did u read this?) sometimes i just gotta rant about something i adore haha. its been a while since i went all out cuz me and my irl dont watch the same shows. i hope i made whoever read this love souda! at least a little!

this post is 5787 words long... im not rereading this

[heyovivi]

Gwyn and Azriel and Prejudice

Hello, back again with some possible theories and this time it's about one of my favorite Valkyries, Miss Gwyneth Berdara and some more controversial subjects such as the prejudice that surrounds her and other characters.

Now I'm sorry I haven't been posting a lot--though I'm sure not people even notice seeing how we have a large community of readers who also come up with some amazing theories! But I needed to slow down on posting my wild theories and imaginations because I felt that some of my readers who read my fan fiction were starting to catch onto the plot of "A Court of Shadows and Scars"--but I've been waiting to post about this one because I think it's important and because I've already addressed it in my story.

Moving on.

Gwyneth Berdara.

Although she was very much a newly-introduced secondary character to Nesta's story she is oh-so important and beloved by our reading community. Gwyn has stolen the hearts of many with her wit, charm, and inquisitive personality--and not just readers but her fellow characters as well.

All except a very few including Merrill and the main antagonist of ACOSF, Queen Briallyn--though there are many others I could mention, such as the Illyrians, but my main focus will revolve around Merrill and Briallyn and their prejudices against Gwyn along with other characters with their own prejudices such as Beron and even our own brooding shadowsinger, Azriel.

Yes, Azriel.

Now we know the story of Gwyn and we also a know a bit of her past as well.

Gwyn's grandmother was once a river nymph who seduced a High Fae male hailing from the Autumn Court and fell pregnant with Gwyn's mother who was sent to be raised at the temple of Sangravah because she couldn't dwell in the rivers of Spring Court and was too wild to be confined in the Forest House of Autumn Court.

"My mother was unwanted by either of their (Gwyn's grandmother and grandfather) people. She could not dwell in the rivers of the Spring Court, but was too untamed to endure the confinement of the forest house of Autumn. So she was give in her childhood to the temple at Sangravah, where she was raised..." (Gwyn Berdara, A Court of Silver Flames, pg. 316)

Now what we know about nymphs is extremely limited in the ACOTAR world. But in Greek mythology--from which they hail from--nymphs were idolized as guardians of nature. They were revered as the spirits of specific natural features and were often identified with parts of nature such as the Oreads (mountain nymphs) and the Hamadryads (tree nymphs).

The name "nymph" comes from the Greek word that means "young woman", and so naturally these beings were considered to be female. Indeed, they were represented as young, beautiful, musical, amorous, and gentle youthful creatures. And while there is some question about whether they were immortal or not - Hamadryads in particular were linked with the lives of their chosen trees - it is believed that they were extremely long lived.

A beautiful, ever-young creature that inhabits the lovliest of all wilderness places including clear lakes, streams, and crystalline caverns. They do not like any form of intrusion but there is a 100% that a nymph will be friendly if approached by another good creature. Nymphs are exceptionally intelligent and are very rarely found.

Gwyn's lineage of nymph, according to Greek mythology, would be categorized as a Naiad, the nymphs of streams, rivers, and lakes. The Naiads, or water nymphs, dwelt beside running water. Like their cousins, the Nereids and Oceanids of the oceans, the Oreads of the hills and the Dryads of the forests and trees, they were usually sweet, benign spirits. Naiads, especially, were helpful and healing, nurturing fruits, flowers and mortals. Yet the youth Hylas who went to draw water from a pool was lured by the nymphs into the water and was never seen again--meaning that despite being creatures of nature they also possessed darker roles in certain legends.

I interpret this as Nymphs being hostile around creatures who were unwelcome in their lands for being ill-intentioned.

Many times in Greek mythology, nymphs were often seen as the symbolism of beauty and love; such as Aphrodite--and because they were always describe to be beautiful and graceful women with soft, sweet appearances they often drew the attention of the Gods creating legends of romantic affairs and infidelity.

Their very beauty caused the Gods to lust after them to a ravenous extent, making the Nymphs sometimes turn to the Goddesses for help. However, not all Goddesses were kind towards the nymphs--such as Aphrodite or Hera who grew jealous of their beauty when their very beauty and natural loveliness challenged the fidelity of their lovers.

In this case, let's assume that role of Gods, of higher beings, were the High Fae in the ACOTAR realm.

In the ACOTAR realm, it's easy to assume the nymphs are somewhat--if not--wholly the same as they are described in classic literature. When Gwyn tells the story of her grandmother she states that her grandmother seduced a High Fae, resulting in the birth of her mother. If this is the case then I think I can understand why characters such as Merrill and Briallyn look down on her lineage so much because again, Nymphs, in the eyes of major Goddesses such as Aphrodite and Hera, were essentially home wreckers (even though many confrontations with Gods and Nymphs were not always consensual).

With the reputation of being male-thirsty seductresses, nymphs are looked down upon as lower-beings, that and their lack of immortality (more often then not Nymphs linked their lifelines to an object in nature: a tree nymphs links their life to a tree, water nymph links their life to a stream (but I suppose that makes them immortal?)).

With this devious reputation placed on her lineage, Gwyn is often the butt of insults with being call half-breed and all by the likes of Briallyn and Merrill.

"But you made it easy for me: you went right to her house in Windhaven. Spared me the trouble of luring you. I let those witless Illyrians take her and the half-breed as an amusing bonus." (Queen Briallyn, A Court of Silver Flames, pg. 721)

"I am descended from Rabath, Lord of the Western Wind...Unlike Gwyneth Berdara, I am not lackey to be dismissed." (Merrill, A Court of Silver Flames, pg. 315)

Merrill glanced between her and Gwyn before saying, "get back to your work, nymph." (Merrill, A Court of Silver Flames, pg. 315)

Okay--so Merrill doesn't specifically call her a half-breed, but dismissing her as a lower race and simply calling her "nymph" is basically comparable to an insult.

Now, that we've got Gwyn out of the way, let's move onto Autumn Court, more specifically Beron.

Beron is an ass--plain and simple. He is the personification of a conservative abuser and is honestly one of the most disgusting characters I have ever had the displeasure of reading. However--I suppose the problems he brings do push certain character formulas forward such as Eris and Lucien. Such as executing Jesminda for simply being involved with Lucien and for being anything but High Fae.

"Lucien fell in love with a faerie whom his father considers to be grossly inappropriate for someone of his bloodline. Lucien said he didn't care that wasn't one of the High Fae, that he was certain the mating bond would snap into place soon and that he was going to marry her and leave his father's court to his scheming brothers...His father had her put down. Executed, in front of Lucien, as his two eldest brothers held him and made him watch." (Tamlin, A Court of Thorns and Roses, pg. 160)

I don't think I need to go ahead and explain Beron and his prejudices against those who are not High Fae--his actions speak enough as is. But what I do want to do is go back to the specific wording Gwyn uses when explaining how her mother ended up in Sangravah, she says: "She could not dwell in the rivers of the Spring Court, but was too untamed to endure the confinement of the forest house of Autumn."

Confinement.

Not dwell. Not live. Not prosper. Confinement.

Now, we haven't navigated Autumn for all it's beauty and culture. We've only seen the Autumn Court through the eyes of Feyre when she is traversing through the courts in ACOWAR.

But I wonder how he approached with dealing with those who are not High Fae? What if the Autumn Court is much like the Summer Court where the court works around a system of class where High Fae are put at the top and anything but is put at the bottom? Therefore assuming that the treatment of such beings is cruel and unjust, creating a defining line between the races in which they can never reach equilibrium.

If that is so that brings me to the idea that many courts outside the jurisdiction of Night Court have assumed systems such as this, making there a limited amount of options for people like Gwyn's mother to prosper peacefully. Because we already know that the main reason why the first war with Hybern happened was because Hybern demanded to keep human and low fae as slaves, placing High Fae at the top. Spring sided with Hybern, because remember Amarantha and the former High Lord of Spring were close friends, Summer Court most likely fought to keep slaves as they still continuously oppress lesser fae, so I imagine it was worse for humans. And let's be honest, Autumn remained "indifferent" but one look at their current High Lord tells me that they weren't that indifferent--not unless Beron wasn't the ruling High Lord at the time.

So with that in mind, Gwyn and her family couldn't flee to Summer, nor Spring or Autumn. Night was probably never an option--as their reputation of being dark and gloomy more than likely frightened the idea away. Winter Court was obvious seeing how it's a winter wonderland of frozen lakes, streams, and rivers. Then there is Day Court which based on their current High Lord and aesthetic, is a desert land of sand and heat--with little to no water supply for any Nymph.

However there is one court that still remains. Dawn Court. From what we know they are a more than neutral court among the courts of Prythian and mostly value innovation. Geographically, Dawn is a lush, eternal countryside rich with the weight of summer upon it. The towns were red-roofed villages with sparkling rivers--a perfect destination for any relocating half-nymph- half-High Fae born child. However we also have to take into account the time period of when Gwyn's mother was born. Remember, prior to ACOTAR, Prythian was under the rule of Amarantha for fifty years--and even if that wasn't the case Summer was under the rule of a High Lord who didn't harbor the same compassion to change the unequal class system like Tarquin did when he assumed his place on the throne. Autumn was being ruled by Beron by that time already who'd probably have her confined. And Spring was under the traditional rule of Tamlin--and despite that Gwyn's mother would've still be considered as unwelcomed by the other nymphs.

If you take the time and current dilemma of Prythian--then there was really no where to go but Sangravah--putting into question the prejudices certain courts have against beings that are of the Low Fae variety.

I predict that despite being beautiful, charming, and compassionate, Gwyn still faces so much prejudice for simply being 1/4th nymph--which to the High Fae is a stain in her lineage to be a descendant from such a deviant being.

Now, let's move onto Azriel.

Azriel, as we all know, has his own conflicts with the Illyrians. Of course, that is to be expected, especially after learning of his backstory with being abused by his family and then later forced into training with the Illyrian army. The only comfort he had ever received was from the likes of his chosen family and so I believe he is projecting his own, personal experience of being an Illyrian into his hatred of Illyria--seeing the Illyrians as no more than a means to end due to their constant reluctance to move on with the times.

Don't get me wrong, I love Azriel. But I think a big part of his character is accepting who he is. He is an Illyrian--and I believe that with the combine power of him, Cassian, and Rhys they can bring the kind of change that Cassian had only ever dreamed of to Illyria. Yet, his own prejudices against his people hold him back and that's probably because he hasn't fully faced his trauma and instead skitters back at the mention or thought of it. I think if Az was healed he wouldn't be so reluctant to visit Illyria or wish for it's demise.

"A rare visit from the shadowsinger. Both myth and terror. Az looked just as displeased to be here, but he'd come when I asked...It was healthy, perhaps. For Az to sometimes remember where he'd come from. He still wore the Illyrian leathers. Had not tried to get the tattoos removed. Some part of him was Illyrian still. Always would be. Even if he wished to forget." (Rhysand, A Court of Frost and Starlight, pg. 222)

"Cassian rolled his eyes. But they both knew Azriel would sooner disband and destroy Illyria than help it. Convincing their brother than the Illyrians were a people worth saving was still a battle amongst the three of them." (Cassian, A Court of Silver Flames, pg. 42)

Now, moving onto the conclusion, finally. If Gwynriel's story was to happen, I think there is a sufficient amount of evidence to claim that Azriel's plot would revolve around the Illyrian conflict.

I'm just going to drop down this link: https://yazthebookish.tumblr.com/post/648449405425516544/the-illyrian-conflict-being-set-up-in-acosf-along

@yazthebookish highlights textual evidence that hints at a possible story arc for an Illyrian plot line because yes, there is still so much to uncover in Illyria and although I believe a large part of that was suppose to be Cassian and Nesta's story I also understand why it could go to Azriel.

Azriel needs to learn to accept his race, and the Illyrians need to learn how to accept change. I think they can learn something from one another and I believe Gwyn will play a role in Azriel's adventure. Do I think she's going to be the face some enlightenment in Azriel's journey--no. That's stupid. And if you twist my words, read it again. I believe because of Gwyn's past with prejudice against her and what she is, she can level with Az and understand him in a way that can potentially help him develop better as a character. Yes, she might be there for guidance or to give Azriel counsel, but in the end I think it's Az's job to tackle down the Illyrian conflict while Gwyn, with the help of Azriel, tackles down her own, whether that be discovering her lineage or where she came from or even healing from her trauma as a SA victim.

Please be respectful and leave your thoughts in the comments.

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 1/?)

Because nothing says ‘independence day’ like writing the participants in a French rebellion as members of the British upper class...

The Bridgerton AU that no one asked for. Will be at least 4 chapters, probably, to be published on a schedule only God herself can predict. Developing E/R, hijinks and shenanigans. All of the shenanigans.

One might recall when, not too long ago, the author of this paper hung up her pen and retired from reporting on the drama that each new season of fresh-faced debutantes and their endlessly anxious mothers brings. But alas, dear Reader, the excitement of this season has proven too much for this Author to suffer without company – which is why the pen has been passed to a new scribe.

But the fortuitous timing of the season has not been met with equally thrilling events for sharing here, as indeed, the most recent ball, hosted annually at the start of the season by the ever-insufferable Thénardiers, was positively under-attended. Not by the eager mothers that are the backbone of any season or their equally eager daughters, but by the young, eligible men who usually at least deign to make an appearance, dance a few dances, and exchange niceties as is expected for men of their station.

Instead, the only poor sap who wandered into the Thénardiers’ den of matchmaking was the Baron of Pontmercy, who was positively beset by hopeful ingénues, the most brazen of which was undoubtedly the Thénardiers’ eldest daughter, Éponine. While this Author notes that Miss Thénardier has had a patchy history with suitors and thus cannot be fully blamed for attempting to sink her claws into one as eligible as the baron, this Author must also sympathize with Baron Pontmercy, who seemed only to find himself with one moment to himself. 

Then again, rumor has it that his single moment was interrupted by an unknown young lady with an equally unknown chaperone who whisked her away posthaste. Her identity is one mystery both this Author and Baron Pontmercy are equally eager to discover, but the more pressing question is where the others of Baron Pontmercy’s gender were when they should have been equally beset by potential brides.

Never fear: Whatever answers I find, dear Reader, I shall certainly share with other enquiring minds. For a nominal fee, of course. While there are rumors of young men meeting in the backroom of a certain gentlemen’s club to discuss the overthrow of society, capitalism, and the King himself, this Author, being of the gentler sex, finds herself unable to obtain an invite, and as such, alas, cannot bring herself to comply with their lofty goals. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 20 MARCH 1831

The air in the backroom at the Musain Gentlemen’s Club was hazy with smoke and thick with plentiful conversation as its guests, all young men dressed in their dinner best, traded stories and jokes in between sips of their drinks.

At least one among them was not drinking, though – Enjolras, who sat in an overlarge armchair towards the back of the room, his back to one of the large windows that spanned almost the entire height of the wall. He alone was also not joining his friends in their merriment, his brow instead creased as he read over something.

When he had finished, he glanced up. “Combeferre,” he called, barely raising his voice despite the cacophony of the room. 

Not that he needed to: the moment he spoke, the room fell quiet as all eyes glanced at him as if waiting for him to continue. In return, he just arched an eyebrow at them. “Well, don’t let me put an end to your fun.”

A dark haired man sitting at a table in the far corner playing cards with two others raised his glass in a mocking toast. “Worry not,” he called in return. “You won’t.”

Laughter broke out yet again at that, and most of their number returned to their previous conversations as Combeferre pulled up a chair next to Enjolras’s. Enjolras pursed his lips, looking unamused. “Why is Grantaire even here?” he asked Combeferre, who, quite to the contrary, looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“I imagine because you have not yet told him that you wish for him to leave and never return,” Combeferre said evenly before giving Enjolras a rather assessing look. “Assuming, of course, that is what you wish.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “That’s not the point—”

Combeferre cleared his throat. “No, the point is that you had a comment, I assume, about the pamphlet I gave you to review.”

Enjolras still looked disgruntled, but seemed more than willing to allow the change in subject. “The pamphlet is fine, but I imagine you already knew that.” He handed the pamphlet draft back to Combeferre before asking, “What do you imagine the distribution schedule to look like? With Parliament sitting this week—”

He was interrupted by a thin, rather-nervous looking man appearing at his elbow, the doorman to the establishment who was paid a decent sum by each man inside the room to not interrupt them and to report nothing of their comings and going to any who might enquire. When Enjolras had made that arrangement, he had been thinking of the police; when his friends had followed his lead, most were thinking of their mothers.

“M’Lord Enjolras, I do beg your pardon—” he started, sounding almost as nervous as he looked.

Enjolras’s brow furrowed again. “It’s fine, what is it?” he asked, a touch impatiently.

The doorman bobbed his head and cleared his throat. “There is a, ah, a woman seeking entry.”

Bahorel, seated nearby, let out a wolf whistle. “The young ladies of the season are getting restless!” he crowed, to much laughter. 

“Restless, and bold, if they are coming into the city to seek their groom, and without a chaperone to boot,” Bossuet said with a grin.

“Leave to Enjolras to be the one to cause all tradition to break,” Jehan sniggered.

Enjolras could feel his ears burning red but he studiously ignored the jeers and catcalls from his friends, instead frowning at the doorman. “May I ask why are you telling me this?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice even. “Last I checked, it was your policy to restrict admittance to men, despite my protestations to the contrary.”

“Of course, M’Lord, it’s just…” The doorman quailed slightly at the look Enjolras gave him. “The woman in question claims to be your mother.”

Immediately, all jokes ceased as identical, horror-stricken looks crossed the faces of each of his friends. Enjolras blanched, all the blood draining from his face. “Did you confirm that I was inside?” he asked, a little desperately.

The doorman shook his head, his eyes widening. “No, of course not, m’lord’s discretion being of utmost importance to this establishment.” He hesitated. “That said, she did not appear to believe our denial, and is threatening to come inside and verify for yourself that you are not here.”

Enjolras groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course she is,” he sighed. He glanced at Combeferre as if considering asking for his assistance, but seemed to think better of it, instead standing and drawing himself up to his full height. “Right,” he said. “Well, I think you’ve got everything handled here, so I suppose I’ll just go, er, handle this situation.”

Combeferre again looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Of course,” he said. “And, if you do not return, I shall call upon you later this week, shall I?”

“Yes, but the question will be more whether you should call upon me at my house or at the hospital,” Enjolras muttered, and it was to Combeferre’s credit that he still somehow managed not to laugh.

The same could not be said for Grantaire, who started humming what Enjolras recognized vaguely as a funeral dirge as soon as he headed towards the door, and Enjolras gave him the nastiest glare he could muster. Of course, Grantaire was unaffected – if anything, it only caused his grin to widen, and he raised his cup in yet another mocking toast as Enjolras swept out of the room to go deal with his mother.

It was anyone’s guess whether his mother or Grantaire irritated him more.

He started to ask the doorman where his mother was, but found that he did not need to ask – her voice was echoing all the way from the entrance hall. “I am the Dowager Marchioness of Enjolras,” she was practically shrieking, and Enjolras winced, mentally calculating how much money it would take to smooth this particular incident over. Certainly less than when Courfeyrac almost burned the place down, but almost certainly more than when Bahorel and Grantaire had gotten into a fistfight and broken two statues and a chandelier.

He really needed better friends.

And a different mother.

“I demand to speak with my son!” his mother continued, her voice rising in both volume and pitch. “And do not give me this nonsense that he is not here, I know quite well where my son is!”

“M’lady, I apologize, but as I have said, we cannot confirm that your son—”

“I shall confirm it for myself,” Enjolras interrupted, saving the poor proprietor, who had never looked more relieved to see him. “Mother, kindly stop screeching at these gentlemen for doing their jobs.” His mother spluttered incoherently  but Enjolras knew better than to allow her the chance to regroup.

Instead, he grabbed her by the elbow and steered her to the door, glancing over his shoulder to nod his thanks at the proprietor. As soon as they were outside the building, Enjolras dropped any pretense at propriety. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, not releasing his mother from his grip. “Coming all the way into the city to find me? Pray tell what could possibly have been so important to cause such a scene!”

His mother yanked her arm from his grasp and glared up at him. “A scene?” she repeated, her voice deathly quiet. “My dear son, if you consider that a scene, you are ill-prepared for what is soon to follow.”

Enjolras sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. “There is no need for theatrics—”

Without warning, his mother slapped him across the face. “Theatrics?” she hissed. “When I have spent every waking moment these past several years trying to ensure your future and the future of our house!”

She made as if to hit him again but Enjolras caught her wrist, staying her hand. “Madam, you may be the Dowager Marchioness but I am the Marquess of Enjolras, and I will not permit you to assault me in the streets, my mother or not.” He released her arm before adding sardonically, “Besides, think of the gossip.”

Again his mother gave him no warning to gird himself, but this time, she burst into tears, sobbing into his shirt. “Oh, for the love of—” Enjolras took her again by the elbow, gentler this time, and led her to where her carriage waited. “Get a hold of yourself,” he snapped. “You have already made enough of a scene this evening.”

“Perhaps a scene is what it will take!” she half-shouted in return. “For you to finally listen to me, to hear what I have been telling you!” Enjolras rolled his eyes, holding out his hand to help her into her carriage, but she stubbornly refused to move. “Since you clearly don’t listen to me when I make arrangements solely for your benefit.”

“I assure you, you have never once done anything solely for my benefit,” Enjolras said tiredly. “But if it will stop your screaming then please, tell me the latest way in which I have ruined your plans for my future.”

“The Thénardier ball!” his mother wailed, crying again. “All those eligible young ladies, and you could not even deign to show your face! How am I to get you married at this rate?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes so hard he half-feared he would pull a muscle. “Hang the bloody Thénardier ball,” he ground out, hesitating for only a moment before picking his mother up and placing her inside the carriage, swinging up after her before she could protest. 

“What are you doing?” she cried as the carriage moved off at double speed, and Enjolras thanked whatever higher power there was that his mother’s driver also clearly did not wish to linger.

Enjolras sighed. “You wanted me attention,” he said tiredly. “So you have it, albeit not in public where you clearly wanted it.”

For one long moment, his mother just glared at him, tears shining on her cheeks. Then she sighed and sat upright, her pose turning almost prim as she drew a linen handkerchief from her sleeve and delicately dabbed the tears from her cheeks. “Very well,” she said calmly, all traces of earlier hysteria gone in an instant, and Enjolras realized immediately that he had been duped, that he had played directly into her hands.

She had anticipated that making a scene would be the easiest way to get him to leave with her.

And now she had him as a captive audience for however long it took for her driver to reach her house. And while he was not a betting man, he would wager all his money and lands that she had directed her driver to take the long way.

His mother was smiling at him, a cold, unpleasant smile, and Enjolras groaned, tipping his head back against the pillowed cushions. “Please don’t tell me that you really pulled all of that because you wished to discuss the Thénardier ball.”

“Don’t be foolish,” she said before tapping his knee. “And sit upright, you will cause your clothes to wrinkle.” Enjolras groaned and reluctantly sat upright, glaring balefully at her as he waited for her to continue. “No, I merely wished to discuss something and this seemed the easiest way.”

“Then by all means, please tell me: what do you want to discuss?”

“Why, what else?” she asked, a small smirk lifting the corners of her mouth. “Your marriage.”

----------

There were few things that Enjolras loathed more than being hoodwinked by his own mother into a conversation he’d been spending the past several years avoiding, but as he stood staring up at the rather imposing façade of a house he had been to only perhaps a handful of times, he thought this just might rank.

Still, his options were decidedly limited, and he hesitated only a moment more before climbing the stairs to the front door, knocking briskly. In telling of a house less used to visits during the season, it took a moment for the butler to answer the door, and Enjolras shifted uncomfortably on the stoop as he waited. 

“May I help you?” the butler asked as he opened the door. 

“Yes,” Enjolras said. “I’m here to see Grantaire.”

The butler eyed him warily. “And who should I tell Mr. Grantaire is here to see him?”

It took everything in Enjolras not to roll his eyes. “Tell him that the Marquess of Enjolras requests his presence,” he said dryly, hating the way the butler’s eyes widened when he realized just who was standing in the doorway.

“Of– of course, m’lord,” the butler said, immediately opening the door wider to usher Enjolras indoors. “Beg your pardon, m’lord. I’ll just, ah, go fetch Mr, Grantaire.”

He retreated up the stairs and Enjolras finally did roll his eyes, sighing heavily as he wandered a little further indoors. He had spent half his life, it seemed, going from one grand house to another, so very little surprised him, but he was intrigued by what he might find in Grantaire’s house. While his own park-adjoining manor had been in his family for generations, and was decorated accordingly, Grantaire came from new money, and this house had belonged to a different family entirely not even a decade before. 

He paused to examine a small portrait of two young children, a boy and a girl, when he heard footsteps clattering on the stairs and he turned to look up as Grantaire joined him, a jacket rather hastily thrown on and buttoned incorrectly.

“My Lord.”

Grantaire’s voice was pitched just slightly higher than usual, in a way that indicated genuine surprise at finding Enjolras standing in his foyer, but somehow still retained the telltale lilt that Enjolras had long since realized meant Grantaire was making fun of him. 

He scowled automatically. “Enjolras,” he corrected with an exasperated half-sigh.

Grantaire inclined his head, a smirk twisting his lips. “My lord Enjolras,” he said, and Enjolras’s scowl deepened.

“Just Enjolras,” he said flatly, not waiting for Grantaire to escort him into the house, instead crossing the foyer to peer into the front sitting room. 

“By all means, make yourself at home,” Grantaire said, following him.

Enjolras twisted his head to give Grantaire a smirk of his own. “As you seem so keen to remind me, I outrank you,” he said. “And believe me when I say this is one time I will feel no guilt using the trappings of the nobility to my advantage.”

Grantaire just snorted, brushing past him into the sitting room, ignoring the tea that had been set on the table and instead making his way over to the drink cart against the far wall. “Forgive me, but I can think of many instances where you undoubtedly used your title and your family to your advantage without any guilt,” he said dryly, pouring himself half a glass full of amber liquid before pausing, considering it, and adding another finger. “But let’s save that particular fight for a different time.” He turned back to Enjolras and raised his glass in a mock toast. “For now, before I forget my manners any further, let me say welcome to my home, and please, allow me to pour you a cup of tea.”

“I am capable of pouring my own tea, thanks,” Enjolras said, a little stiffly, and he sat down on one armchair before leaning forward to rather stubbornly do just that.

Grantaire did not join him, as if he thought keeping physical distance between them might keep things civil. “Only you would think that hospitality was an insult.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “The way you said it, it was.”

“You underestimate my capacity for being genuinely polite,” Grantaire said dryly, taking a large sip of his whiskey.

“Do I?”

“Tell me, my Lord—” Enjolras gritted his teeth but chose not to interrupt him. “—if not to insult me to my face in my own home, what brings you here, and at tea time no less?”

His voice was calm, pleasant even, but Enjolras felt himself flush in realization that he had done exactly that. And no matter how frequently he might wish to throttle Grantaire with his own hands, that was offensive even for him. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking down at his tea as he stirred it. “I have been rude.

Grantaire looked briefly surprised, as if he had not expected an apology. But then his smirk was back in full force. “All is forgiven...my lord.” Enjolras really might shatter his teacup at this rate. “But you still didn’t answer my question as to why you are here.”

Enjolras set his teacup down and straightened, looking Grantaire in the eye. “I came to ask for your help.”

Grantaire laughed. “So you come to my home, uninvited, you insult me to my face, and you still have the audacity to ask for my help?” He drained half of his whiskey in one long gulp. “You are lucky you have been granted the face of a Greek god, Apollo.”

“Don’t call me that,” Enjolras sighed, though he knew it was a losing battle. Grantaire had called him that on the first day they met, when Grantaire was finishing college and Enjolras just beginning, and he had continued to call him that for all the years since. “Look, I am sorry, and not just because I need your help. I am ill suited to polite society and the longer the season drags on, the more foul my temper becomes.”

Grantaire made a small noise of agreement. “You and I both,” he murmured, draining his glass and pouring himself another before finally joining Enjolras, settling into the armchair across from him. “Very well. You have my attention.”

Enjolras leaned forward, sudden urgency in every line of his body. “Word has it that you were instrumental in helping Lord Joly and Mr. Lesgle avoid scandal last season when both were in love with Lady Musichetta.”

“Well, we avoided a big scandal at least,” Grantaire said, eyeing Enjolras carefully. “There must always be a little bit of a scandal or none would believe it.”

Enjolras waved a dismissive hand. “Either way, all three are happy, and living at Lord Joly’s estate, and not a word about them has been wasted in Lady Whistledown’s papers this season.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. ��I am astonished to learn you have read any of the newly-revived Lady Whistledown’s papers, let alone with enough frequency to speak with such authority on the subject.:

Enjolras flushed a mottled red and looked away. “It’s an easy conversation topic,” he muttered, “when I am forced to speak to those with whom I have nothing in common.”

“Such as the twittering nitwits your mother foists upon you at every turn?” Grantaire asked lightly.

Enjolras met his eyes evenly. “Exactly. And exactly why I am here.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “You’re here to better learn how to talk with women?” he asked, almost certainly purposefully obtuse. “I admit, I am an expert on the subject, but—”

“Of course not,” Enjolras snapped. “Not to mention if I did need help in that arena, you would be the last person I would turn to.”

Grantaire laughed. “Your loss, he said cheerfully. After all, to have bedded as many women as I with a face like mine requires quite the expert hand at wooing.” Enjolras rolled his eyes and Grantaire smirked before taking another sip of whiskey. “Very well. If you are not here for my help in speaking to young ladies to finally secure a marriage match, then why are you here?”

“Because I do need to marry someone,” Enjolras said, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. “But I need it not to be real.” Again he met Grantaire’s eyes. “And you are the only person I can think of who can help me pull that off.”

[tamorapierce]

Tammy's Spring 2020 Reading Recommendations For the Bored

Sooner or later the bookhounds among us are going to start joining my relentless song, from age five on up, of “I don’t have anything to read!!!!”

 I am here to help.  In this space, as I get to it (knowing, as my readers do, that I have no sense of deadline), I will be posting a constant set of collections of book titles by authors my team and I have read and will recommend in a wild variety of genres and for a wild variety of ages.  (And I’ll give a short hint as to the subject of the first book/series—if I did them all I’d never finish this.)  This last is for the many of you who are reading teen and adult books in grade and middle school, and those adult readers who are reading teen and kidlit. These people are for those who love books and don’t care who is supposed to be reading them.  

 Also, you may have to look far and wee, since we will be drawing upon not only recently published books but older ones that we have either read recently or that we read long ago and have re-read or have never forgotten.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you when the writing is archaic.  If you’re a true nutsy reader like the rest of us, you won’t care.

 -Tammy Pierce

                                                        *     *     *

Assume the book came out within the last 2 years unless I put LO next to the title, which means you have to check libraries and bookstores online and paper for copies.

 *     *     *

 Diana Wynne Jones  LO

A generation or two of fantasy writers, particularly those who love humor, bow to this woman as our goddess.  Not only was she out of her mind in a very British and manic way, but with her TOUGH GUIDE TO FANTASYLAND she taught a number of us to ditch some ill-considered tropes of our genre.  If you write historic fantasy in particular, move heaven and earth to track this book down.  There’s a bonus: some of the entries will make you laugh till you cry.

           She is best known for her books for middle grade and teens, but they are enjoyable for all readers.  I cannot list them all here because my fingers will break (curse you, arthritis!), but these titles will give you a jumping-off point.  And remember, authors change with each book, so you won’t encounter the same author with each title as the author you read in the previous one!

           The Chrestomanci books, all in the same universe, in order of story,

                       not publication

Charmed Life  (1977) An innocent lad follows his plotting egotistical sister to live with England’s chief wizard

The Lives of Christopher Chant (1988)

Conrad’s Fate (2005)

Witch Week (1982)

The Magicians of Caprona (1980)

Short stories

 The Dalemark Quartet begins with

The Spellcoats (1979)

3 sequels

 The Derkholm books are

Dark Lord of  (1998)

Year of the Griffin (2000)

  The Tough Guide to Fantasyland is standalone, but is a kind of offshoot of the Derkholm books.  You don’t have to have read the Derkholm books to get Tough Guide!

 There are other books and stories by Jones—I’ll let you find them on your own.

  Philip Pullman

To this day I am unable to call him anything but Mr. Pullman—that’s how much in awe of the man I am.  We’ve had dinner together, talked on the phone, talked at an event or two, done a conversation on audio with Christopher Paolini—it’s still Mr. Pullman to me.  (I was an assistant in a literary agency when I discovered his work, and I never recovered.) He is, in a word, brilliant, and his interests range through all kinds of areas, particularly history and religion.  I could have talked with him forever that night we had dinner, but the poor man had jet lag and I let him go to collapse.  It was one of the best exchanges of ideals, values, and books I’ve ever had.  

Read his work carefully, because what he discusses is never just the story on top.  No matter what he writes, he is making strong points about social justice, human nature, religion, and history without preaching.  He is one of the few male writers out there who can write female characters as people, not Something Different.  And you never know, with his work, where he will go next.

 The Ruby in the Smoke,

book 1,  the Sally Lockheart mysteries

Victorian mysteries with a female hero and male assistants,

           The Book of Dust and sequel,

first 2 books of The Secret Commonwealth

           His Dark Materials trilogy

                       The Golden Compass

                       2 other titles                

           THE COLLECTORS

           LYRA’S OXFORD

           THE WHITE MERCEDES

           FAIRY TALES FROM THE BROTHERS GRIMM

           I WAS A RAT!

           TWO CRAFTY CRIMINALS

           COUNT KARLSTEIN

           (I will stop here and let you find the rest. Most are available as Nook books.)

  Sharon Shinn

I discovered Sharon Shinn with JOVAH’S ANGEL, but a shortage of funds left me unable to pursue my interest (I am an economic disaster with libraries, so I buy rather than borrow) until, with a job and money to spend, I spotted THE SAFE-KEEPER’S SECRET.  It is the story of a medieval-ish world and a small village where a baby was left with a childless couple.  She is raised as their daughter and discovers, as she grows, that her mother is an important, a Safekeeper, the person to whom a secret can be told, relieving the person who told it of the weight of guilt from it, to be carried by the Safekeeper until the owner either decides to tell or dies.  (And if they die without giving permission, the Safekeeper never reveal the secret.)  The baby who is adopted by this town’s safekeeper becomes the safekeeper in her turn.

           The next book is THE TRUTHTELLER’S TALE, about a girl who acquires the gift (??) of telling the truth, whether the person she tells it to wants to hear it or not. The third book is The Dream-maker’s Magic.  The three main characters now learn why they have been brought together over the course of the two earlier books, in what I thought was a satisfying, if unusual, conclusion.

           And there’s more!  I just did the two I love best!

             THE SAFEKEEPER’S SECRET (book 1, two sequels)

           ARCHANGEL (4 books)

           TWELVE HOUSES (5 books)

           ELEMENTAL BLESSINGS (4 books)        

SHIFTING CIRCLE (2 books)

           UNCOMMON ECHOES

           GENERAL WINSTON’S DAUGHTER

           GATEWAY

 Daniel Jose Older

 I was a Daniel Jose Older fan before I was sent DACTYL HILL SQUAD for a blurb (preodactyls in flight!  Of all sizes!  Confederate spies!  Thuggish bigot northerners!  The backlash of Gettysburg and the forced recruitment of blacks for the war effort! And strong, smart, fierce kids of various ages, sizes, colors, national heritage, and skills doing their best to help the war against the slaves, keep escaped slaves safe, duck the cruel managers of the homes and jails where they are being kept, find a half-decent meal, free other kids in trouble, learn who’s killing their friends, and help the dactyls!  That’s part of it, anyway!

Yeah, I loved it.  And there’s at least one new book, and once I’ve mowed though that, there are his older teen books, and his grownup mysteries, with their half-dead taxi driver who doubles as a part-time troubleshooter for the undead powers in his Bone Street Rhumba series.  {happy sigh}

  Edgar Allen Poe

Yes, some of these are reminders of why we ended up to be the readers we are and to nudge us to corrupt—I mean, “introduce”—­new readers to the glories that are our legacies.

­

THE COMPLETE TALES AND POEMS OF EDGAR ALLEN POE

           Here are the greats:

poems like “The Raven,” and “Annabelle Lee”

stories like “The Fall of the House of Usher,” “The Telltale Heart,” and  ::shudder:: “The Pit and the Pendulum” (yes, a deep pit and a swinging pendulum topped with a razor-edged blade will be featured in this story).  

My dad would read these to us on dark and stormy nights when we lived near the Pacific ocean, when the fog came rolling in, softening every sound, when there were no cars driving by and no other sounds in our house but his deep voice and the crackle of the fire in the fireplace.  We would listen, soundless, as he wove the stories and poems around us and the foghorn sounded offshore.

           That’s the power of Poe.

  N. K. Jemisin

I think I began with Jemisin’s THE HUNDRED THOUSAND KINGDOMS, soon followed by its sequel THE BROKEN KINGDOMS.  The series ended with a third book, THE KINGDOM OF THE GODS.  She presented a rich and varied world from the aspects of people of different classes, showing the growth of societies and their formation.  I have a secret passion for society-building and social interaction, and whether or not a book is difficult to read (as Jemisin’s books are in spots because she refuses to insult a reader by talking down to them) is immaterial.  I want the world and I want the characters, and with her far-reaching mind and her respect for her characters she delivers each and every time.  I have read almost everything she’s written since that first trilogy: if I’ve missed something, it’s because I was in the middle of a deadline and on the road and somehow didn’t see it.  I’ll catch up!  This is just a sample:

           For readers of all sexes and adult reading skills

 The City They Became (pub’d April 2020)

 The Inheritance Trilogy:

           The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, 2010

           2 book sequels

Novella: The Awakened Kingdom, 2014

                       Triptych: Shades in Shadow, 2015 (3 short stories) 

             The Dreamblood Duology:

           For readers of all sexes and adult reading skills

           The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, 2010

                       Two sequels

 The Broken Earth series:

         The Fifth Season (August 2015)

                       Two book sequels

And there are plenty of short stories out there.  I may even have missed a book or twelve!

For those who prefer to hear my ramble in person, a video!

[sleepy-yn]

Heather- Aone Takanobu

Prompt: Haikyuu boys reacting to you listening to “Heather”  (A/N) I hope you guys enjoy this one. It’s a little long but I wanted it to have context so that you could be in your feels with the character. If you guys wanna see this for another character or even a member of a kpop group I would love to do that for you. Hope you enjoy! Pairing: Aone Takanobu x GN!reader  Warning: AnGst, then fluff :) ALSO NOT PROOFREAD

Your boyfriend was never the most vocal about his feelings. Hell, he wasn't vocal about anything. But his feelings showed in his actions; he would bring you flowers every now and then, you both took care of plants in his room, he always gave in to your hugs. You never had any reason to doubt your relationship with him. That is until she came around. 

It was one of those days that you were free to bring the team lunch after an enduring practice. Usually, Kogane would wink at you and moan out how delicious your food was just to see Aone's reaction. His small blush and harsh glare were enough for you to hug his side and nuzzle your face into him. However, that was not the case for this cold winter evening. 

There was a small scent of baked goods wafting in the air as you approached the gym. Small giggles and the loud laughter of the boys was audible even outside the closed doors. Stepping out of your shoes and into the gym, you could see that the boys were accompanied by a beautiful brunette with eyes as blue as a summer sky. She was standing too close for comfort and it seemed that your boyfriend was blushing.  

"Oi! Y/N, come join us!" Futakuchi exclaimed, drawing Aone and the new girl's attention to you. Your boyfriend starts to make his way towards you but you immediately step out of the doors and excuse yourself, lying about having other things to do. Thankfully you had the food in your backpack so you really had no reason to stay. You could hear the girl's voice even as you walked away, how she kept telling Aone about her small garden in front of her house and how she has a ring with a turtle on top. 

Your heart kept pumping, you could feel it in your throat as if it wanted to jump out. It felt as though there was a gaping hole in the middle of your chest and you couldn't breathe. It was almost a blessing that your house was a bit close to Karasuno. Deciding to stop by and drop off the food you failed to give out, it seemed like a good idea to find another home for it. 

"Oh, y/n-san! What're you doing here?" Hinata jumped up and down, sparkles in his eyes after seeing you. This only made you giggle.

"Y/N this is quite a surprise, a pleasant one at that," Suga said with his kindest smile. You always felt so at home with these boys although you didn't go to the same school. 

Away games were a gift from the gods to push you to make new friends and come out of your comfort zone. Ryuu and Yuu were as energetic as ever and almost pounced on you as soon as you entered the threshold. Daichi's dark aura stopped them, however. You giggled at the boys nonetheless. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were closest to you, you found comfort in the two boys as they were much like you. Yama was a breath of fresh air when he was so smiley and bubbly. Whereas Tsukishima was someone you could have actual conversations with. 

Over the next two weeks, you could see how much Aone and the girl (who you found out was named Miya) were growing closer. He didn't outright ignore you but he was spending a lot of time with her. When he would usually pick you up from your house and walk you to your class, he was already in class listening to her rant about the latest book she read. You were late that day. At lunch, she took your spot at the table. She even had the audacity to include you in the conversation about biology, you didn't have much to add. 

There was this one day that was your breaking point. You decided to watch one of the boys' practices just to see how they were improving. No surprise that she was also there. But then she started to thank your boyfriend for showing her his plants and how cute his stuffed turtle was. He nodded and smiled at her, that's when you noticed a flower in her hair. It was the kind that he usually picked out for you. Feeling the tears blind your vision, you made a bolted to your house.

Shutting your door, you collapsed onto the floor and sobbed for a couple of minutes. The silence was killing you, so you plugged your phone into your speaker and played the same song on repeat. 

But I watch your eyes, as she Walks by What a sight for Sore eyes Brighter than a Blue sky She's got you Mesmerized While I die Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half, as pretty

The lyrics felt like a stab in the heart, you hated being the second choice. You never wanted to even be a choice. Why couldn't people just pick you, be sure that you were the one they wanted. Your overthinking was going to be the death of you. What if he's more vocal with her what if he's more comfortable with her that he can have an actual conversation with her These thoughts deafened your actual hearing that you couldn't hear the knocking at the door.

You didn't know that Aone had noticed when you arrived, he noticed you run off. You didn't know that he was standing outside your door, listening to every lyric you sobbed to. He had never intended to ever make you feel the way the song says. Guilt had risen in his chest but he knew that he needed to check on you.

You suddenly felt a hand wrap around you and your eyes shot open. There, sitting next to you with the softest puppy dog eyes, was your boyfriend. Pushing him away, you pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around yourself.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" His voice brought you out of your thoughts and your heart felt like it was going to pump out of your chest.

You scoff, "Why don't you go talk to your new girlfriend?"

"But you're my girlfriend," you could laugh at how dense he could be, never catching onto sarcastic comments or slang.

"Last I checked Miya had all your attention."

He grunted in understanding and sat there with you on the floor. The silence was hurting you more than you could stand.

"There is nothing going on with Miya and me." "It sure didn't look that way," you burst out. "I don't understand what you mean." His bluntness was almost like a bullet to the chest.

Standing up, you exploded, "How can you not understand? Your eyes are always fixed on her, you obviously gave her flowers, you forgot to pick me up this whole week!" Taking a breath, you continued, "You even showed her our plants!"

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you didn't notice Aone come closer. He wrapped his arms around you and tucked his head in the crook of your neck. He wasn't a stranger to skinship, however, he was never one to initiate it. This made you do a doubletake. You so badly wanted to pull away but his touch was so intoxicating.

"I showed her the flower fields because I needed help picking out the best flowers for our anniversary, I had early practices and didn't have time to pick you up. I had asked her to come to check on the plants because they started to look ill. I hadn't noticed that I was only showing attention to her. I'm sorry."

Your heart melted, immediately feeling guilty for assuming all that stuff about your boyfriend. Returning his hug, you felt him relax under your touch. It seemed as though with just one hug, all your anxiousness and overthinking disappeared.

"I'm sorry for assuming all that stuff," you apologized.

"You don't have to," he let go and held his hands at your waist. "You must be tired of sitting on the floor." Leading you to your bed, he laid down and held you by his side. Your head resting on top of his chest, hands over his beating heart.

This reminded you of all the reasons you loved him. He was always the one by your side. Although he wasn't vocal about how he cared for you, you knew just by the way he holds you. He was home.

[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 3/4 - Snowballs and cigarettes

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: The snows finally stopped and its about time you got to work unburying your car. With your friends all prompting you to move on from your toxic ex you find yourself becoming more and more aware of the kind of person you’d want to be with. And how Frankie was ticking all those boxes.

Authors notes: Ugh okay I was over the max block text so the finale is split into two parts!! But you get them both tonight💕🌻💕 .

Warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, allusions to sex (nothing depicted), PTSD, smoking, drinking, swearing

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

Word count: 4.0k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 4

It had only been three days but you had found yourself in a routine that you hoped you never fell out of. Each morning he’d wake up first and you’d be predictably wrapped around him for another 2 hours or so. He found it hard to believe you were able to wake up before 10am, let alone that you were up at 5am most days but he’d love to be around to see it happen. For the first time, he saw something he’d long given up on. A future with someone else ingrained into his and his daughters life. Maybe it was stupid feeling this way after a few days, but he was old enough to know when he felt a real connection, and he’d never felt as good as he did when he was with you. He would make his feelings known to you, one way or another, he’d regret it forever if he let you slip through his fingers. He just had to find the right time to do it. It had been a long time since you’d woken up with someone in the same bed as you and even longer since the person was someone who made you feel safe and secure. There was something calming about knowing that even if you pushed your freezing cold feet between his calves in the middle of the night he wouldn’t get angry, or push you off he’d just grumble and pull you closer.

It sounded pathetic but it was the nicest a guy had been to you in years. You knew how stupid it was to catch feelings this fast, and it definitely wasn’t like you to feel such strong emotions. Since the funeral you had actively decided to forego them although. This benefited your work, helped you in your field, made you a better doctor, but keeping all your emotions bottled up took its toll. Primarily on your love life. You’d had your fair share of flings with other residents, nurses, friends of friends, but between classes and shift work there wasn’t time. Plus what was the point when you had no idea where you’d be moved to. At least that’s what you told yourself. Then Jonathan came along and you’d let him in, let him know you and you fell for him in the process. Then he’d started dating someone else, told you he didn't realize you were exclusive, and it shattered you completely. You’d pieced yourself back together and once you were better, once you were finally over him, he’d cycle back round to you, determined to keep you on retainer. The whole ordeal had left you tired. You’d never had a real relationship and you were already done with them. You never understood how people would want to live with someone for the rest of their lives until now. Catching feelings had always happened in periphery to your life making it easy to push by a crush by simply avoiding them, but you couldn’t avoid Frankie. Each day you spent trapped inside with him he’d continued to grow on you, cementing your feelings for him tenfold. You yawn and stretch your leg out over Frankies torso propping yourself up onto your elbow so you can reach over him and grab the glass of water on the nightstand. He exhales as if your movement across him is an inconvenience to his meticulous strategy for winning whatever game he was playing on his phone. You take a sip and put the cup back down, rolling off the bed and opening the curtains.

“Hey!” you shout, causing Frankies head to shoot over to you, “It stopped snowing!” you exclaim, gazing out over the parking lot where the snow had fallen. The powder undulating overtop the cars buried beneath it. You stretch your arms up catching an unsavoury whiff coming from your armpits causing you to pull a face. Turning around just in time to see Frankie laughing from the bathroom door.

“Seriously man? Do you have to beat me to everything!” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Gotta be faster sweetheart.” he says, closing the door behind him. From anyone else the term would have driven you into a rage induced frenzy, but it was endearing not condescending coming from him. You take the time to call Stella, you’d been texting with her since you got stuck but you felt it was time to officially announce your arrival as permanently cancelled.

“Hey girl”

“Hey babe what's going on? You calling with good or bad news?” she asks, a constant bustle evident in the background.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, but only bad news on my end. I am so fucking sorry, I should have just flown down like you said” you offer, leaning back against the window allowing the chill of the outside to cool you off.

“Well this is why you should always listen to me, but i’ll forgive you just this once.” she laughs.

“God I can’t believe the one wedding I actually care about I’m going to miss!” you exasperated, shifting away from the window and flopping down onto the bed.

“Well I definitely won’t miss you, especially considering you’ve already sent a gift.” she teases.

“How, very dare you” you punctuate.

“Yup long con paid off, 10 years I pretended to like you just to get you to buy me a toaster from ebay” Stella laughs.

“You could have just stolen mine after the first year, then you could have had me gone!” you state.

“Ugh a huge mistake!!” she overemphasizes dramatically, causing you both to burst out laughing.

“So….” you say after your giggles subside leaving a gentle ache in your ribs that always occurred when you talked to Stella.

“What?” she asks, sniffling.

“ Did John make it out there?” you ask, in a painfully transparent way.

“Why?” she spits, her tone suddenly lethal. She hated the guy, she was the one who was always left dealing with you after he’d used you up, helping to piece you back together, just in time for him to get a hold on you again.

“He asked about me?” you query, once again failing to convey your intentions.

“I’m not indulging this anymore, it's bad for you. He’s bad for you, there's only so many times I can watch him emotionally manipulate you” she rants.

“Ya, but it's easy and it's so good with him.” you emphasize.

“It’s not easy, take it from someone in an easy relationship, it's not supposed to hurt that much.” she chides, determined to have you see the light.

“But..”

“Nope, I'm drawing the line for you, find someone else. You’re a gorgeous single doctor,

“Almost doctor” you interrupt, but the statement is ignored.

“Aren’t you currently shacked up with one of my stupid brothers friends?”

“Yes? And?” you say, your heart suddenly beating faster as your head turns to see Frankies hat on the nightstand.

“Frankie right? Statue like, soft curls, kind, deep brown eyes? And don’t pretend like you didn’t notice I know you like the back of my hand!���

“So what if I have, doesn't mean..” you whisper, not wanting him to hear you.

“Nope, don’t sell yourself short, I say get cozy with him and finally move on from dickhead McGee, even if it's just for a night, cleanse the palette. Besides, you know he’ll be doing whoever looks his way at my wedding.” you hear a muffled shout “alright I have to go, something about the bridesmaids fighting.”

“Your sisters? Fighting? Who could have seen that coming” you deadpan.

“I know, god I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was as well i'll call tomorrow in case you get cold feet, I have a five point plan”

“I won't” she chimes.

“ I know because you love her”

“And I also love you” she says

“And I love you” you respond before hanging up. Not even a minute after hanging up you get a call from Santiago

“Hey, I just wanted to verbally apologize for trapping you with ‘Fish, though he's definitely one of the better ones to get stuck with.” he says.

“Well that’s good to know” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“He hasn’t tried anything has he? If he has I'll kill him, and get away with it, you'll have to help me with the body but...” Santiago starts.

“Santi, it's fine he's cool, really sweet, actually,” you offer heat rushing to your face for some unknown reason.

“Good. He touches you ill..” he warns.

“You’ll kill him ya I got it!” you snap, you understood why Santiago felt like he had to play big brother for you but sometimes he was a touch overbearing. “Is John there?” you try and ask casually, failing to head Stellas advice.

“Don’t...” Santi starts, you can practically hear his jaw clench over the phone “you know if I see him tonight i'm gonna knock him out for how he treats you”

“It wasn’t that bad.” you whisper.

“It was, still is, I heard him bragging about how if worse comes to worse he always has his plan D,” he offers, not to hurt you but to try and free you from the cycle.

“That dick. You know what Stellas right, fuck him!” you exclaim with a newfound determination to rid him from your life.

“Oh my god, are you finally seeing the light?” Santi asks “Praise the lord!” He shouts up into the sky.

“Ya I guess so” you say staring at Frankie as he dries his hair with the towel. “I gotta go, see you soon.”

“Not soon enough” he laughs as you hang up.

“Whose that?” Frankie asks, still curious about who you’d been hoping to see at the wedding and what they’d done to earn your affection.

“Pope!” you say with a smile, pushing your back off the bed and sitting up.

“Threatening to kill me?” Frankie predicts.

“Ya we have a plan” you murmur.

“We?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye and his mouth upturned at the sides.

“Well he'll kill you but, I cant have him go to jail so i'll have to hide your body.” you explain

“Good glad that got sorted” he says, his smile now in full effect.

“I'll go grab some breakfast” you say.

“No ill get it, you’re always getting it, plus gives you time to shower, I can smell you from here.” He prods, grabbing the key.

“Rude!” you yell out after him.

He's back when you exit the shower

“Oh thank you, you say grabbing the plate form him”

“Just what the doctor ordered, hey?” he asks, smiling stupidly big.

“Ouuuf that that was bad truly apologize to me” He laughs at how serious your face gets “You're laughing? I had to listen to that joke and you're laughing?” you say through a mouthful of eggs. “Here's something that'll wipe that stupid smile off your face, snow stops which means we have to clear off my car.”

“Using the royal we are we?” he asks

“Think of it as repayment for the pun,” you say waving your fork in his face

“How will we be clearing it off?” he asks, leaning over the counter.

“Brush” you say, as if it's obvious

“Where's the brush?” he asks, resting his chin on the back of his hands and smiling sweetly at you, waiting for an answer.

“In the….oh” you say, face dropping when you realize that the brush was in the car currently buried under a snow pile.

“Not so smart now” he laughs pushing back off the counter taking your empty plate with him, washing it up for you.

“Well I guess we just have to get to the door with our hands then” you say smiling.

“Once again, about this we,” he says, drying his hands on the dish towel, turning to see a dramatic pout plastered across your face.

“Fine, I'll only help because I think you may disappear in the snow if you go in alone” he responds, the truth was, he couldn't deny you.

You both get dressed into the most winter proof clothes you had, neither of you having packed for a snowy expedition. As you exit the room you see him grab a pack of cigarettes he’d been hiding, not wanting you to see his worst traits.

“Those will kill you, you know,” you say, causing him to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Okay mom” he laughs grabbing the lighter despite your disapproving glare,

“You have a daughter to think about” you say, feeling like you'd be letting your profession down by giving up so easily.

“It's why I smoke, the safest way to calm the nerves while staying clean” he murmurs with a look on his face that is enough to get you to drop it for now. You weren't about to pry into his struggle with addiction and you certainly weren’t one to judge, you’d faced similar issues after your brothers passing.

“I used to smoke,” you confess as the elevator doors close in front of you both.

“Seriously?” he remarks, not able to believe it.

“Pack a week for about a year” you say, slowly nodding your head as the two of you walk through the foyer towards the parking lot.

“You quit?” He asks, impressed.

“Ya I don’t think it was long enough to form a habit. When did you start?” you offer as you move your legs through the snow, it was dense your legs would be sore tomorrow.

“What? Are you gonna assess the state of my lungs?” Frankie laughs, moving easily through the snow you were struggling so hard against.

“Yes, but i'll only tell you the results if you want to know”

“Few years back, after...” he stops himself before confessing the worst thing that ever happened in his life.

“The mission” you finish for him, remembering how Pope had picked up similar habits once he finally returned home. “You were there with Santi?” you question

“He told you about it?” he asks, sterner than you’d seen him before, he was afraid that you knew what a monster he was. You shake your head, no and he thanks the gods. “You think i'm going to?” He queries lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag, making sure not to blow it out anywhere near you.

“I don’t know, maybe. It’s the one thing he wont tell me about, figured it would be easier for you if you were talking to a stranger about it.”

“Not much of a stranger now” he laughs, but there was something behind his eyes, a similar sadness that you saw with Santi when he talked about it. Your thoughts are interrupted when something cold hits you in the face, your mouth drops open, your forehead scrunches in disbelief.

“Shit, I wasn’t aiming for your face I swear!” he looks up panicked

“I guess it's what I get for asking so many questions” you say, hand still over your face playing into it as you formulate your attack.

“No, oh my god! No! It wasn't because of that, let me see” he says, you let your hands drop and you smile wickedly up at him. Before he has time to react, you rub a handful of snow into his face.

“Oh... you're gonna pay for that.” he draws out, wiping the snow from his face.

After 15 minutes of all out war, and a brief truce that was to be officially signed once back inside you managed to get to the door handle and lean into the back seat grabbing out the brush. You offer it to Frankie, but he's already started clearing off the rest of the car with his arms.

“Hey can you grab my spare charger out of the compartment there?” you say cleaning off the trunk, the front doors now accessible.

“Ya, holy shit is this a knife?” he asks, pulling out a knife.

“Maybe.” You say staring into his eyes as his mouth hangs open in amusement. “For safety, I didn't know who I'd be driving up with! You coulda been a murderer” you explain palms up.

“And you were planning on what? shanking me?” he laughs a huge smile on his face, weirdly endeared by your thought process.

“Only if I had to.” You say chuckling between shivers, the cold now seeping through your makeshift snowsuit hitting against the sweat you’d worked up.

“You want it?” He offers.

“No i'm good, thanks”

“Because you don’t think I'm a murderer or because you have another one hidden in the room already?” he laughs, but he stops when you tilt your head slightly and raise your eyebrows, averting your eyes.

“Wait, do I need this knife?” he calls as you trudge back through the snow.

You both change into less sweaty attire and you settle into the couch turning on to watch the latest forensic files rerun. You shiver as you sit down having caught a chill. Noticing you shaking, Frankie goes to the wardrobe and grabs down a spare blanket throwing one at you so it lands directly over your head. He laughs when he sees you slowly turn towards him beneath the blanket, like someone in a makeshift ghost costume.

“Excuse me!” you laugh

“Hey you should be thanking me, can't have you freezing to death.” he says, “Are you asleep under there?” he asks, when you don't respond

“I'm not a cat! I don't fall asleep when someone throws a blanket over me!” He's not paying attention to what he's doing and the bottle in his hand shatters against the counter, a shard slicing his hand open.

“Fucking shit.” you him sigh.

“Are you okay?” You ask maneuvering out from under your blankets to see Frankie in the kitchen, glass on the floor and blood coming down his arm.

“Wow you're out of my sight for 2 seconds and you maim yourself” you say laughing, stopping when you see the panicked look in his eye, the event evidently triggering something deep in his psyche. You quickly stand up and he goes to move towards you.

“No don't move Frankie, stay where you are.” you reassure softly, watching as his eyes lay into your own, his breathing calmer now “You're in socks, can't have you cutting your dancing feet” you say.

“You’ve heard of my dancing feet,” he says, grounding himself again.

“Only bad things” you say, throwing him a pair of shoes that he carefully puts on before moving toward the closet where the broom is “No come here, let me see your hand. The mess can wait, you're more important,” you stress leading him over to the couch and sitting him down.

“Wow, first time I'll be able to afford professional health care “ he jokes as you take his hands in your own.

“Ow” he says when you press down onto the hand to assess the damage.

“It's fine, not deep enough for stitches, should heal up on its own. I still want to clean it though, to stop any infection.” You return with a small bottle of over priced vodka opening it and dabbing some onto a cotton pad. He doesn't flinch when the alcohol cleans the wound and he watches as you bandage his hand up.

“You carry a med pack with you on every trip?” he queries, but you don’t hear him you’re too focused on wrapping his hand.

“There! good as new,” you say standing up and cleaning up the glass on the floor. “Hey did you bring a swimsuit?” you ask, dumping the glass into some newspaper that was left in the room.

“Why?” He asks.

“Answer the question Frankie” you say, folding the paper around the shards before placing it into the trash.

“Yes, you wanna go hang out at the pool with the fifty families stuck here?”

“Ya. You don't? Seriously this room is wildly expensive and has a huge jacuzzi tub, I'm getting in your welcome to join, but bathing suits are mandatory.” you offer.

“I was gonna get in fully clothed,” he offers, not missing a beat.

“Perfect even better”

As per usual he beats you to the punch and settles into the tub that was more akin to a hot tub than a bath, he wanted to get in first partially to annoy you and partially so his body wouldn’t be on full display, he wasn't as jacked as he once was and he’d become insecure about certain areas that he’d let go once his kid came along. He watches as you walk in and his eyes can't help but follow your figure around the room, a beautiful person behind a beautiful personality, he thanks the universe for placing him into your orbit.

“That why they call you catfish?” you ask drawing him from his daydream back into an equally pleasing reality.

“What?” he responds, blushing at having been called out on his gawking.

“Cause your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water when you're zoned out” you smirk, lowering yourself down into the tub.

“Rude” he says splashing after you settle in.

“Alright, Frankie, what is it?” you ask, causing his face to look up to you “what's your deal, apart from smoking? You gotta have flaws”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” he charms

“Sinister” you laugh, but he doesn't, you reach your foot up tapping his cheek with it,

“Disgusting,” he chuckles, grabbing it and rubbing the arch before pushing it back into the water.

“God, I miss the ocean” you confess, “ I hate the city sometimes.”

“You’re not planning on staying in Chicago after you're done?”

“Nope, gonna get myself out to the coast, or at least somewhere without winters.” you say stretching your arms out across the tub. “How about you, are you planning on staying?”

“ Probably, no reason to leave, plus it's close to my mom so she can take care of Arianna when I'm at work, though I wouldn't be opposed to moving if the opportunity presented itself she's young enough that it wouldn’t be too hard.” he says, wanting you to know that if you asked, hed follow you anywhere.

“Arianna, beautiful name. Did you pick it?” you ask looking up when a few minutes of silence pass. As you do you notice that the somber look from early had returned. “You okay?” you ask.

“I don't deserve her, I don’t deserve something so good.” he states, suddenly realizing he didn’t deserve someone like you either. You wouldn’t be sitting in the tub with him if you knew what he’d done.

“Frankie that's not true” you reassure

“You don't know the shit I've done. I'm not... I'm not a good person,” he says, still not looking over to you.

“Well, I…” you begin to refute.

“Seriously, I've done bad things… awful things'' he clears his throat, afraid to look at you, afraid you’d be terrified by him.

“People make bad mistakes, but that doesn't make them irredeemable, not if they are willing to change. You understand what you did was bad, that says something.” you reassure, knowing the guilt was likely left over from the military.

“Well, wise words coming from someone who's never done anything bad”

“You don't know me that well Frankie, I’ve done my fair share of stupid things, crappy things to numb the pain. It's what we do to make up for those shitty actions that count. At every turn, you’ve shown me that you're not an evil person. Everything I’ve seen is good, and funny and incredibly kind.” you finish and you continue to nudge him with your foot until he finally cracks a smile.

“Well now you're smiling again, my missions complete and it's time for bed” you say stepping out of the tub and drying off, unaware that you’d just made Frankie fall even harder for you. His eyes helplessly following you as you leave the bathroom.

“Since I'm an outpatient, does that mean I get the good side of the bed?” he calls out after you. You roll your eyes but let him have it, you preferred the sleeping situation the way it was.

[redhawtriot]

Highhh School (MHA x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞 

Uh? HELL 👏YEAH 👏

Okay this isn’t an imagine necessarily but it folllows a school day?? Can I get a pass??

I just needed a shit post after all the angst I’ve been writing recently lol🤣

Sero:

He is most definitely the one who smoked you out.

He was so excited to show you his world. *cue Aladdin music*

He is practically a graduated expert on weed classifications and strains, but as he is going on about Indica and Sativa, all you could think about is how come you never thought to ask him sooner?! ‘Cause he has BIG pothead energy.

He would be the friend to stay mostly sober when you smoke so that he could make sure that you were okay. He would straighten you up if you started leaning to the side, or give you water when you kept licking the roof of your cotton mouth. 

You two smoke before class one day, but you don’t feel anything when you first smoke it, “Uh, Sero, no offense but are you, like,  sure about this stuff? I feel about as high as a tree. Like-- kinda of higher than usual but not like high in the grand scheme of things. Like if you look at plane or kites or clouds and stuff, they make trees look so small. Like itty-bitty ants and…” you stop yourself because you forgot where the tangent even began, “ Ohhh….”

“See?” Sero would laugh his ass off as he gave you a knowing smile, “Good shit right?”

“I am high as hell, bruh.”

Iida:

No matter how much you pray before hand, you just knew that your class rep. would be the first one to greet you in a school day, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to avoid him like the plague.

“L/N! If you and Sero would find your seat quickly, so we can prepare for the day’s activities!”

He would certainly recognize the symptoms of being high, but wouldn't correlate it to his classmates because not in his good ‘plus ultra’ household, no sir. 

Smoking is for delinquents and nonconformists and his peers are neither!

He just assumes that you are sick.

“Uh.. L/N are you feeling well? You seem ill.”

“I-I’m okay.” You feel your mouth move in slow motion. You pray to god that you weren’t actually moving at a snails pace.

“I could very easily arrange for a nurse’s pass for you! We want you to be in tip top shape for today’s ventures! After, all we have to meet the high expectations set for us as U.A. students!”

Oh, Iida— so young, so foolish. You were high enough already. 

Izuku:

His seat is next to yours.

He is completely oblivious to the signs of being high, other than what he was taught in school (so basically, not shit).

He would notice your attributes and become very concerned for you,

“Have you been crying? Your eyes are really red.”

“That’s your third bottle of water are you sick?!”

“Holy woah! You’re about to fall over L/N!!”

COT DAMMIT, this boy is calling you out like it’s his job!!! But it’s just because he cares ❤️

You would just want him to stop being so damn precious and to also stop drawing attention to your altered state.

But baby boy is too pure to realize that he is thoroughly fucking you over.

Todoroki:

You try to stay close to him for most of the day so that your behavior doesn’t seem out of place.

He always seemed faded with his calm demeanor and slow responses, so you would blend in much better with him by your side, rather than with someone hyperactive like Iida.

Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave.

He wouldn't even question your off behavior. Even if he notices, it he probably just thinks you’re extremely tired.

Are you Mr. Aizawa’s secret love child or something

You could also have him make ice cubes for you to chew on. That would be really nice. 

Bakugou:

This boy is too damn perceptive.

He knew as👏 soon 👏 as you walked in the class that morning, that you were higher than high.

He would never ingest the devil’s lettuce, but he couldn’t care less if you ruined your lungs.

but okay maybe he cares a little.

“You damned idiot, How the hell are you going to get through the quiz in English today, if you cant even read in a straight line?!”

He would try to help you with school work but cuss you out for being stupid in the same breath. 

His voice seems like 100x louder than usual.

He wouldn’t do extra shit for you-- like getting you water or anything. It’s a tough love lesson to teach you to make better choices.

Kaminari:

Would be offended as fuck that you didn't smoke with him

“What the fuck? You and Sero blew a beezy without me?!”

who the fuck says blow a beezy? 

He would be more upset at Sero.

“BUT WE ALWAYS VAPE ON TUESDAYS” energy.

The nerve of some people! After that,  he gets ‘Trust No Bitch’ tattooed on his wrist. 

Aizawa:

Never in life would you be more terrified, than when you were being called to meet with Aizawa after class.

Oh God, you were going to get expelled from class, and have to move out of your house-- maybe even the country, and sell pirated movies from the back of your car in a Walmart parking lot in Florida, and--

“Do you want to borrow one of my eye drop capsules?”

“W-what?”

“Your eyes. They are red,” he wouldn’t even blink.

You would be terrified to take it. Would accepting his gift be incriminating in some way? Like a confession of sorts?

You would reluctantly take it anyways and thank him, but as you would walk away--

“Oh, and Y/N?”

“Y-yes, sir?���

“Come into my classroom under the influence again and you will find yourself immidiately expelled.”

HOLE. LEE. FUUUCK!!!

You have to catch your soul from escaping from your body.

Jirou:

She would be the one to come up to you after the school day is over and ask you where you got your weed from.

She would reluctantly and abashedly admit that she would like to smoke with you next time.

Achievement Unlocked: Delinquentify your Peers!! + 800 xp

You’ve converted more of your friends to the “dank side.”

Your Sith name is Darth Cannabis

[pixie88]

Meeting the Parents pt 2

Chapter 12 - Always the Bridesmaid.

A/N: I’m on fire with these ATB chapters once I got to 5 in my drafts I thought I better release one! I hope you like it.

If you would like to be ADDED or REMOVED just let me know!

Read previous chapters HERE!

Warnings: Fluff & Light Angst

Word Count: 1832

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy!

"Is he mine?!" she seems a bit taken aback by his question, she wasn't expecting to see him again.

He asks again "Is he my son?" it's almost a hiss.

"No! No, he's not" she understands why he would think he is considering the timescale "I did a DNA test when he was born, he's Anthony's"

Harry is relieved, "You're one hundred percent?" she nods "I can show you the results if you would like?" she doesn't wait for his reply she rushes off, moments later she hands him a bit of paper.

It reads at the bottom -

Alleged FATHER  - ANTHONY KENNEDY

Probability of Paternity: 99.99999%

Harry feels like he can finally breathe again, he hands her back the piece of paper "Thank you and sorry I just had to know," she offers him a weak smile, "It's OK, I understand why you would think he was yours. Again, I'm sorry about what happened to us in the past and I'm glad you have moved on she seems lovely!"

His thoughts go to Laila "She is to be honest with you, she's probably the best thing that has ever happened to me" her face sours, but quickly changes as she hears her son cry "I'm coming Jasper" she turns back to Harry "Sorry, I have to go. Harry take care!" he smiles "You too"

He makes his way down the path, pulls out his phone and dials Laila's number. It rings a few times before she answers.

"Hey Harry..." He cuts her off, so she doesn't get the rest of her words out.

"He's not mine!" she lets out a breath"How do you feel about that?"

He chuckles "Relieved, Laila the thought of being tied to her because of a child...I couldn't think of anything worse. I thought I might have wanted him to be mine for a few moments but as soon as I knew he wasn't mine, I realised I didn't really want it at all"

"Well, I'm happy for you and at least that's cleared up now. You can move on from it"  He can tell she's secretly relieved to as much as she tries to pretend she was OK with it.

"I'm on my way back to yours so make sure you're ready, we'll leave for my parents when I get back"

"OK, I'm nearly ready. Harry, I'm so nervous," he chuckles "No need to be! You've met my mum, one of my brothers and my sister...my dad you just need to take everything he says with a pinch of salt. He's hard on everyone until they get to know him"

"Great....anyway. I'll see you in a bit, I love you" He laughs "See you soon! I love you too"

Later they arrive at his parents house, Harry lets himself in with his fingers entwined. Laila's heart is racing with nerves, "Mum, Dad?" he calls out "Harry! We're out the back" They make their way through the house towards garden "Laila! How are you?" Rose welcomes her with open arms.

Harry puts him down and pulls Laila over to the table "Arthur and Izzy you've already met Laila, but Dad, Brad, Will, Sophie, Claire and Ruby this is my girlfriend Laila, Laila this is my Dad Colin, and my brothers Will and Brad and their wives Ruby, Sophie and Claire" His brothers and their wives offer her a warm welcome but Colin doesn't even look up at her.

"Hi, Rose! It's nice to see you again!" Laila smiles at her, she notices the rest of the family round a table "Uncle Harry!!" a little boy runs over colliding with him, Harry picks him up "Hey Cohen! This is my girlfriend Laila!" Cohen looks over to her "She's pretty" Laila smirks "Thank you! You are adorable!" Cohen smiles.

Take everything with a pinch of salt! She thought, "I knew something was going on with you two! I saw the way he looked at you at the sky gardens!" Izzy winks at her, they take a seat Harry doesn't let go of her hand.

"We were in the early stages of dating at time" Laila smiles at her. She hears Colin sniggers, but she chooses to ignore it when she feels Harry give her hand a tiny squeeze.

A little while later dinner is served "Laila, are you left handed?" Colin asks "Erm..no, no I'm not," she smiles at him "So, why are you holding your knife and fork like a left handed person? It's a bit ill mannered?" he hisses. "Sorry, I always have used them this way..." he cuts her off "What do you do for a living?"

"Oh, I'm a hairdresser" he sniggers again "So not a doctor then..what a shame!"

"Dad!" Harry hisses at him "Harry, it's fine!" she smiles softly at him. Pinch of salt! She thought.

"And your parents?" Colin asks "My parents? Well, they own a pub" Colin laughs "Of course they do! Talk about lower class and cliché"

This comment makes her blood boil she jumps out of her seat, throwing down her cutlery "Say what you want about me, but don't you dare talk about my family!" She says pointing her finger at him "My parents are worth 10 of you!! You are nothing, but a miserable, snobby, rude old git! I will not sit here like everyone else and let you get away with talking to me or about my family like that!" she storms off through the house and out the front door.

Harry chases her calling after her "Laila! Wait!" He catches up to her, gently grasping her arm, making her turn "Laila, I'm sorry I should have spoken up...I should've never let him speak to you like that. It's just that's the way he is. I know that's no excuse"

"I get it..he's your dad, we make allowance for family. I shouldn't have say anything" Harry chuckles "No! I'm glad you did..That is what I love most about you. You don't take crap from anyone, you speak your mind and no one has to second guess where they are with you"

Behind Harry, Laila spot Colin stands in the doorway. Harry eyes follow in her direction "Harry, if he's here for round 2, I swear to god I will not be responsible for my actions" Harry chuckles "As much as I would love for you to deck him..." she cuts him off "Don't you think I can take the old man?" she asks.

He laughs "I have no doubt that you can take the old man! But let's just hear what he has to say? I promise I will step in if he's out of line again," she rolls her eyes "Fine" Harry takes her hand and they make their way over to him "Let me just warn you, you dare speak to her like you did in there so help me god" Colin can see his son will not stand by and let it happen again.

"First can I say Laila, I'm a protective old fool, I just don't want him hurt like last time. You were right in there, when you called me a miserable, rude old git. No one has ever pulled me up on how I speak to people and for that I respect you"

"You forgot snobby!" Laila hissed, Colin laughs at her "I also forgot to say sorry which I truly am sorry and if you will allow it can we start again?"

"OK, I'm also sorry for what I called you" Colin laughs "You have nothing to apologize for everything you said in there was spot on. Now let's go back inside"

They follow Colin back to the garden as they walk in his brothers clap "Keep hold of this one Harry! We like her!" Will laughs "Don't worry I intend to!" he winks at Laila.

Later, Harry is playing football with the kids Cohen, Ethan, Bobby and Lara while Laila is colouring with Mila "Do you love my Uncle Harry?" Mila looks up at her "I do" Mila smiles "He loves you too. Are you going to marry him?" Laila smirks she loves how kids are so blunt "Maybe one day"

"Maybe one day?" she hears him asks over her shoulder. Great! She thought. "I asked Laila will she marry you. She said maybe one day!" Mila giggle, Laila blushes as Harry takes a sit down next to her "You're all sweaty!" Laila wipes his brow "Yeah, those 4 have been ganging up on me. 4 against 1 can you guess who won!" Laila laughs at him.

"Not you?" she winks "Got that right!" Harry grabs Laila's hand as she's colouring making her go out of the lines "Harry!! Look what you made me do!" he chuckles at her and does it again "Harry! Stop it!" she hisses "Or what?" he asks.

She takes the felt tip pen and draws on his face "Laila!" she smirks, Mila giggles "What? I'm colouring out of the lines like you wanted me to," he smirks as he shook his head, "You are so going to regret that!" he's quick, he takes a red felt tip pen off the blanket they are sitting on and aims for her face, but she dodges it. He goes in again she falls back against the blanket, Harry grasps her hands pinning them, so she can't stop him. She's laughing "Harry, don't you dare!"

Moving towards her face with the pen between his teeth as his hands pin down hers, she's laughing "Harry" as he gets closer Mila pulls the pen from his mouth and uses it on him "Argh! Mila, you're suppose to be on my team!" he lets go of Laila, Mila gets up and makes a run for it. Harry is about to chase after her, but Laila grabs his ankle making him fall to the ground.

She gets up and makes a run for it after Mila, they're both giggling as they run from him. Before they get to far, Harry's arms come around both their waist's "Gotcha both!" he begins to tickle them and they both fall to the ground trying to get away.

"Uncle Harry! Stop! I'm sorry!" Mila says through her laughter, he stops "I like Laila, Uncle Harry" Harry smiles at his niece "Me too!" he winks at Laila.

~*~*~*~

A few weeks later

Laila had arranged to meet Nikki at the park with Poppy, They are chatting when all of a sudden they hear Poppy scream.

They both rush over to her, Poppy is hysterical on the floor below the monkey bars "Pops, what's wrong?" tears steam down her face "It hurts!!" she screams "Poppy, did you fall from the bars?" Laila asks her and she nods unable to answer because of the pain.

Nikki becomes distraught "Nikki, It's going to be fine!" Laila tries to reassure her "I'll call an ambulance just in case" Laila pulls out her phone to make the call.

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 13.

@shewillreadyou​ @lem-20​ @secretaryunpaid​ @khoicesbyk​ @aussieez​ @txemrn​ @irisofpurple​ @casualpostqueen​ @shannonwrote​ @tea-me-kah​

[daily-jaspvid]

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Jaspvid fluff

This is the first chapter of my prequel series. This takes place the winter before the show takes place, in which Jasper happens upon David at a party. 

This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it is quickly turning into at least 3 chapters. I can’t post the second chapter here, but chapters 1 and 3 will be here! No plot happens in chapter 2, just NSFT content heh.

also the title song! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5Or6-HOveg

Here's part 1! Merry Christmas!

Gem insisted this party would be good; that she had seen this band perform before and how great they were live. With nothing better to do, I decided to tag along. After all, finals were over and we were due to celebrate before we headed home for winter break. 

When we arrived Gem was immediately distracted by the punch bowl conversation. From how many people stopped to greet her, I was reminded of how gregarious my friend was compared to me. Not wanting to harsh her style too much, I took my cup of punch towards the dance floor.  From the looks of it, the band was starting to set up, so the waiting stereo pumped out indie tunes. 

I idly bopped along to a familiar song when a firm force bumps me from behind. I stagger, holding out my drink to steady it. In the next beat, I feel hands brace my waist to steady me. The hands are warm, firm, but didn’t feel of ill intent. 

“Oh, sorry about that!” Chirped an equally as warm voice. I turn and the hands pop off me like old stickers peeling away. I see an auburn-haired man who offered a genuinely sorry smile. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied abruptly as anxiety swelled in me. Sure, I was expecting to meet a few new people today, but a cute ginger boy right off the bat? I guess Christmas was coming early. 

He wore a red button down and a pair of blue jeans. He appeared to be wearing a band tee, but I can’t figure out who in particular. His face shown with simply the brightest smile I have seen in years. It felt familiar. 

“So, uh… you ever see this band before?” I ask after a few awkward seconds of standing together. 

“I haven’t. Honestly, this is the first party I’ve been to this semester. I’ve been pretty busy between classes and student teaching. You?”

“Pretty much the same. I’m studying to be a writer. Not as exciting, I’m sure, but it’s an excuse to spend all my free time reading at home.” I admit with a quick and strained smile. Before he could respond, Gem came upon us with one of her friends. 

“Hey, you two! See, Cathy? I told you they would get along! We didn’t even have to enact the master plan!” Gem exclaimed, causing Cathy to stifle a laugh. 

“David, you’ve met Gem from my psych class,” she motioned to the mutual friend. “So you must be her friend from therapy, was it?”

I shoot Gem a look, which she just shrugged to. Damn psych majors and their gossip. “Yes, Jasper,” I confirm, offering my hand to her. She gives it a firm and professional shake. 

“Isn’t he just the cutest, Cathy? Hes such a little crab! It took me weeks to convince him to come!” Gem lamented. She moved in front of me to adjust my clothing, tugging at my popped collar to lay it down. I grimace, hand twitching with a desire to hide my exposed neck. I see David’s eyes flicker down to my neck before looking away, tension filling into his eyes. That was most people’s reaction when they see the scars there. The polite ones, anyway.

The conversation was cut short by the music lowering and a mic switching on. The band introduced themselves as Florist and began playing their easy, folky tunes to the milling crowd. Gem scurried off through the crowd to get closer while Gem hung back to tap away at her phone. Just as quickly as they came, I was once again left alone with the lithe ginger. I spent most of the set watching him from my peripherals. He swayed gently to the music, expression fixated intently on the band. He seemed to pour all of his focus into them and I could feel the aura force field around him, seeming to block everything else out. 

Before I could fully process his energy the set was already over. The band thanked us for listening and the previous playlist switched back on. By this point, people were beginning to collect their friends and head out. David seemed to be remembering his place among the crowd and looked around. Our eyes catch each other’s and I find my voice springing out before really even considering my words. 

“Hey. You wanna get some coffee?” The words tumble out, and by the time I get to the end of the statement, I can feel myself quivering with unease. If David picked up on this he didn’t show it. 

“Yeah, sure! I’d love to!” He chimed. David caught Cathy’s attention to let her know the plan. I felt a little bad about ditching Gem, but it wasn’t like she seemed very keen on hanging around me. It’s what she would want.

When we stepped outside it was, unfortunately, pouring rain. Freezing rain. I unrolled my sleeves to save myself from the cold a little bit.

“Damn, so much for getting anywhere in this. I’ll call us a Lyft.” We hung out on the porch while I set up the ride. 

Despite the weather, it arrived within minutes. We ducked in, only made mildly damn. Though the café was only a few blocks away, it felt longer in the silence. Once again I found myself watching him from the corner of my eye. As we turned the block the side of the road through his window showed the dark abyss of dense forest. His reflection in the window became water-warped, and the familiarity finally clicked. I let out a quick huff of my breath, catching his attention.

“Davey?” I asked tentatively. His head snapped up from his phone, eyes wide. He looked like he had seen a ghost. 

“Nobody calls me that. Not since I was a kid - except for Mr. Campbell, but-” He paused, his confused expression shifting to concern as I recoil at the name “Campbell”. Memories of my 11th summer come crashing back to me and I suddenly feel ill. As if on cue, our driver stops to drop us off. I have never been more thankful to stand in the pouring rain.

“Come on, you’ll get soaked to the bone!” David exclaimed, grabbing my hand to pull me into the café. 

Thankfully this place had good heating. The cozy café had few patrons. Most people were either at parties or already homeward bound to family. We stepped up to order and it wasn’t until the barista gave us a knowing smile that we realized we were still holding hands. Flustered, we take turns ordering our drinks. 

“So… You’re the Jasper I knew all those years ago? From summer camp? It’s been, what, 13 years? Man, it must really be a small world, huh?” He sighed nostalgically. 

“Honestly, I’m surprised I recognized you,” I admit with a shrug. “I guess I remember more about that last summer than I thought. For a long time it was such a blur, to be honest.”

We collected our drinks and headed to a space heater in the back of the café. It had a couple of chairs surrounding it that we settled in to. David flopped into his with a heavy, content sigh. I sat more forwardly in mine, resting my elbows on my knees and leaning towards the warmth. I felt numb, like neither the aching cold nor the radiating heat could break through to me. 

“You seem sad.” David’s voice broke through the silence once again. It was low and tender as he leaned over to me.

“I’m fine, really, just… a lot is coming back to me, is all,” I chew on my lip and spoke through grit. “A lot of not great thing happened that last summer we knew each other. Not great things that lead to worse things. It isn’t your fault, of course, It's just… forget it.”

David reached out a hand and placed it on my leg, giving it a squeeze. his eyes scanned as if searching for the right words to say but ultimately decided to remain quiet. We sat like this for a few minutes before I pulled out my phone.

“Hey, can I have your number? I’d like to keep in touch again if that's ok?”

“Of course! I would love to catch up!” Davey perked up as he received my phone and punched in his number. “So, what do you like to write?”

Hours soon had drifted by as we conversed. I soaked in every smile and laugh. Craved every new emotion I could draw out of his expressive being. Anything he had to give, really. Davey radiated with life. It poured out of his being, passion radiating like a star.

Oh, God.

I can’t be falling in love.

I feel my breath hitch as I suck in air. Davey notices and pauses his story to ask if I was alright, only for the clock to ding for 4 am. Shit. 

“You can crash at my place if you’d like.” he offers as we stand. I feel like I am going to faint back into the chair. Clearing my voice and adjusting my flannel, I nod.

“I’d like that more than anything right now.” I reply, taking up his offer and hoping I don’t sound too desperate. Just like that, we set back off into the rain and caught a ride across town to his apartment.

[lilsherlockian1975]

The Nose Knows

A little soulmates AU, mostly fluff. Here’s part one. This is NOT beta’d, sorry for any mistakes. Huge thanks to @mel-loves-all for helping out with editing the images since I’m an ignorant goose penis when it comes to all that business. Blame me for the quality of the pics... it’s what I picked out for her. ~LiL~

-o-o-o-o-

He catches it on a breeze. It hits him like a physical blow and he instantly knows what he’s smelling, if not... who.

He and his cousin Daven are sitting on one of the few available benches on the Quad. Addam, his best friend since childhood, is talking about some girl he’d met at a sorority mixer the night before but as soon as the scent drifts his way, Jaime pretty much tunes out the sordid tale of sloppy, near-anonymous sex. It’s a gorgeous Spring day, not a cloud in the sky and no hint of rain for the first time in at least two weeks. This fact alone has driven most of the student population out of doors, making it almost impossible for him to quickly assign the scent to its owner.

Jaime is instantly ill at ease, which is unfortunate as moments ago he’d felt entirely in his element. He and his twin sister had celebrated their twenty-second name day the weekend before and prior to the scent, he’d been feeling at the very top of his game. Now he’s... confused and excited and anxious all at once.

Less than two months and he will be finished with this gods’ forsaken town and its massive university. He’s already been accepted at Crakehall School of Art & Design for his post-grad, which is, incidentally, where he originally had planned to study. His father’d had different ideas, forcing Jaime into the business programme at KLU. Thankfully, he had managed to slip a minor in Architecture into his degree by selling Tywin a load of shit about wanting to ‘propel Castlery Corp. into the modern era’. The minor had added a full year to Jaime’s studies and without a major in his chosen field, he will have to take supplementary classes at CSAD but he’s certain it will be worth it in the end.

None of that matters now. Tywin Lannister had died of a massive stroke seven months ago. Jaime supposes he should feel worse about that; should feel some kind of loss or sadness, and maybe he does, though not for the reasons most sons would for the death of a parent. But the old man was never a real father. He’d been indifferent toward Tyrion, dismissive toward Cersei - though he could occasionally be somewhat warmer to his only female child - and constantly demanding that Jaime ‘live up to the Lannister name’. Jaime can feel sympathy for their mother, of course, she did love the old bastard, but neither he nor his sister are overly damaged by the old man’s death. Oddly enough, their father’s death seems to be affecting his little brother the most.

The scent assails him again and this time he stands, walking towards it, leaving Addam sputtering objections and calling him names. Jaime doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about is the originator of that smell.

He passes small groups of fellow students, all equally excited about the respite from the spring rains. The Quad is packed, of course, so it’s no easy task. Not to mention that he probably looks like some kind of weirdo, walking around, nose first and… sniffing. But he’s being driven by something entirely out of his control. 

Though he’s never really given much thought to the idea of soulmates, he knows they exist - his Uncle Gerion and Aunt Briony are soulmates, for instance, but it’s rarely talked about within the family, almost as if it is some dirty secret. Actually, for some unknown reason, talking about soulmates seems to be taboo in ‘polite society’. Uncle Gerion - his favourite uncle -  however, is quite outspoken against Lannister Family tradition and societal norms. The phenomenon, as far as he knows, is very rare these days and Jaime has never once even considered the possibility for himself. 

Now… Now there's no doubt. He can smell her - them? - whoever! Jaime’s never been attracted to men, but somehow he knows that if the gods have seen it fit to match him with a man… so be it! 

Shaking himself, he chuckles as he moves to another group of students. It won’t be a man, he thinks. Surely the gods would have given him some kind of inclination towards his own sex if… Suddenly, he’s engulfed with the scent. They’re close, they must be!  He turns, following his nose like a damn toucan. 

The crowd thins a bit; it’s the top of the hour and people are rushing off to class. Jaime’s eyes and, yes, his nose, zero in on his target. Shit! It is a dude! He’s taller than Jaime by maybe an inch or so with short, straw-like blond hair, broad shoulders and… He’s just about to resign himself to a future that he’d never even considered (okay, so he’s maybe had the odd thought here and there about other guys - everyone has, right?! Right?) when they turn around and…  

“You’re a girl,” he says without thinking. 

She (oh, thank the gods she’s a she!) narrows her eyes, straightens her spine and glares. “Yes, I am. And you’re not very original, I’m afraid,” she says coldly before stalking past him. 

What?! No! She’s… she’s supposed to know. She’s supposed to smell him too. What in the seven hells is going on?! “Wait!” Jaime calls out but she doesn’t stop. He can’t give up, he just can’t. Sprinting to catch up, he reaches out for her, wanting to stop her, to talk to her. He doesn’t make it that far, though. Just before he touches her arm, she jerks back - maybe she saw him in her peripheral vision, maybe it’s some strange side effect of their connection, he doesn’t know - but when he sees the look in her unbelievably blue eyes, he’s the one flinching away. 

“I don’t know who you think you are,” she practically growls, “but you can’t just go around insulting people, chasing after them then touching them as if it’s your right!”

“But it is,” he replies lamely because... how doesn’t she know?

Her responding laugh is mocking and he can’t deny that it hurts him in a way he never imagined being hurt. Shaking her head, she sneers as she looks him up and down. “Guys like you are all the same…”

There are no guys like me, he thinks but luckily, this time he holds his tongue.

“I know I’m an easy target - hard to miss, low hanging fruit and whatnot - I’m just not in the mood for this nonsense today.”

Jaime knows he should give up, regroup and try again later, but patience has never been his strong suit. “I wasn’t… It wasn’t an insult. I was…” ‘Surprised’ sounds insulting and really, how does she still not know? His mind scrambles for a word to properly describe his condition. Finally, he settles on, “Confused?” though it unintentionally comes out as a question.

This seems to only further enrage the girl. She takes a step back, draws a deep breath and, once again, shakes her head. “Find someone else to help you figure out your sexuality!”

Okay, there’s a story there, Jaime’s sure of it but he doesn’t have time to ask. “No-no, you’re misunderstanding me. I know I’m not gay.” Although the fact that he considered it for thirty seconds or so is something he’ll deal with later! “I’m saying that…”

“I really don’t care what you’re saying.” Again, her eyes travel over him and Jaime has never felt so judged in his entire life. “It’s nothing new, it’s nothing I’ve not heard before. Do you really think you’re the first prick to want to screw with me? I’m guessing it’s another bet. Who put you up to this? Red? Bushy? If it was Hyle, I swear to the Seven...”

“None of them! I don’t even know who you’re talking about!” When he thinks about her words, an intense feeling of protectiveness overcomes him. “What bet? What did they do?” 

Her pale, freckle-covered cheeks turn an interesting shade of pink as she hitches her messenger bag higher on her shoulder before crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing. Never mind. Just… Just leave me alone. Please.” The last word comes out softly, pleadingly and it just about breaks Jaime’s heart. Turning, she starts to go.

“I’m not a creep!” he calls out, managing to stop her escape. Looking around, he notices that, miraculously, the Quad has pretty much cleared out. If their fellow students hadn’t been in such a rush to return to class he and the angry girl would have surely drawn a crowd. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself before continuing, “And I’m not a prick. I am sort of an arsehole, but not - I think, not like those guys you mentioned. Whatever they did... hurt you enough to make you make that face…”

She whips around. “What about my face?” 

With a sigh, he says, “It looks sad. Too sad. It’s not supposed to.” And what does that even mean? he wonders as the words leave his mouth.

She’s surprised for a split second, then all emotion seems to drain from her features. “I don’t know why you’re doing this but please just… leave me alone.”

So he does. For now.

-o-o-o-o-

There is a very good reason that Brienne doesn’t know ‘who’ Jaime is. This is just the first part, I’m working on the next bit. Please let me know what you think. Thanks ~Lil~

[the-gory-gardner]

New Name, New Life

Slasher OC Owen Douglas & Rosemary Douglas 

Owen rubbed his eyes trying to get the remaining sleep out while he tried to focus on making breakfast. Nothing big just a couple fried egg sandwiches which his little roommate had suggested when he asked what she wanted. He remembered how quietly she had answered as if she’d get in trouble for saying. 

He shook his head from the intruding thoughts. He turned his head slightly to look at little Minerva sitting at the kitchen table. He’d managed to find some paper and old color pencils for her draw with. Looking over her ill-fitting and ratty PJ’s he knew he’d need to get her some clothing soon. God he’d need to get so much to take care of a kid could he actually do it. He let out a deep sigh trying to focus back on the eggs before he burnt them. 

As he put the eggs on to the bread he’d set out out he made a mental list of what he needed now. A few kid outfits, toys, more food and maybe some parenting books. But Owen also tried to think in the long run on what he-what she needed. She couldn’t stay in the house all the time, he could let her play outside he didn’t have any neighbors. She’d need to go to school there was only so much he could teach her. Then that was another problem in it’s self for her to go to school he’d need documents for her. 

None of which could say Minerva Doyle on them since there was more than likely an amber alert out for her. He’d wait some time before he’d considering her to school. When no one would instantly recognize her from the news and when she knew what she couldn’t say about him or herself. For the moment he could work on her name. He plated their breakfast taking it over to the table setting her sandwich in front of her. “Thank you”. The girl said quietly as she looked up. “Your welcome do you want anything to drink”? He asked her to which she shook her head. 

“Hey sweetheart I wanted to ask you somethings”. Owen decided to get straight to the point. “Yeah”? Minerva said nervously. “Well Sweetie you know I want you to stay with me”. He started making the small girl perk up. The thought of someone wanting her seeming more shocking to her than what had happened the night before. “And because of that I thought it would probably be best if you had a...new name”. Owen told her slowly worried he’d offend or upset her. 

“A new name”? Minerva asked instead almost curious. “Yes so if anyone asked what your name is later on”. He replied. “Cause if they knew who I was they’d take me away”? She asked. Owen nodded happy and a little sad she could figure that out so easily. “We could still call you Minerva in the house just use another name whenever we go out”. He told her. Owen watched as the little girl’s face scrunched up in as deep as thought as an eight year old could manage. “I don’t like my name it’s okay but I don’t really like how it...sounds”. She told him. 

Owen nodded that information would make things a little easier. “Okay well obviously you’d take my last name for yours i’m not sure about first names though”. He told her. Owen pulled out his phone searching for girl names with meanings. “Um maybe we can look though this and find one you like”. He said showing her the the screen. Owen moved a little closer to her so she could see the screen but left enough space between them not to overwhelm the girl. “Addison”? Owen asked. “There were three Addie’s in my class”. She replied. 

Owen continued listing names that Minerva either remembered knowing a lot of people with that name or just didn’t like the sound of. “Rosemary”? Owen questioned a little skeptical on if the girl would like the vintage name. “Rosemary”. The little girl repeated slowly as if tasted the name on her tongue. “That’s pretty, I’ve never heard it before”. She then said. Owen nodded. “Yeah it’s a more old fashioned name meaning more older people have it”. He informed him. 

“I don’t mind having a old person name”. She told him. Owen sighed to himself feeling more light. It looked like things wouldn’t be as bad as he expected them. He’d also make sure things wouldn’t be as bad as Little Rosemary Douglas thought it would probably be, he’d make certain of it. 

[lillsxd]

stupid project

peter parker x reader 

requested: no

word count: 1999

hey guys give me notes on what i should fix so i can get better thanks 

_________________________________________________

what does life mean? what is living? i ask myself that everyday. why am i stuck in this crazy world? “y/n, y/n hello. earth to y/n” i hear snapping out of my thoughts “yes peter” i look over to him sitting in his desk tapping his pen to his mouth. “we have to get started on this paper” the nerdy friend of mine rolls his eyes and sitting back in his seat. i let out a sigh.”Pete i know but i dont wanna its stupid and annoying and” i stop and look at peter confused. He is looking behind me and back at me like there was a bug in my hair. i was about to say something as the blonde teacher slaps two detention notes on my and peters desk. as she walks away.

he whispers “really y/n again” this was the second time this week. “sorry lets get started” i reached for the instructions on peters desk and he stops me. “you know i could just do it later” he scratched the back of his neck. why would he say that. does he not think i can do this.  know this is our last grade of the year and peter dont believe in me  “no” i say with no emotion in my voice. “but y/n-” “no” i cut him off and snatch the paper from his hand and write down what i need to until i get cut off by the bell. i grab all my stuff together and leave as quick as i can before peter can say something to me.

why would he? as i walk down to the hallway to the bathroom to skip my last class i bump into his friends. “oh hey y/n” Ned says waving. i ignore him completely, trying to hold back my tears running to the bathroom locking the stall. he dont trust me. why am i reacting like this i should be mad i should just brush it off. the bathroom door opened and i lifted my feet up so no one sees me in here. “y/n are you in here” mj says. the footsteps get quiet as i dont respond, looking under the door i see her shoes. they are boots with little chains on them her shoelaces are mismatched and she knocks on my stall door. i dont answer looking around the stall. ‘school sucks’, ‘BLM’, ‘spider man is soooo hot’, were written on the stall wall with different handwriting and colors. “y/n are you okay” she knocked again. “im fine mj just ate something that messed up my stomach” i wiped my tears and pulled down my hair to fix it so my puffy eyes arnt noticeable.                                                                                                                                                                                                      As i put my feet down from the toilet about to unlock the door she slides a drawing under my stall. “i know thats not the reason that your in here maybe this will cheer you up, and y/n if you need anyone to talk to girl to girl call me my number is on the back. and if its peter i will kill him. i will let you be but for real text me i am here.” she says walking out of the gross bathroom. the door shuts and i grab the paper. It is a dawing of me and peter. it looks like it took months to finish and i flipped the paper over and it reveled her number. I've known peter for years we have always been the bestest of friends until he met mj and started to hang out more with them. ive been alone most of this school year. in the begging of the class he wouldn't talk to me or look at me or anything. it was like he forgot i existed. i got cut off from my thoughts as my phone lit up buzzing. i opened it to see peter texted me.

Pete: y/n are you okay?

Pete: please answer me

Pete: do you wanna come over and do this project after detention? we can listen to your fav music and watch movies afterwards?

my fingers tap out a message ‘no i dont want to i just wanna go home you dont even tr-’ no i shouldn't say that. i tap on the screen erasing the message i try again ‘sure Pete meet you by the buses’ i type out.looking at my screen for a minute. he will probably just bale on me like last time. so dont get my hopes up. my thumbs tap on the send button.

Pete: okay meet ya, are you coming in the next class?

my face gets all red. i forgot i had two classes with him how stupid ill just tell him im busy or something. ‘no i got called to the office for something dont tell teacher’ i type thinking it was a great excuse. i reach for my bag and grab out my sketch book and flip to an empty page. as my pencil sketched away the rest of the school day peter wad in class writing my notes for me until the bell rang.

After the bell rang i got out of the stall reaching for my bag of makeup going towards the mirror. I see black running down my face and fix it. i get out of the bathroom and start walking to the detention room. Maybe it wont be as bad i thought it would. “y/n over here” peter calls sitting in a empty desk patting a spot next to him i roll my eyes and walk twords him. “hey y/n” peter waves and i just nod and sit down. as the hour of detention goes by peter looks at me time to time seeing me draw something in my sketch book. “hey y/n” he whispers and pokes my arm. i look at him. “i have to do a quick thing before we head to my house okay so just wait for me” he says nervously. “ok” is all i say before the teacher looks at us. The rest of the time passes i get up to leave shoving my book into my bag and walking out to where the buses would usually be. i wait. putting headphones in i play Shawn mendes. listening to music waiting for peter.

As time goes by to 30 minutes to an hour to two hours to three. i get up from my sitting position. he ditched me again. i feel tears hit my cheeks as i start to walk home. walking turned into running hearing leaves crunching under my feet. music blasting in my ears. why. he is probably with mj or Ned. why do i trust him. why did he pick me for the project. why would he. tears getting stronger. running not home just anywhere. my feet taking me wherever they want until i reach the woods. there was smoke and pieces of metal everywhere. i wipe my face looking to see if anyone needs help. moving pieces of metal and wood and i see a blue and red piece of fabric from far away. i run to it..the person is  trapped under a big chunk of metal. “s-spider man?” i question. realizing its him the hero himself. he looks over and sees my puffy red face and coughs a little not being able to talk. i look at him more closely he is all beaten up and dirty. he has holes in his suit and some hair poking out of a rip on his head only revealing the color of his hair. “can you grab a pipe and lift up the metal please” he says trying to deepen his voice. “o-oh yes of course” i say grabbing a big pipe almost to heavy to pick up and shove it under the metal. i try to push it down but it wouldn't budge. so i stood on it and jump and as soon as it lifted a little he managed to push him self out.

“thank you ma’am that i have no clue who is at all” he says in his deep weird voice as he nervous laughs. i furrow my eyebrows and nod “sure Mr spider man who saves the world” i laugh copying his obviously fave voice. he just sits there in silence and i turn on my heals to walk away “wait” he says in a familiar voice “i mean wait” he cuts himself off in a deep voice. i stop and turn around waiting for him to continue. “who ever you are running from he will come back just give him time” he says in his deep voice and starts to limp away and lift his arm up and start swinging away. what was that about and what was that terrible voice. and why did he seem so familiar?

I start to walk home forgetting about peter. after hours i get home seeing no car in the drive way. “looks like its a late night for me” i say under my breathe unlocking the front door and stepping inside. i throw my backpack on the ground and take my shoes off. my body hurts but i still manage to get up the stairs and going to my room. as i lay down on my bed my phone rings. i look at it. ‘Pete’ it says buzzing in my hand i answer it

“what peter” i frown into the phone disappointed and sad.

“y/n i am so sorry i ditched you i was leaving and i got a call from my boss and i had to come in im-” i cut him off  “peter its okay down worry about it goodnight” i say about to hang up

“wait can i come over i can explain everything so much better” he says nervously “ i guess peter” i say hanging up. ten minutes has passed and i hear a knock at my door. i run down stairs and open it to see peter. he has a big coat on with black sweat pants. he has bruises all over his fave and cuts. i gasp and grab his face “ OH my god peter what happened are you ok let me clean you up” i say grabbing his hand bringing him towards the bathroom “y/n im ok its just a scratch” he said squeezing my hand softly. i stop “i swear if flash did this i will kill him.” clenched my jaw, opening the bathroom door and making him go in and i close the door behind me. “no y/n it wasn't him i promise but i do have to talk to you” he says grabbing the rubbing alcohol from my hands. “well what is it peter? if it was about ditching me we can talk about it later let me-” he cut me off by unzipping his jacket showing me his suit “y/n im spider man thats why ive been ditching you someone very dangerous was out there today you helped me get out from under scrap metal today y/n” he says pulling out his beated up mask from his jacket pocket and looked at me.

i was just standing there looking at him in shock. “y/n?” he says “you are spider man?” i say in shock “yeah im sorry i didn't show up after school and been treating you differently” he said holding my cheek “parker is spider man” i smile “ i knew it” i giggle “your man voice is funny” i say looking into his eyes. he leans in “y/n” he licks his lips and looking at your lips and back to your eyes. “hm” i say leaning in to where our lips are almost touching. He kisses me passionately as i kiss back holding onto him. i pull away for air and i say looking in his eyes smiling...

“ive always loved you parker”

[caffeinated-yearning]

The Start of Something Awful

@werewolfpine said I should post my writing and I’m doing it because I will literally never post unless someone forces me to, here’s a snippet of the lore of How Doc Ock Comes To Be, featuring my/Ock’s actual mind thought mannerisms. Technically this has only my S/I Oliver and Doctor Octavius a little at the front end, because I do my best work when it’s one character who thinks too much.

Word Count: ~1.4k Warnings: Self-harm (minor), queasiness (minor), astonishingly sarcastic narrator voice

“Hoshino.”

Oliver looks up from the box; as much as people focused on biorobotics, he rather preferred the metal things he’d been working on. None of that confusion of the ‘bio’ aspect. Cold techne and cold metal, a perfect compliment to his frozen heart. Looked up at his teacher- professor, Otto Octavius, and said nothing.

“The test results..?”

Of course! How could he possibly forget the mind-crippling endeavor of writing up a lab report for the sake of his dear professor? It would never pass off as science if he didn’t suffer the hideous toil of turning his experiment into a report; let it be known that the gods themselves would forbid anyone to simply look at the raw data and draw their own conclusions- no, he has to bring their attention to that all himself.

Ability to self-replicate- [Y] Hive mind program- [Y] Formation of simple and complex shapes- [Y] Link to human minds- concept phase. Mobile complex shapes- concept only. Modify macro chemicals within human body- tested in organic slurry, dubious results. Anything else that could be interesting- hasn’t been conceptualized yet.

“Would you call it a success?”

“If it teaches something new, it is a success.”

“Then have you been taught anything?”

Oh, doctor, do not pretend! This is all just a reinvention of the wheel at this point. Smaller and still programmable they may be, but these are all things that have been done before. They were done decades ago, before everyone found biological machinery to hold more promise. What then is there to learn? Humans disagree with metal, that has been the lesson. Oliver answers in so dry a tone; “discussion section: page three. Sir.”

“So I read.” Oliver returns his attention to his robots, still attentive to the good doctor’s words; “you sound irritated- both in the paper and at present.”

It is proper to smile and shake his head, to set the doctor’s concerns to rest. He fails this task, and in the same dry tone; “I’m not. I have concerns that this research is dated at best.”

“Then you are-.”

Interrupting, and how uncharacteristic that was- “I don’t have the time to be emotional, in any event.” The professor seemed off-put by that. Indeed, it was rude of Oliver to interrupt; he makes note of that, and fails to realize that describing himself as necessarily emotionless might instead be the reason for the doctor’s discomfort. Even the good Doctor Octavius had room to be emotional when good or ill fortune struck.

There was a pause, a little too long, before the doctor spoke- he’d turned back only to give a half-question; “I trust that you can be left alone in the lab, Oliver?”

“Yes, Dr. Octavius.” Really, this was such a dumb question. Could Oliver be trusted? Of course not; every faculty member would agree, if they only knew the contents of his mind. Which made it a rather good thing, how very skilled in keeping his thoughts under lock and key he was. Not with his friends of course. With friends you were expected to share a certain amount of information, and in turn they shared meaningless data points that helped one curry good favor if one kept it all in mind. What a fun game that was, sifting through all that data and hoping you came across anything of interest.

Ah. And he was alone. The professor had left without him noticing.

“And if I am consumed by the plague I now set loose upon the earth, thus was my fate since the moment I was born; not God nor Man could stop me or my creations; Pandora, I call upon thee.” He was alone, could he not be dramatic? The box was opened, and the robots did... Absolutely nothing.

Oh good, they hadn’t developed sentience while he acted out his drama.

A scalpel he’d pilfered from his sibling on a recent trip home; it was perhaps not the cleanest, but it would serve to sever, given he’d sharpened it against bricks and stones when he’d had a moment to do so. The only issue now was to shut down his self-preservation instincts, which barely allowed a scratch to be made against himself. But not seeing the place he would cut made easier the act, and he cut into the skin that made up the hair line just behind and below his right ear.

The incision was easier than he’d expected, perhaps because it was so much closer to his dreams’ completion than anything else had been before. He pretends to be surprised by the blood, but to what end? No one is around.

He starts his computer up, watches the robots come to life, and opens up the file “Concept_Phase.chk”. Checkpoint reached, your game will now auto-save, he hums; for the first time he feels the striking chill of fear. He thinks perhaps it is the first time in his life, but knows instinctively this cannot be the case. Either way, one error at this point would be so much more devastating.

They were crawling into that bloodied cut now. He should have worn a different shirt, but at least the black on this one might spare the rest from carrying a stain. They were a horrible itching sensation in his skin- he forces his hand stationary, to meddle now is more threatening. It is most threatening; he does not understand the limits of the human body, but he does understand the delicacy of the brain.

And they are in his brain.

That is the most terrifying part of it all, and he suppresses the urge to vomit. Brains are such delicate things and he has put so many bits of metal into his. He suppresses the urge to stand and run from this horrible thing that he has done. He stays stock still, and feels fear in every muscle and every nerve ending of his body.

And they are in his brain.

He woke up, cold, and pushed himself off the floor. Linoleum or plastic tile- didn’t matter, it was cold. He almost felt annoyance- hadn’t he been doing something? It was awfully uncharacteristic of him to sleep in the lab. The computer lab, maybe, but this wasn’t that.

Oh fuck the robots and the cut- he grasps at his neck, drawing his hand away with the full expectation to pull away half-scabbed gunk, or blood still running. Nothing. He sighed. Maybe it was another dream- maybe he was still dreaming. Dreaming of being something worthy of pride and love, instead of the falsehood he’d built himself into. Of being a worthwhile investment on the part of his parents and friends. Of being something better than this, whatever this was.

Log onto his computer- and how very strange! He’d never run the checkpoint file before, if it was a dream, so why was there a .log version now? It was suddenly beginning to feel very much not like a dream. Uneasiness, like so many maggots in his stomach, seemed to eat at him. He reached up and closed the box that had once been the house of his pride, and scanned over the .log file.

Program terminated successfully.

Oh thank the gods and devils both. It was successful.

But they were in his brain, now. Theoretically, he should be able to interact with them, if all had gone according to plan. He tried not to think about how unsanitary last night’s actions were, or rather to think about that instead of the presence of so much non-biological material now swarming around in his skull. He could feel the crawling- the sensation of parasites under his skin, but how much of that was simply psychological? He couldn’t say.

“Not nearly enough time to run any sort of experiment on them,” he sighed; class would begin soon. Sure, he was already in the building, but still. “How disappointing. How many are left in there?” He finally bothered to stand up and check the box; maybe if he… tried to input commands to those ones? There were still plenty in there; doesn’t take that much metal to make a computer chip inside one’s head then.

They stirred, sluggish and confused. They had never moved of their own accord before... Responsive? Again, move again- and they did. They swayed with little ripples, ocean waves almost.

Link to human minds- [Y].

[sarah--goff]

Their Dark Materials: Chapter Two; Nevermore

Also available on A03 under Sarah_Goff works

notes: The name 'Sloane' is said as 'Slow-n', ('Ferris Bueller's Day Off' fans will probably recognise this name !)

Enjoy :)

Chapter Two:

The sun on your face wakes you groggily, by some miracle you didn’t oversleep.

You roll over in your bed, sleepy eyes landing on the bird staring at you from its nest.

“Good morning, bird” you say through a yawn, hand under your head.

At your vanity table, you kiss the noir Polaroid of your parents stuck to your mirror, the last one taken a few weeks before they died in a fatal car crash. You’ve lived with your only remaining family- your mother’s sister and her husband- since then. Living in the little room in the large house, in a dreary town.

It’s not that you didn’t get along with your aunt and uncle exactly, it’s just they never seemed to have time for you. You didn’t care so much now, you’d grown used to the deflecting affection. Brian and Kari weren’t terrible people, they just didn’t want kids- it wasn’t their fault they got you, but it wasn’t yours either.

You lived together and that’s as far as your relationship went. They weren’t your parents, nobody could replace them.

You planned to move out later this year after your birthday. You could access the savings your parents left you then. Where to you didn’t know. You probably wouldn’t go to university. Your family wouldn’t be much support anyway.

Dressing, you noticed smugly that the berries and seeds in the dish were gone. Not even crumbs were left.

It was still chilly outside after last night, so you don’t think twice about pulling on your thick scarf with your brown leather jacket.

You look over yourself in the mirror satisfied. You loved this jacket with all your heart, it had belonged to your father and still smelt of him even after all these years.

You re-fill the empty dish again with the seed mix and open the window enough to let air in but not enough for the raven to wander out.

On your way out of the room, you linger at your bedroom door hesitantly, looking at the raven sitting by your bed. Wondering where you’re going.

“Be back around 3, okay” You promise, slinging your rucksack on your back. You feel a little guilty that you were leaving it trapped in your little cell of a room.

You remind yourself that no matter what you can’t let it loose in the house, if either Kari or Brian see the bird -they’d make it leave. It was in no state to fend for itself.

You pull the door closed softly and, noticing the grandfather clock in the hallway, speed down the stairs, nearly missing your footing.

In your rush to put your keys in your bag, you drop your Walkman -which you don’t have time to inspect- bounding  out the door.

                                                                                                                            _*_

Your predictions were right, you sleepwalk through the day.

You spend most of it in the library, scribbling down the essay that was due this morning but you were given an extension until tomorrow. Thank god.

The sun stayed rooted in the sky but the air was still frosty.

You couldn’t get the raven out of your mind.

You wish you had just feigned illness and stayed home. All day the bird harassed your thoughts- you just prayed Kari wouldn’t go into your room if she arrived home before you. God what a conversation that would be.

Next door’s cat was notorious for getting into the neighbourhood homes. You hoped the cat wouldn’t be able to squeeze through the gap in the window. The bird wouldn’t stand a chance.

You feel better when you start walking home, your headphones’ flimsy material keeps your ears fairly warm. You were pretty sure your Walkman had busted earlier – the tapes were all chewed up. Your birthday was coming up, you’d just have to wait it out.

You arrive home earlier than usual. You pocket the Walkman as you walk up to the path leading to the house.

You turn the key in the door, pushing it open straining your ears for the sound of shrill shrieking. Nothing.

“Hello?” You call out.

You notice Kari’s bag and keys were on the table in the living room and your stomach sinks.

You race upstairs forgetting the ‘no-shoes-in-the-house’ rule.

“Hello!” you call again huffing under the weight of your rucksack.

Your bedroom door was ajar. You burst in making Kari start.

It was obvious she had been snooping through your things again.

She clearly didn’t trust you, nor will she ever.

Her faux blonde hair ringlets shake as one when she twists her head.

“No need to shout” she places her hands on her hips to gloss over the fact that she’d just been caught red handed prying. “And what’s this again, dirty dishes left here, Sloane; how many times!”.

On the other hand, you felt relieved that she hadn’t taken a blind bit of notice of the raven. Your eyes skirt around her to look at the where your scarves had been, but they had vanished too, along with the bird.

Had it found some way to escape? Surely it couldn’t carry the scarves.  You notice she’d closed the window. So maybe it hadn’t after all? Next door’s cat clearly didn’t get to it -where was it?

“Are you listening!” she broke off your thoughts “And I had to put your clothes back in your draws again, you’re 17 years old and I’m still putting your clothes away!”

So that solves the scarf mystery.

You just smile tightly at her “won’t happen again”.

Putting my clothes away my arse.

She pushes this morning’s discarded cereal bowl into your hands. “You can start apologising when you wash this and the rest up downstairs”.

Kari made her way to the door hair bouncing in time with her step.  

You stood in the centre of your room, trying to look not at all worried if the raven might suddenly spring out on her.

“Sure”

You closed the door behind her with a sigh of relief.

In a low whisper, “Hello?” scanning the room for any movement

You ducked your head to see if it had hopped under your bed and rested there, but then you reminded yourself you were whispering to a bird and straightened yourself up.

Your eyes immediately fell on your beside table where it sat blinking at you. You grinned back, glad it stuck around.

You were sure it hadn’t been there in plain sight a moment ago. Had it been hiding?

“Clever bird!” you cheered.

You use your index finger to feel the silky feathers. In the daylight you can see the layers of black, inky blue and a hint of purple.

It was quite unsettling that it didn’t caw- or whatever ravens did- once. Maybe it couldn’t for some reason. At least it wouldn’t be at risk giving itself away.

“I had classes today” you tell it lazily looking out the window. “That’s why I had to go. I’ll be finished soon though”.

What were you going to do during the break? They’d push you into getting a tidy job so you wouldn’t hang around the house. Or at least Brian would- Kari would make you do housework, even if she clearly didn’t trust you home alone. You sighed.

“My name is Sloane- Sloane Hazel -in case you were wondering” you comically hold out your hand as if to shake with the raven.

The bird blinks at you cocking its head. “It was my parents’ name. I guess I should probably call you something over than ‘bird’ ”.

You sit at your vanity desk. You quickly straightened the bottles of perfume and make- up bits and pieces.

You begin to wipe off your eyeliner in the mirror, looking between you and the bird.

“That woman you just saw snooping around was my aunt. My uncle isn’t home yet. My parents are dead -so I live here. With them”.

The daylight melted away at the overcast sky, it had started to drizzle softly, the kind of rain that made your hair frizzy.

You pause the wiping to pluck the polaroid of your parents “that’s them” you swivel in the chair to show it to the bird. “It’s okay, I got eight golden years with them, that’s more than some”.

You pull out your wooden draws with a thunk and retrieve the scarves, rearranging them again to make a nest. The raven hopped inside, obviously glad to be warm at last in this dismal cold room it had been subjected to.

“my dad was an actor like my mum. I preform in plays sometimes -maybe I’ll follow in their footsteps, I haven’t decided yet-” You showed the bird your prize camera, remembering the film was nearly all used up “I’m okay at drawing, so I could do graphics or something but photography is my real passion-”.  

You babble on, unable to stop yourself. The raven nestled in the wool- probably asleep. You fill it in on useless details about yourself, as if it would understand anyway. You told it about your friends, the stuff you got up, to what your college was like, the places you wanted to travel, the books you’d read.

You crouch one hand resting on your thigh, in front of the bird who had its eyes closed. Rude bird.

You softened your voice.

“I’m going to call you, Never. Like ‘Nevermore’, right?”

You suddenly burst out with a bubble of laughter at the daft situation and rattled the bird to opening its eyes.

“Not that I’d expect you to understand, but it’s from a poem this guy wrote about a bird like you. He was a bit mad, but then maybe I am too talking to you”

You repeat the word under your breath, glancing at the bird who gave you the impression it was bored.

“Never” you murmur over and over.

Maybe not.

“Nevermore... Ooh what about More, like as in ‘Moore’, that’s a real name at least. It kind of suits you”.

It didn’t protest. “Moore it is”.

“Sloane! Why can I still see dishes?” Kari called from the bottom of the stairs. “what did I say about shoes in the house!” she sounded irritated.

You roll your eyes.

                                        _____*_____

“Hey, Moore, look what I found!” You called out to the raven, who was probably either sleeping or peering out by the window. It often did that nowadays.

The bird seemed to be improving but you couldn’t tell medically, it just seemed- Chirpier? You smiled at your own wit. A true comical genius.

You place your rucksack down with a thud. You’d found some real bird food at the pet store. They’d given you a funny look when you asked theoretically what a raven would eat but they told you anyway.

You pull out the shopping bag you’d hidden inside your rucksack.

The bird was nowhere to be seen. You remember the open window- to give the raven a bit of freedom- and your heart sank. Would it leave already?

‘Caaar’ Came the sound of a squawk behind you. You jump, nearly stepping on the bird.

Your eyes light up “did you just make a noise?!” this was good sign that it will healing.

You closed the window again, not wanting to draw the attention of any cats that might be around.

“Where did you come from anyway?” .

You hold out your arm for it to hope on, since it was apparent that flying was still proving difficult. Moore obliged and when you drew yourself back up you noticed it had something wide and shiny in its beak.

“What’s this? Can I see?” You tested your fingertips near its beak to hold the shiny thing for closer inspection. It dropped it in your palm.

In your hand, you it was a silver bangle with a large glittery blue stone with gold specks in the heart of it. It looked incredibly expensive. It felt weighty. How on earth had the raven managed to carry this!

“Wow, did you rob a jeweller or something?” you turned the item over in your hands and hold it this way and that in the light.

“Here” you placed it in the scarf nest. You never thought ravens would be attracted to shiny objects like magpies were. Learn something new every-day.

It made an effort to shove the item out of the nest- to get comfortable? You put in by the nest again where it pushed the bangle away with its beak. You tried again, not understanding what it was doing. They wanted the treasures by them didn’t they?

You stood in front of Moore puzzled. The bird pushed it in your direction, scraping the bangle across the wood, and when you moved to stand at the other end of the desk, it pushed it towards you again. “Wait” you said, realisation dawning on you.

“Is this, for me?” you said in an awed whisper slowly picking up the weighty piece. No way. The bird didn’t squawk or try to snatch it back so you assumed you were right.

“thank you! This is so cool! I should have started saving birds earlier” you joked slipping on the beautiful piece admiringly. It fitted well on your wrist. The blue in the stone looked to be a black opal of some kind. You wondered if the bangle itself was real silver. You felt a little guilty for the person who had obviously lost this stunning piece.

You cradle the bird “I love it” you say to Moore, feeling along its’ soft wings with the tips of your fingers.

Kari shouts you for dinner.

“Be back soon” You wave at Moore. “Oh wait!”

You forgot the bangle and slipped it off stuffing under your mattress. They’d get suspicious if they saw something as grand as that on your wrist.

“Bye!” you called over your shoulder.

Kari held out the plates for you to place on the table “Who were you talking to just then?” she said eyes narrowed.

Great.

She probably thought you had a secret boyfriend or something. Now she’d definitely snoop through your things, why did she have to be so paranoid.

You mentally reminded yourself to take extra care in hiding your stuff. The bangle for one.

“I was rehearsing lines for a new play” you shrugged, accepting the plate.

It wasn’t entirely a lie, the large theatre in town hosted an annual Christmas production, each year they chose a fairy-tale. You’d decided to go for it this year. You’d auditioned for the role of ‘Cinderella’- and got it.

“You can come along when its out, if you want” you looked between them, “both of you” you weren’t expecting her to say ‘yes’ but you felt a little pang in your stomach when she looked uncomfortable.

“We’ll…see if we can get the time off” she said uneasily.

So that was a ‘no’ then, not that it mattered. They could never seem to “get the time off”. She could at least lie better.

You switched to thinking how proud your parents would be if they knew you’d got the leading role and you felt partly better.

You placed Brian’s plate carefully in front of him indicating it was ready to which he replied with a stern wave of dismissal since he was on the phone.You took your own seat.  Kari informed you that you were running low on bread and juice and that you’d have to go to the corner store before it closed.

“My feet are killing me. I’ve bee-“

You drown her out, sighing internally, prodding the food with your fork, drawing back into reality away from your fantasies.

                                                    _*_

It happened so often you were running out of places to hide them.

You had more rings, earrings, bracelets and bangles of all materials than the Queen of England herself you were sure. The bird never ceased to amaze you.

You wore each piece bit by bit so nobody would suspect.

You tried not to think about where the bird was finding such pieces, the poor devastated people that would miss them.

“I love it all,” you confirmed to the bird with a grateful smile, tucking away today’s topaz necklace in your bag.

“But would you mind if I kept my earrings in? They were the last birthday gift from my parents. I never remove them” you smiled sadly. You ruffled Moore’s head much to its irritation, “maybe you can snatch me a Walkman for my birthday instead”.

You hid it all in your schoolbag so that Kari wouldn’t find it when you were away from the house. The holidays were fast approaching.

You had caught a glimpse of Moore flying last night. It had already been here too long you couldn’t make it stay much longer. You bit your lip uneasily, observing the bird hop experimentally from your furniture pieces in your room.

                                                                                                                   _*_

“We’re having Chinese in town” Kari announced suddenly.

You were leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Oh nice” you smiled at the unexpected plans, ignoring the pile of dishes that glared at you from the sink. Still, at last you were going out with your aunt and uncle.

See? They’re trying. Your head said.

You looked down, pulling at your casual clothing.

“Which restaurant?” maybe a dressy night was what you needed.

Nothing too over the top, a nice dress , hair up, could you get away with wearing the necklace Moore had brought you?

Kari tensed up not looking you in the eye.

“Actually, Sloane, I was wondering if you would stay home this time, you know I don’t like the house left empty…Brian and I haven’t had much time together recently. He’s been very stressed at work”

She turned her back on you to busy herself making some obnoxious soup she’d found in a cookbook and you said nothing.

‘This time’? What did she mean, you never when out together.

The rotten woman! ‘Leave the house empty’? what in the hell kind of excuse was that? It was all rubbish just to make sure they could have another evening without you.

You want to stamp your foot at that exact moment.  

You muster up the courage not to tell her to get fucked and that Chinese food made you nauseous anyway not that she’d know because she never asks. They never ask.

You look at Brian for help, but he was watching TV, not that he would ever defend you over his wife of course.

“Fine” you clomp up the stairs.

“Don’t stomp. The neighbours!” she half- yelled from below.

You close the door firmly behind you.

You threw yourself on the bed, startling Moore. The bird fluttered over to perch in front of you on the bed.

You laid on your front “It’s not fair” you complained to the raven “It’s like they don’t even want to be seen with me! Imagine! Their own niece!”.

The bird cocked its head and bent its head down for you to stroke absentmindedly. It was like it understood what you were saying, or at least what you were feeling.

The softness of the feathers calmed your bubbling anger immediately. You rested your head on the bed, level with the bird.

You lowered your tone.

“Sometimes I think it’s easier to talk to you than to some of the people I know. Like you’re my oldest friend or something. Funny, huh?”

You turn your head sideways so you can stare out the window.

“You’re lucky though, you have wings, when you’re better you can go anywhere. Where am I going? I’m going to be stuck forever. In this dismal town…” you trail off with a tear pricking in your eye at the reality of it all.

It was true. People rarely left the town,  people married their high school sweethearts and settled down, everyone knew everyone etc. It was an awful fate- one you would do anything to escape.

You play with the bangle Moore had brought you, reminding yourself how pretty it was. You felt sorry for the poor person that lost it.

“Sometimes I wish somebody would take me away” you flickered your gaze to look directly into the bird’s eyes “know what I mean?”.

__*___ You were barely listening to Kari listing all the things she expected done when they arrived home “sometime before eleven”.

“No mess, young lady” she warned. Who does she think she is? You bit your tongue.

You watched them leave and the door swing closed firmly behind them.

Head resting on your hand, you listened to the sound of the car pulling away and driving up the street. Enjoy the food.

You felt exhausted from today, you hadn’t been sleeping well lately.

Instead on starting on the chores you were supposed to do, you wearily climbed the stairs to your room where you flopped on your bed, grateful to shut your eyes. You lulled into sleep ebbing away from reality.

…

When you opened your eyes groggily, the taste of a dream you had were still imprinted on your mind. That dream. But you couldn’t remember it properly. Only fragments. None of it made sense to you. A blue coat, a mask and laughter. Lots of laughter. Everything was white.  

You shifted to lie on your side rather than flat on your back as you had been.

Your foot nudged against something rectangular.

You sat up flicking on the bedside lamp to see what it was. You shielded your eyes from the brightness of the lamp.

A book?

You pick it up, red and thin with only a gold title on it that you struggled to read in the cursive writing. The Labyrinth.

“The Labyrinth?” You murmur turning it over in your hands.

No author or blurb, you were sure this wasn’t yours.

You opened it, flicking through the pages, some had illustrations, you skimmed it lazily in your sleepy state, not reading it properly.

“Was this you again?” you hold up the book to Moore who was standing upright completely, no longer shifting its weight from claw to claw.

“First my taste in jewellery is bad but now you want to impose on my literature?” you said in mock-annoyance.

It was always a mystery how the bird managed to get these items to and from the house. It had grown back its strength sure but to carry items like these were impressive.

“I guess you’re a book thief now too, huh”

You stared at it . It felt incredibly alluring like a magnet pulling you in. The gold lettering glimmered in the lamp light. Labyrinth. The word swept away everything else you had clogging up your mind. All that mattered was this book and reading this book and-

Another yawn hit you like a wave. You couldn’t possibly read any now.

You put the curious book in your nightstand drawer and flick off the light again.

“Thanks, Moore” you mumbled putting your head in the pillow.

[feverwritingandtextposts]

Summary:

All the cool monsters make it to the front page of City S Newspaper. And Garou's going to join them, even if he has to kidnap a reporter to do it.

Look man I saw this funny AU post and i HAD to write this i was possessed. 

As usual you can follow the link to read it or read it under the cut below. 

"And so that's why i skipped the math class in my 7th grade- hey. Hey. Are you listening?"

Badd turned his head up to the voice, groggy and tired. He gave a non-committal grunt in response. The man clucked his tongue in annoyance.

"Hm. You're not writing anything down so-"

Badd raised an eyebrow at that, glaring down the man in front of him. Tall, imposing, with the most hideous hairstyle Badd's ever seen, the man loomed overhead, paused in his pacing to stare down at him.

"How the fuck am i supposed to write anything when my FUCKING HANDS ARE TIED?" Badd bellowed, fully sick and tired of this nonsense.

Personally, Badd had no clue why this bastard chose to kidnap him out of all the reporters out there. He's just self aware enough to know that he's not exactly the easiest person to get along with in general. If this dude really wanted the world to 'understand his monster aesthetic and goals through the newspaper' he'd probably get better cooperation from some mousy bumbling reporter that he can, actually, successfully intimidate.

Maybe Badd looked like an easy target because he'd been passed out after drinking with a interviewee. In his defense, the office promised to pay, and Badd was never one to turn down some day drinking.

Damn, what even happened to that guy... Did this fucker kill him when Badd got kidnapped?

The man, Garou or Gatou or Geko something like that, narrowed his eyes at him. It looked like he'd wanted to seem contemptuous and intimidating, but Badd thought it made him just look pouty, like an ill tempered child.

That dude's probably fine.

"You could've just said so then," the man snapped, reaching over.

Badd jerked back from him, the movement teethering him dangerously on the flimsy chair he was tied against.

"Ey ey, hands off bastard. This coat's Gucci and i dunno where your damn hands have been," Badd hissed.

Clearly offended, the man drew back, lips pulling back to show a sharp array of teeth. "I wash my hands you little shit."

"That's what all the crooks say."

The man looked stunned for a moment, face still stuck in that half angry half incredulous grimace, as if shocked that Badd was just being so deliberately uncooperative, when he'd gone to all this trouble of holding him hostage. Held aloft in front of him, the man's hands balled up into fists.

Briefly, Badd wondered if he was finally going to get punched.

Badd was kinda looking forward to it. Its been a while since he got punched anyway.

But instead, the man seemed to reign himself in, folding his arms and drawing up to his fullest height, lips drawn in a sneer.

"Your coat's ugly anyway. Gucci? You wasted your money on that crap."

Wow really? He's really gonna get his fashion sense roasted by a man in ratty joggers and old people slippers.

"Fuck you," Badd snarled venomously.

Gatou (no Gakou.. Garou?) raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned.

"Are you mad? Over that?"

Badd struggled against his bindings, the chair screeching against the concrete as he moved.

"Seriously?"asked the man. "You weren't even that mad when you woke up tied to the chair."

Badd paused in his attempts to rip off the thick ropes to shoot the man a scathing look.

"Like hell I'm gonna listen to you insult MY coat when you're in those disgusting pants."

Now looking absolutely confused, the taller man looked down at his faded grey joggers.

"What's wrong with my pants? They're great for movement and kicking." As if to demonstrate that point, or intimidate Badd, he started kicking the air, each kick higher than before, the shock-wave blowing wind and dust into Badd's face.

Man, Badd hated guys like him. Just because they're hot they think they can care fuck all about fashion and still look good.

In this guy's case he'd be right but Badd's never gonna admit that.

Badd was about to tell him exactly where he could stick his ugly pants before the man slammed his foot down, loud and annoying.

"Wait, forget that, I still need you to continue writing that article. Where did I stop?"

Damnit, Badd was hoping he'd have forgotten that by now.

The man propped his chin against his fist, deep in thought.

Maybe if Badd was lucky he'd realise he'd told Badd every fucking insignificant detail about his (admittedly kinda sad) life story and let him go.

The man slammed his fist into his open palm in realisation. "I can't remember, so lets just take it from the start again!"

This man was going to give him a fucking aneurysm.

"What the HELL man! C'mon dude lay off it," Badd whined, writhing on the chair in annoyance.

"Maybe I'll be done faster if your sorry ass doesn't keep INTERRUPTING me," Garou snarled back, resuming his pacing as he prepared to re-recount his shitty life story.

The afternoon light that streamed through the high broken windows was starting to dim, casting long shadows across the abandoned warehouse they were in. The day was beginning to end. Zenko's going to be out of cram school soon, and she'd be waiting for him to pick her up.

It was starting to get colder too, Badd could see the puffs of air coming from his breath. Did Zenko bring her scarf?

"Hey man aren't you done yet? I gotta go soon, I need to pick my lil sis up," Badd called out to the slouching man, who had skulked a way off ahead, ranting about why elementary school kids have the propensity for cruelty.

Pausing in his tirade, he stalked back over.

"Fuck are you talking about? You're literally tied to a chair."

"Yeah I KNOW. That's why I'm asking if you're done, I need to go pick my sis up."

Shaggy white hair bouncing, Garou shook his head firmly. "What, no you can't just leave. I KIDNAPPED you."

"Yeah, I noticed. And how long are you gonna keep me here then? The fucking sun's already going down."

"Its only been three and a half hours," protested Garou, his thin face settling into its permanent scowl. "How are you going to write a good article about me if you don't know my entire backstory?"

Badd groaned loudly, head tilting back in exasperation. In front of him, the man didn't move, sharp golden eyes boring into Badd.

"If you be a good boy and listen, this will go by a lot faster, and you can be out to write that article and pick up your sister or whatever. Or, I could keep you here with me for much MUCH longer."

"Ugh..." Badd rolled his eyes at the obvious warning to behave. Really, did he LOOK like the type to just buckle down and keep quiet? After realising that Garou was still standing there, eyes alert and anticipating a response, he gave a resigned sigh.

"ALRIGHT, fucking hell, FINE," snapped Badd, a little too loudly, but the bastard smiled at that, lips pulling into a smarmy smirk that would have been ridiculously hot if Badd wasn't so ready punch him.

He really hoped Zenko brought her scarf. This was gonna take a while.

Luckily for the both of them, Badd was an expert in the sacred art of pretending to pay attention. Eyes glassy, he watched the man pace up and down, ever so often making a grunt or hum of agreement to whatever was being said.

Those pants Garou was wearing really DO look great for movement. They clung perfectly to that tight ass. Speaking of, now that Badd really got a look at him, this guy was toned to hell. He mentioned being 'the world's best martial artist' or something, but damn. That turtleneck he was wearing looked like it was on its last breath of life clinging to those muscles. Dude's lucky he's nice to look at because Badd'll be bored to death otherwise.

Night had fully fallen by the time the white haired man decided to pause for breath.

Badd hasn't been in the reporting biz long enough to be considered an expert, but he doubts that he really needed THAT much info from the guy to write an article on him. Usually, articles about villains are pretty short anyway.

Stuff like "Wanted: this bastard! Contact the Association if you have information" or "See this man? Better mind your own business and find somewhere to hide!". Short, sweet, to the point. Just what criminal warning articles are supposed to be. Where the hell was his supposed to insert the entire part about this loser getting beat up in elementary school? Badd's not a damn literary expert. He only got the job because of how hardy he was, and how dangerous journalist jobs can end up.

Maybe he can ask one of the interns to help him write it...

"Do you have all of that?" asked Garou (Badd's sure now, the fucker talked about himself as 'Garou the Human Monster' at least 11 times).

Badd nodded quickly, hoping to god that he was done talking about himself. Garou, perhaps having believed Badd's performance, perhaps simply needing a space to talk about... all that... seemed absurdly happy.

"Okay! You better write a good article!" Garou ordered, exuberant smile lighting up his usually swarthy face, making it look kinder and sweeter. Like how he might have been if he hadn't been weighed down by all that spite.

Huh, Badd thought, he was actually kinda cute.

"Right, don't move."

Never mind, scratch that.

Badd last remembers a throbbing pain on the back of his neck, as if someone had smacked him, and wakes up alone at a bus stop.

"Human Monster Gatou on the loose," read out Taero, swinging his legs on the park bench. Beside him, the white haired man peeled an eye open from where he sat slouched back on the bench, head propped up on the back.

"Whazzat? Kid, you're old enough to read properly right? Pronounce people's names right."

"Huh, but Uncle, that's what it says." Reaching over, Taero pushes the newspaper right into Garou's face for him to read it himself.

Golden eyes scanning the headline, Taero barely had time to sit back down before Garou shot up from the bench, snatching the newspaper out of his hand in the process. Wordlessly Garou stood there, newspaper crumpled in his grip, eyes boring into the page.

Taero knew that this Uncle was pretty prone to sudden and confusing mood shifts, but even for him this was kinda weird.

"It's pretty scary isn't Uncle? We should be careful," Taero says tentatively, peering at him from the safety of the bench.

"That's right. Real scary," muttered Garou, face absolutely murderous.

He can't believe that fucking reporter spelled his name wrong.

He's gonna kill him.