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insanescriptist · 8 months ago

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Cremation is just another fun(erl) service

So blaming random 4am thoughts that have been plaguing me all day for this

----

Jason woke to a bright room, thin sheets and the smell of a hospital embedded in his body.

First as always, assess. Hospital. No affiliation printed on the walls or anywhere. Private room, but small. That door looked like it led to a private bathroom. Generic flower picture, a mounted screen turned off. Really fucking bright sunlight from the windows.

There was no fucking way he was in Gotham then. Everything was too nice. Normal by standards outside of Gotham. There were blinds, not metal shutters. The walls were cleaner than Gotham allowed outside of Downtown and he could see greenery through the window.

Okay. So what had he been doing? Jason remembered and then wished he had his Jerichos to shoot himself with. Mystic Shit™. Okay. Okay. That was not one of his better ideas, but if he's recovering in a hospital, it worked. World saved.

So recovery. How fucked was he?

His skin looked so fucked. Which meant he had been worse. He's had time to recover and lose muscle tone in, going by how twiggy his arms were. His hands looked good. Clearly someone knew he cared about those if they went through the effort of restoring those.

Hmm, that was odd. No matter how much Jason hated the Lazarus Pits and all its by-products, it would have been a faster and more simple way to recover from near-death than the long incarceration in a hospital for a John Doe.

Jason wasn't sure if he'd been abandoned yet again by those who called themselves his family because he could, "take care of himself," or if he had been written off dead. Again.

Hospital beat the coffin by a long shot.

And it was with that cheery thought, a nurse -obvious meta human nurse- came in and burst into excited Japanese, because that was of course, his luck.

It's after the nurse and doctors leave that Jason loses his shit.

It looks like he's sulking in bed, but mentally everything in his head is exploding. Imploding.

Three. Fucking. Years. Coma.

Burn victim so bad they not only expected him to die in the first couple of days, but still expect it because of the infection risk his fucked up skin represents.

Still the conversation with the medical staff -of varying degrees of bizarre- was enlightening.

No, he has no idea who he is. Did he ever get anyone visit? How did he get here?

Of course some amnesia is to be expected. No, some of the nurses visited. No one knows how he got here.

Does he know what his quirk is? Uh?

Trauma blocked amnesia, the doctor mutters.

What's the last date he remembered?

Saturday. Maybe? The last year? No, I'm pretty sure my memory is shit and I'm trying hard not to freak out over not knowing anything. So could I get the year number?

And then there's the fucking year number. Once he got it translated into more normal terms.

Mystic Shit™ said fuck you to the future.

Except Jason knows this is not his future. Again, if it was, this would have been treated as a fucking inconvenience. Effective skin restoration goop -the proper name escaped him- was easily available to those with the right connections. A normal baseline human with 2nd and 3rd degree burns would be fine in less than two weeks with it, with nary a trace to show for it.

Thanks to the three year coma, his muscles were all atrophied as fuck, despite their best attempts at physical therapy. Because of all the burns and later burn scars and infections making it basically impossible to actually do fuck all about maintaining muscle tone until he was basically burnt skin and bones anyway.

He was so fucking weak now. It wouldn't last forever. He'd escape this hospital before he was discharged, before whatever "benefactor" showed up for whatever "purpose," he was suppose to serve now, as they had the medical debt over his head or was threatening his loved ones or whatever. If one didn't show up in the next week, he was losing his genre-savviness, because shitheads always wanted to claim shit, if it looked useful.

And Jason was used to looking useful, until he was no longer useful and they just didn't care. The amnesia made him less shiny, but Jason couldn't pull off the brain dead zombie imitation without actually being a brain dead zombie crawling up out of his grave.

So under the thin hospital sheets, Jason twitched his muscles.

Two weeks of emotional freak outs, watching the news, physical therapy and drugs Jason had had enough.

And he broke out.

----

Yeah, he regretted it almost immediately. Hard not to in the stupid paper gown, barefoot and bare ass.

Thankfully people were people, even with the plethora of meta humans he had seen, so it actually wasn't hard to find clothes. Someone left a hoodie in their car and Jason broke into said car. Put on the hoodie. Hotwired the car and drove off.

Somehow for being in the fucking future by two centuries and change, cars really hadn't changed. More evidence of Mystic Shit™ slamming him sideways.

He drove to the next town over, picked another direction, drove some more. Parked the car near what looked like a chop shop, negotiated the car for some money. He probably got ripped off, but better than nothing.

He walked to a corner store, bought some flip-flops after bullshitting an excuse that his had broken. First aid stuff. You know, for his feet. Hair dye in three different colors, because Rose Wilson could pick out a bad dye job at a hundred meters and so Jason learned how to dye his own hair properly so as to avoid her mockery, only to get mockery (affectionate) anyway.

It was a mix of instinct and lifelong observation that let him find an empty apartment quickly. He stole some sweatpants and passed out on the bed.

----

The thing is, Jason doesn't regret his crimes like Bruce thinks he ought to do, with a massive pity party and flaming self-hatred and punching criminals instead of shooting them. He hates the necessity of doing crimes, even if that crime is a net gain to society, but that's why all his serious crimes are premeditated. He's homicidal, not a psychopath.

Not Pit-mad either, no matter what the rest of them might have thought.

Again, he's homicidal, not a psychopath. And when he doesn't have to be some sort of costume soldier to be discarded by family for the disgrace of disfiguring the memory of a dead boy? He's actually chill and boring.

That is to say, he crashed at that apartment for three days, felt progressively more like himself, especially after the dye job -white hair all over, now a solid and boring black- but it still didn't change all the other issues the Mystic Shit™ inflicted on him.

This body isn't actually his. Too young, scars not right where the burns didn't fuck him over. Thankfully his existing coping mechanisms for dysphoria work and it's shoved to the side.

It's also a shit body. Not even a month out of a three year coma with inadequate -by his standards- of medical care. It's weak and building muscle to do everyday civilian shit, is going to take months to do. Pushing as hard as he did during the escape wrecked him the next three days. Jason may not know what's going to happen, but with his luck, it's going to suck and training is preparing to make it suck less. The only certainty he's got is that his skin or lack thereof is going to kill him from infection if he doesn't fix it.

He's got no legal identity here. Which basically puts him back onto familiar ground of legally dead.

Beyond the lack of paperwork, he's got a lack of funds. He also has no easy target to steal funds and equipment from, even just for fun.

For more disadvantages, he's in a different country, with different laws and a whole different culture. He would be climbing on board a fucking plane to Gotham, if it existed in this world, for some familiar ground.

He really is the unluckiest Robin. It also means he is also the most prepared Robin.

---

The first six months after waking up in this mockery world of heroics were the absolute worst.

He started at one foot in the grave and crawled out of it before the casket could really eat him alive. Jason had experience in casket busting. He didn't wanna repeat it.

He still didn't know who he was -in who was he inhabiting- but it wasn't like Jason had a lot to go on. 'His' quirk was thermo-manipulation, most obviously in the blue fire he could call to his hands but he could do some ice too; it was thanks to Duke's light and shadow manipulation that he had even tried for the duality. He had white hair. Presumably Japanese heritage but quirks had really erased or blurred a lot of racial lines. Also presumed dead and young.

Access to the Quirk Registry took some doing, but again, not everyone followed basic computer security, much less what it took to keep someone bat-trained out of their systems. Again, for nearly two centuries in the future, a lot of the technological development had stagnated. Searching through the Quirk Registry hadn't yielded any result but none of his other methods had struck anything either. And he had looked at the recently dead and/or presumed dead. Sure, he had some leads that looked viable, but he wasn't going to follow those up yet.

He had fixed a few of his most pressing issues the past six months. His ignorance of the local area, the local and national politics and so on. This world supported and had an entire industry catering to making child soldiers and sell their image and reputation to make money and more child soldiers that called themselves Heroes.

His weak ass body no long cried doing daily tasks and only hated him after working out. Yes, Jason was pushing it but he was well aware of how months of preparation could mean shit in the face of seconds.

His infection risk was severely reduced after quick research bender let him make the most generic knock-off brand of the skin restoration goop in a shitty homemade lab. Did it fix his skin being patchwork fucked in places? Some. He wasn't going to get feeling back properly, but at least he looked more normal. Maybe with enough moisturizing he might look a little less Frankenstien's monster.

He also had a cash inflow. It wasn't great, but it supported his apartment. And the second set of papers. And the 2nd apartment.

Which meant in grand old tradition for Jason, time for him to bounce to the next apartment and come up with a new name.

#time for Izzy to slep #Izzy does fic #jason todd #dabi

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lauvgoods · 11 months ago

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hey queen could i request a little angsty rafe x reader inspired by the alcott by the national featuring taylor swift

the alcott / rafe cameron

SUMMARY : rafe has a bad habit of ruining the good parts of his life, including you, but you just can't seem to walk away

PARTNERING : rafe cameron x gn!reader

WORD COUNT : 3916

GENRE : angst , open-ended

WARNINGS : unhealthy relationship, drugs and alcohol, a few swear words, one brief mention of sex

A/N : first request! this ran a little longer and angstier than i'd expected, but i really hope i was able to do this justice and give you what you wanted! i also hope you're okay with it being so open-ended

𐙚₊˚⊹ 🦢 “it’s been a long time, but I really need to get some things off of my chest. mind meeting me at the country club? our spot?”

the text is brief, to the point. you wouldn’t expect much more from rafe given that it’s, well, rafe, but it caught you off guard nonetheless. the distance between the two of you has only grown after everything went down, after what he had done, and honestly he didn’t expect you to respond, much less agree to seeing him. then again, you always seemed to be the only one to see the best in him even if he knew he didn’t deserve it. you’d always–almost always forgiven him no matter how horrible he could act.

rafe is wringing his hands, sitting in his car, trying to convince himself that this will be alright, though he knows that it’s just you at the end of the day. just you? he internally scoffs at his own thoughts. it has never been just you. the one person who truly made him feel alive, like he was a person outside of his mistakes. what was it you had always told him? “you are more than the worst parts of yourself.” you’d never thought of him as a lost cause, not once, but here he is thinking about how best to go about asking for your forgiveness yet again.

two years of knowing each other, of loving each other, and yet it had all gone to shit. as usual, he knew, all because of himself.

there’s a pool shack just near the main building, the one where he’d first spotted you, where you’d peaked his interest. rather than out getting a tan or swimming, you were sat in the corner of the building, a fancy little golden notebook propped up against your knees. it was cooler inside, so half of him couldn’t blame you, but he guesses it was that notebook that had caught his attention. a journal, diary, he didn’t much care at the time, but when he sees you in that exact same spot, with the exact same notebook, the biggest sense of deja vu washes over him. he’s stuck there, staring at you, watching you with that pen probably writing in the nicest handwriting you can. you haven’t noticed him just yet, and that’s how he knows that whatever it is, it’s captured your attention and pulled you into a little bubble like always. he isn’t stupid, though, he’s seen it on your socials, you leaning against someone else in pictures, smiling like how you did at the start of your relationship. not like the end, where everything was clear by the dimmed light in your eyes, smile not reaching them in the way he loved. he knows what you’re writing about—or rather who.

after a few minutes of admittedly creepy staring from him, you feel that prickling on the back of your neck, that itch of eyes watching, and look up to see him. he looks different, cleaner, more alive than he had before, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s a familiar ache in your chest, a bittersweet taste on your tongue, before the corners of your lips turn up into a warm smile. rafe just stares for a moment, taking you in. you look the same, but that light has come back, and that brings him more grief than you’ll know for the conversation he has in mind.

a couple of steps forward, and he’s sitting across from you. the sunlight coming in through the window washes you both in its warmth, melting the awkward feelings that might have otherwise arisen. there’s this look on his face, one that you know all too well. his jaw is locked tight, hands clenched into fists, and he’s avoiding your eyes. he hopes that you’ll still believe him this time when he talks, but he wouldn’t be shocked if you didn’t. he half expects you to walk out before he can get a word out, a sickly smirk on your face as you taunt him for ever thinking he could get a positive reaction out of you after it all.

“i’m sorry.”

it’s clear the words take effort to get out, and your eyes widen as they hit you. you can’t recall the last time he apologized, genuinely apologized. not something half-assed just to move on from another fight so you can fall back into an old routine again. kissing, falling back into bed with one another, walking on eggshells, the party, the inevitable fight, another fake apology. it was a cycle, an awful cycle that you wouldn’t dare break for fear of losing him. the truth, though, was that you’d lost him a long time ago.

you can read him like an open book, like an instruction manual leading you to all his deepest darkest feelings that he wouldn’t dare let anyone catch a glimpse of. there’s fear, and you hate the way your heart inevitably softens at it all. you don’t reply though, placing your pen between the pages and setting it carefully on the table separating the two of you. you wait, looking directly at where his eyes would meet yours if they weren’t so carefully looking just above at your forehead. he never was good at confrontation, not heavy ones like these anyway. anger he could deal with. you’ve lost count of the number of times he’d punched a wall, or slammed a door, all out of pure rage. guilt is something he’s been quick to bury, whether under layers of other emotions or less-than-healthy outlets.

“i hurt you, i know that. i did a lot of things i’m not proud of. i’ve–” he cuts himself off with a harsh sigh, tightly clenching his fist. words or conversations like these have never been his biggest strength. “i ruined what we had. the coke, the drinking, the fighting, and then the way i broke it all off, i never should have treated you that way.”

“rafe, can we please go home? it’s late and you’ve had a lot to drink and i just think you should cut yourself off for the night.”

it wasn’t the first time you’d asked him that night. as a matter of fact, it was the third. still, he looked up at you with an expression that left you feeling small and insignificant in a way that can’t be described. here you were again, killing his high and, as he would probably be saying later, ruining his night as always. you knew, though, that he didn’t really mean any of it. in the morning he’d wake up beside you, pressing kisses to your cheek and apologizing for how he’d acted, saying he would try to get better, for you.

tears filled your eyes, yet you held your tongue, knowing that angering him during a high would never be a good idea. you weren’t scared of him, knowing he would never lay a hand on you, but his shouting was almost worse than any physical blows. his words lingered in the back of your mind.

“rafe, you know how much i hate these parties. you always end up high out of your mind and leaving off on my own to hang out with your friends. can’t we just stay in tonight?” you’d asked, eyes pleading while he turned off the ignition.

he let your worries roll off of his back like water, shaking his head and grabbing your hand to kiss the back of it with that boyish grin you loved. “c’mon, i promise i’ll stick with you this time. promise it’ll just be a few drinks and then we can head back, ‘kay?”

promises, promises, promises. all empty even if he didn’t know it while making them. the moment he’d had two drinks, he had his eyes zeroed in on the table in the corner, and was off before you even knew he’d gone. you stood there in the kitchen, turning in circles, standing on the tips of your toes to try and spot him out among the crowd of partygoers. he’d left you again, and it took you nearly half an hour to find him. of course, the lines of white powder lined up and a rolled dollar bill clasped between his fingers. his pupils were already blown, that dazed look in his eye, and he smiled stupidly at you before waving you over.

“c’mere, i want you to try this time.”

that one moment would come up in more fights than either of you could have known.

you never did a single line, walking out on the party the moment he’d started getting annoyed at your lack of interest in the drugs, having a screaming match that same night, and it was one of the first times you saw him cry. fists pressed into his face, crouched down to his knees as he tried to regain some control over his emotions. there wasn’t much rafe didn’t tell you, especially regarding his situation with ward. his father had always been awful to him, never making him feel wanted. you knew that beneath that tough, hardened exterior was a boy who had been left on his own, neglected and never truly loved in the way he deserved.

“every time i tried to tell you to hold back, to reel it all in, you’d look at me like i was an idiot, rafe. Like i was horrible for wanting to help you. you didn’t just hurt me rafe, you shattered me. you made promise after promise and then broke it all in the same night. it’s like you looked right into my mind, figured out the absolute last thing i wanted you to do, and just immediately went and did it.”

the smile is gone, the warmth from the sun fueling the sudden surge of emotions. your throat feels tight as you finally speak, memories pulling free from that little wall you’d put up, trying so hard to forget it all. to move on. that small ache in your chest seems to have burst, tearing at everything it reaches. there’s a burning in your eyes, but you blink fast in an effort to keep it all in. once that dam breaks, you know it’ll come out all at once and ruin any composure you have.

rafe feels that spark of guilt erupt into a blaze, and despite the heat outside the cold pricks like needles at his skin. he’s already caught on to that uptick in your breathing, the way your knee bounces under the table even though he can’t fully see it. there’s a slight shake to your fingers that breaks his heart all over again. he’s painfully aware of it.

everyone had warned you about dating rafe, how he’d only hurt you, keep you as another notch on his belt before going on to the next poor girl. despite the worries lingering in the back of your mind, you simply couldn’t attach that description to the same man you knew. the one that would ask to stay over, fall asleep with his head on your lap, the way he’d look at you like you were the sun. falling for him was like breathing, but when you hit the ground it nearly broke you.

“i know i lied, and you deserved better than me. honestly, i wish you’d walked away just so you’d be less hurt in the end.” there’s a strained tone dripping off of his every word, rafe’s eyebrows knitting together while his eyes bore holes into the table. “god, i ruined everything.”

your bottom lip quivers, and you know that you’re done for. your vision is already going blurry, and any breath you take feels like it’s coming through a straw.

“you ever think that you’re my problem? huh? maybe it’s you, not me. you’re always weighing me down, fucking nagging me for attention instead of going out and doing the things i wanna do. i just wanted a girlfriend that would be there for me, you know? listen to me and not try to drag me down. you hear me? you’re suffocating me!”

the words shouted at you as rafe paced back and forth across the empty parking lot were just that. words. he’d wake up in the morning no longer coked out or angry, but even this was a new low for him. as much as you tried to hide them, the tears spilled over. he didn’t really mean it, you knew that. you knew he had trouble controlling his anger, losing his grip, that he would beg you with tears in his eyes to forgive him. but it hurt. the mornings waking up, your body sore from crying yourself out until you were dehydrated and weak, then covering your puffy and red eyes with anything you could just to make him feel less guilty, knowing he didn’t actually believe the things he said. these moments, though, made you feel like a speck. a tiny speck but yet also the most enormous burden to him. you loved him so much it was killing you, had been killing you for longer than you realized.

“you even sound like my sister! ‘rafe, what’s wrong with you?’ ‘rafe, stop it!’ which side are you even on? why don’t you go ahead and hang out with her and all her shitty friends if you wanna say that shit?”

why couldn’t he ever make it easy on you, not even this one time? he’d taken everything you ever loved and blown it all up like a goddamn landmine, stepping on all the good memories that you had of him and forever tainting any other parts of your life when looking back on what your life had been like when you were dating him. you’d given all of yourself over to helping him, to trying to get him to see himself like you did. now when you try to focus on who you’d been back then, all you can remember is what stage with him you were in. that one time you had tried to spend christmas with your family? all you can think about now is how worried you were that he might be out partying and could overdose instead of truly enjoying your time together.

your entire life had been completely focused both on loving him and on making sure he didn’t completely ruin his.

“did you mean any of it?”

your voice sounds less like yourself with the way you’re having to hold it all in. it’s then, hearing you, that he finally looks you in the eye. tears are brimming in your eyes, droplets hanging onto the lashes before finally dripping down onto your shirt. your face has grown flushed, your throat painfully dry and constricted.

“didn’t mean anything i said when i was high or drunk off my ass. you were never the problem, that was all me.” he sounds earnest as he speaks, and you can tell from the way he’s rubbing his hands against his pants that it’s getting to him just as much as it is you. “i was so focused on getting my next fix, but i promise you you were everything to me.”

that’s when the dam starts to crack, the tears flowing freely down your face, starting that itchy feeling on your neck as you try to wipe them with the back of your hands.

“did i do any good?” your voice is wavering, on the edge of a full-blown sob. “loving you? did i help you any at all while we were together?”

rafe was laid out on the bed, the alcohol having long since gotten him drowsy. he didn’t get high this time, which was likely what had saved you from another fight. you simply didn’t have the energy. looking into the bathroom mirror, you were a ghost of the girl you’d been when you first started dating him. it was valentine’s day, he had made plans for a date and you’d even bought a new dress to wear out to eat. but, of course, rafe had gotten into a bottle of wine, claiming it to be the more romantic decision to start out the evening. the night had gone sour the moment he pulled the two glasses from the overhead cabinet and poured himself a generous amount.

it was three glasses later for him–you hadn’t had a sip of yours–when he’d stumbled and knocked the entire glass down the front of your dress.

“i’m so, so sorry, i didn’t mean to i just tripped.”

it was with tears in your eyes that you reassured him you weren’t upset, that you didn’t feel like dinner anyway. what rafe also neglected to realize was how far past the time of the dinner reservations it was. holding back another crying session, you led him up to bed where he promptly flopped down on top of it all.

standing over the sink, still in your ruined evening gown, tears left tracks in your makeup, mascara running as your shoulders shook, yet you held in any noise for fear of making him feel guilty. every time, you reminded yourself of how kind and good he could be. you told yourself that you knew the person beneath all of this, that you knew that he had so much potential to be better, he just really needed to try and for it to stick.

“you were the best thing i’ve ever had.”

rafe’s eyes are red, eyes glassy with tears, and you can tell he’s holding it all in.

“you saw the best in me when no one else did. you didn’t just see a screw-up, a druggie, a disappointment, or a hopeless cause. you just saw me.”

it’s on that last word that his voice breaks, and the gasp that he sucks in splinters any resolve you have left. you’ve never had the strongest will to walk away, only doing so after he destroyed it all.

but rafe knew that he was poisoning you, could tell even if he refused to admit it to himself. he’d heard you crying sometimes, seen you through video calls with those puffy eyes, could see the way he was the one sucking the life out of you day by day. rather than trying to fix it or talk to you, or even get real help, he did what he does best. he self-destructed.

that night, when he’d been calling you the problem in the middle of that empty parking lot, that was where he blew it all up.

“i can’t do this anymore.”

red-eyed and frozen in place, you looked up at him, feeling like all the air had been sucked from your lungs. you were choking on it. he’d gone ranting and raving, had raised his voice, but never even came close to ending things.

“rafe, no, you don’t mean that. you can’t-”

you’d started toward him, hoping that you could embrace him, console him, and things would be alright. it was a curse, the worst kind of curse, yet one that you loved because it was him. you loved him with every single part of yourself even if that meant breaking yourself to save him even in the slightest. he, however, put up his arms in front of himself and took a step back, shaking his head.

“no, i’m done. we’re done. i don’t want to do this anymore with you, ‘cause i know all you want is to fix me. you don’t care about me for me, this is who i am. i go out and i party and i have the time of my life. it’s clear you can’t handle that.”

your breaths came out short, harsh, trying to backpedal and get him to see reason, more panicked than he’d ever heard you. “ro, rafe i promise you i can, i’m so sorry if i made you feel like i don’t really care about you. we can work on this if you just-”

“STOP!”

you were on the verge of sobbing at this point, unable to figure out where it had taken such a turn for the worst possible end. had you thought about walking away? more than once, but you rationalized that you couldn’t leave him like this.

and he left. he walked away, back into the house party that you drove him to, claiming that topper or somebody else could take him home. he left you there, crumbling into absolutely nothing with the worst pain you’d felt in your entire life, like something in your chest was ripping apart, holding back screams.

“i need you to help me forget you, rafe, ‘cause i can’t just go on like this.”

your hands come up to hold yourself, rubbing up and down your arms as you cry in front of the boy you loved. you want more than anything to hate him, to be able to just scream at him or tell him how much of you he’d taken. you’ve been trying to build yourself back up, trying to fix that hole in your chest. two years doesn’t just disappear in a few months. loving someone in that way leaves its mark on you, sticks to you like a second skin, comes back when you think you’re finally starting to be okay again and devastates you. it leaves you walking around as a ghost, all this love and no one to give it to because the person you hold in your heart is gone.

the problem for rafe is, he doesn’t want to forget. he knows he can’t, that in him is that love that he’s tried so hard to bury for both of your sakes, that anything he wants will just ruin any chance of what you’re trying to achieve all over again.

“i’m trying to get clean,” he says instead, taking in a stuttered breath. “about two months now, 'cause i know how much you hated it.”

the both of you know it, how no matter how hard you try it’s nearly impossible to walk away. it would be better for everyone, healthier for everyone. you can get with that person you’ve been posting, he can find someone that makes him happy without flashing back to every fight if something starts to go wrong. you two won’t risk falling into bad habits, and can be happy individually.

instead, you open that golden notebook with shaky hands, your pen having held your place, and you turn it for him to read.

“can you, um, can you read that last sentence out loud?”

he looks at you, eyes searching for some sort of meaning to how quickly the topic seems to have changed, before letting his gaze fall down to the words at the bottom of the page.

“i’m trying, i’m really trying here, but i don’t know if i can move on from him, not with all that i’ve still got left in me.” he trails off at the end as he seems to realize what you mean, and lets out a slow breath.

“rafe, i knew from the minute i got that text what might happen. i knew, for a fact, that i’d be falling back in love with you the minute i saw your face.”

the air is still, a long silence stretching between the only two people in the room. the sun has gone behind a patch of clouds, leaving the room darker. 🕯️⋆˙ᝰ.ᐟ

#𓏲 ˖. ♡̷̸ willow writes .ᐟ #ೀ ⊹ lauvgoods 🐻ིྀ #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks

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quintessenceofdust88 · 24 days ago

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Tease (Tid)bit Tuesday

I was tagged by my darlings @typicalopposite @bidisasterevankinard and @laundryandtaxesworld, and I decided to post a little more of Nonna Rosa meeting Buck cause I love how it's coming off! Hope you guys had a lovely Tuesday and that you like it! ♥

“Maybe I will, Nonna”, Tommy says, a wistful look in his eye as he looks at the forest landscape and the other painting. Buck is already low-key planning to find the best art supplies stores in LA and surprising Tommy with a kit of brushes and oil paints, maybe one of those fancy little holding things he’s always seen at cartoons, and a painting coat (although he’d rather have Tommy painting shirtless, but that’s not a vision he wants to dwell on in front of his boyfriend’s grandmother).

“That’s a good boy”, Nonna says, her voice filled with pride, and then she looks critically at the bags still on his hand. “Now off you go, take these bags to the bedroom before our merenda runs cold, hm?”

“Sí, Nonna” Tommy easily agrees, kissing Buck’s cheek as he passes by him towards a dark wooden door, that from what Buck can see leads to a hallway where the bedrooms probably are.

“Do you need some help, babe?” Buck asks, the pet name slipping out before he can stop himself, but Nonna doesn’t even bat an eye, she just smiles cheekily at him, playing with the tip of her braid.

“Oh, Evanino, I’m sure Thomas will be very glad to show you the bedroom, but later, hm? I just said I don’t want the food getting cold”, she says with a wink, and both Tommy and Buck are left spluttering, blushed to the tip of their ears.

“Dío, Nonna, you can’t say things like that, you’ll scare him off!”, Tommy says grumpily, sounding just like an embarrassed teenager as he rushes towards the hallway, grumbling under his breath.

“Non-sense, Tommaso, he’s a firefighter. It takes a lot more than a mouthy old lady to scare you, doesn’t it, Evanino?” She pokes his arm, and Buck can’t help but laugh, nodding at her. “Now come, it’s time for you to meet the heart of any house”

“The kitchen, right?” Buck asks, and Nonna smiles, clapping her hands together.

“Sí, la cucina! Did Thomas teach you that?” She asks curiously, and Buck shakes his head, a small smile showing up on his face.

“Actually, my captain, Bobby. He’s recently moved, and he kept telling us that a house had to be chosen by the kitchen, cause that’s where the heart of the house beats” Buck tells her, and Nonna nods approvingly.

“Ah, a wise man! I like him already!” She exclaims, and then motions Buck with her hands. “Now, follow me before my cake burns in the oven, hm?”

Buck follows Nonna through a worn white door. If the rest of the house looks well-loved, the kitchen brings it up to eleven. The floor is made of honest-to-God white and black checkered tiles, something Buck has only seen in cartoon kitchens, and they match perfectly to the light yellow walls. The walls here are cleaner than in the living room: Buck can only see one painting: a replica of The Last Supper (and he’s pretty sure Tommy’s not the artist of that one) placed over a wooden table, covered in a flowered tablecloth.

On the opposite wall, he can see a black-and-white wedding portrait that looks at least fifty years old. It shows a young woman with a scrunchy smile and a man who looks so much like Tommy that Buck’s heart skips a beat, the resemblance almost jarring. Near an old cuckoo clock, there’s also a calendar hanging on the wall, its date marked in red and an image of a saint peeking from the top.

The counters, however, are a completely different story. Most of their surfaces are covered by small vases containing herbs that make the kitchen smell like a farm market, and Buck couldn’t name even half of them. Most of them are crammed in the counter closest to the large wooden-paneled window, but the rest of the surfaces are covered in jars, pots and pans, put together in a chaotic way that, somehow, looks like it follows its own system. Closer to the sink, where there’s a clean space lightly dusted with flour, Buck can see a mushroom-printed glass jar holding at least a dozen wooden spoons, and proudly displayed beside it, a rolling pin that looks a hundred years old.

The gas-burning stove is painted red, though its side is chipped, and the light blue fridge hums loudly in the corner, its surface a mosaic of photographs. Most are of people—friends, family, loved ones—and Buck’s chest tightens when he spots a photo of himself and Tommy, taken just a few weeks ago, placed proudly at eye level. The sight warms him in a way he wasn’t expecting. It’s so different from the spotless, minimalist kitchen his mother kept—so far from his own, with its modern appliances and practical, clean-cut utensils. Nonna’s kitchen looks old, and messy, and lived-in.

And Buck loves every inch of it.

Np tagging @weewookinard @perfectlysunny02 @littlepaws9 @silversky9 @mmso-notlikethat @30somethingautisticteacher and whoever else would like to join! ♥

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #nonna rosa #nonna rosa has the loveliest kitchen #writing this bit made me emotional #cause it reminded me so much of the kitchen my grandma had when i was a kid #gabby writes #tease tidbit tuesday

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according2thelore · 3 months ago

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happy wincest wednesday! my question for this week's round table (lol) is: what's your ideal for sam and dean's "apple pie" life? would they settle down and retire with each other, or would they keep hunting? who does the cooking, who does the cleaning (do they even know how to clean?), do they hide the fact that they're brothers or are they the freaky incest bros down the street? do they have kids (mpreg or adoption)? pets? i'm curious about any and all ideas you have :) (@incesthemes)

hi! happy (late) wincest wednesday! omg round table i love that! (so late it's brotherfucker friday, whoops!)

charlotte: I think my ideal was no joke our “now it’s perfect” fic—we headcanoned EVERYTHING we wanted into that baby. I think they would have horses maybe? I could see dean getting into that and sam making fun of him for it. I think sam cleans and dean cooks—obvi. I think that they hide the fact that they’re brothers for SURE. I honestly see them as DINKs for a while and maybe adopting or fostering some teenagers to pay it forward for all of their time in/around the system.

lizzy: hii! i think best-case scenario they stop hunting full-time. i'd like to see them as bobby-esque figures that only pitch in on small, low-stakes hunts and are mostly lore-givers and assign other hunters to hunts. assuming canon happens, except dean survives the barn in 15x20, sam does not want him anywhere NEAR anything above a small salt-and-burn. that i think would spur their "retirement." but i want the majority of their life to be silly and finding hobbies and doing dumb things because they deserve it!!!

i want them to move out of the bunker and build a house from scratch/make necessary adjustments to an existing house to monster-proof it (i.e., salt in the foundation, holy water sprinklers, devil's trap underneath the floorboards in every doorway, iron window frames/door handles), but keep it still a home. i want these men to get fresh air and at least two windows, as a treat.

sam very much does the cleaning, and dean does the cooking. sam is a serviceable cook, but they both like it better when dean does it. dean's a tidier (e.g., throwing a blanket over mess so he can't see it), while sam is more of a proper cleaner.

in my dream world, they wear rings 🥺 i know, it's shmoopy, but i think it's easier for them than trying to explain everything they are to each other. they go to a bar and sam gets hit on and he gets to flash his ring instead of awkwardly trying to explain that dean is his "boyfriend" like they're in the tenth grade. so i don't think they tell people they're brothers. they never truly say what they are, and don't correct people when they assume they're married. they're the winchesters. that's all there is to it.

a part of me i have never been able to kill wants dean to be a girl dad. i want to see him wear a little tiara and try not to look miserable while his daughter pours him his eleventh cup of "tea." he would be gone, whipped, done-zo. he screams his head off at every ballet recital. he gets so into her soccer games that he gets kicked out more than once for trying to fight the ref. some girl calls her a weirdo at school and sam has to pin him down because dean is in actual danger of hurting a five-year-old.

realistically i don't think they have kids (unless they stumble across an orphaned-by-monsters kid that reminds them a little too much of each other), but are mentor and/or parental figures to young hunters or kids that live around them. HOWEVER, if one of them can get pregnant, they WILL get pregnant. i don't make the rules. it's very much a war-is-over kind of decision that now they're finally free, they want to give each other this.

they keep miracle of COURSE. dean loves that dog. they dress him up for halloween every year, and the kids that come to their house love it when he sits out on the porch dressed like a lore-accurate chupacabra. sam and dean sit on the porch, too, of course, shot guns tucked under their chairs like good neighborhood watch dogs. i think dean would actually respect the fuck out of a cat, and the cat would ADORE sam, so i want them to find a silly little wet scrungly gutter kitten that sam brings home and begs dean to keep. he's always had such a soft spot for animals and i want him to have a witchy familiar-vibed cat that also demands sleeping directly on dean's neck.

this was so much. lol. sorry!

thank you so much for this ask!!!! we had a lot of fun thinking/chatting about it! :)

-charlotte & lizzy

#ask box #charlotte answers #lizzy answers #charlotte + lizzy #incesthemes #wincest wednesday #ciel <3

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sw33tsuccubus · 1 year ago

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𝐼 𝒲𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝐵𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: 𝒴/𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅𝓈 𝒜𝓁𝑒𝓍 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑔. (𝑔𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒻𝒾𝑒𝒹)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: 𝒻𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 𝟥𝟩𝟨

Had there been anyone who wanted something as bad as he wanted you?

Every look he gave you, every slight touch, his heart would flutter. You ran laps in his head, even taking dips in his daydreams.

How he wanted you to be his, how he wanted to be yours.

~~~

“Alex, you left your jacket at my place again.”

You approached your friend, the jacket in hand. He gently bit his lip, taking it from you.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

You nod, taking a seat on the stool near the wall. Alex pulled his stool closer to yours, so he was sitting beside you.

“What did you call me here for?”

He grabbed his guitar, hopping atop the stool. He plucked a few strings, before sighing.

“I need help with some lyrics. I wanted to try silly pickup lines to grab people’s attention, get them to understand the purpose.”

“Got any so far?”

He played a few notes on his guitar, tilting his head before singing.

“Let me be your leccy meter, and I’ll never run out.”

You grinned. The words were silly, but his voice was amazing. You nodded, getting his idea.

“Maybe the rhythm needs to be changed too, it’s a little funky. Too many words for one lyric. Maybe cut it in half?”

He nods, jotting on his little notebook.

The two of you spent the next hour coming up with a few different lines, trying to match each one together. At one point you got up to use the bathroom coming back grinning.

“I wanna be your vacuum cleaner.”

Alex grinned at you.

“What?”

“Breathing in your dust.”

You emphasized dust, copying his accent to drawl ‘breathing in’ together. Your eyebrows raised as you got back onto your stool, grinning cheesily. He let out a small chuckle, writing it down.

“That could be opening line to throw people off.”

You nod, letting out a small laugh.

“That would be awesome.”

The next couple of minutes consisted of grouping together the pairs, before he glanced out the window.

“It’s getting dark out, you should go home. I’ll work on it some other time and I’ll show you the finished product?”

You nod, smiling at him.

“Sounds great.”

~~~

Taking a deep breath, Alex knocked on your door. It took some moments, but you opened it and smiled at him.

“Hey Y/n.”

“Hi Alex. What are you here for?”

“I’ve got the finished song.”

Your eyebrows raise, and you move aside to let him in. He walks inside, heading to the living room. He sits himself in the corner of the couch, putting the tape into the tape player he brought. He always showed you the tape of the song, rather than some CD or some recording.

You sit on the couch, getting into a comfortable position and staring at the tape player while listening. You smile at the opening line, “I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust.”

You sit there, smiling when it’s done.

“It’s lovely, Alex.”

He smiles softly at you, his eyes evidently hiding something.

“Who’s it about? Or is it just random?”

His cheeks turned pink, and he grew nervous. You grinned.

“You nervous?”

He chuckled, turning to look you in the eye.

“Well, it’s about this one person. They give me butterflies whenever we make eye contact, and my heart warms whenever we make the slightest contact.”

You smiled. He seems to really care for this person. You were going to be slightly disappointed if it were you; it was no secret you were fond of Alex. Your friends picked up on it fast, teasing you about it. You only wished the best for him, though.

“Who is it?”

“You.”

Your eyes widened, and his nose and ears turned red. He averted his eyes, turning his head and reaching for the tape player, taking out the tape.

“Well, would you like to ask me something?”

He looked up, eyes filled with hope, seeing you smile at him. He gently bites his lip, looking you in the eye.

“Can I take you out to dinner sometime? Next week, maybe?”

You felt yourself smile wide.

“I would love to.”

#alex turner x reader #alex turner #gn reader

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duclean · 1 year ago

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evscleaningservices · 1 year ago

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clouseplayssims · 9 months ago

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"A TRADITIONAL ITALIAN KITCHEN

Signor Giovanni, likes to eat outside, but a true Italian, as he is, likes to cook for his guests also, so he wish to design his kitchen around the stove and his ample wine collection. The kitchen he has to work with is large, since it covers most of the first floor of his villa. It is also an above ground basement, like most of the kitchens in its time, to preserve the coolness.

Entry door must be located near the staircase and you can also add one to access the pantry or into the garden outside. The designers must take into account that the red walls are buried into the ground, so can only have privacy windows."

Required:

Decorative, architecturally interesting kitchen set, homey/cozy (mix of cool/warm tones), customized hood above the stove, patterned backsplash, large stove and island, solid island chairs facing the stove, wine bar, wooden floors, beams, and columns." The inspiration images were varied, but I immediately thought of a set on MTS that would be perfect for this challenge.

As you can see I made sure to decorate the outside INTENSELY. Unfortunately, due to the windows I chose you don't see as much as I'd like. I couldn't justify including an image of just the view.

Isn't this set PERFECT? I wish there were more recolors because the cream wasn't my first choice (I wanted all dark woods) but I do think it at least added some balance to the overall color scheme. I picked simple white marble for the walls in this area as the backsplash was built into the custom hood.

There's plenty of plants, a cheeky fishvase, and a little bit of wine set out. Lots of clear jars to make cooking easier as you can see the ingredients.

From another angle you can see the huge pan holder on the ceiling, along with the patterned ceiling, the wooden floors, and the heavy dark wood chairs finished with leather.

I really love this wine wall. I figured that Signor Giovanni wouldn't just have wine at the official wine bar section of the room, but would also display his more treasured bottles like art for others to appreciate and admire. The side through the archway (which is a deco piece, not a wall!) just leads to a bit of storage as well as a sink. I like the idea that originally that was the kitchen and it has since been expanded with all of the windows so Signor Giovanni can properly admire his garden.

It's a lovely view, after all. You can see just a hint of the seating area outside. I included art in almost every frame because I felt like it was important to Signor Giovanni, and the mirror mimics the windows but allowed me to take some out so it wasn't a solid wall of windows.

Lastly, the wine bar! I figured simple was best and used the maxis wine bar, though there's also hanging glasses and more bottles stored above. I like to think Guidry is a distant, scandalous relative.

You can also see the coffee setup Signor Giovanni has because, well, the Italians I know are all very big into proper coffee.

I'm glad I made it through - seeing the other entries I feel like they're all so much cleaner and more like sets than homes. They're beautiful. I always end up injecting a bit of humor into my decorated spaces, like the telephone mirror, the fish, and the monkeys here.

BONUS:

The yard you basically can't see but dammit I decorated it!

#doty competitions outakes

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braveclementine · 9 months ago

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Chapter 4

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.❤️.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖉 steadily until September 1 came. I woke up extremely early, even earlier than Dad. Full moon had been two weeks prior so he was able to come to the station with me today. I bounced down the stairs to make myself tea, bacon, and eggs.

Dad came downstairs an hour later, going to the kitchen to reheat cold eggs and bacon. I had already dragged my heavy trunk down the stairs and set it up by the door. I hadn't put Sadie in her cage yet though. I wasn't going to put her back in until the last second. I didn't like the idea of animals being in cages (which was ironic because I loved the zoo. Of course, one could argue that those 'cages' were much bigger and would be more accurately classified as 'habitats'). She had just come in from a night of hunting and was sleeping in my room.

Dad smiled at me before rubbing his eyes and sitting down, putting his plate of reheated food in front of him. "So, today's the big day, huh?"

I nodded, to nervous to say much. I kept rushing up and down the stairs, making sure I hadn't forgotten something or adding something to the trunk.

At 10:00, we left the house. Dad had called a Wizarding taxi and so that's what we arrived at the station in. Dad and the taxi driver talked the entire time about wizarding politics while I stared out the windows, watching as we jumped lanes. We got to the station at 10: 30, leaving us with plenty of time before the train left.

Dad led me to where the border was for the Hogwarts express. I eyed the brick wall shrewdly. Then, looking around, I walked into it, closing my eyes. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a cleaner station- it looked almost brand new. There was a bright red train on the tracks, waiting for students to hop on before it took off.

There were some other early birds but I didn't feel like getting on the train quite yet. I let the conductors take my luggage and Sadie, and I stood by my dad while we waited for it to get near the time the train was supposed to leave.

I started getting even more nervous, looking around to see if I would recognize my own brother. Lupin seemed to sympathize with my anxiety. He turned me around so I couldn't see anyone and got on one knee to talk to me. He pulled me into a hug and I hugged him back fiercely.

"Don't worry about Harry, Elizabeth." He whispered in my ear, stilling hugging me. I rested my chin on his shoulder. "Even if you don't see him now or on the train, you'll see him at the sorting ceremony. You'll have plenty of time to get to know each other. You don't have to worry about anything."

"Except grades." I said matter of factly. "Oh and what house I'm going to be sorted into because I'm afraid I won't get into Gryffindor." It was a feeling and as I've said before- my feelings are pretty good.

"Elizabeth, just because you're not in Gryffindor won't mean that you're not my daughter, or that you're not James and Lily's daughter. You'd do wonderfully in Ravenclaw, you're so smart, or Hufflepuff because you're so kind. Heck, Lizzy, even Slytherin-"

"I won't be in Slytherin." I said fiercely. "I'll leave first."

Lupin smiled gently, pulling back, but keeping his hands on my shoulders. "I don't care what house you're in is all I'm saying, okay?"

I nodded, the apprehension and nerves still tingling in my stomach. "I love you dad."

"I love you too sweetheart. Now get on the train so it won't leave without you." Lupin squeezed me tightly again. "Oh, you're growing up so quickly." He almost seemed to fret with the last sentence.

I smiled and grabbed the train handle to climb onto the train. Then there was a flash through my mind, like I was seeing something that wasn't there. A flaming red stone on a stair made of stone. I let go of the handle and took a step back from the train, frowning and slightly apprehensive.

"Elizabeth?" I heard my dad's voice. He sounded a bit worried, "You okay?"

I turned to see him. "Um, yeah, everything's fine." I frowned and turned back to the train and grabbed the handle. Nothing happened. I climbed onto the train, turned and waved to dad, and then hurried through the train to find an empty compartment.

I found an empty one and I went inside and sat down, still frowning. What was that random red stone? It had been glistening like it was on fire.

I pushed it out of my mind fairly quickly however, and pulled out one of my Muggle books. It was a bunch of fairy tales written by the Brothers Grimm.

There was a knock on the compartment door some time later, and I looked up. There was a young girl standing outside it, probably my age. She had bushy brown hair and brown eyes. I eyed her warily.

"May I come in?" She asked in a very posh accent.

"Sure," I said, excited to make my very first friend. If, she was friendly, that is.

She sat down on the seat opposite me. She seemed very nervous as well. She was also already wearing her school robes. I wondered which Hogwarts house symbol would be sewed onto her robes tomorrow morning.

"I don't want to be rude," I asked hesitantly. "Are you a muggle?"

She nodded, "Yes. I was quite excited when I found out about Hogwarts. You must be a pure-blood then?"

"No, half-blood. My dad was a wizard and my mum was a muggle born witch." I said. "But I lived with my adopted dad because they both passed away. My dad's also a Wizard." I didn't mention that he was a werewolf. Werewolves had even more biased hate in the Muggle world.

"I'm Hermione Granger." She said, sticking out a hand.

"Elizabeth Kane," I said, smiling and shaking it. "Welcome to the Wizarding world."

She was the type of girl who, when nervous, started talking as fast as possible. But that was alright, I talked quite fast too- though not when I was nervous. Our conversations were about books, both magical and muggle. She too liked to read and had been top of her class at her Muggle school. We were a perfect match.

"Even if we're not in the same house, we can be study buddies." I said sometime throughout the conversation. Things were going perfectly, just the way that I'd wanted them to go. This was probably my very first friend! "What house do you hope to be in?"

"Either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw." Hermione said rather quickly. I soon realized that Hermione wasn't a girl who talked fast only when she was nervous. She just talked fast- period. She was probably the first person I knew to talk at such a speed. Trang talked much slower because Vietnamese was her first language. Dad didn't talk fast either, perhaps because he didn't feel the need to rush all of his words out. But Hermione and I got our ideas out faster because we talked faster. And the plus was that we completely understood what the other was talking about. "Gryffindor sounds to be the best and of course, Dumbledore himself was in Gryffindor. But Ravenclaw could be a better fit for me, I'm not sure."

I nodded. "Both my dad's and my mum were in Gryffindor, but that doesn't mean anything of course. A family friend of mine, his name was Sirius, he was in Gryffindor even though his entire family was in Slytherin. I could easily end up in another house."

We laughed and talked some more until the compartment door opened again. This time, there was a very large and rather round boy there. He looked rather down. Hermione and I looked up at him.

"Have either of you seen a toad?" He asked gloomily. "I've lost him. His name is Trevor."

"Er- no." I said, exchanging a quick look with Hermione.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked, sounding excited again. I wondered if she'd had many friends outside of Hogwarts. I hadn't. It had been Trang, Kat, and Charis and really, mostly Trang because Kat moved to Germany and Charis was younger than me by a few years.

"Neville. Neville Longbottom." He said. "Well, I guess I should go and look for him in another compartment."

Hermione jumped up. "I'll help you look, that way, we can cover more area together."

I hesitated, the trolley-witch was coming through. "I'll join you guys in a moment, alright? I'm going to buy some food for us first."

Hermione waved, rather excitedly for someone who was going out to find a toad, and followed Neville out.

I bought licorice wands, Sugar Quills, chocolate frogs, and two flasks of pumpkin juice. I left them under my robes and then headed out to go and see if there was a toad in any compartments. 'A toad. Who in their right mind brings a bloody toad to Hogwarts', I thought as I walked down the hallway.

The first compartment I came to had two red head boys in it and an African American boy. The red heads looked like they might be twins.

I knocked lightly on the door. The red headed boys looked up and I saw that they were twins. The African American boy slammed the lid down on his cardboard box. I opened the door a couple of inches.

"Umm, have you seen a toad? A boy name Neville's lost one." I said shyly, looking down at the ground. I had forgotten my glasses but could still make out the lettering on the boy's box. Some sort of Muggle shoe box.

"Nah." One of the twins said. "What's your name? You're one of the first years, right?"

"Yeah, I'm Elizabeth Kane." I said, barely able to meet their curious gaze. "And you?"

"This is George," the second twin said. "And I'm Fred Weasley. That there is our friend Lee Jordan."

"Nice to meet all of you. I suppose I should continue helping Neville look for his toad." I said, blushing as I looked at Fred's face. What a cute guy. I wondered how much older he was then me and then blushed even darker. I hurried away from the compartment and went back to my own. Hermione wasn't back yet.

I closed the shutters for a couple of seconds while I put on my robes and then opened the shutters again.

A couple minutes later, Hermione came back, breathless. "Guess what!" she gushed, as I handed her some pumpkin juice. My mouth was full of chocolate frog so I just shrugged, reaching for my own Pumpkin juice.

"I just met Harry Potter!" She exclaimed.

I choked on my frog. Gasping for breath, I chugged the pumpkin juice, and when my air way was empty I sputtered, "No way! Really?"

"Yes. He has the scar and all. He also had horrible glasses. They were all patched up with tape. I repaired them for him." She said, pleased. "I'm just glad the spell went well."

"You did a charm already?" I asked, surprised and momentarily distracted. I could do multiple charms already-I'd been practicing out of my Charm textbook- but dad had warned me not do any magic outside of Hogwarts. So I didn't do magic. Not when he was around anyways. My self control was very limited.

"Well it was relatively easy." She said, slightly bragging. "and I've been practicing some at home. Can you do magic yet?"

"Yes." I said immediately, not wanting to be shown up by anyone, not even someone that I could possibly consider a friend. I had a rather competitive gene whether in sports or learning and it was this gene that resulted in me having few friends. Apparently I was a know-it-all. Oh well, at least I was going to become something when I grew up. "But dad told me not to do magic outside of Hogwarts. There are wizarding laws and since I'm eleven, I have the trace."

"Oh." Hermione said in surprise. She talked a bit more about Harry while I chewed on a licorice wand. He sounded like a nice boy. He had green eyes she said. 'Green eyes like mum.' I thought. He had glasses. 'Like me' I thought. 'And Dad'. I also wondered if his were for reading only or if he needed them for sight. There was so much I wanted to know. I would be able to ask him soon, I supposed.

The train started to slow down and I got up and stretched. I only had one chocolate frog left and I gave it to Hermione so that she could start a collection. I had a huge collection, about 538 cards at home. That was excluding my duplicates which probably put my collection around 1,254.

"Come on!" Hermione squealed, running down the hallway to exit the train. She was really much more excited than I was. Ridiculous really, but perhaps I was more nervous rather than excited.

"Wait up!" I called out, but others were coming out of their compartments and I fell behind. I shuffled behind the others. Outside the train, I looked around for Hermione. I heard a loud voice saying "Firs' Years! Firs' years over here!"

I followed the voice to a very large looking man. He was much taller than most everyone here, and wider too. Perhaps he was part giant. But he looked kind. I could tell by the eyes. He said something to another student and led the way down to the shore where we were to get into boats. I still couldn't find Hermione so I got into a random boat with some other kids.

The boats started across the water. The two girls in the boat introduced themselves as Parvati and Padma Patil. The boy in the boat introduced himself as Ernie Macmillan.

Ernie leaned forward as we started to go under a rock bridge. "Did you guys know that there's a rumor saying that Harry Potter is on the train?"

Parvati and Padma launched into immediate conversation with Ernie, asking all sorts of questions. His account wasn't as accurate as Hermione's. I wondered, if people knew about me, would they be saying, "Did you hear that Harry and Elizabeth Potter are on the train?" Would they be treating me any differently? That was an uncomfortable question and I was suddenly glad that I was only Elizabeth Kane- at least at the moment. Perhaps I would feel differently later.

I was thinking about a lot of 'perhapses'.

Hogwarts came into view as we rounded the bend, but there were quick flashes in my mind so I didn't see the castle right away. I went ridged, trying to place the images.

There was a man in a purple turban. Then, there was a boy with black hair and a scar on his head diving on a broom. Then, a three-headed dog. There was a tall mirror, and then there was the red stone again, glistening and I saw that the stone wasn't on fire, but that it was reflecting the image of a fire burning from across the room.

The visions faded and I was seeing the Hogwarts castle. I looked around. No one seemed to be seeing any visions. I spotted Hermione in a boat with Neville and two boys. One of them was a boy with black hair who looked something like dad. Harry. I felt my stomach turn with excitement and nerves. He looked around, looked at me for a second, and then looked away. There was no recognition in his eyes. My stomach dropped and I felt like I was going to be sick. My own brother didn't know me.

I felt tears well up in my eyes and I looked away from everyone. What had I expected? I knew that he didn't know I existed. No one except my parents and Sirius and Lupin did. Harry maybe had known at one point, and that was taken away from me because of Voldemort.

I wiped the tears away. I was being ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Harry would know me soon enough and after all, we had been rather young when we'd been separated. I couldn't say that I remembered him. It was only because I had a picture of my parents and him as a baby. Perhaps he didn't have pictures of us.

The boats pulled up to the shore and I climbed out after the others. I heard the gravel crunch under my feet. I'd always liked that sound. The large man that was leading us looked into all the boats and shouted, "Oy, you there! Is this your toad?"

"Trevor!" Neville cried aloud.

I bit my bottom lip, unable to take my eyes away from Harry. He was talking to a boy our age with red-orange hair. That boy looked something like the twins that I'd seen on the train.

Harry kept pushing his glasses up on his nose, a sign that they were too large for him. Suddenly, self-conscious, I took off my glasses and looked away from him.

There was another flash in my brain, this one was different. I saw the man in the purple turban again but this time, it was the back of him and I felt a searing pain go through on my chest, right where my silver locket hung underneath my clothes. I clapped my hand to my chest, but the pain was already gone and I quickly dropped my hand, hopping that no one had noticed the seemingly random movement.

We stopped walking up the flight of stone steps and we crowded around a huge, front door made of oak.

The large man turned, surveying everyone, "Everyone here? You, there still got yer toad?" And then he turned back around and knocked three times on the large castle doors.

⬅️➡️

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! May I please request a star wars, the hobbit and the arcana match up? ^^

I'm 19, omnisexual and I go by they/them. I am a enfp, 3w4, saggitarious, so basically I'm impulsive, ambitious, fun loving, sensitive, expressive, understanding, always seems a lil high, blunt, out of pocket, creative, rebellious and live by the phrase Yolo. (I also have really bad anxiety, depression and adhd)

I'm like a mix of emo, metalhead, goth and punk in terms of music and style but I like mostly sticking with a cleaner look. I'm pale, 5'4, have shoulder length straight dyed black hair, brown eyes, skinny but has some muscle, lots of scars I am very proud of, and visible scoliosis but I like to pretend it's the emo hunch

I enjoy creating, dancing, music, trying new stuff, fashion, stuff that makes me feel sophisticated, comics, horror, zombies, learning, bugs, dark stuff, my pet bird, experimenting, running, space, writing in code, science, working out, reading, plants, red and black, collecting, info dumping, and I love taking care of things and people for some reason.

Lastly my ideal date is going and trying something new togethor or like a amusement park. What I look for in a person is passion and ambition extra points if there a little dorky lol. My love Language kinda differs from person to person I take there needs and wants into consideration but I am a little touch starved soo :)

And here you go good luck and keep up that good work fellow writer!! <3

Hi! Thanks for requesting a matchup! I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for the wait! <3333

---

Star Wars;

Luke Skywalker:

✨ You were already a part of Han's crew when you met Luke, chilling on the Falcon as you fixing one of the monitors; you heard blasters shooting in the distance, watching out the main window to see Han and Chewie running with two other people, (some old guy and a pretty cute looking young guy)

✨ Immediately getting into flight mode, you didn't get the chance to say hello to the newcomers until after you escaped the planet, and that's when you finally met Luke; hubba hubba

✨ Skipping the year that you both were just friends, you and Luke finally got together after he got back from cutting off a Wampas's arm on Hoth, (and after he got out of that water tank), but to get to the point, Han liked to joke around with you both; you were almost polar opposites, looks-wise, Luke was a blondie and you had dyed black hair, and you wore dark colors and he didn't really

✨ But opposites attract, and you and Luke actually had similar personalities, you were both passionate, caring, understanding, fun-loving, and impulsive; you both had anxiety and he definitely had ADHD

✨ Luke really, truly love you, from your love for trying new things to stargazing at the million stars in the sky - you're perfect; and you adored Luke, his willingness to learn and grow, his quirky charm, his bashful smiles, his dorky attitude; he was perfect

---

The Hobbit;

Ori:

🌿 You met Ori when you joined the Company, Gandalf asked you to come along since you were pretty great at knowing what plants can help heal or ones that you could eat, and you were great at keeping things light; basically your job in the group was to make sure no one was upset, trying your best to joke around and get smiles on everyone's faces

🌿 But sometimes you needed someone to bring a smile to your face, and Ori was your guy! From little jokes here and there, or just being his little, dorky self made you smile; he was your little, dorky boi

🌿 There wasn't a lot to collect on the road, so you'd collect a rock wherever you could, and Ori would help, running up to you with a huge, sheepish smile on his face as he handed you a few rocks he had found for you; you're swooning

🌿 Near the end of the journey, Ori took his chance and asked if he could braid your hair; having learned and read about Dwarven culture, you felt your heart skip a beat and you joked a little before saying yes and allowing him to braid you hair

🌿 As said before, Ori's a dork, like the number one dork of all dorks, but he was your dork, and he understood you, he cared about you, and he loved you

---

The Arcana;

Portia:

🐱 You met Portia when you came to visit your friend Nadia, yes, ou were friends with royalty, lucky you; for some reason the other many times you visited Nadia, Portia was at her cottage, what a coinkydink

🐱 But it was love at first sight, you loved how sweet she was, how energetic, upbeat, and mischievous she was; and you absolutely loved her eyes, you could stare at them all day

🐱 You had both started talking, going on walks together, talking about everything and anything, and soon a romance blossoms; from secret kisses in the castle to dancing in the garden, you and Portia were in love

🐱 She loves your bird, and you are so glad that she does; she also loves looking at plants with you, reading with you, trying out new things together, (all when she has free time, that is)

🐱 You both are two sweet peas in a pod, always there for one another, and always bringing out the best in each other :)

---

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geometropolis · 2 years ago

Text

grt3D episode 3: sucker ball

sweep, sweep, sweep... dust, dust, dust... pace, pace, pace.

“i think this is good enough...” heart sighed in exhaustion and flumped onto one of the chairs by the window. he had just been cleaning his team’s cabin for the fifty-billionth time that night, and it finally seemed tidy enough for him.

for a while, heart just sat there and thought; to document everything he was thinking of would be hard, given how busy his mind tended to be.

a knock on the door shook heart from his thoughts rather violently - he started and fell out of the chair, with a yelp of “d-diamonds and spades! what was that?”

another knock answered his question, and heart exhaled slowly. he approached the door and opened it, to see a very tired-looking trapezoid.

“hey, heart, if you’re done with the–” he yawned. “if you’re done with the cleaning supplies, is it okay if i take them back for now? if you ever need them again, you can just ask, of course.”

heart stepped back and let him in. “o-oh, oh yeah, sure!” he started by grabbing the broom and dustpan leaning near the table and handing them to trapezoid.

“thanks bud. y’know, i’m surprised no one else has asked me for them.” trapezoid also picked up the bottle of window cleaner that was near the door.

“oh?”

“yeah... these cabins aren’t the best, you’d imagine everyone would want to tidy them up.”

heart chuckled. “yeah... i don’t get how anyone could live anywhere so disorganized. and dusty.”

“i know, right? that’s the one thing me and octagon can agree upon.”

heart smiled. trapezoid patted him on the shoulder. “you’re a good kid, heart,” he said at length. “look out for your teammates, ‘kay?”

trapezoid soon departed, and heart sighed happily. he turned around to face his sleeping teammates, to find star glaring right at him.

…

origin was flying back and forth, much to the annoyance of möbius strip.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” he asked.

origin turned to show some papers and a pencil. “i’m writing the contestants personalized invitations to wake up, like you suggested yesterday. see, i made kite’s invitation a poem, because she told me she likes–”

“DID YOU MAKE ME AN INVITATION?”

origin broke out in cold sweat. “n-no, i–”

“GOOD. NOW DELIVER THOSE SOON, MAILMAN! I WANT TO START THINGS BRIGHT AND EARLY.”

möbius turned and flew off.

soon enough, origin finished his invitations and placed them by the door of each cabin, knocking on the door with a manifested hand as he did so. afterwards, he flew north and flashed into the paradox again.

möbius strip arrived to the field to see his 15 contestants arranged in it; but no origin.

“TWINKY-DINK! WHERE DID YOU GO?”

unfortunately, despite all of his yelling, there wasn’t actually anything möbius could do to bring origin back from where he obviously was - the paradox. in his frustration, möbius strip grumbled for approximately 5 minutes.

“i’m bored,” pentagon said after a while, frowning. “what are we doing?”

möbius coughed. “WE’RE WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO GET BACK, SOMEONE WHOM WE NEED TO START THE CHALLENGE.”

after a moment, square asked rectangle, “why do we need to do the challenge so early, anyway? can’t we just do something else until twinkle gets back?” rectangle thought this was a good question to ask möbius himself, and suggested such to his brother.

square begrudgingly repeated the question, marginally louder than the first time.

“well, i want to do it now,” triangle challenged, before möbius could answer. “i don’t wanna have to wait to do a challenge.”

“but this early? we’re all tired,” square sighed.

“speak for yourself.”

“HOW ABOUT DON’T SPEAK AT ALL?” möbius strip retorted. “WE HAVE TO DO IT NOW BECAUSE I’M ALWAYS BUSY IN THE AFTERNOON.”

“tcch, with what?” triangle asked.

möbius didn’t reply. the group proceeded to sit around until origin returned.

“do you really think so?” kite mused to parallelogram. “i mean, i suppose it does go on a case-by-case basis, but surely the possibility of it happening at all should be acknowledged...”

“well sure, but it’s not like that whole genre should be taken off of the market just because of the possibility of someone replicating the actions of people in the game. that’d be kinda stupid, to be honest.”

“yeah, yeah, i agree, but again it really depends. most people will know the actions of those characters are wrong, and so will refrain from taking up after them, but in some cases it’s vague enough that people could find its presence in the game to be justification for doing it in real life.”

“absolutely. and those people should just get help, is what i say. oh yeah, and if the game frames those actions as being good, then that’s definitely subject to criticism. that’s what could contribute to the vagueness you’re talking about.”

“of course.”

“will they not just shut up?” octagon groaned, peering at kite.

hexagon patted her shoulder. “don’t worry, i think they’re done for now.”

a moment passed.

“did you ever come up with a good answer to the trolley problem?”

octagon facepalmed.

meanwhile, heart was playing patty-cake with droplet.

“why don’t you play patty-cake with me, heart?” star nudged him.

heart blinked. “...i didn’t know you liked playing patty-cake.”

“really? cuz i always have...”

heart furrowed his brow.

another half hour passed before origin finally reappeared. he seemed to have some kind of ...camera lens in his center.

“THANK THE PRIMES YOU DECIDED TO GRACE OUR HUMBLE PRESENCE,” möbius snapped. “I’M HONORED YOU DECIDED TO SHOW UP.”

origin sighed. “sorry, möbius strip... i was busy setting something up.”

“AND APPARENTLY THAT WASN’T THE GOALS FOR TODAY’S CHALLENGE. LET’S GET GOING.”

the two moved over to a different part of the field.

“OKAY, TWINKIE, SOCCER GOALS.”

origin moved back a bit. “...sorry, sir, i can’t do that right now...”

“OH, CUZ OF YOUR DUMB CAMERA. CAN’T YOU PUT IT AWAY FOR NOW? WE NEED THE GOALS.”

“...sorry, not now.”

“THEN WHAT? WE CAN’T PLAY SOCCER WITHOUT SOCCER GOALS.”

“...could we use something else?”

“LIKE WHAT?”

origin thought for a second, then went over to whisper his idea to möbius strip.

“don’t see why you needed to whisper that, but okay,” möbius conceded. “HELLO, CONTESTANTS! COME HITHER, IF YOU MAY,” he called.

the 15 shapes came over to the two of them.

“NOW: HELVETICA, GO TO ONE SIDE OF THE FIELD, WITH A SPACE IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR LITTLE GROUP, THERE YOU GO, AND COOL KIDS, DO THE SAME ON THE OTHER SIDE.”

they did such, even if they didn’t know why. pentagon and trapezoid stood together with a little gap between them and the other two, octagon and hexagon; star and heart were apart from droplet and rhombus.

“NOW, GROUP TWO AND YIM YUM, GO ON OPPOSITE SIDES OF THE FIELD. THE OTHER TWO TEAMS WILL ACT AS THE GOALS, THE BALL KICKED BETWEEN THEM. IT’S SOCCER TIME. NO GOALIES. 7 MINUTES PER ROUND.”

“but wait!” kite interjected. “our team only has three members. will it really be fair for us to go up against the other four-membered teams?”

triangle scoffed. “well, you’re tall, surely that counts for something.”

“not really, no,” parallelogram answered sharply. “i think any team opposing us should have a player sit out.”

möbius thought for a second. “SURE, WHATEVER.”

“then square, buddy,” triangle nudged him. “have a nice nap.”

he gave her a thumbs up and flopped down away from the game.

“guess i’ll just have to play harder, then,” triangle rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

“now go!” origin rolled the ball over to yim yum’s side, before moving to spectate just north of the game.

kite ran north to kick the ball, but missed. triangle ran and kicked it south, towards heptagon. when he didn’t even try to move, parallelogram had to run and intercept it before it could enter the goal.

“nice save, parry!” kite smiled, dribbling it towards the other side. she booted it towards the goal.

parallelogram simply frowned at heptagon.

“it’s comin’ in hot! i got this one, folks!” triangle punted the ball sharply, sending it flying back towards the other team.

“y’think we can double team it?” kite quickly asked parallelogram.

“we can try,” he grunted, kicking the ball north to her before she struck it and sent it barreling towards the other side. “but it’d be nice if we could pull a triple...” he raised an eyebrow at heptagon, who was still standing there motionless.

“i got it, i got it!” rectangle called, running over to get the ball. it was intercepted, however, by triangle.

“your kick would’ve been too weak. your foot was at the wrong angle…” triangle dribbled and kicked it hard. “and that, tango, is how you kick a ball.”

as it went rushing across, rectangle blinked in surprise. “oh... okay.”

“c’mon, heptagon!” kite nudged him. “we believe in you!”

the ball simply passed him and scored a goal for group two.

“oh, come on!” parallelogram groaned.

“that’s a point for group two! you got a minute left, folks.”

“we gotta get another point. i’ll handle this one, boys,” triangle snapped her fingers as the ball was rolled to her. she ran with it towards yim yum’s side before her teammates could reply.

“we should give heptagon another try!” kite suggested.

parallelogram disagreed. “we can’t count on him. doing that will win triangle another point.” he shuffled around the goal.

“no babysitting!” triangle exclaimed.

circle frowned as triangle continued to steal every shot. rectangle kept smiling in anticipation as the ball came towards him, but unfortunately, he never got the chance to kick it.

at the end of the round, group two won, 5 to 2.

“in your vertex!” triangle laughed triumphantly. “we did great, guys. i just know we’ll win this.”

“OKAY, THAT’S ONE WIN FOR GROUP TWO AND ONE LOSS FOR YIM YUM,” möbius announced absentmindedly. “NOW THE COOL KIDS AND HELVETICA ARE UP. THE OTHER TWO TEAMS, BE THE NET.”

as group two went over to be a goal, square looked to rectangle. “you had fun?”

“oh, um... i didn’t get too many chances to kick the ball...”

“i see...”

“b-but it’s fine! we won.”

“oh really?”

square glared at triangle, but she didn’t seem bothered at all, and proceeded to watch the other teams play.

“heart, work with me!” star called. “we can do... what did they call it? ‘double team’?”

“oh um, if you want...” heart kicked the ball to star tentatively, who swung his leg up with great force. he closed his eyes and smiled proudly.

“i know, i know, you’re in awe, but please, let’s continue the game.”

heart’s eyes were wide, but not in awe; star had completely missed the ball, which was still by his feet. heart opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing, simply glaring at his best friend.

the round proceeded with fervor; hexagon and pentagon had apparently come up with a clever strategy in which hexagon would gently kick pentagon forwards, so pentagon could kick the ball into the goal with increased velocity.

these ‘five-and-a-halfers’ were hard to fight against, considering how none of the cool kids were particularly athletically inclined. rhombus did manage to score a few points by strategically removing and replacing people’s limbs, which technically wasn’t prohibited in the game rules.

droplet came up with many fantastical strategies of her own, which heart tried to accomplish, but unfortunately, those such as the ‘magical rainbow flyer’ never came to fruition. likewise, octagon’s attempts to calculate where the ball would end up came back to bite her – all of these other strategies and missteps made this round extremely unpredictable, and her time calculating was in vain.

trapezoid was there for moral support. also for arguing.

in the end, the teams tied at 5 points each, counting as a win for both.

rounds came and went; all four teams had something up their sleeves, whether that be impeccable agility, genius strategy, or simply access to a limb remote.

the next game was helvetica vs. group two; at this point, helvetica’s ‘five-and-a-halfers’ made them feared on the field. octagon and trapezoid might argue about where the both of them thought the ball would end up, but one of them was always right, meaning that hexagon and pentagon almost always hit it. and their soccer balls were like meteorites.

on the other side was triangle, however, and she wasn’t to be messed with either. she went fast and she went hard; she was ruthless. no ball could escape her ‘pythagorean fear-em’. when balls came, she hit them; and when square persistently reprimanded her for taking over the team, she ignored him. nothing could stop her.

those in the goals chattered in anticipation for the fabled match between two legends – a strategical mastermind and a brute-strength behemoth. nobody knew who was going to win.

when the ball was rolled, it began. hexagon instantly kicked it up north to pentagon, who dribbled it over to the other side. circle shuffled over to intercept it, but triangle swept in and booted it.

“really, triangle?” square sighed. “now’s not the time to be cocky.”

“i’m not being cocky. i’m just playin’. go hard or go home, that’s what i always say.”

“then maybe you should stop talking...” square said under his breath.

pentagon came back with the ball, and rectangle was preparing to kick it from her – but here was triangle, rolling it away with the flick of her foot. “you gotta be faster than that!”

after pentagon passed her the ball, hexagon began to bounce it on her knee. “it’s as if we’re playing against one person!”

octagon looked up at her. “you thinking what i’m thinking?”

hexagon smiled. octagon glanced over to the northern part of group two’s field, in the back, and subtly nodded to hexagon. pentagon ran over to that empty spot, and hexagon swiftly kicked the ball towards her.

“move move move!” triangle tried to shove her way through her teammates. instead, square, who was only a little ways away, casually kicked the ball south, out of pentagon’s reach.

“what was that for?” triangle glared at him, sending the ball back over. “why didn’t you move? you could’ve missed!”

“so could you.”

“but i’ve won us so many games!”

“not all of them.”

“those were exceptions!”

“man, they were able to hit it after all,” trapezoid bit his lip as pentagon sidled back to their side. “at least square was. i think we should hit near the other back corner.”

“no way!” octagon shook her head. “near the front is the way to go. circle and rectangle haven’t kicked the ball the entire game!”

“true...”

“okey dokey!” pentagon chirped, being flung north by hexagon, up to the ball. “get pent!”

she kicked it into the front, where it landed right on circle’s head.

“what do i do, what do i do?” rectangle cried, shuffling around him. triangle and square were too busy arguing to notice.

“hey, guys!” circle ran towards his two fighting friends, and the ball flew off of his head. as it fell, rectangle swiped his foot underneath to kick it. and while he got a good start, there was no one to back him up – and hexagon intercepted it with a mighty drive, getting an easy goal.

“ow!” star exclaimed as the ball hit him in the face.

“a point for helvetica!” origin announced. he could’ve made a comment on group two’s rough shape, but decided against it.

as the ball was rolled to helvetica’s side, triangle pushed her way towards it.

“get out of the way, square,” she snapped. “your brother can’t even kick a soccer ball straight.”

“maybe if you bothered to let him play, he’d know how to by now.”

“guys! the game!” circle called out. “let’s have fun, okay?”

the game continued, helvetica scoring point after point. triangle got a few in, but half of the time she was stifled by a bothered square who didn’t want her to play if it meant she’d take over again.

“one minute remaining, folks,” origin edged back from the ruckus.

“oh yeah?” triangle yelled. “i’ll show you a minute!”

she then proceeded to shove square to the side and hit the ball towards hexagon’s face.

“whoa!” hexagon jumped out of the way, which sent pentagon, who was standing over her head, flying forward.

fortunately for the two of them, however, trapezoid kicked it through to pentagon, who, while flying forwards, was able to kick the ball into the goal behind triangle.

“what the hex!” hexagon smiled. “how did we do that?”

pentagon returned to her and stuck out her tongue. “dunno. but that’s a ‘five-and-two-thirds’, to be sure.”

“and that’s game!” origin announced. “helvetica wins with 7 to 4! great job!”

“for prime’s sake!” triangle cried. “okay, you wanna play soccer? fine! then i won’t do anything next round.”

“...we’re not up next round...” rectangle said.

“you see how this team works without a triangle! the strongest shape!”

“not the strongest in strategy, though,” square said nonchalantly, heading over to the other side of the field. “that completely failed.”

“oh shut it! at least i did something!”

he didn’t dignify her with a response.

circle frowned as triangle stormed off. he wanted to talk to her, but he knew nothing he said would help.

“hey, rectangle?” he called.

rectangle turned to him from where he stood. “yeah?”

“can you try and talk to triangle?”

he pointed to himself, surprised, “m-me?”

“you two are so close! i’m sure she’ll listen to you.”

“oh, but, i’ve got to be part of the goal...”

circle started pushing him from behind. “c’mon, buddy! it’s now or never.” rectangle acquiesced and went after triangle.

the round between helvetica and yim yum was taking place – much more quietly than the previous one – and kite and parallelogram were finding it hard to fight. hexagon was sitting out, sure – but trapezoid was acting as pentagon’s support now, and he wasn’t too bad himself.

“we gotta step up our game!” parallelogram wiped sweat off of his brow. the opposing team had already scored a point. he kicked the ball north to kite.

“i know!” kite panted, sending it back. “i think–”

“i know what you think, kite,” he smiled at her. “and yes, it’d be nice if heptagon would be a ‘helptagon’ instead. but we can’t rely on it.” he passed her the ball around star.

“okay, yeah.”

“and i doubt talking about him in the third person will do any good in convincing him.”

kite scored a goal, avoiding heart and rhombus. “good point.”

parallelogram and kite worked surprisingly well as a pair; kite could cover the ball up north, parallelogram could cover the ball down south, and both were relatively fast, so as long as they knew where the ball was headed, they got just about everything covered.

unfortunately for them, they often didn’t – pentagon had a new schtick with trapezoid, called ‘pentamonium’. in this move, the two of them would create such a scuffle with legs and jumping and balls and blades of grass that you couldn’t possibly tell where the soccer ball was unless you were staring right at it.

some of the time, they did happen to spot the ball; most of the time, they didn’t, landing helvetica an easy goal. kite and parallelogram could manage for the most part, but without backup, it was hard to truly cover the field.

“i wish octagon weren’t so good at calculating where the ball’s headed,” parallelogram noted. “it makes it so hard to get anything through.”

“true,” kite reciprocated. “but as trapezoid’s working with pentagon now, he can’t work to fix her mistakes. so her guess isn’t guaranteed to be accurate.”

“what does that leave us?”

“half of the time? we’re fine. the other half? pentamonium. easy point for them.”

“so how do we make it harder for octagon to track us? i’m not good at strategy.”

the two kept kicking until a voice called from behind.

“maybe if you stop being so predictable, octagon wouldn’t be able to predict where the ball’s headed.”

heptagon was staring tiredly at them.

“oh? what should we do?” parallelogram called back.

no response was given.

“think, think, think, parry! what to do...?”

and suddenly, he had an idea. “aha! let’s keep switching places, back and forth!” he whispered.

kite and parallelogram switched places on the field, and again, and again, and again! they became a blur as they ran north to south and back again, their legs a flurry of movement.

“huh?” octagon gasped. “what’s going on?”

and suddenly the ball hit her in the face.

now it was confusion vs. confusion. points were scored all over the place, because the teams could barely see where the ball was or where it was going. but in the time that helvetica was still getting used to the bizarre new playing field, yim yum was able to catch up.

meanwhile, while chaos was reigning free on the field, rectangle was catching up with triangle.

“h-hey, triangle!” he called.

she stopped abruptly, causing rectangle to bump into her.

“hey, tango. not so good at kickin’ balls, are we?”

rectangle chuckled sheepishly. “nah. you remember what i was like in gym class... yikes. b-but anyway, you should probably come back.”

“why? square doesn’t want me to play.”

“no, it’s not that he doesn’t want you to play, it’s just that he wants all of us to play. together.”

triangle snorted. “now that just sounds sappy. i’m part of ‘all of us’, aren’t i?”

“sure, of course.”

“then he should just let me play! c’mon tango, let’s go back.”

rectangle and triangle made their way back to the field; nothing was really resolved, even if triangle made it seem that way. but there was no time for any more dialogue, as when they got back to the game, the round was finishing up - and it was entropy incarnate.

“where’s the ball?”

“i don’t even know what a ball is anymore!”

“is the ball even on the field?”

“what did i kick just now? what was that?”

“that was my face, idiot.”

“aaaaaah!”

the round finished up with the strangest conclusion; yim yum won, 12 to 11. it was so close to being a tie, if not for kite tripping and sending the ball into the goal at the last second.

“you managed to be even more bonkers than pentagon!” trapezoid said in awe in the game’s aftermath. “now that’s impressive.”

“hey, at least we were unpredictable!” parallelogram smirked. he turned to face the rest of helvetica. “good game! but at the same time… ‘get pent’.”

there were friendly chuckles throughout.

“thanks for the help, heptagon!” kite smiled at her teammate. he glanced at her, but didn’t reply.

the last round was the cool kids vs. group two - and then möbius strip would finally conclude the rowdy day of soccer balls and kicks and bizarre strategies.

“okay, this shouldn’t be too hard,” rhombus shrugged as they came to their team’s side of the field. “they have so many weak spots it’s hilarious.”

“how can you tell?” droplet asked, climbing up over their head.

“observation, my little friend. seeing what actually happens and taking it to heart is a big help. a whole lot more useful than conjecture, anyway.”

droplet simply blinked at them in response.

“and... go!” origin rolled the ball to their side.

heart started up with a double team with star; he knew how little star actually cared about the game, and so easily (and resignedly) covered his friend when he inevitably missed the ball. he kicked it rather gracefully to droplet, who was the other side.

“one of you get it already! sheesh!” triangle yelled when her teammates didn’t take any action. “you wanted to play, so play!”

rectangle hurried up to the ball and managed to roll it out from under droplet’s foot. he kicked it as hard as he could.

“don’t be so snippy with him,” square grunted.

“i’ll be as snippy as i like, thank you very much.”

the ball came over, and droplet backed up to get it – she hopped and kicked the ball. it barely made it to the other side of the field, and triangle alone rushed to reach it.

“c’mon, c’mon – ugh!” her own kick wasn’t very strong, and angrily turned back to her teammates. “why do you insist on me letting you guys play if you don’t do anything?” rhombus rushed over and passed it to heart, who scored a goal.

“they’d know what to do if you helped them!” square yelled back. “you never help them!”

“why do they need to be helped? i don’t need to be helped!”

“not everyone is you, for geometry’s sake!”

“guys!” circle cried. “please!” he got the ball and kicked it far out onto the other side of the field.

“for crying out loud, square! i already know!”

“then act like it!”

“how about you stop acting so obtuse!”

“guys!” circle had to deal with intercepting the balls every time now, as his friends couldn’t see past their quarrel – even the uninvolved rectangle was entangled in their mess. “please help me!”

“you’re calling me obtuse? i’m just trying to stand up for my brother! he’s always been the closest to you, and i keep having to worry you’ll upset him – just like yesterday! if anything, you’re obtuse!”

“i’m clearly acute!”

“and i am literally right!”

“i don’t need protecting!” rectangle frankly looked offended. “if i didn’t want to be friends with triangle, i wouldn’t be!”

“then maybe you shouldn’t!” square glared at him.

“you don’t have the right to pick who i’m friends with!”

“and neither of you should have the right to be so annoying!” triangle countered. “i’ve had to deal with the two of you since day one, and what do i get in return?”

“hopefully someone who cares about you,” rectangle looked over at her, hurt.

“but is that the case? i don’t know!”

“are you kidding me?”

“guys!” circle cried again.

zap! thud.

“woop, and there’s another point for the cool kids,” origin said hesitantly. “hm.”

circle was now limbless and motionless, the ball sitting in the goal behind him. he sighed and frowned where he sat.

“if you guys won’t play, i will!” triangle insisted. she kicked the ball sharply.

“how do i tolerate you?” square grumbled.

triangle continued kicking the ball back as it came, frequently going over on the offense despite the risk. heart was starting to fail to make up for star’s overconfidence (much to heart’s dismay), so his kicks were a little easier to counter now.

“c’mon, star–” heart eyed him, with a panicked edge to his voice. “i don’t think you need to be posing right now...”

“but don’t i look cool?”

“sure, but that’s not... that’s not important right now, star! please!”

star shrugged. heart sighed a shaky sigh.

droplet’s gentle kick was actually great for the strategy – having the kick only barely move the ball made it easy for a teammate to follow it up, even if it was easy to intercept. she was able to work very well with rhombus and heart.

not so much with star, but she didn’t pay attention to that.

the game was closing off, and the cool kids were clearly winning. they kept on getting points because triangle was the only one on her team really playing. triangle kept kicking harder and harder out of spite, edging farther into enemy territory, but, despite the opposing team’s lack of experience, her balls were always easily intercepted.

the game finished and the cool kids obviously won, 6 to 0. it was kind of pathetic – or at least triangle thought so. she felt betrayed by her teammates – her friends.

“OKAY, EVERYONE, TIME TO ANNOUNCE SCORES,” möbius said drily. all of the shapes followed him back to the main field – all but circle, who, without limbs, was unable to translate anywhere.

when they got there, octagon instantly had a question. “how will the scores be tallied?”

möbius strip yawned. “FIRSTLY, IT’S YOUR TOTAL POINTS FROM EVERY ROUND. ALL OF THOSE ARE ADDED UP. THEN, YOU GET A POINT ADDED FOR EVERY GAME YOU WON, AND A POINT REMOVED FOR EVERY GAME YOU LOST.”

“yikes!” heart gasped, envisioning every shot star missed. he shook with fear.

“OKAY, SO... THE TEAM WITH THE HIGHEST SCORE IS HELVETICA.”

“nice!” hexagon and pentagon jumped for joy.

trapezoid rubbed his chin. “but what’s our score?”

“YOU HEARD HOW THE SCORES WERE COUNTED. FIND OUT FOR YOURSELF.”

“but–”

“I’M TOO TIRED FOR THIS. ANYWHO...... THE TEAM WITH THE SECOND HIGHEST SCORE IS YIM YUM.”

parallelogram nudged kite playfully. “i guess being tall did come in handy.” she chuckled sheepishly in response.

heptagon even managed a half-smile.

“okay, okay... AHEM,” möbius grabbed everyone’s attention again. “NOW IT’S DOWN TO THE BOTTOM TWO, GROUP TWO AND THE COOL KIDS.”

“oh i know we lost...” heart whimpered. “star…”

“WHO’S GONNA BE SAFE? WHO’S GONNA BE UP FOR ELIMINATION?” möbius strip sang. “OOOOH... hey twinkle, give me a drumroll.”

no response.

“gone again? i swear, if he’s in the paradox... ANYWHO, THE COOL KIDS ARE SAFE, AND GROUP TWO IS NOT! WHOOPS! GUESS YOU FOLKS ARE UP FOR ELIMINATION!”

“really?” heart gasped. “we didn’t fail miserably?”

“hooray!” droplet clapped happily. “we didn’t fail miserably! ...what does ‘miserably’ mean?”

meanwhile, group two had failed miserably. square didn’t care about losing the challenge, he was just upset at triangle. rectangle didn’t mind much either; he was just offended by his brother.

and triangle? i think that mess revealed itself.

she faced square. “we lost the challenge! all thanks to you! i hope you feel proud of yourself.” and then she stormed off to their team’s cabin.

“i’m not the one who should be worried about pride,” he replied darkly.

as this was going down, heart watched pensively and sighed. soon enough, star approached and grabbed his hand.

“yikes, buddy, your hand is sweaty!”

heart stared at him, paused, then chuckled sheepishly. “not much i can do about that...”

“well, you can stop worrying so much! goodness gracious, you were so on edge today for no reason – you should’ve just had fun with me!”

star looked at him tenderly, but when heart looked into his eyes, he couldn’t help but see his steely gaze from that morning.

…

“hey, you okay?”

circle looked out to see origin flying in from the east. “oh, you came back for me!”

origin didn’t have the camera lens in his center anymore... odd.

“yeah...” origin said. “are you okay? that game was... pretty rough...”

circle chuckled sadly. “you could certainly say that...”

origin lowered south towards him. it was kind of awkward, origin sitting next to circle, considering the size difference between them.

“i could take you back to your cabin whenever you’d like. but if not we could just sit here... if that’s okay with you, of course...”

circle smiled up at him. “i’ll sit for a bit with you. but i’ll want to go back to the cabin eventually...”

so, the two sat there together in the field, talking periodically, but leaving plenty of time for the evening’s quiet.

“you really want to try again? do you think it would work?”

“well, i have to try. the four of us have been friends forever, i don’t want to give up on that now!”

“yeah, you’re right... y’know, circle... a triangle might be the ‘strongest shape’, but i’d say you’re the strongest friend i’ve ever met.”

moments passed.

“i think i’ll go back now,” circle said all of a sudden. “don’t want them to miss me, right?” he smiled.

origin couldn’t smile back, as he had no face, but he seemed to be smiling somehow anyway. “okay... i’ll give you back your limbs once you get there.”

he started buzzing and circle stuck to him; and buzzing he went towards the cabin.

when he got there, origin released circle, who magically regained his arms and legs as he landed – unusual. circle stood up and shook out his limbs. “hey twinkle!” he called.

origin edged closer. “sorry, my name’s origin.”

“oh. that’s a lovely name!”

“thank you. what was it?”

“oh yeah… i thought you could only remove limbs. like when you do the buzzy-thing. since when could you replace them?”

origin chuckled. “since always! but i don’t like using my line-making power much... so i usually use the grapher. and i don’t really know where that is. but hey, i’m willing to use my powers for you.”

“oh,” circle blinked at him. “okay, cool! thank you so much! good night!!” and then he entered his cabin.

origin seemed to glow a bit. “no problem.”

#story #object novel #osc #geometropolis #geometropolis: race to the 3rd dimension #grt3d

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little-miss-understood · 2 years ago

Text

Dame Violette, Chapter Three - Nooroo

This had an effect of derailing all they had worked so hard for. He had checked his clothing three times over. Had his cleaners pull apart nearly every inch of his house, every last piece of his car. He had gone back over his route in the morning four times, even once on foot.

But Gabriel could not deny the facts in front of him. That the Butterfly Miraculous, his Miraculous, was lost.

Standing in front of a glass coffin, which held the body of his wife Emilie on life support, Gabriel crushed some nearby flowers in rage.

He still had options. He still had other Miraculous in his hands. But one was damaged and he had no way of trying to fix it; as things stood, that was how his dear wife ended up in this position to begin with.

This was supposed to be much more simple.

However, with the situation having now changed, it meant that the overall plan would have to as well.

Yes...things would still work out.

“Marinette! What a nice name. It is a pleasure, my lady.”

Something about those last two words set off a distant feeling of being annoyed and disgusted, but it couldn't have had anything to do with Nooroo. He seemed to be a very polite being. “Maybe, um...just Miss Marinette?”'

He nodded his head, before turning around to face Sabrina and Juleka.

“And who are your friends? I must say, it's been some time since my holder has been so open to others knowing about me, but-”

“I'm sorry, you keep saying “holder”, what does that mean?”

I could tell that this caught Nooroo slightly off guard, as he turned back towards me with a questioning look of his own. “Well, that would make sense.” The gears were turning in his head as he spoke. “If you just found the broach then you'd have no idea about what a Miraculous even is.”

Being frustrated with him could probably come easily, but there was something very enduring and kind about Nooroo. I took some steps forward then gently cradled him so that he could land.

“What is a Miraculous?” said Sabrina.

“Oh! I'm so glad you asked, Miss...?”

Sabrina wasn't a fan of bugs. This stemmed from an unfortunate incident in a park when we were younger, where we accidentally intruded on a nest of wasps and had to run into a fountain in order to evade them. She tended to freak out any time a wasp came close, or even the hint of a wasp, like bees. Nooroo looking at Sabrina, even with his adoring eyes, was more than enough to unnerve her.

“M-miss Sabrina, if you must.”

Nooroo smiled. “Well then, Miss Sabrina. Allow me to explain. A Miraculous is a magic-filled piece of jewellery that allows a person, my holder, to become a superhero!”

This surprised all of us. We knew about various heroes and villains but only from America; France had nothing like the United Heroes. I stared down at the butterfly-shaped brooch on my t-shirt and then back at Nooroo.

Me, of all people?

“Awesome, Nettie is gonna be a hero. Or maybe a villain?”

Nooroo shot Juleka a worried glance. “Yes, the powers...could be used for evil. In fact my specific powers have been used time and again for such purposes. But. I had hoped this time. You're such a young holder, please don't tell me you're already on a bad path-”

“Juleka was joking, Nooroo, I promise. I'm not an evil person.” He brightened up hearing this, which meant I had managed to stop him spiraling too far into anxiety. “What powers do you mean?”

Putting his small hands together, Nooroo allowed some balls of light to erupt into the air, only to fall back down in the shapes of pure white butterflies. They then all fluttered over towards my garden, near my window. “They are called akumas. Special beings that, when powered up, allow a person of your choosing to become a Champion. That's what a Butterfly User does with the power of Transmission, making use of the deep emotions another may have.”

Juleka pondered this for a moment. “This means that Marinette wouldn't have to fight a villain directly?”

“A Butterfly User is best behind the scenes, as other than the Akumas they have no weaponry or defense capabilities. Those are mostly left to the other Miraculous.”

That caught my attention. “Other Miraculous?”

“Oh, yes! There are nineteen in all! At least from my box. But they're not all in the box anymore. Two are lost, three my former holder has, and the rest except one locked themselves away so our Master wouldn't have to worry anymore.”

This was starting to get me anxious. Not only that there were eighteen others, but what powers did they have? And who was Nooroo's former holder? Or the “Master”?

“Can you tell us who had you before?”

Nooroo shook his head sadly. “I can't say names or much about them while they're still alive. All that's going to come out is...” He tried to make words but only bubbles appeared in the air.

“So then Nooroo, what is it that you'd like Marinette to do?”

Juleka had said it but Sabrina had now focused even more intensely on Nooroo as well; they were gearing up to protect me if it seemed as though I was going to be taken advantage of in any way. They knew I could defend myself if need be; I didn't have any issues in saying “no”, even to a being that might be some kind of god, but we always presented a united front in front to any obstacle.

“I just...want to be with the others again. All of them. Then the Master can take us back to the Temple, and everything can be safe. My former holder wished to get a hold of two Miraculous in particular, which could grant a wish-”

A different version of me. Standing in front of a being whose costume was a mix of a black cat and a ladybug. It was a man, the way his body was shown was a dead giveaway, but his face was obscured. I couldn't catch what he was saying, but a familiar figure behind him seemed...content. Seemed willing to let it happen. Seemed apologetic.

“Now we can be together, Marinette.”

“Adrien!”

Coming out of the vision, I was staring up into concerned faces. A lot of things were starting to make sense but that so many visions had come in one day was taking its toll on me.

“Marinette, are you sure you're okay? Why did you call out Adrien's name?”

Sabrina was all over me with support and her question had more to do with cumulative effects of the visions rather than just this last one. “Adrien is a key to this all, I saw him in the vision.”

Nooroo had flown over, then hesitantly offered an explanation. “These visions...do you get them regularly, Miss Marinette?”

“Ever since I was little. They're like glimpses into another universe, or views of something that might to have happened to me but didn't.”

Upon hearing this Nooroo got pensive. “What you're experiencing is a universe that did happen. A recent one at that, one where the wish was cast. These visions are to guide a person who was wronged in the last universe to a better life, a happier ending, in the next. They are also to serve as a safeguard should things unravel in the same way.”

Finally, I thought, An answer to the visions. But then I realized that if this were the case, then everything I had seen over the years was real. It had all happened before and now we were in the aftereffect. So, how badly was I wronged last time? Maybe the only way to put the old universe to rest, to stop the visions, is to ensure that evil didn't get the chance to take hold in the same effect this time around.

“Nooroo I'm going to help you.”

At this, the small creature seemed delighted. Sabrina and Juleka were not. They walked me over towards my bed to sit down, with Juleka speaking first.

“Nettie, while I'm sure you have it in you to be a hero-”

“No doubt! You'd make for an awesome one!”

“-Right. But think of the time involved, and while this little bug butterfly thing is kind of awesome, you don't have to take this upon yourself if you don't want to.”

“Yes, I mean you'd have to hide this from our parents, classmates, who knows how long it might go on for-”

“This won't be forever. I don't want it to be forever.” That may have sounded harsh to Nooroo but it was the truth. I would help him simply because he felt like a kindred spirit and that he was the first to offer a reason for why this universe was guiding me. If it was trying to save me from some worse fate, maybe I owed it to whatever forces that may be out there to get this little one home.

“It won't drag on because I have you two.”

They were both speechless to what I said, but it was the truth. Sitting behind Sabrina, on my wall, was a collage of pictures from my life. While some had my parents or my grandmother, nearly all the rest involved either two or three of us in some way, with the biggest middle group picture taken at my twelfth birthday party.

A universe where things were some other way? Where we weren't as close as we are now? That's not a place I'd want to be.

Then an idea came.

“You can be my Champions. We can do this together. We get Nooroo back to this Master person, the universe stops sending me weird visions and evil is defeated. I know we can do it.” I stuck out a hand and waited for two more to join in.

“All for one?”

They both were unsure, but then Juleka's hand came in, as did Sabrina's. Then a small, purple hand joined on top.

“ONE. FOR. ALL.”

Little Nooroo was taken aback slightly at our enthusiasm. Giggling, I lightly brought him up to my eye level.

“Tell me how we get started.”

Another part of Paris, in an alleyway outside of a grand hotel, a man walks outside for a cigarette break. He wasn't supposed to be her target, in fact for a dry run all she had to do was suit up, try to let herself be known, and then power down again.

But no. Audrey just had to be dramatic. The orders given to her daughter being “Say “Pollen, Buzz On!”, make your mother proud, and then power down!” There was room for error. Gaps in the order.

Yet Chloe did her part. Subconsciously, at least. It felt like someone else was in control and she had no idea who. Her body's movements were not her own. Thus she couldn't scream when her hands reached out to Venom the poor, unsuspecting hotel worker. Nor could she do anything as she showed off to the crowd outside the hotel after doing so.

It was risky. But it had done the job, at least in Gabriel's view. It was one of his vans that picked up the “hero” what would be known as “Queen Bee”. It was time to put a PR spin on the incident, that the unfortunate soul was stealing from the hotel and that this new hero had frozen him in place for the authorities to pick up.

All of this would need better control, without a doubt. But not bad for start.

And best of all, when Chloe woke up, she didn't remember a thing.

#dame violette #my writing #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #juleka couffaine #sabrina raincomprix #nooroo

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