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erinwantstowrite · 3 months ago

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i feel like if you released a 24 hour + video of you talking about your plans for your original book i would sit and watch all of that with no breaks. so: would you be willing to share at least the bare bones of the plot you have now? or even some tropes that would be in it? or maybe random questions like how many main characters? how many povs? if it's sci-fi or fantasy? just stuff like that!

ahhhh!! i'd love to talk about them because they're constantly rotating in my brain!! i hope this doesn't get too long but we all know me, i can never stop yapping 😭

(okay this is present erin editing before posting and yeah this got long guess who called it. anyways there's art and stuff under the cut as well)

(Marked this as mature with violence only because there is an image below where I drew injuries/cuts on a character)

This book has been a thousand different books in all kinds of settings, plots, lessons, etc, and that's because I've had these characters since I was in middle school. At first I was so obsessed with them that I'd write and draw them all the time, to the point that my teachers were concerned I wasn't paying attention. I was seriously into magic and fantasy at the time because Harry Potter books were still the epitome of writing to my middle school brain. Ruby was a wizard with a bird theme that lived in the countryside and one day found out that her town was "alive" in a sense... But after I lost that sketchbook with all of the details (devastated to this day), and started venturing into other books series and shows, etc, I sort of forgot about the og story or what it was like. What remained was a love for the characters I had made over anything else about them, so I'd end up writing stories with a different theme each time, but the ocs being the same, just with their backgrounds shifted. (Around the time I was obsessed with VLD, Ruby was in a sci-fi plot set on a planet in another solar system.)

One of the most recent iterations was Ruby and the other characters essentially struggling to understand death, life, and everything in between. The story is called "Behind the Blue Glass" and I still really like that title lol. All of them had died on the same day, at the same time, just in various different ways, and then all of them came back to life in the same manner. They all developed different powers from the experience: Liam could float/manipulate gravity), August's body was essentially a phantom that could go through objects and disappear, Vin could possess people, Jean had an empathy link with the dead and could talk to and see them clearly, and Maya could figure out someone's cause of death/also tell when people were about to die. As for Ruby, she's the only one who can move freely between the land of the living and the land of the dead. It's different from Jean seeing the dead, as she's still in the land of the living.

The plot of that story was Ruby having dreams/visions of these other people she had never met before and knowing she needed to find them and set "something" right, but she didn't know what. She sets out to find them anyways, and they each join her on her quest to find everyone simply because they never got an answer to how they came back from the dead and find it weird that they all died on the same day and time. They solve deaths of ghosts they come across, meet people who are still grieving lost ones, have to lay some of the ghosts down to rest- all while figuring out why these shady people have started following them and trying to stop them from figuring out what happened to them. I even made some first draft titles (definitely, 10000% inspired by PJO because I was reading it at the time):

to top it all off, it's set in the 2010's I believe? Around that time. Just because I think more books should write about the time era

I have some (recentish) art of the characters:

first image: (Liam on the right, August on the left)

this is what Ruby looked like when I was first designing them for the story:

They're meant to look dead-ish but this art was SO long ago when I wasn't confident in my art so Ruby just looks like a wet rat or smth idk what is going on here

And here's Vin!! I don't hate this drawing of him that much, surprisingly, but this was also drawn a while ago

and this was some art i was planning at the time:

i think that's all of the art that i have for this story (at least on this computer. My old laptop might have more but it's been laid to rest)

to be honest, i'm still thinking about writing this story, but Ruby's name would be changed because at this point, this iteration of her character is VERY different from present day. She's two different characters at this point 💀 that's how you know I've had her for SO long because she looks so different from her original drawings.

The latest version of Ruby ended up in a story with completely different characters in the cast and a completely different setting (even if some of the characters were inspired by their og versions). It's called "The Clocktower's Chime"

It's very much inspired by those reincarnation manhwas. I like those stories but they all have the same plot over and over, and while I was more interested in the versions where the character is sent back in time to live their life again but with all the knowledge they had in the future, I always struggled with the aspect that the characters' mental age is far older than they are. It makes the dynamics a little weird, but they can be excused unless it's a romantic dynamic, I would think? I dunno, it was hard to get into the plots mostly because of that.

So I used Ruby as a placeholder OC and came up with a story where upon their death in the future, someone casts a spell or a god sends them back, and instead of having a mental older age, they get a journal with all of the details of their future. Ruby woke up one day and found a journal written by herself that detailed everything about her future up to the point of her death. It was more like a book, however, rather than a journal. It just looked like a journal because it was in her handwriting.

So Ruby gets this book, doesn't believe it at all, until she notices that there are way too many "coincidences" lining up with the events of the book. She starts believing it could be true, and then decides it must be when she finds out that a prominent family in the country she lives in is going to visit her hometown. In the book, they were there because they learned that Ruby was their daughter that had been kidnapped as a baby and believed dead. However, in the book, Ruby had spent her entire life living as a weapon instead of a daughter, and she died by their hands when she refused to kill a woman that is prophesized to end a war that would devastate both countries.

Ruby is, like, 12 at that point. So her kid brain is like "obviously I run away and go to school in a different country and tell everyone I have a different name and there's no way this could go wrong." Except before she can even do that, she runs into Julias Parlia, a Duke's son from the country that is supposed to be her enemy in the future. Ruby is like "shit this is THE worst adult to run into and I haven't even gotten to the running away part of my plan" and Julias ends up being the reason she doesn't even get to the train station. He's fucking hilarious by the way. He's got a well adjusted family with two loving parents and a bunch of little siblings and he basically picks Ruby up by the scruff of her neck and is like "I want this one she's insane."

This is Julias (kneeling on the ground to talk to Ruby) and Emelie (Julias' knight and childhood friend, she's so silly)

and this is the part where I share art from many months ago... when I posted my most recent art and said Ruby keeps getting buffer every time I draw her, I meant it 💀

Ruby and her love interest, Cecelia

This is Vekenti, a character that was also supposed to be a "villain" in the original timeline. Ruby goes looking for him to prevent his death as well, and Julias obviously is like "Omg another weird kid, how delightful!" Everyone thinks Vikenti and Ruby are related, but they are not. They're just raised as siblings in both timelines and have a lot of the same mannerisms

Julias' love interest (unnamed? I can't find her name anywhere) and him

REALLLY old drawings of what they looked like in the OG timeline (I desperately need to redesign these because I could do better now)

Julias and Ruby again

and that's all the art I have for this one (besides the other post of Ruby I posted today, this is the story that that version of Ruby belongs in. She's looks very different now!).

All of this has been in the back of my mind for a while, and I've been trying to figure out which story I would want to write first. Middle school Erin would love for me to finally write Behind the Blue Glass, but sometimes I find myself wanting to write a fantasy story like Clocktower's Chime a lot more

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writing-for-life · 2 months ago

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He Hears the Sound of Her Wings…

When Death Equals Solace

This meta started out as part of an exploration of Dream’s relationship with his siblings (and what we learn from their very first appearances) that’s been languishing in my drafts for ages. But since we’re discussing “The Sound of Her Wings” in our community at the moment, I just decided to pull these bits up now (maybe also better to write about the siblings individually than in one novel-length meta 🙈). So here goes…

Dream’s relationship to his sister is undoubtedly special. He is closest to her—but what does that actually tell us?

When she shows up for the first time in issue 8 (“The Sound of Her Wings”), we see Dream desolate, seeking purpose beyond his function. And seeking purpose beyond his function is what's at the root of the deep schism between being Morpheus and being Dream (I am fully aware they are one and the same at this point, but bear with me): Morpheus wants something that is real, but Dream is the unreal.

When we read/watch “The Sound of Her Wings”, we tend to focus on that she helps him remember what his function is, and what it means to be what he is. All of that is true. But while she reminds him of what he his, and why, she ignores his deep longing for something else—a personhood, if you will. That's neither a What nor a Why—that's a Who. And I don't blame her, purely because of what she is. Her function already defines something real: Life and death. You can’t get any more real than that. But Dream is the unreal.

And Dream's meeting with his sister in “The Sound of Her Wings” reminds him of his function and purpose, true. But that isn’t solely helpful—it’s also painful. Because his main takeaway, in a nutshell, is actually this (more about that in a sec):

If we remember that the Endless are concepts, it’s is near impossible to read “The Sound of her Wings” as anything other than it is in the narrative arc: Of all the siblings, Dream is closest to Death. There’s meaning in that sentence. He perceives what she has to offer as a gift. He finds solace in her. This is abundantly clear when he recites the following (I’m still sad we didn’t get to hear it in the show to be honest):

Death is before me today: Like the home that a man longs to see, after years spent as a captive.

Recited by Morpheus, who just escaped captivity 😩

And it would be easy to still revert to thinking, “Ah well, she just reminded him of his responsibilities and his purpose, and that he’ll be okay.” But if you look at these panels…

It’s near OOC for Morpheus to say that his responsibilities can wait. But he does it here, and it becomes so clear that there’s another epiphany in there. A solace was found. In Death. Who is his sister but also always, always her function. I personally believe (and people are free to disagree of course) this is the very moment he knows, in his heart of hearts, that his only way out is D/death. And that’s something peaceful for him, not something he is afraid of.

Has he already, perhaps subconsciously, laid a few traps for himself well before that? Yes, for instance in a Midsummer Night's Dream. Has he already learned certain lessons beforehand? Yes, in Dream Hunters. But I believe the difference is that the way out becomes crystal clear to him here, and that from this point onwards, the traps become fully baited, and he can't (or won’t) back out anymore because his sense of responsibility made him paint himself into a corner (consciously or subconsciously—I'd hazard a guess it's all the same to him anyway). And we all know this one…

Even in his last moments, he never forgets about his responsibilities. But the responsibilities he only talked about a few panels before can wait. For once. And it’s very hard to know what a stickler for responsibilities Dream is and not find that significant. We are reading a return to what matters, finding new purpose and hence saying “responsibilities can wait” into these scenes because on the surface, it makes sense. Because we are human. And Dream becomes more human in his outlook as the story progresses (and that’s not without consequence).

Ultimately however, the Endless are concepts, and all dreams ultimately die—either because they are fulfilled, hence stop being unreal, or because they cannot be fulfilled and are either given up on or turn into something else. And all of these messages are central to The Sandman.

Dream loves Death, the darkness lifts from his soul when he is with her, and from this moment onwards, the sound of her wings is the solace he turns to. And that’s both beautiful and heavy…

#the sandman #sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #death of the endless #sandman meta #the sandman comics #the sandman meta #sandman analysis #sandman spoilers #the sound of her wings #the kindly ones #queue

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vivalarevolution · 2 years ago

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𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽-𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓼

Neteyam x Human Reader x Lo’ak

A/N: A little idea I came up with last night while falling asleep. Missing summer, I couldn't resist writing this. I hope you like it , it’s short and sweet. Please remember that english is not my native language, mistakes may occur.

Also, don't be surprised if the reader can kiss etc. without any problem. I think during the time break they had to come up with an alternative to the masks that were worn in the first part.

Sand beneath her feet was pleasantly warm, and the water around her was refreshing. It almost felt like her little heaven, away from any problems and worries. Especially when she had Lo'ak by her side, who faithfully followed her, serving as a porter for all the shells she had decided to start collecting a while ago.

Her small hands from time to time found a place in his large ones, and lips involuntarily met for a fleeting moment, stealing a sweet kisses between the two.

-How many seashells do you need? - the boy asked after a long moment, looking at the girl and how she bent down to search for them.

-Hmm...I honestly have no idea - she confessed, giggling a second later - Guess I just fell into a vortex of searching - she stated, examining her new find, debating whether or not she wanted to keep it.

-As long as I get these kisses, I'll be fine - replied the teenager, crouching down beside her, his tail gliding along her bare leg.

-You'd get them anyway - she pointed out aptly, connecting their foreheads together.

-Then why am I helping you? - he asked playfully, looking at her with adoration in his eyes.

-I'm willing to say it's because you love me - the girl stated, stealing a quick kiss from him - And I can always ask Neteyam. I know he'll be more than happy to help - she added teasingly.

-You wouldn't dare - he replied - These little escapades are only ours.

Y/n couldn't help herself. Laughing loudly, she leaned against the na'vi's torso, her hand clasping his arm for safety. It was always funny to her how Lo'ak was jealous of his own brother who, like him, was also her mate. At first it was hard to come to terms with this kind of relationship but she thought they were over it, apparently she was wrong.

The boy looks at her as if upset, sitting down to make it more comfortable for him to hold the girl in his arms, still, surprisingly, having shells in his palm.

-My sweet Lo'ak, I love you both very much - she whispered into his neck - Please don't be so jealous. I'm not going anywhere.

-I'm not jealous - he muttered like an offended child.

-Oh but you are - she announced - But I like it that way - she added, marking his face with tender kisses that made him close his eyes sighing, giving himself up to a pleasant feeling.

His hands involuntarily slid to her hips, thumbs rubbing her firm skin, trying to pull her as close as possible. He was so addicted to her it was almost sick, but he couldn't help it, loving her attention.

Y/n herself settled her much smaller hands on the nape of his neck, squeezing the blue skin between her fingers again and again, lazily moving to his black hair, which she began to massage, eliciting a soft moan from his mouth.

The moment was sweet, intimate, but it was cut short far too soon.

-What do we have here? - asked an unknown voice, thus interrupting the two.

Lo'ak frowned, and his tail involuntarily tightened on the thigh of the teenager, who moved her mouth away from his skin to look up at the unwanted intruder who was standing above them.

-What do you want? - Y/n asked, much calmer than the boy below her.

-I wanted to know what you two freaks were doing - he said, looking at them with contempt.

-None of your business Ao’nung - girl replied quickly as a draft, getting up from the sand on which she was kneeling.

The boy did not like this answer, it was too ignorant, harsh. He wanted to see anger, frustration.

Touching his fingers to where her tailbone was, he wanted to make her react but seeing this, Lo'ak stood up as if he was burned. Pushing the chief's son hard, hiding Y/n behind him with his free hand, hissing in a warning.

-Don't you dare touch her - he said, holding the girl's body close to him, pointing his finger at Metkayina's member - You'll try again...- he threatened, but a small hand stopped him from further movement.

The teenager stood in front of him, taking the outstretched hand in hers, holding it close to her soft mouth, kissing his knuckles.

-He's not worth it - she announced, not wanting him to get involved in another fight - Let's go, we'll find another place for us - she said, looking firmly at Ao'nung after a while - And you better leave - she added returning to collect seashells that fell from her mate's hand.

Boy covered her again when Ronal's son got too close in his opinion. Staring defiantly at him, almost waiting for an opportunity to knock him out again.

-Your little demon better not touch anything on this beach. We don't want everything to turn to ashes like your home did - he said quietly, only for Lo'ak to hear.

However, despite everything, the girl heard it anyway and closed her eyes. She didn't know what had possessed her, but taking sand into her hand, it was too late to back out.

-You're right - Y/n replied, standing in front of Ao'nung - I'm one of the demons from sky- she confirmed, looking at him hatefully - We are known for many tricks. There's one here. We call it dirty play - she announced before suddenly throwing sand in the na'vi's eyes.

Lo'ak stared contentedly at the view in front of him before the girl tugged at him. Run was the only word he heard before they started to sprint as far as they could while growls and grunts of displeasure could be heard behind them.

The dark haired boy finally caught her around the waist running with her on his shoulder instead of beside her. They were stopped only by Neteyam, who finally returned from the talk with his father, looking for them for several minutes.

-Here you are, I was looking for you two - he informed, and seeing their condition he looked at them more closely, sighing seconds later - What have you done?

Before either of them could answer his question, the chief's son appeared beside them, and this time he was not alone.

-You will pay for this - he growled at the beginning, trying to get to Y/n, which was covered in a split second by the Sully brothers.

Neteyam didn't know what happened in his absence, but nothing justifies anyone to hurt his mate, so without thinking he pushed the boy's shoulder, trying to tower over him, even though they were the same height.

-Back off - he growled in a low tone, just like his brother before, sticking out his finger as if it would stop him.

-Or what? - he asked arrogantly, stepping closer so that they almost bumped their heads.

-Or I do not vouch for myself - he replied in a low tone of voice, and the girl shivered because of that.

Ao'nung and him stared at each other for a moment before the boy raised his hands up, in a silent act showing that he was giving up. But before he left, he looked one last time at Y/n who was tucked under Lo'ak's arm, clinging to him as a last resort, in fact making sure he didn't break free from her grip.

-You can't stay out of trouble, can you? - the eldest sibling asked when they were finally alone.

- It doesn't matter anymore - the teenager replied, letting go of the na'vi's body next to her - Come on I want to look for more shells - she said, not waiting for their reactions and walking ahead.

The boys looked at each other, but neither spoke, obediently following Y/n, who was walking in front of them, now soaking her feet in the water instead of searching as she wanted before.

Only after a few minutes, she stopped, as if noticing something valuable. Bending down, she fingered her little treasure, smiling slightly, then sat on the sand below her, soaking her toes in the crystal clear sea.

-Will you join me? - she asked gently, and in response they sat on her sides, covering her body from the outside world.

-What's up, pretty girl? - Nete asked, stroking her cheekbone.

-Nothing - she said, kissing his cheek and then his lips, missing the feel of his mouth against hers.

Teenager in response pulled her closer, unable to resist her pink lips, sweet scent and the feeling of soft skin under his fingers. Lo'ak quickly clung to her left side as well and began kissing her, trailing down her bare shoulders and neck, causing her to chuckle softly.

Neteyam pulled away from her, happy as her laughter reached his ears and his eyes saw the wide smile that was caused by his younger brother.

Y/n looked at him, her gaze softening involuntarily. Her small hand drew the one that belonged to him kissing his wrist tenderly, and he grabbed hers in response, repeating the act she had done, biting her skin with one of his fangs from time to time.

-I have something for you - she whispered unexpectedly, and the boys stopped doing anything, looking at her expectantly.

She placed her free hand in the handmade pouch in which she had previously hidden the shells she had collected with Lo'ak. Both Jake's sons watched her actions, not noticing how they were getting closer and closer with each passing moment, almost hovering over Y/n.

-What's that? - Neteyam asked, pushing her hair behind her ear to get a better view.

-We were collecting seashells today - his brother explained to him without taking his eyes off the girl.

-These are special seashells... no matter how strange it sounds - she said, carefully rummaging through them for this particular one - Luckily, I found more than one - she added, sticking her hand out in front of her - There would be three but the last one probably stayed where Ao'nung accosted us.

In her hand were two small heart-shaped shells. Both were colored white, in some places decorated with gray or blue aspects.

-Is this what we've been looking for half a day? - Lo'ak asked quietly.

-When I found one, I had to find another - she explained, feeling their structure with her fingertips - I thought I'd give them to you as proof of my love, because even far from our home, our feelings are strong and the sea sees it.

Y/n stared at them with a warm smile, not even noticing as both na'vi's tails started to move, hitting the ground from time to time in excitement. Only when they wrapped around her like ivy did she shift her gaze to them, looking at them with a silent question in her eyes.

-You're too good for us, you know it - Neteyam said adoringly, kissing her forehead.

-Showing love towards someone should not be a duty but something pleasant. And putting smiles on your lips is something that pleases me - she announced, leaning against his chest while Lo'ak rested his head on her thighs.

-We should find this third shell - said the younger of the brothers, grabbing Y/n's hand on which small gifts rested - Then it will be perfect.

-In a minute - the teenager muttered closing her eyes, feeling how Nete's big hand found its place on her stomach and how sun kissed her skin- It's too nice here to go already.

Brothers grunted in approval, focused on Y/n rather than the landscape in front of them.

For a moment it felt like they were the only ones there, and that was the absolute best feeling. Away from problems and troubles or quarrels. At that moment, there were only three of them, just three of them against the world.

#avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x fem!reader #fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #lo'ak #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x fem!reader #neteyam x reader x lo'ak #pandora #na'vi #na'vi x reader #teen romance #avatar the way of water x reader

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sourholland · 2 years ago

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teardrops on my guitar || jack hughes

making the bold choice of writing a fic for every song on debut by taylor swift, i’ll do it sporadically and for different people as well!! once i finish debut, we will see if i’m feeling fearless tv ☺️ ambitious, believe me I KNOW. anyways send requests

this is dedicated to @folklorelvr333 —tomg is her fave song on debut and jack is her fave guy (appreciate this bc i had to learn jack hughes LORE for this)

debut masterlist

Jack had moved to Michigan during his last years of high school to further his career in hockey and to try to secure his spot as a draft pick. When he started playing for the U.S. NTDP, he attended Plymouth-Canton Educational Park when he wasn’t on the rink. There, he met you.

Jack hadn’t ever claimed to be good with girls, not really. He liked you, though. He liked you a lot. He remembered being paired up with you in lab during his first week. He thought he’d made his interest incredibly obvious. That was, if his pink cheeks and clammy hands weren’t a telltale sign of his trying to flirt with you. Mistakenly, he’d realized he’d done just about the exact opposite. He’d made himself out to be a best friend to you, a shoulder to lean on.

It wasn’t like the NTPD staff had really given him the choice of having a girlfriend, they’d actually discouraged it more than anything. He was on an extremely strict schedule, right down to the time he should be in bed every night.

“So you’ve pretty much got it all laid out for you then?” You’d asked him at lunch one day, sitting across from each other and picking at your food.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” He laughed, confused.

“I just mean—I don’t know, you’re seventeen years old, Jack. You’re always here or at the rink. I get it and everything, like you’re going to go pro and stuff. I just wonder sometimes if you ever do anything for you, you know?”

Jack’s lips formed a thin line, inhaling deeply as he thought about your words. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand where you were coming from, it was just all he’d ever really known. His parents had him on the ice before he was two years old. He’s eat, slept, and breathed hockey his entire life.

“I do all this for me,” he finally said. “I want this.”

“Come on,” you huffed, teasingly. “You’re telling me you never think about going out and partying? Or like, I don’t know, having a girlfriend?”

His face flushed almost instantaneously, trying to avert his gaze to anything but you. Of course he though about having a girlfriend. He thought about it every time you’d call him after practice to talk about homework. He thought about it each morning when he pulled up in front of your house and you climbed into his passenger seat, laying your hands on his forearm to tell him whatever girl drama you’d found out the night before.

“No, I guess I don’t really think about it much.”

“Bullshit,” you chided. “If that’s true, do you think you have erectile dysfunction or something? Like a hormonal imbalance?”

“What the fuck?” He laughed, nearly spitting out his Gatorade. “No, I definitely don’t have—”

“You’re blushing!” You cut him off, smiling ear-to-ear.

Jack cherished your time together in school; he rarely had a free moment outside of classes that he wasn’t playing hockey. He always felt horrible declining your offers to hang out, but he genuinely couldn’t find a free moment.

A part of him feels this is to blame for your relationship never progressing further. He thought you’d maybe felt something more than platonic feelings for him at one point, but who wants some guy who is too cool for any school functions and can’t see you on weekends because of practice or tournaments. Although, he’d never been honest with you about his feelings either.

It was only a matter of time before you moved forward with your life, leaving him to wonder what could’ve been.

Jack wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t sting every time you’d bring a new guy up, what might’ve taken the cake was when you’d brought one to a hockey game of his. It was like one of those movie moments, Jack thought at practice the next day. He’d seen you in the stands, face lighting up, only to notice the guy beside you with his arm around you.

He wanted to hate the kid, too. Only then did he realize how jealous he truly was. He was heartbroken over a girl he’d never even dated. How was that even possible, Jack would wonder as he stared up at the ceiling in bed.

He could’ve told you, could’ve been honest about how he felt about you. Who knows what would’ve happened, but at least you’d have known. It was too late, he saw how happy you were and had to match your expression with fake smiles and words of encouragement laced with frustration and envy.

Jack tried not to hate himself for how he’d let the situation play out, but he truly couldn’t.

You’d fall in love, and he’d watch. And there was nothing he could do about it.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x yn #jack hughes fanfiction #jack #hughes #elle’s fics

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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year ago

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Letters From the Sky

[A/N: Bruv I so rarely write angst because I am a weakling and it makes me Big Sad, but this has been floating around in my drafts and I just binge watched a bunch of NCIS episodes that made me cry so 🤲🏽 a ficlet for u, here u go. It's not really the saddest ending so there's that, at least? I hope? I sorry] Pairing: Jethro Gibbs x wife!reader TW: references to funerals/loss, implied character death

__________

Settling down on the couch in your living room, you tuck your knees underneath one of your husband’s old USMC hoodies and create a makeshift table out of your lap. Writing a letter can help you deal with your emotions, help you move on with life, your mother had advised, and so here you were, pen in hand, staring at the blank piece of paper before you. Hi, I love you and I miss you didn’t quite cut it. And were you supposed to keep adding to the letter daily, filling him in on your life? Was time passing differently for him? How long would it be until you heard his voice again? Could you ask your friend for her thoughts, or would your questions bring up too many bad memories? Head growing fuzzy and eyes growing watery from your endless stream of questions with no answers in sight, you opted to just start writing. Foregoing a greeting, figuring your husband would know exactly who this was from, you let out a deep breath and put pen to paper.

Funerals are such a funny thing, aren’t they, Jethro? The many faces from your past and present gathered around to celebrate life, lament loss, and say things aloud that they should’ve said to the person who needed to hear it most.

I miss you more than I could ever put into words. It was so strange being there today without you. How many of those solemn events did we attend together throughout the years? Family, friends, colleagues… Too many to count, and most of them senseless losses.

I don’t know how to keep going without you by my side, but it’s been such a blessing to be surrounded by your loved ones. We’ve been trading so many wonderful memories, stories about your fearless feats, your never-ending pursuit of justice, your stubborn nature, your devotion to those lucky enough to know you. I even met one of your former lovers after the funeral, and honey, let me tell you, we got to gossiping. Turns out you’re a regular Casanova, huh? It’s those steel blue eyes that keep you coming back for more, I swear.

I like to think that, even though we’re physically apart now, you can still hear me. After all, you always did say that about my optimism- “from your mouth to God’s ears, sweetheart”. Do you think, if I yelled loud enough, I could get a message delivered to you?

This big house feels even bigger without you. I guess I can think about it like those cases that would last for days, where I wouldn’t even get a glimpse of you until your perp was behind bars, but we both know it’s not quite the same. At least I can raid your closet without hearing you grumble about your favorite hoodies going missing- silver linings, my darling Jethro. I’m not sure how long they’ll keep smelling like you, but I’m determined not to wash them, just in case… My secret’s safe with you, right?

Speaking of secrets (more like hidden gems), I found a stash of Kelly’s artwork upstairs and I’ve started adding her drawings to the gallery of photos on the walls. I know I made some changes after we got married, but the sheer lack of decor when I moved in still astounds me. You’re such a man, she said lovingly.

Anyway, I think you’ll be pleased to know that

The sound of the front door opening alerts you to your friend’s return, and you hurry to jot down your last few thoughts.

Anyway, I think you’ll be pleased to know that your girls are all together in this big house of yours :) Hopefully, we’ll see you soon.

P.S. Not too soon. I know I call you my old man, but you’re not that old- yet.

Gibbs puts his truck in park on the driveway, returning home after another day added to the list of longest days of his life. He sits in the cab for a few prolonged minutes, trying to muster up the courage to enter your big house that feels even bigger now.

When he finally trudges up the walkway, he pauses with his hand on the doorknob and releases a heavy sigh before pushing the door open. And then, for just a split second, he swears he hears you calling his daughter’s name and her answering giggle overlapping with her mother’s voice.

The moment is fleeting, and no matter how hard he strains, he can’t conjure up the sound again. But the house feels warmer, lighter somehow.

And he smiles.

—————

LJG tags 🖤 @ilovemark1951 @doctorwhofan24

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theboywithburninghands · 7 months ago

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Here goes nothing. Arranged Marriage Funnybunny. Mostly worldbuilding and setup in this one. It was... something to make, that's for sure. Uh don't expect like... Jane Austen, but I went for a more... uh I guess... feel that was more old school? Just imagine a British narrator. Anyway here take it- T/W: Mentions of miscarriages, sexism, fantasy casual racism Primum Peccatum Chapter 1: You Don't Own Me

Primum Peccatum was an island a half-mile off the southeastern coast of Blackshell Bay, New Hirnantia. Inaccessible by any method other than ferry or private boat, Primum Peccatum was known throughout the county as a haven for the wealthy. Though Blackshell Bay was hardly a shantytown, those living in the coastal city often found themselves gazing wistfully or covetously at the island whenever they were on the southeastern beach in summertime or in the fish market near the harbor. Close enough to see, but far enough to never quite touch. Unless they were lucky enough to strike oil, inherit a good amount of money from a wealthy relative, or marry into one of the families already living on the island.

The Shutnyk family had lived on Primum Peccatum for two generations now. Originally a family of woodsmen, Nikolai Shutnyk broke the previously thought impermeable class barrier through, as said before, dumb luck. Nikolai, while living at a lumber mill in Telychia, would often go for long walks in the thick Telychian woods to try and curb his insomnia. While out there, he stumbled upon an as of then undiscovered natural gas reserve, and, under the nose of the logging company, managed to keep it a secret. Nikolai was talented with numbers and knew how to read and write despite his lower-class background, and drafted up a series of documents that he sent to several different gas companies along with some samples. In the documents, he offered to reveal the location of this reserve if he was given 100,000 crowns up front, and 5% of the profits from the reserves.

Although he was initially ignored, one struggling company by the name of East-West Renewable Energy sent an inspector to Nikolai, and they met in secret in the nearby town of Perrault’s End. Nikolai took the inspector out to the woods, and, when it was found to be very much real, the company gave Nikolai his up front payment, and began drilling. Nikolai quit his job at the end of his shift the next day, and moved to Perrault’s End. East-West’s earnings exploded overnight, and even though he had only asked for 5% of the earnings, it was enough to keep him sustained without the need of a job for a good two decades.

Newly wealthy and with a steady income, Nikolai Shutnyk caught the attention of several prominent families in Perrault’s End. He was soon married to the daughter of one Cartofolio Marconi, a magistrate for several industrialists in the much larger neighboring city of Angel’s Peak. Nikolai’s skill with numbers made him a valuable asset to his father-in-law’s corporate clients, and he was given a share of the company’s earnings for his hard work.

Nikolai and his wife, Clara Shutnyk, took the opportunity to purchase some land on Primum Piccatum, and had their manor built there. Nikolai continued his work for his father-in-law, and had a son with Clara, who they named Vladimir. Nikolai continued working until his death from a ruptured spleen when he was 61. Vladimir continued in his father’s stead, looking after his mother at his island manor and eventually finding a wife, the daughter of a surgeon named Amadeo. Her name was Mirella, and together they had a child of their own, a daughter, named Pomni. Her name was unique, taken from the Telychian word for “forget,” after Mirella’s favorite flower, the forget-me-not.

Pomni was the only child of Vladimir and Mirella, not for lack of trying. Mirella had miscarried three times before managing to have an underweight baby girl 4 weeks early. Luckily, her parents had access to high quality care thanks to their standing, and their newly born daughter lived. Pomni grew only somewhat larger in the following 25 years, never reaching any taller than 5 feet.

Had she lived in more modern times, there would be better and more scientific terms to describe the way her mind worked, but her parents and teachers only referred to her as “a bit odd” or “not quite there.” She was intelligent, that couldn’t be denied: she was writing full sentences at six years of age and read ravenously, but her social skills left much to be desired. She had few school friends, rarely speaking at all unless spoken to, and didn’t smile unless she was actually happy.. However, her taciturn nature was never to be mistaken for weakness, and she had an intensely stubborn streak.

When she was nine years old, a young lady in her class named Fredericka and her sycophants, seeing Pomni’s diminutive stature and hearing her unusual name, surrounded her desk one Monday before their lessons. Pomni looked up from her collection of Telychian short stories when the girls called her all manner of things, most of them pejoratives they’d overheard from their nationalist relatives.

Pomni looked back down at her book, her face placid. Fredericka, confused and angry that her usual routine appeared ineffective on the quiet young lady, turned back to her friends.

“She’s not just ugly, she’s deaf!” she declared.

Her laugh became a shriek as Pomni lunged for Fredericka’s arm, burying her sharp little teeth into the taller girl’s hand. Blood oozed from the punctured skin between her thumb and index finger and onto the polished hardwood floor.

Despite the headmistress’s best efforts, Pomni couldn’t be made to apologize. Vladimir had to be summoned to her school, but even her father couldn’t persuade Pomni to apologize to her classmate. She said this to Vladimir.

“She isn’t sorry, Papa. So neither am I.”

Pomni was forbidden from the manor’s library for a month for her churlish behavior, but privately, Vladimir was impressed. His own father would never have obtained his fortune without steely resolve. Had he followed the herd, the lumber company would have sold that natural gas reserve to line the pockets of the already wealthy board of directors, and Nikolai wouldn’t have seen a single crown.

Pomni’s classmates wisely decided to leave her alone after this incident, keeping their insults well out of earshot. Pomni graduated near the top of her class with excellent marks, a sure sign she would make a fine schoolteacher or court stenographer. Indeed, she inherited her father’s skill with numbers and attention to detail, and even began assisting her father with the heaps of paperwork from some of his weightier cases.

Mirella loved her daughter as any mother should, and just like most mothers, she worried about her quite often. Oddness aside, Pomni had almost no interest in finding a husband. A little independence was important for any young lady, it was the sign of a healthy brain, which Pomni certainly possessed. But whenever Mirella asked her daughter if she saw any young gentlemen that caught her eye when she was across the reach running errands for the family, or in the library or the city park, her answers were unsatisfactory.

“Oh yes, I did see a man with two different colored eyes. One blue, one brown. I believe the term is ‘heterochromia,’ did you know that, mother?”

“I saw a man who had lost an arm. I suppose he must have been a soldier, or perhaps a mill worker. It’s just terrible that someone’s livelihood can cost someone a limb, don’t you, mother?”

Mirella worried. Pomni was a pretty little thing. She had her father’s snowy fair skin and her own raven black hair, cut into a short little bob. When she smiled, which wasn’t often, it was illuminating. But she was 25, and that beauty wouldn’t last. In New Hirnantia, it was agreed that if a woman wasn’t married by age 30, she was destined for spinsterhood. Just five years… If Pomni wanted to carry on her family’s legacy, she needed to find a husband. She was their sole heir. Mirella couldn’t put herself through another miscarriage… and with her own advancing age, a failed pregnancy was all the more likely.

There were many young men around Blackshell Bay that would have suited Pomni perfectly well had she just given them the time of day. University professors, magistrates, authors and poets… men who held the same appreciation for learning and the arts that Mirella’s daughter did. And they were steadily decreasing in number as other women Pomni’s age, some younger, took them to be their husbands.

She confided in her husband one Spring evening before bed, collapsing into tears as her worries burst out like water from a crumbling dam. Vladimir held his wife and listened to her woes, stroking her hair and letting the torrent run its course. By the time Mirella’s sobs had waned into hiccups, Vladimir smiled at her.

“Darling, I’m so terribly sorry you’ve kept all of this inside. The pain must have been monumental. And yes, I too have worried that our daughter may carry the family name to her grave. But, you needn’t worry any longer, lisichka. I believe a solution is within reach. I simply have to write a few letters. Our daughter will be happily wed by her 26th birthday.”

—

Pomni stepped off the ferry onto the dock, sturdy oak wood imported from the monolithic forests of Ediacara out west.

“Be careful on your way home, Ms. Shutnyk.” the ferryman said.

“You say this whenever I exit the boat, sir. I assure you, no sheer cliffs or bottomless canyons have suddenly appeared on my commute home.” Pomni replied.

The sun set from within the treeline, coloring the horizon a bright tangerine. Pomni walked up the path to the Shutnyk estate, a weighty book under her arm. It was a collection of fairy tales, complete with color plates. Pomni typically preferred her fiction with a touch more verisimilitude, but she had already gone through her father’s library and most of the library in town, so she needed to wait for her favorite authors to actually produce new material. This would satiate her for a time.

Pomni wore a plain white dress and matching white shoes. She also wore her favorite straw sunhat with the black hatband, although it had been rather overcast today. Not that she minded. She did burn rather easily due to her Telychian blood.

She continued up the hill past the Rooker estate. She would have stopped to say hello to Mr. Kinger on any other day, but it was getting late, and summer was on the horizon. Mosquitos and other biting insects would surely be emboldened by the evening dark and emerge from the trees soon.

She saw the manor up the dirt path, second on the right, just after the Rooker house. In the dim light, she could see her mother’s immaculately maintained flower gardens in front of the delicate pink walls of the manor. It was just becoming summer, so the gardens were lush with hot pink roses and silky white gardenias. Pomni had thought about taking up gardening as a hobby, but she found the entire affair tedious. At least with books, you wouldn’t have to wait six months to read them.

She took her key from her pocketbook and unlocked the manor door, skirting inside and closing it behind her to keep the bugs away.

“Pomni, is that you?” her father called from the dining room.

“Yes it is, good evening, Father.” she called back, locking the door behind her and hanging her handbag and sunhat on the foyer hooks.

“Come and join us, supper is ready,” said Vladimir.

“Just a moment, I haven’t gotten out of my shoes…” Pomni sat on the floor and slid off her shoes, placing them neatly on the shoe rack and peeling off her socks, dropping them down the laundry chute. She set her book down at the foot of the stairs and she briskly walked into the dining room.

“Good evening, darling, so good to see you!” Mirella said from her spot at the table. Pomni returned her salutation, looking at the plate set out for her. Honey-glazed garlic salmon, her favorite. Usually she only had this for her birthday or to celebrate the start of fishing season.

“Oh, goodness. Thank you, what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion, dear, we just had Zooble cook your favorite tonight. Come, sit, enjoy it!” Vladimir said, motioning her to come and sit at the dining room table.

Zooble stood in the corner of the room in their usual tuxedo, nodding wordlessly at Pomni. Zooble was a shape-person, their head a magenta sideways triangle with no visible mouth and mismatched limbs. Shapefolk originated from a harsh desert kingdom known as Dovicia, found across the southern sea. While they had a much different diet and anatomy from humans, no one shape-person was built the same way, humans and shapefolk had been close allies for centuries. Humans offered them much needed resources that couldn’t be found in the beastly Dovician desert, and the shapefolk in turn offered manpower, often moving into more temperate areas to escape the extreme temperatures. Zooble had been the caretaker of the manor for 3 years, ever since the previous caretaker, Lidio, retired to Blackshell Bay at the age of 70. So far, Pomni liked them a lot, even if she never enjoyed change that much. Zooble didn’t allow her mother and father to walk all over them like Lidio did. Sometimes her parents needed someone to tell them “no” that wasn’t her.

Pomni cut into her salmon filet and sampled it, giving a contented hum. “It’s delicious, Zooble. My compliments.”

Zooble nodded. “Only doing what I’m paid for, Miss.” Their tone struck Pomni as oddly somber, but she ignored it.

“So how are you feeling, darling? Did you have a pleasant day?” Marella asked.

Pomni took a moment to chew and swallow, looking down at her food. “Yes, mother. I went for my usual constitutional in the park, and-”

“Eyes up, Pomni,” her father said. “Talk to your mother, not your dinner.””

Pomni bit her lip. She was a grown woman, and her parents still reprimanding her for her struggles with eye contact always touched a nerve. Maybe in grade school, but…

She looked up at her mother. Even looking into Marella’s brown eyes made her feel itchy, prickles of heat running up her arms and down to her toes.

“-and I got a book from the library. I finished the last one.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she put her eyes back onto her food, scratching her left foot with her right.

“Molto bene, darling. Well, your father has some exciting news.”

Marella looked over at her husband, who idly swirled the red wine in his glass. Vladimir glanced at his wife before clearing his throat and setting the glass down.

“Er- yes. A former client of mine has fallen into dire straits. You remember the Krolik family?”

Pomni thought for a moment as she chewed her food. She swallowed, had a sip of water and then spoke.

“Yes. Yes, they had the embezzlement case. Their business partner, their name was… Dombrowski Worldwide, was charging a non-existent handling fee for their grain shipments and then pocketing it. They took around 60,000 crowns, and the Krolik-”

“Yes dear, exactly right! Your memory is astounding as always.” Vladimir said, the pride palpable in his voice.

“What about them, father?” Pomni asked, working on cutting herself another piece of fish.

“Well, as you know, we won the case. But unfortunately, the judicial expenses left the Krolik family in something of a financial rut. Even with all the Krolik siblings working on the family business, they haven’t quite been able to scrape themselves out of debt.”

“I see. How is that good news?” Pomni replied.

Zooble let out a louder than normal cough.

“Well…” Vladimir took in a lengthy breath. “Their fourth son, er, Jax, is 22 and unmarried.”

“Oh, I see. So he’s marrying into a wealthy family. That is good news!” Pomni replied.

“Y-Yes, he does intend on marrying into a wealthy family. A-As a matter of fact-“

“Master Shutnyk,” Zooble suddenly spoke up. “Please. The longer you prolong the issue-”

“I don’t believe I requested your input, Zooble.” Vladimir said. The authority in his voice bordered on draconian. He never spoke to their caretaker like that, even during his foulest moods.

“Apologies, sir.” Zooble said, bowing shortly.

Pomni looked from Zooble to Vladimir. Her food sat momentarily forgotten in her cheek, before she chewed hastily and swallowed.

“Papa, is something the matter?” Pomni asked. She rarely referred to Vladimir as anything but “father” since she was twelve years old, only using “papa” when she was deeply anxious or in the midst of tears, be they of joy or sadness.

“No, piccola, nothing is wrong at all.” Marella interjected. “This is all good news. Your father and I think you should marry that Krolik boy!”

Pomni put down her fork. She picked up her glass of water and quaffed the entire thing.

“We have everything in order, you won’t have to worry about a thing! Your father spoke with the patriarch of the Krolik family- and what a fine man he is, larger than life, truly!- he’d be more than happy to have you wed his son. Oh, and you should meet his son! I’ve never met a more charismatic beastman! And-”

“Mirella!” Vladimir barked.

“I’m sorry but it’s true! He’s a gentleman, a real ambassador for his kind! And he’s only 22! You’ll love him, Pomni!”

Pomni prodded her filet with her fork. “I’ll… love him.” she echoed. Her eyes stared ahead, at nothing in particular.

“I’m sure of it! He’s smart as a whip, just like you! He and all of his siblings. And goodness, he’s tall and handsome…”

Pomni picked up her plate and whipped it at the wall behind her. It soared through the air like a clay pigeon before shattering helplessly against the wall, Mirella yelping and Vladimir rising to his feet instinctively. Her half-eaten salmon adhered to the wall for a moment before peeling off and plopping onto the imported carpet, brown glaze stuck to both the wall and the carpet.

Pomni turned to her parents, her blue eyes crystals of icelike fury.

“What have I done wrong..?” she whispered. “What sin could I have committed that would motivate you to sell me off? Am I no better than a mare or a sow? Answer me! What was my transgression?!”

“Pomni, you’ve done nothing wrong…” Mirella began delicately.

“Then I’ve always been nothing more than a commodity?!” Pomni cried. She looked to her father for aid. “Papa, what about your firm? Wasn’t I supposed to take over for you..? You always said I was so talented…”

“And you are, dear! You’re brilliant! But… clients would turn their nose up at a firm run by a woman. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth of our society. It’s why I want you to marry this man so you can-”

Pomni’s eyes lost the spark of fury in them, darkening with grief and betrayal. “…Papa.”

“So you can run the firm in my stead. You just need a man to serve as a figurehead. And believe me, Jax Krolik is charismatic enough to serve as a figurehead, I met with him only yesterday, and-”

“I haven’t! I don’t even know what this man- no, beastman looks like! How could you possibly think I’d be okay with you making such a rash decision behind my back? Are you really that heartless?!”

Pomni turned away from her parents once again. Zooble shook their head.

“Fiends… heartless, deceitful fiends…” Pomni whispered.

“Pomni, this was for your benefit.” Marella said stoically. “You’re 25. Time is running out for you. All the men who might have caught your attention are moving on to other women. Or even other men! We acted in your stead to make sure you had a fair shot at finding love, starting a family, being happy-”

“I am happy! Rather, I was happy until you thrust a knife into my back! Who are you to say what brings me joy and what doesn’t?!”

“I’m your mother, Pomni! And I was in your situation once! I was lucky enough that your father came along when he did-!”

“That’s enough from both of you!” Vladimir boomed. “Mirella, Pomni, sit back down.”

Mirella took her seat, but Pomni remained standing.

“Pomni. Sit down.”

“I won’t,” she said.

“We’ve already arranged a meeting with the Krolik family tomorrow afternoon.” Vladimir continued. “I assure you that once you meet Jax, your concerns will be assuaged. This wasn’t a decision made impetuously. Now, sit down, please.”

Pomni’s lips quavered. She gradually slid back onto her chair.

“Good girl. Zooble, please clean that up before it stains the carpet. And the wall.” Vladimir motioned to the detritus on the carpet.

“Right away, Master Shutnyk.” Zooble said with another short bow. They hurriedly stepped out of the room, glancing at Pomni before going to get the dustpan.

“We know how you feel, Pomni. It’s daunting to get married, but it’s part of a young woman’s life.” Mirella said. “And think about how much more you’ll have to do with a husband! An entire house all to yourself, new family to get to know… it’s an adventure! Besides, it trounces just going to town and back every day, wouldn’t you say?”

“No, mother. I don’t.” Pomni spat out the word “mother” like a poison. “I quite enjoy my time in town, thank you.”

“Well, now you can live in town! We’ve been to see their manor, and-”

“Well if you enjoy it so much, why don’t you live there in my stead? Clearly you’re infatuated with the man.” Pomni snapped.

“Pomni Shutnyk! You do NOT speak to your mother like that!” barked Vladimir.

“I did not suffer the loss of three children to be disrespected by my only daughter!” Mirella exclaimed.

“If you’re going to treat me like this, then I wish I had died right along with them-”

Pomni put a hand to her mouth, immediately wishing she could reel the words back into her throat. Her mother’s face blanched, and Pomni felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Pomni..!” her father gasped.

“I-I’m sorry…” Pomni managed to say. “I’m sorry, mother…”

“You’ve said quite enough.” Vladimir asserted. “To your room, now. And you aren’t to come down until we tell you.”

Pomni, her pretty pale face damp with tears, rose from her chair and went into the foyer. Sniffling, she ascended the first step. She stopped, and turned, and hurriedly put her shoes on, sans her socks. She grabbed her pocketbook from the foyer hook.

“Pomni?” her father’s voice came from the dining room. “Pomni, I instructed you to go to your room.”

She found her house key despite her blurred vision and unlocked the front door, easing it open. The sky was a dim orange and the trees mere black silhouettes, evening insects chirring.

“Pomni!” her father called. There was the sound of a scraping chair.

Pomni slipped through the door and shut it behind her, locking it behind her and pattering down the steps onto the dirt trail. She ran through the garden of the Shutnyk manor, wiping her eyes and nose and not looking back, even as she heard both of her parents shouting for her return. As far as she was concerned, it was no longer her home.

Soon, she reached the main road, and turned left, hurrying further up the island and towards the church.

#the amazing digital circus #arranged marriage au #funnybunny #jax x pomni #tadc pomni #tadc jax #oh no cringe #tadc zooble #pomni's family #rich people suck but it makes for good fiction #autistic pomni

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bababaka · 6 months ago

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Tell me a story. And i'll tell you a thousand more - Bade x reader

Summary: Hollywood Arts, the most privilleged arts school in the USA. And amongst many young talented teens, you were chosen to enter it. To be study there and be part of it. You couldn't believe it.

"Holy shit! I got in!"

This will change your life! And you are determined to make the most of it.

Warnings: swear words, not edited completely, i just needed to get this out of drafts, i will later edit.. And... that's it i guess? Like, bullying, mean teachers, but nothing much i guess. Oh, i also used google translate. So yeah. Have fun.

Author's note: so, i had this in my drafts for a while. I always had a crush on these two, and nobody wrote a fic with those two that fulfilled my need for them, so... here i am. Trying to mash my thoughts together and write something at least nice or ok. Im trying to write well. Don't have high expectations, im not a seasoned writer yet. Might never be. Also, unfortunately for me and you guys, this is a multichapter fanfiction. Sooo, you'll have to bear with me with slooooow updates. And im sorry for that. Anyways, enough chit chat, i present you, the chapter one to this mess.

Chapter 1 : I got in!

“Hollywood Arts”. The most privileged arts school in the United States of America. Only the most talented people passed the test. The list of competitors was huge. But, here you were, Y/N Y/L/N, in front of the school gates. You had passed the test, thousands of people competing against each other, and you had succeeded.

Honestly, it seemed too good to be true. The majesty of the construction, students, certainly in their second and third year, full of confidence, dancing, singing, playing, drawing, acting and even proclaiming poetry.

This was too much to digest.

You could barely believe it when you read the email, your mother cheering and shouting in the background, while you remained frozen staring at the computer, reading and re-reading your school admission.

The best arts school in the country.

You entered.

Holy shit! I entered!

You have always been passionate about dancing.

It all started when your mother caught you in your room dancing to “hips don’t lie” in a completely clumsy and enthusiastic way. She then decided to take you to dance classes. You were 4 years old.

Years passed and you fell in love.

Dancing was expressing yourself. Tell a story. Saying what words were sometimes unable to express. Sadness. Happiness. Emotion. Desire. Anger. Feelings in their purest form.

And then, you discovered ballet.

Ballet made your heart race in a way nothing else did. The slow and elegant steps, fast and rigorous. Dancing made you feel alive, happy, ecstatic.

At the height of your 10 years, watching a small part of the film your mother was watching, Black Swan, before her noticing your presence and kicking you out to your room, you found yourself trapped, in a trance, enchanted by the dance, by the way how the actress moved, how she leapt into the air and landed softly on the stage.

The next day, you begged your mother to take you to ballet classes.

At first, it was difficult. The dance classes previously were fun, relaxed. Here, they asked for excellence. Your teacher was strict and classmates were mean. There were many days when you came home crying or upset. Your mother tried to change classes, convince you to go back to dance classes, but you were stubborn. And you were more than determined to show everyone, your teacher, your classmates, that you were good, that you could be the best. So you did what you could, trained and trained, danced until your toes grew calluses and you could no longer support yourself properly.

It was difficult, but now, more than ever, you saw the results of your efforts. Oh, how you would love to see the faces of the girls who tried to get into the school but failed. You did it.

#Suckit

You would love to rub it in each of their faces. But, you didn't have time for that. What you had to do was take a deep breath, enter those gates and find where your first class would be.

Here we go.

The hallways were crazy, lost students like you walked by, friends who hadn't seen each other for the entire vacation and others who argued, dissatisfied with the classes they fell into.

Although you felt tempted to ask one of the students, you thought it would be safer to ask an adult. Supervisor, coordinator, any adult. A teacher, janitor.

You didn't trust students, especially at a talent school, the ego and arrogance must be astronomical.

You watched Glee. You didn't want to end up in a crackhouse.

But unfortunately, the hallways were full of teenagers, and there was no teacher, sign, or voices coming out of speakers magically guiding you in the direction of your next class.

You look around, searching for someone who was as lost as you. You didn't want to be the only idiot who didn't know their way around.

You find something similar.

A boy your age, talking and gesturing. He seemed to be asking a paralyzed girl for directions. She didn't even seem to be paying attention.

You didn't know exactly why she was perplexed, maybe he was saying absurd things, but you wouldn't be surprised if the cause of the paralysis was the boy's beauty.

He was beautiful. Dark skin, brown hair, delicate features, not to the point of being androgynous, but of being harmonious, pleasing to the eye. A relaxed brown look, although it is becoming confused and dull.

You decided to step in and save the girl the embarrassment of being caught drooling, and, as a bonus, get the information you so desperately wanted. The direction for your next class, acting.

– Excuse me, uh, I'm lost. Could you help me?

This seemed to work. The boy's posture relaxed, and the girl, in turn, came out of her trance and began to glare at you, shooting lasers from her eyes.

The boy smiled. And, wow. He had incredibly white teeth, and it looked like you were the only girl in the world, the tiny curve of his mouth pulled you in like he was the center of the Earth. The look that had a charm, brown like melted chocolate and all you wanted was to dive in and get lost in them.

Perhaps you have entered a trance.

But as soon as he started talking, you forced yourself to pay attention and not make a fool of yourself.

– I'm also lost. I was asking her – he turned to the “laser beam look”, who immediately stopped with the murderous expression. – But I don’t think you know, do you?

– What? I know! Of course I know! Nobody knows more than me! – and then she started walking, supposedly in the direction of the room where the boy had his class. – You're a first year, right? – she asked the pretty boy, completely ignoring you.

He looked at you sideways.

– Uh, yes, yes, I am. – She nods, and turns forward, determined, as she starts talking without stopping.

She says her name, Trina Vega, how she got into school, how she is so talented at so many things, how popular she was, and that they would make a great couple. At this part, you were shocked, eyes widening quickly, mouth falling open. She was… direct.

And maybe a little clueless, considering that the boy started to walk more slowly, putting distance between him and Trina, and standing next to you.

He leans into your side.

– She's a little… eccentric…

You laugh.

– That may be an understatement. – You look at Trina, who continued to talk. – Look, she hasn't even noticed that you're not paying attention, or even close to her.

It was his turn to laugh.

– Yeah… – He clears his throat. – I'm Beck, nice to meet you. – He stops for a moment, and extends his hand to you.

You say your name and take his hand, shaking it. Soon he started walking again so as not to lose sight of Trina, who was still talking.

– You’re a first year too, right? – You nod in response. – Yeah, I imagined it. Which course did you enroll in?

– Dance, more specifically, ballet. You?

– Cool. I came to do drama, acting.

– Cool. – You smile, he reciprocates.

For a moment, you forgot what you were saying, going and even thinking. He was cute, handsome and had a nice voice to listen to, something rare coming from a teenager. The short hair thrown to the side, looked soft, made you want to run your fingers through the strands.

The cute boy's small, happy smile was damaging your brain, because the world disappeared around him and you couldn't think about anything else.

Until, finally, Trina realized that Beck wasn't close to her, much less listening to what she was saying.

– Hey! – she called. You turned to her, who had a frown that turned into a forced smile. – We arrived, and you didn’t tell me your name. – She leans over and smiles at Beck.

You were ignored, again.

– Oh, it's Beck. And this is. – He tries to introduce you, say you name and be polite. But Trina interrups him, muttering “whatever” and heading back to the door.

Well, that was nice.

– Sikowits, I brought two lost students. – Then the bell rings, and Trina turns to Beck. – I'll see you around, Beck. – He blinked. And gone, probably to his own class.

– Please don't. – Beck says, with a pained expression. But it was too late, Trina couldn't hear him anymore, or at least, she pretended not to.

You sympathized with the situation.

It seems that being too handsome had its downsides.

His attention returned to the teacher who was at the door.

Bald, messy hair and beard, a slightly unbalanced look, layer after layer of clothing, he had a sloppy style. Maybe he was a hippie. Or just weird. It was probably both.

The hippie professor smiled, in a warm, disturbing way (you seriously wondered if that man was sane. You hoped he was).

– Be welcome! What are your names?

Beck withdraws into himself, becoming shy. How cute.

– Beck Oliver.

The please-don't-be-crazy teacher leans over to look at a list that was laid out on the table. The list of student names.

He turns to the boy beside him.

– Oliver? Alberto Oliver?

Beck puts his hand on the back of his head, looks at you sideways, and nods.

– Yes, but I prefer Beck.

– Understood! Come in, come in. – He calls Beck with his hand enthusiastically, the boy enters and sits in one of the chairs. Then, the bald professor turns to you. – Your name?

You say your full name.

– Oh yes. It's here too. Come in and sit down. The class is about to start. I just have to find the lost and innocent sheep that are lost in the corridors.

You made a face when you heard the phrase… He sounded so weird that way…

As long as he didn't kill or abuse anyone and was a good teacher, you wouldn't have a problem.

You entered the room and deciding quickly and safely, you turned to Beck, hoping to find an empty seat next to the boy. But, as expected, all the seats evaporated, and Oliver found himself surrounded by people, mostly girls.

You sighed and sat in the front, next to a girl with red hair (it didn't look natural, but you'd ask later) who had a friendly smile on her face. It seemed like a good option.

You sat down, and introduced yourself. The girl smiled, with her white teeth and a gentle and innocent aura formed around her.

– I'm Cat!

You smiled, enchanted by the redhead's cuteness.

– Cat? Like the animal? – the girl walked away, running her hand through her hair, her brow furrowed.

– What? What do you mean by that?

– No! I'm just saying that cat sounds like a kitten. – You explained yourself, nervously. You didn't want to scare the girl.

– Kittens? I like kittens! They're so cute!

You let out the breath you were holding. Cat returned to the bubble of innocence and happiness that she was at the beginning.

– Yes, they are.

Then, the professor, Sikowitz, if that was really what Trina called him, came back into the room, with a coconut and straw in one hand, and sunglasses in the other.

– Well done, class! I'm not going to ask you to introduce yourselves. You will improvise a scene. You will play the person next to you, I don't care if you don't know each other. Create a character and then live the character!

The Hippie Man asked them one by one to come forward in front of the class.

There were some interesting and funny monologues.

A black boy, with dreadlocks, a beautiful smile and lots of charm, played a shy nerd who stuttered around girls and had a puppet who made derogatory comments about the situation.

The scene was hilarious. Especially when he started interacting with the students while in character.

There were some very good ones.

Beck, who, to your surprise, played one of the girls surrounding him, and, unfortunately for Sikowitz, used the teacher as his scene partner. He was visibly uncomfortable. And the girl too. Shrinking in her chair as Beck performed, exposing how irritating she was.

She'll probably leave the boy alone after this.

Probably.

There was also another girl, brown hair, black leather jacket and pants. She was incredible. Before getting into character, she seemed closed off, grumpy, with a frown on her face. But, as soon as the scene began, her entire expression and body language changed to a more clumsy and agitated girl like a nice but extremely clumsy girl.

And other performances could improve. You were part of the last group. See, you were a dancer, not an actress. You knew you had to take acting classes, but that didn't mean it was your strong point.

You had to play Cat. You weren't horrible, but you could have done better. When he had to face all the attentive eyes of your classmates and the teacher, a chill took over your stomach and a pressure to not make mistakes was placed in your mind. At first, it was difficult, but as the scene developed, your performance improved.

As the last student finished presentation, the teacher stood up, applauding.

– Very good! You have to learn and perfect the ability to transform into a character in a short time, to analyze your character and to transform yourself in the snap of a finger. – He snapped his fingers right in your face, you jerked away reflexively, startling yourself. He smiled. And the bell rang. – Anyway. That's all for today. You even had the chance to socialize and get to know each other. – he said as everyone got up and left. You did the same, gathered your things and stood up. You were at the door when you heard him sigh and murmur:

– Ah, being young, I can remember what it was like to have dreams and hope.

…You were sure this wasn't normal…

You heard your name. You turned around, and saw red hair, you looked down, realizing that Cat was smaller than you. That made her even cuter.

– What class do you have now?

You searched your pockets, in the slim hope of finding your schedule. After long, embarrassing moments, you found it and read it out loud.

– Ballet.

– Oh, I have singing lessons now – Cat seemed to deflate. But only for a few seconds. – Do you want to sit with me at lunch?

You responded quickly, jumping at the opportunity of not having to be alone during lunch.

– Yes of course! – You looked around, remembering Beck, hoping to see him, but in vain, he had already disappeared into the corridors. But, you didn't let that bother, or sadden you, you would invite him to sit with you at lunch, in the low probability of being able to do so before the boy was bombarded by people.

– OK! Until lunch then!

Finding the ballet class was easy. You just followed the smell of pain, tears, deceit and extreme competition.

…Actually, you just followed the girls in buns and leotards.

You entered the room, or rather dance salon. The floor was smooth and black, a large mirror covering the entire wall, a large speaker and a piano at the back of the room.

The teacher, apparently, was not there. But the students were already stretching. Some in groups, others alone.

You saw some faces you had already anticipated. The rich, mean girls who were born doing ballet. The girl obsessed and completely focused on doing her best, making her potentially meaner than the other girls. The pretty boy who, because he does ballet, thinks he's cool and that everyone is in love with him. The boy who feels the need to say all the time that he's not gay, he just likes to express himself through dancing!

However, you also saw other faces you hadn't seen before, and that was a pleasant surprise. Dealing with the same types of people became boring.

Hollywood Arts would be a beginning, not only of your artistic career, but of a social life in ballet. I didn't want to ruin your high school experience with drama, toxicity, and cliques.

But unfortunately, you didn't have the best start. Because while you were analyzing and admiring everything around you, your teacher arrived, and it was then that you noticed, everyone was stretched out and dressed appropriately, while you were still standing, wearing jeans, sneakers and a shirt. No stretching.

It was instantaneous. Not only did the teacher's eyes land on you. The entire room was focused on you.

Shit. You flinched.

– You're late. – The teacher says, approaching you, like a predator approaches its prey. A panther, walking elegantly and silently, with total firmness and confidence, about to attack a beautiful and vulnerable little rabbit. The panther knows that the rabbit is already dead. Only a matter of time for death to actually occur, until the panther snatches the prey.

The bunny becomes alert, realizing the danger. Look around. Pay attention to your ears and sharpen your vision.

– The bell hasn't rung yet and class starts in 3 minutes.

The panther stops. Paying attention to the victim's movements, but at no time revealing their position or losing their calm.

– Exactly. 3 minutes and you're like this. – She points to your clothes, with clear disdain. The rabbit flinches, sensing claws wrapping around its fur. – Without the leotard and without stretching. Unprepared. I start my class on time, warm-ups start when the bell rings. So, miss late, you have – the teacher glanced briefly at the clock and turned her eyes to you. – 2 minutes to put on your clothes and stretch, otherwise you will go to detention and will not be able to participate in this class.

The rabbit begins to struggle, panic arising as it sees the possibility of death right in front of it.

– But just to get to the bathroom takes a minute.

The teacher smiles, in a sadistic and amused way.

– Then, I suggest you run.

Crunch! Fur turning scarlet, sharp fangs tearing flesh, paws playing with the limp, lifeless body.

You took off. Hearing giggles and one last image of the teacher's smile

The predator was sated. For now.

You admitted it. You've never stretched so quickly and inefficiently, nor were you so frivolous when adjusting your tights.

But, it was what you had to offer at that moment.

– Miss late! You have exceeded your time of 2 minutes, but as I am in a good mood I will let it pass. Let it serve as a warning to everyone. Be prepared BEFORE class starts. Otherwise, well, you don't want to find out. Now, don't just stand there, join the warm-up!

And you fumbled a little out of pure nervousness, and heard some giggling around, but after a few minutes, you were already in your element.

The warm-up was brutal.

Yes, of course, you already had years of ballet, but still, the teacher seemed to want you to kill yourself in the warm-up. Because it lasted 40 minutes.

To you, it felt like two hours.

Damn, who warms up for 40 minutes? Well, apparently, your new teacher.

When the warm-up, which lasts longer and is heavier than you're used to, finally ends, you're sweating profusely and out of breath. Some were in the same state as you, others were worse, and a group of girls were in better shape, they were sweaty and out of breath, but still, visibly more composed.

The teacher waited in silence for a few moments. Just analyzing all the students.

The teacher approaches the group of 5 who were sitting on the floor, taking in lots of air, barely avoiding getting sick. Some were coughing.

– Pathetic. – She said, her lips lifting in disgust and disdain. – What would your names be?

The group fumbled among themselves, saying full names, others just trying and failing in between, preferring to breathe. One boy almost threw up.

The teacher put her hands in the air and waved them. Exasperated.

– Stop, stop, stop. Are you by any chance animals? Don't know how to speak one at a time? – she sighs. – What were you thinking when they accepted you? Hmph… Disgusting…

– Why does every ballet teacher have to be mean? – a girl next to you commented quietly. You laughed quietly, bitterly, as you watched the teacher insult the poor young teens on the floor.

– It must be something they need to have on their resume. “Expert in torturing teenagers.” – You responded in an equally silent tone.

– Also, didn’t she have a vote in the admission of students? Why does she complain about the school's admissions system if she is part of it?

You shrugged.

– Some evil plan to destroy our self-esteem?

The girl quickly turned to you, a small smile on her face and an outstretched hand, as subtle as she could without drawing the teacher's attention.

– I'm Daisy.

You introduced yourself.

And in mutual and silent agreement, they turned to the teacher. You feared what would happen if the teacher caught the students talking.

Your attention returned to the scene and you only heard the last two names of the group. All red, from shame or exhaustion, you didn't know. The teacher didn't answer anything, just left them on the floor, recovering, and started walking around the room, quickly passing in front of each student.

– You are… Pathetic. Some more than others. But – she made a show of sighing loudly. – As you were accepted, I will make you true artists, dancers. You must breathe ballet, move with elegance and dexterity at all times, and face the world, the stage without fear. The classes will be difficult, long and will demand determination and strength from each person. And I will not hesitate to take punitive action against those who are not taking this seriously. Because, as your teacher, your performance in the future will reflect on my image. Therefore, now they will imitate me. I'm the best, and so will you.

The teacher pauses, and you can hear the tension in the air, the nervousness and everyone shifting in their seats, anxious.

– Am I understood?

Several voices sounded throughout the room, including yours. All saying yes. The teacher smiled.

– Good. Now, let's start the class.

You swallowed hard, already feeling tired, but still, strangely excited. It would be a challenge, and you loved difficult things.

After painful and sadistic hours (yes, hours!), the class was finally released for lunch, and then afternoon classes.

The teacher informed them that the ballet class had an exclusive bathroom and that if they wanted (but, from the disgusted way she sounded, it seemed more like a requirement) they could take a shower there.

You perked up when you heard this, and most of the students did too. It would be horrible to have to continue at school with all that crust of sweat on your body.

So, after the teacher left, everyone packed their things and went to either take a shower or have lunch.

You were more than ready to head to the bathroom and shower. You were tired, but the sweat on your body bothered you more than fatigue.

– Hey, are you going to eat or take a shower first?

You looked to the side. The girl you talked to after the warm-up. Was it Daphne? Daniela? Delilah? No, that was ridiculous. It was something with D.

– Im going to the shower. I couldn't eat something feeling dirty.

– You sure? As we are being released early, the queue is non-existent to buy… Anything.

– I'm sure. – You smiled, slightly touched by the girl’s kindness. She waved and said goodbye to you, leaving for lunch.

After a long and well-deserved shower, you head to the cafeteria where the food was. Heavens, how hungry you were!

Arriving in the area, you began looking for Cat and Beck. Not surprisingly, you found Beck first. Surrounded by people, girls and boys.

You decide to try to get past the crowd and rescue Beck, who now seems overwhelmed.

You squeeze between people, making your way through elbows and curses, until you reach the center, feeling several hateful looks on you.

Beck's face lights up when he sees you, and he calls your name, approaching you.

– Hey, what are you doing? – he asks, ignoring the entire crowd around him, and you can feel the commotion that this generates. You smile, focusing on nothing more than the boy in front of you.

– Trying to save you from this crowd by inviting you to lunch with me and Cat.

– Oh, please! I would love to.

You swear something happened around you. People cursed him, complained, maybe even hit you, but your brain melted a little when you saw Oliver's smile. A captivating, happy, friendly expression. It seemed like the air around him shimmered and exuded something almost surreal.

What brought you back to reality was a tap on your shoulder.

– So, where are you sitting? – Beck asked and then you realized, the crowd had dissipated and only the pretty boy was by your side.

– Uh, actually, I haven't chosen the table, nor have I found Cat yet. – You then start looking for the redhead. The brunette at his side.

– Ah, I see… Who is Cat? Your pet? Are animals even allowed at school?

You laugh.

– No, no. She's a girl I met today, in drama class, while you were being surrounded by… Everyone…

Beck sighed and nodded in a more crestfallen manner. You stop looking around for a moment, to fix your eyes on him.

– Does this happen a lot? You're famous and I'm the only one who didn't notice?

– No, I'm not famous, at least not yet. I'm just pretty. – He shrugs lightly, as if it weren't a big deal. And you stop walking, and let out a disbelieving laugh. This time, his lips move to form a cocky smile.

– What? Are you going to say i'm not? – he prods you, and you fumble over your words, not wanting to deny it, but certainly not wanting to confirm it either. However, to your relief, he just laughs at your reaction and continues talking. – People have always approached me because of my – he raises his hands to gesture quotation marks with his fingers. - "exotic beauty". Eventually, I just got used to it.

You observe the boy next to you. Really analyzes him.

He didn't seem like the kind of boy who was an asshole, who thought he was better than everyone else, who believed he had everyone at his feet, when he really didn't.

Beck just seemed aware of the reality he found himself in. After all, he was handsome. Short but silky hair, great style of clothing that sold the cool kid look. If you had to guess, he seemed like a relaxed but extremely cunning type of boy. The guy who smiled at everyone, but had a mouth that dripped with venom.

You had your thoughts interrupted by a high-pitched female voice calling your name. Cat. He took one last look at Beck, who maintained a relaxed posture and the remains of a smile.

Well, you deduced, only time will show Oliver's true face, whatever it may be.

– Cat! I was looking for you! – you approached the redhead. She lit up.

– And, did you find me?

– Apparently, you found me. – When saying this, the redhead makes a sad expression.

– Oh, wow, what a shame. – You frowned, not understanding the line of reasoning, but before you could say anything, Cat was already addressing Beck. – Hi, I'm Cat. – she introduced herself, waving energetically.

Beck laughed, like you would laugh at something cute a puppy did, and waved back, but without the redhead's excessive enthusiasm.

You guys go look for a table. And when they find it, they realize they had nothing to eat. Luckily there was a food truck nearby, and everyone ordered something.

At the table, everyone talked about themselves. You revealed that although it inspired you, you never saw the film Black Swan. Cat talked about her love for purple giraffes and her brother. You were worried at that part, you didn't know if the small girl was joking or not.

Beck talked about how he moved from Canada with his parents to Los Angeles just for school, and talked excitedly about how he liked cars and was looking forward to getting his own.

When they heard sobs around them, that's when they left the bubble they were in.

– You're a bitch!

A blonde girl, green eyes, swollen and moist. She was the one who jumped out of her chair and screamed. Despite her anguished expression, she looked firmly at the table in front of her, and the person who was sitting there.

You recognized who it was from your theater class. She had a gothic style. Eyeliner, black nails, combat boots and dark clothes.

The green-eyed goth girl, you noticed, raised her eyebrow and took her eyes in a deliberate and prolonged manner to the bare legs of the girl in front of her.

– I'm not the one with the scraped knees.

She smiled cruelly, and amidst the deadly silence, a few muffled giggles could be heard.

The blonde girl choked. Tries to justify herself, you think she had says about a skateboard, but was unsuccessful. Then she resignes herself to letting out a sob and running away.

The goth turned her smile into a frown, and looked around, the many eyes in her direction. She faced everyone and with a loud, rude and direct voice, she shouted.

– What are you looking at? – and everyone went back to doing what they did before. Well, you asume that everyone had done it, you didn't bother to check. You just kept your attention on the girl. Curious. You wanted to know what had happened. And how she had made someone cry on the first day of school.

You hated this type of attitude, behavior, personality. You might not be the kindest girl in the world, but you certainly weren't cruel. Even when you felt the urge to be.

It was a shame that such a beautiful girl, with brown hair and green eyes, could be so horrible.

You assumed that beauty would spoil a person. You just hoped Beck wouldn't turn out to be that kind of person. Then, you finally returned your gaze to the table, and discovered that you weren't the only one who remained looking at her. The pretty boy also had his sights set on the table that only had one mean girl on it.

– She's mean. – Cat spoke up, breaking the silence as well as Beck's admiration and thoughts.

– She is. – Beck agrees, nonchalant.

You remain silent, taking one last look in the girl's direction.

It doesn't take long before the bell rings. You say goodbye to them both and head towards classes in the afternoon. The part of your curriculum is completely normal and, after theater and ballet classes, terribly boring.

Chemistry, geography and math classes stretched out, as if they had no end, like a rubber band that when it thought it was about to break, it stretched a little more. However, it didn't matter anymore, you were finally free to go home.

You were exhausted, physically, mentally and spiritually. Names of teachers, subjects, exercises, classmates piling up and colliding in your brain. You had absolutely no energy for anything.

Unfortunately for you, however, when you open the door to your house, you come across your mother, waiting, sitting in a chair, almost jumping with excitement. The true image of a puppy anxiously waiting for its owner.

Your heart is heavy, and your body and soul scream with frustration. You just wanted your bed. But, your mother sees you and you simply accept that you would have to stay awake for a few more moments.

Your mother spews questions one after another at you.

"How it was?"

“Have you made friends yet?”

“Are all teachers weird?”

“Is there anyone famous?”

“Did they treat you well?”

"Are you well?"

"Are you hungry? I made dinner!”

While eating, you told your mother everything, it didn't take long for you to get excited too, even though you were tired.

You leave out some details, like teachers and some bad people, but otherwise, you confess everything. The many beautiful people, with a few exceptions, the strange talents and habits you noticed, strange and normal teachers.

However, sleepiness and tiredness manifested itself through yawning and heavy eyes. Your mother, realizing this, immediately sends you up to your room to get some sleep.

After a relaxing shower, you lay down on your bed, comfortable under the blankets.

Ah, finally.

Chapter 2

#bade x reader #my fics #victorious #beck x jade x reader #jade west #beck oliver #reader insert #Polyamory #Poly

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smilesrobotlover · 4 months ago

Note

Love at Twilight. Got anything to say about it? Any behind the scenes things you’d be willing to share? Thoughts on Kori? His physiology? Any hints on upcoming plot or chapters? 👀

Hmmmm

So the very first draft of this story was widely different than how it was now. Originally it was a story about a circus that tried to get Kori there, but I really didn’t know what to do with everyone else. The plot didn’t motivate me and the final chapter I wrote out was terrible. I couldn’t fit in the resistance and generally I didn’t like it.

Until I thought of a mutated shadow beast, and then I completely changed the plot. There was no more lame ring leaders or weird and uncomfy scenarios in the circus. Like lemme tell you, the story wrote itself when I changed the main villain. It rocks

But it’s interesting at how the two stories kinda parallel? Originally Link didn’t let Kori leave Ordon out of fear for his safety, but for his birthday, they go to castle town. Some old man freaks out at Kori when he gets distracted by cats and it’s this huge deal. They’re able to run away but the ring leader finds out about “a little devil” and wants to find him for his circus. So he tracks Kori down in Ordon and attacks Uli in the middle of the night to find him.

In the actual story, they go to Kakariko for Kori’s birthday, some lady freaks out about him, and while I couldn’t show this in the fic itself, I imagined a comic form of this part. When Link and Rusl are done investigating the missing Goron, there’s a hint that the Twili beast is watching them. So it follows them back to Ordon when the fam leaves and attacks Rusl.

So much fun stuff! Rip Uli and Rusl, one of y’all had to suffer in each story 😔

Idk what else to say about the old story but it’s fun to talk about because it changed SO much. Everything about it is different. The rest of the story won’t parallel the old one (the old one was barely written out anyways) but it’s cool to see similarities!

Originally I played with Edmund being a villain with Twili beast, and he probably would’ve kidnapped Colin for some reason, but I decided against it. It would’ve been too much to deal with and I find Edmund a more enjoyable character now than how he was before. I’ve noticed that tp Zelda always gets an abusive husband, and while I don’t hate that, I wanted to give her something different. They’re not super in love but some sparks were actually flying in chapter 7 so… 👀 (that’s actually why I asked if oc x canon was cringe cuz I kinda like them hdbsbsjsbsk). But yeah! I found Edmund being a villain extremely boring. It’s kinda fun not having any person as a villain, and instead it be some monster or something. Man vs nature you know?

And some hints ;) the Twili beast isn’t eating people, but it is “eating” something from people. I wonder if y’all can guess :3c and also for next chapter… it’s actively hunting someone down now. But I wonder who 🤔 or is it multiple people?? Guess you’ll find out at some point.

And Kori is my baby I love him <3 since he’s half Twili, he’ll stop sleeping so much as he gets older. He’ll still need sleep, but not as much as before. Which is nice cuz he struggles to sleep with the light anyways (he’ll also begin to struggle with sleep for a lot of different reasons 😬)

And this was a complete accident, but sometimes characters write themselves haha. Kori loves fashion and clothes! I worded this weirdly in the chapter, but Kori hates the men’s skirts of ordon, and is interested in other types of clothing. I want him to be a tailor or something when he’s older cuz he finds clothes so fascinating! I mean, I did have him interested in the dress up dolls! That’s something he’d absolutely love to do :))

#asks #thanks for this ask it was fun!#there’s a lotta behind the scenes goin on #love at twilight #Kori #I already talked a lot about Kori’s physiology #but not about the sleeping thig #but that’s when he’s older #but this isn’t a big surprise but older kori was designed first

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pensat-i-fet · 2 years ago

Text

A familiar face (Rúben Dias x Reader)

**I found this on my drafts and thought it could work for the request I got of writing something that involved some cute interactions with kids. I can try something else in the future if this isn’t good enough. And I hope everyone enjoys it anyways!! ❤️❤️**

Word count: 2512

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Auntie, please!!”, I hear my niece begging for the 20th time in the last two minutes.

“Leah, leave your aunt alone. If it was just you it’d be fine, but you can’t ask her to babysit your entire friend group”, I hear my brother say.

My niece Leah got tickets to go watch the next Manchester City match from one of her friends. She and two more friends want to go but neither my brother nor his wife can go to the match with them. So she wants me to take three kids with me to a stadium where there’ll be thousands of people. And a lot of them will be half-drunk by 3 pm.

“Richie’s dad can come with us. Pleaaaaase!”

The idea of taking so many kids to a match terrifies me, but seeing the tears in my 8-year-old niece's eyes is a lot worse.

“Ok, I’ll take you”, I say to her.

“You sure?”, asks my brother. But it’s too late to change my mind. I’ve already been tackled to the floor by Leah.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

And that’s how I find myself driving three kids and an adult I have never met before to the Etihad on a Sunday.

“Don’t worry about them too much”, tells me Richie’s dad. “I’ll keep them in check. You enjoy the match too”.

The seats are in the fourth row. I’ve been to the Etihad before but never in such great seats.

Leah, Richie and Amanda sit in between Richie’s dad and me, to make sure we can keep an eye on them more easily.

“Auntie! Can we get some food?”, asks Leah when the players are coming out to do their warm-up.

“Sure, what do you guys want? Also, what are you guys allowed to eat?”

To that, Richie’s dad laughs. “Burgers and fries should be fine. Maybe something sweet for the second half if everyone behaves, ok?”

They all nod and I move to go back inside and get the food for everyone.

When I get to the lower area of the stands, I turn to look at the pitch before heading to the stairs. The players are all divided into three groups, each doing a different type of exercise to warm up.

Before I turn again to leave, I notice one of them looking at where I am. I look behind me to see who he might be looking at and find no one. But when I look back at him, he’s gone.

“Here you go”, I say, trying to give everyone their food and not drop it. It was a struggle to bring it all back by myself.

“Thanks!!”, they all say in unison. They really want those sweets.

“Auntie”, says Leah, “who is your favourite City player?”

“Um…not sure, to be honest. I haven’t had the chance to watch them a lot this year but I guess De Bruyne is still a good answer, right?”

“Yes!!”, screams Richie, who is wearing his De Bruyne shirt.

“I like Mahrez”, says Amanda.

“Great choice!”, tells her Richie’s dad. “What about you Leah?”

“I would usually say Bernardo but I think I like Rúben Dias better today”.

“Why is that?”, I ask her.

“Because he’s going to give me his shirt after the match”.

I look at her confused. Where is she getting those ideas from? I don’t want her to think it’ll happen and then be sad when it doesn’t.

“Maybe he will, yes. But if he doesn’t it’s ok”, I say.

“No, I know he will”.

“Leah…”

“She’s right”, says Richie’s dad, surprising me. “He told her he would while you were gone”.

Now I really am confused.

When the teams go out to start playing, I lean down and whisper to Leah. “Which one is Dias?”

I really haven’t been watching them in the last couple of seasons. I’m not super familiar with the new players.

“Number 3. He’s looking at us right now”, she says, pointing at one of the players.

When I look up, I see she’s right. And I see that it’s the same player I saw looking my way before.

The match ends with a 3-0 win for City. And by that time, I’m more than ready to go home. The kids have been good, but they are a lot of work.

I’m so tired I actually forget about Leah and her deal with Dias. But she hasn’t forgotten, of course. And neither has he.

He approaches our area, pointing at Leah and asking her to come closer. She grabs my hand and runs downstairs.

“Hi, what’s your name?”, asks her Rúben.

“Leah. And this is my auntie”.

When she says that, he looks at me and I don’t really know what to do anymore. Not only is he ridiculously good-looking, but he also has one of the most beautiful smiles I’ve ever seen. And he’s directing that smile at me right now.

“Hi”, he says to me.

“Hi”, I say back, surprised I managed to get a word out.

“So, can I have your shirt?”, asks Leah, interrupting the moment.

“Of course”, he says, giving Leah another smile. A different type of smile, though.

When he takes his shirt off, I try to look away. I’ve always had a thing for tall and strong men like him.

“Did you enjoy the match?”, I hear Rúben say. And when I look at him, I realise the question is directed at me, not Leah.

“Yes. It was great. You were all great”.

“Auntie, we need to go. Richie’s dad is calling us”.

I turn to make a gesture to Richie’s dad, letting him know we’ll be there in a second. And then turn back to Rúben, who is still there, looking at me.

“Thanks for the shirt. We have to go”.

“Right”, he says, looking unsure of himself all of a sudden. “I hope I get to see you, both of you, at another match”.

And with that, he runs to join his teammates. What did just happen?

Working at a bookstore is a bit of a dream for me. I get to be surrounded by books and get a discount when buying them. And of course, I buy way more than I should. I love chatting with customers about the novels they want to buy and helping them discover some hidden gems. I even advised my bosses to create a "staff recommends" shelf where we could put all our favourites so customers could ask us about them. And it's definitely helped increase the sale of some more unknown books.

I am on that shelf now, talking to a lady about why the book Stephanie recommends will be great for her grandchildren. Once I've convinced the lady to buy not only that first book but the second and third in the series too, Steph herself comes to the area where I’m working at the moment with an annoyed look on her face.

"Something wrong?", I ask.

"It's madness down there", she sighs. "There is someone famous and people are fighting to get photos taken with him".

"Someone famous?", I ask, curious as to who could come to our little shop. "Like, an author?"

We sometimes get authors coming to the store to sign some of their novels, so that's my first thought.

"No, I don't know who he is but even the children are going mad".

"That's intriguing. How about you stay here and I go to your place so I can see this famous guy. Now I'm curious", I laugh.

"Go ahead. I'm not coming downstairs until he leaves. Two kids stepped on my feet to get to him", says Steph, rubbing her feet with a painful look.

"I'll be careful", I say with a chuckle while I make my way downstairs.

I'm not even halfway down when I see him. The guy everyone wants a photo with is none other than Rúben.

I freeze and just stare at him, smiling and taking photos with everyone. Being particularly cheerful for the adoring children.

"Sorry, miss, I need to go downstairs", I hear being said behind me. When I turn around, I see a woman waiting for me to move since I'm blocking the stairs.

"Of course, sorry. You go first", I tell her, moving to the side.

I move to Steph's checkout area, trying not to look at Rúben. And trying to control my nerves.

"Hello?"

When I hear the voice, I look up from the computer to find Rúben staring at me, with five books in his hands.

"Hi. Can I help you?", I say, trying to remain professional and not show my shock at him being here. He won't even remember me anyway.

"I would like to pay for these", he says with a smile. He's even closer than he was at the match. And he's even more gorgeous dressed in an all-black outfit than he was with his sky blue City kit.

"Of course", I say before I start to scan the books. "This one is great", I say, noticing he picked one of my recommendations from last month.

"I'll have to read that one first then", he says, making me look at him again. He seems to be looking at my face trying to find something there. So I look down again, nervously.

"Do you have a loyalty card?"

"I do but I don't have it with me now".

"Oh that's ok", I tell him. "Just tell me your phone number and I'll find your profile in our system".

When I find it, I look up at him and ask. "Rúben, right?"

"Yes. But you already knew that".

"I'm sorry?", I say, shocked by his comment.

"We talked at the match the other day when I gave my shirt to your niece. I know you know who I am", he says, laughing at my expression.

"Right. Yeah. Um…I did not expect you to remember me", I say, blushing fiercely. "There were thousands of people there".

"Yes, but some faces are easier to remember than others", he says, leaning closer.

When I look into his eyes, I lose the sense of time and place for a second. Until I start to notice how long the line behind him is.

"Um…right. Are you paying with card or cash?"

"Card, please".

"Of course, it's ready now".

"You know", he says while entering his pin number in the machine, "since you know my number now from the loyalty card, maybe you could use it to let me know more book recommendations".

What?

"I don't think I'm allowed to use the client's private information for personal purposes", I tell him putting his receipt in his bag and giving it to him.

"You got my permission to do it", he says with a big smile. "Bye, hope to see you soon. It was nice to find a familiar face here today".

"Bye…thanks for…umm…the purchase", do I know words?

He just smiles again and leaves. I turn slightly to watch him walk to the front door when I hear a throat being cleared.

Right, I'm still at work. I forgot for a second.

“Sorry, sir. How can I help you?”

A couple of days later, I’m putting some new releases on the shelf when I hear Stephanie approaching and talking to someone else.

“Yes, there she is! She’ll be able to help you”.

“Thanks”.

I turn to look at who’s talking to find Rúben looking at me, a big smile on his face.

“You didn’t give me those book recommendations I asked for, so I had to come back to get them. The book you told me was good was incredible. I read it in one sitting”.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it”, I tell him, moving away from the mountain of books I still need to sort out. “But…this feels a bit stalkerish. No offence!”

He just laughs and raises his hands.

“I get it. It does. But I swear I didn’t know you worked here. That was a coincidence. A great one, I might add”.

To that, I look down to hide my blush.

“So”, he continues, “can you recommend more books to me or not?”

“Sure, that’s what I’m here for. Let me tell one of my colleagues to continue sorting this pile before”.

"Were you looking for some romance?", I say, pointing at the first section we walk past.

He looks at me with a small smirk on his face. I guess he got the double meaning. "Maybe, but not in my books".

"You don't fancy reading about a hot Duke that will make you swoon?", I say, holding a copy of Bridgerton.

"Not today", he laughs.

"Yeah, not my thing either".

"What type of books do you like?", he asks me.

"Literary fiction, fantasy, maybe some romance…it depends on my mood, really. I even read horror sometimes. Even though I'm a baby who can't watch horror movies".

"I might be interested in horror. But I'll need someone to hold my hand while I read in case I get scared".

When I turn to look at him, I notice how close he is.

"You've got plenty of big teammates that can do that for you I think".

He laughs. "Not what I had in mind".

Twenty minutes later, I walk Rúben to the checkout so he can pay for all the books he’s buying today.

“Do you have a piece of paper?”, he asks.

“Sure”.

“Ok, here is my number. I gave it to you. And I want you to use it, ok?”

“I don’t know. I…”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No”, I say.

“Girlfriend?”

“Not one of those either”.

“So would you like to come on a date with me?”, he says.

As always, I want to overthink this. But what is it to overthink? A handsome, nice and smart guy wants to go on a date with me.

“Yes”, I say, smiling at him.

“Perfect. Then text me your number and we’ll talk more about it”.

I nod, giving him his bag full of books.

“Do you actually want all those books or did you just buy them to have an excuse to talk to me?”

“Oh, I want them. But it’ll take me a year to read all of these. Another trip to try to woo you and I’ll have enough books to last me my entire life”, he says, blushing slightly.

I laugh at his words and say goodbye to him.

When I turn back to go upstairs and finish the job I was doing, Stephanie stops me.

“That’s the famous guy from the other day”, she says.

“Yes”.

“And he was flirting with you the whole time. How do you know famous people? And what does he even do to be famous?”

“Footballer. I met him when I took Leah to a match”.

“Shut up! Are you dating a football player?”

“I’m not dating anyone”, I laugh.

“He looked like he’d be happy to change that”, she winks before leaving.

I guess he did.

#ruben dias #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias x yn #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #footballer fluff #footballer fanfiction #foootballer fanfic #footballer one shot

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mittensmorgul · 11 months ago

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2023 in Mittens Fic

It's once again time for the annual accounting of things I have written! I think this year's total fic count, at 4, is my lowest ever, but I still managed more words than my two lowest years (peak pandemic, i loathe you still).

For reference, past year end summaries can be found here:

2022 | 2021 | 2020 | 2019 | 2018 | 2017 | 2016 | the closest thing I have to a 2015 wrap up post is the lil bit of text at the bottom of 2016′s post… even though my two most popular fics were from 2015 lololol

So I guess my main writing goal for 2024, since I know I will never surpass my 2015 totals, is to just do better than I did in 2023. Here's to more fic!

I managed a Pinefest fic, a fic I started for DCBB but didn't finish by the draft deadline and posted on my own, an annual destielversary fic, and an annual holiday fic. I think that's the bare minimum of what I try to aim for in a year, so even if I'm personally disappointed I didn't get anything else written in addition to that bare minimum, I'm glad I was at least able to hit that goal. Across this year's four posted fics, there's a total of 110,875 words.

Also, again slightly cheating, but since I've mentioned it for the past two years, I'm still making the @spngeorg podcast! In case the millions of words of meta I've written over the years aren't enough, and you want to hear me yell out loud about the show, you can start from the beginning on Spotify or wherever you enjoy podcasts! Or if that sounds daunting, since I just uploaded Episode 138, 7.12 Time After Time, which makes the backlog a lot to catch up on honestly, you're also welcome to just jump in now. Everyone please come yell with me! I swear, if you do start from the beginning, that I get dramatically better at this whole thing as we go on... at least, I think I have. If nothing else, episodes are far more manageably shorter now that I've developed a system. Only took 2 1/2 years, but here we are... :'D

With that business out of the way, let's break down those numbers! Presented in the order they posted:

Dear Western Red Cedar #2409 (63,433 words rated M) Written for @deancaspinefest with gorgeous art by @alexiescherryslurpy, and inspired by this tumblr post that had been plaguing my imagination for several years. It's a two person love triangle with Forest Ranger and secret bestselling author Dean and small town librarian Cas. Heck I want to go reread it just thinking about it now... this is a happy place fic for me.

one working part (40,051 words, rated E) I started this for DCBB, but failed to make the draft deadline, then finished it before posting began anyway... another canon finale fix-it fic, but this one is heavily It's A Wonderful Life flavored and based on a conversation I had with @greywrenn last year. This story picks up at the beginning of 15.19, and then slowly veers more and more from canon, running alongside canon and making rude hand gestures at canon along the way, because they all deserved to have nicer things than canon gave them.

all the time in the world (1,289 words, rated T) This is my annual Destielversary story, short and sweet. It's set immediately after the events of One Working Part, but you don't have to have read that to enjoy this one. Just know Cas is back with Dean, and they've got the rest of their lives stretched out in front of them.

Christmas, Present (6,102 words, rated T) My annual holiday fluff fic, this time set in an AU, since most of my past holiday fic has been canon universe. A Dean/Cas college AU, with Matchmaker Charlie who just wants her friends to be happy already!

And that's my year in fic (unless I manage to post something else in the next 33 hours or so, and lol no that ain't happening...)! As per usual, I've already written more than half of this year's word total for the 2024 Pinefest, which will post in March... or april... heck when is my posting date even... it's coming soon anyway! But it's all written! :'D

Once again, I've still got so many more stories I want to write. Even the To Be Written list has grown again. My idea list long ago surpassed SABLE status, and yet now there's even more on it...

It's five pages, and two thousand words longer than it was last year. this just gets worse every year :'D

But that means I'll never run out of things to write, and that's always something to celebrate!

Thanks again to everyone who’s read, kudos’ed, commented, reblogged, liked, rec’ed, and enjoyed anything I’ve written in the last year. I love you all. <3 See you in 2024!

#spn fanfic #destiel #things i have written #2023 fic roundup #shameless self promotion

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1989stanz · 5 months ago

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Michael X Cassie

The Naturals

Ok. Hear. Me. Out. It's been a couple months since I last posted something here (I'm writing something, but it's still not finished because procrastination and school). However, today I was looking through my drafts and I found something interesting. I wrote it when I was reading The Naturals and I was still team Micheal (crucify me if you want to, but he's hot 🤷‍♀️). I'm not even team Micheal anymore because ✨DEAN ✨, but I thought it would be funny to share what I wrote back then.

It's like a remake of the scene in the forest in book two. When I read this scene, I thought "What if Michael was the one who found her? How would that go?" And I built this remake based on these questions.

ANYWAY, LET'S QUIT ALL THIS TED TALK AND ACTUALLY SHOW YOU WHAT I WANT TO.

(have fun‼️💪)

Word count: who cares?

(English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are mistakes here and there.)

Briggs helped me to my feet. “My team’s on their way in,” he said. “We left straight from the house, so we had a head start.” We?

“Cassie.” I knew who it was before I saw him. The boy who asked me to guess how he liked his eggs cooked when I first met him. The one who read others emotions like a book, but preferred to hide his. The guy that didn't like to want things, but made it clear that he wanted me and only me.

Michael.

Sometimes it was impossible to know how he was feeling just by glancing at his face, but his voice already told me everything thing I needed to know—every single emotion he was feeling. Worry. Shock. Relief. Hope.

The fact that he didn't use my nickname didn't go unnoticed. His face was pure relief and, when he settled his eyes on me, his eyes twisted in a way that told me he didn't expect to find me in this condition.

The narrowing in his eyebrows told me something more, another feeling, hiding in the mix of emotions he was feeling. Anger. I guessed that if Webber wasn't already dead, Michael would strangle him with his bare hands in a couple of minutes.

“Holy shit. I thought he would kill you.” Michael ran towards me, squeezing my whole body in a bone crushing hug that took all the breath in my lungs away. I tapped him in the arm and his arms began to loosen up a bit, but I still couldn't breathe right.

“I thought too, but Briggs came in time.” I looked at his face, grabbing it with both of my hands. My fingers started tracing the corners of his face, my mind now hungry for something familiar. Something real. Someone to trust.

His hands were by his side, but I judged by the way his eyes were moving that he was tracing every part of my face too, trying to see how bad my injuries were. I saw the way his eyes softened when he was analyzing them, but there was a subtle change when his eyes were looking at the rest of my face.

A feeling that sometimes I caught in his face when he wasn't hiding it.

It was love, affection. And still a bit of concern.

“Where are the others?” my voice came harsh, my thumb whipped the tear that fell down his right eye. His eyes were full of tears that were begging to emerge, to be dropped.

“They are at the house. And by the way it was Sloane's idea to activate the tracker. Everyone wanted to come, even Dean tried to sneak into Briggs' car, but Judd was glued on him. I just simply followed Briggs with my car.” he swallowed dryly, “I just had to came here, to look at you. You don't understand, Cassie.”

And that look was on his face again. I never noticed before, but Dean looks at me like he's just staring at something trivial like an object—something he wanted to ignore but couldn't. Badly. But Michael was eyeing me like I had the universe in my hands. And I couldn't stop thinking that I couldn't deny anymore how I had the sensation that my heart was about to explode when he was nearby. How, when everytime I tried to deny it, it became harder and harder with time to hide it.

Not that I was really putting effort, since he would know any affection that I might have for him with one look at my face.

He said that he would give me time, that he would be patient while I was trying to figure out how I felt about him and Dean. But I was done trying. I knew the answer, and he had waited for a long time to know about it.

“What happened?” Michael asked, his arms still wrapped around me and holding my body like I was about to vanish into thin air if he let me go. I didn't protest. His eyes were still on my injuries, so that would explain how he didn't see the new rush of certainty that crossed my face.

“I hit him in the head with a rock. Then, I jumped off a tree on him.” His eyes followed mine up to the tree I climbed, and his lips twitched in a smile well known.

“I should have expected.” his face turned to mine again, this time there was a glow in his eyes. “The asshole deserved the hell you mad him go through.”

He was smiling at me, and it was just then that I noticed how my hands were shaking from what happened.

The gun to my hand. Webber's voice saying how he killed his victims. Agent Sterling's last words to me before I left the cabin. It was all in my head, screaming.

And of course, Michael noticed the look in my face. “Hey, it's ok. We're ok. He's dead right now and won't ever hurt you again.” He used one of his hands that were planted in my waist to move away one of my hands from his face, cupping my face with one hand and pulling me closer with his other.

“I'm fine,” I told him uselessly.

“You're not, but I don't expect you to be. You can be fine later.” His words made me calmer, almost silencing the noise in my head. Almost. I knew a way to keep them away.

Wasting no more time, I pulled him by the hair, the space between us closing, and he kissed me desperately. Then, I realized he wasn't joking when he thought I was about to die, because he was kissing me like I came back from the death.

The hand on my waist was drawing small circles and the one on my face was holding my chin. Holding me gently and kissing me like it was my last kiss. My hands were initially on his neck, and when they moved to his hair I pictured him in every single situation with me.

At the restaurant. Picking me up in my house with his Porch. Him pissing Dean off. The look on his face when he asked me if I'd kiss him if Lia dared me to do it. Him actually kissing me after that. How he followed me without hesitation, knowing that a killer was after me. Saying that he would be patient and wait for me, but once his lips were on mine, my hands buried in his hair—all I would think about would be him.

And oh God, he was right. So fucking right.

My knees were almost giving up, his hands the only thing keeping me in place. He only stopped when my lips were sore, my tongue numb, and glanced at me, taking deep breaths. Analyzing my face, his hair a mess. Whatever he found, he just smilled at me. My lips tried to mimic his gesture, but it was still weird to smile. And I wondered for how long it would stay this way, for how long Webber's actions would haunt me. How many night of sleep I would waste pacing, thinking and wondering. How it would feel strange having to act normal after what just happened. Would I ever be able to forget him?

No. I'd have to forget Locke first, what's impossible. They'd always be in my mind, some days taking control of it, some days just in the corner of my brain waiting to haunt me again.

“I think we should come back to the cabin.” I said, and Michael followed me without any questions, holding my hand. He must have read the expression in my face and knew that now I needed answers to keep me distracted from what happened in the trees. I couldn't allow myself to feel scared right now, but I knew who I could go to if I needed support.

I could go to the boy that learned how to read emotions to save himself. To the one that wasn't open with others, but it was different with me. The one that casually said he likes Jane Austen.

Michael.

#the inheritance games #the final gambit #grayson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the hawthorne legacy #jameson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #xander hawthorne #the grandest game #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #the naturals #Dean #cassie #michael #Sloane #Lia #jennifer lynn barnes

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