#Drew this on what was supposed to be my scratch paper for the final test

[saturnstrays]

Ahhhh.. free.. at last

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Alright, here it is! Chapter two. Thanks for the support on the first chapter! As always, you can add yourself to the tag list for this series or give constructive feedback here. This chapter is still in the past tense. This one is a longer chapter, sorry! Although I have a feeling most chapters will be this long. If you like this series and want to read more, give it a like or reblog or pop into my asks, it encourages me to continue. any feedback is appreciated :)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: None

Summary: They say at fourteen you’re too young to know you’re in love. But what if you aren’t?

Navigation: chapter one

October

Grade: 9

Age: 14

---------------------------------

Ever since that class, you and Joel became inseparable whenever you were within talking distance. You just seemed to gravitate towards him, and he seemed to do just the same. When you needed a pep-talk before a big test, he was there. Whenever you needed a laugh, he was there. He seemed to just always be there. He even noticed when your hands started to slightly shake before a quiz or test. How would he respond? He’d do what any nice, respectful, and caring teenage boy would do: goof off. The way he did so was completely up to how rambunctious he was feeling that day.

Would he throw crumpled up paper at his friends and just smile as the teacher yelled at him?

Or try and balance the close by meter-stick on his head (that was soon taken away after)?

Or would he possibly take a different turn and re-explain a topic you were still shaky on?

He was just unpredictable in that sense.

Now how were you feeling about this newly kind Joel?

“Your face is the reddest I think I’ve ever seen it,” Luna teased while you both walked out of the classroom after the bell rang, “and if I held up my bright red backpack to it, I don’t know which one would be redder.” She was on a roll that day.

You scratched your eyebrow in a lame attempt to hide your glowing cheeks. See, on that day, Joel decided to calm your nerves by drawing a star on your hand. Yes, your hand. It went sort of like this:

Your right hand was resting on the table so the back of your hand was facing Joel, who was also on your right. He was messing around with an orange marker, threatening to draw it on his friend just a table over.

“Draw one on y/n,” the friend slyly suggested with a devilish smirk. Joel’s eyes widened to the size of hockey pucks and he whipped his head around to look at you. He glanced down at the marker and then regained his cool facial expression.

Meanwhile your blood ran cold and your head started to pound uncontrollably. You glance at Luna and she nods vigorously. You ball your hand into a fist and shakily stick it out, the adrenaline causing your hearing to slightly go. He offers a light smile, and you swear you can see him slightly exhale from relief. He positions the marker in his hand to get a good grip on it, because if he was going to draw on your hand, it had to be perfect.

He rested his hand under yours to hold it steady. Yes, his hand. He cleanly knocked the breath out of your lungs. You could feel the warmth radiate from his hand. He carefully and neatly (well as neat as a fourteen year old boy can) draws an orange star on the center of your balled up fist.

When his hand finally let go of yours, the touch felt too brief but also like forever.

You literally wanted to jump out of your skin. A mix of different colors felt as though they were swirling around your head in an intense blur. You wanted to throw up color and those sickeningly sweet feelings.

At this point, unlike the first time you guys were civil to each other, you surpassed the point of being screwed.

No. As soon as he touched your hand, you knew one thing for certain: you were in love with Joel Farabee.

“Now that’s one perfect good luck charm,” he says with a smirk.

Man, you just wanted to kiss that stupid smirk. That stupid yet adorable smirk….

And that’s how you ended up almost falling over in the hallway with Luna. In the hallway, she takes your hand and looks at the perfectly messy star.

“You’ve got that boy head over heels for you,” she sassed and laughed.

You playfully shoved her, but your heart skipped a beat.

You couldn’t help but wonder, did you really?

---------------------------------

“LOVE?” Luna practically yelled in your room. Your parents let you guys hang out after school that very same day because it was yet another Friday. Which is how you ended up with Luna screaming at you on your bedroom floor.

“SHHHHH,” you aggressively said as you tried to calm her down. You pointed downstairs to your parents. You had told them earlier that Luna drew the star on, not Joel. They didn’t even know Joel existed.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “but LOVE? You’re in love with him? Are you sure? Aren’t we too young for that? At least, that’s what my mom says.”

You sigh deeply. “Look, I know, Luna. But there’s just something so different about him. Something I can’t explain.”

“Okay, but you also haven’t liked more than two people,” Luna counters, “and we’re fourteen.”

“But have you looked into someone’s eyes before and felt safe? Have you wanted to cling onto them and never let go? You’ve got to listen to me, these feelings are so intense that I want to throw them up in a glittery mess. He runs in circles around my mind 24/7. I wonder how his hugs feel, I wonder how I would act if I met his parents.” You pause for a moment and stare her in the eyes.

“I barely understand how I feel, myself,” you whisper. “I am so screwed, Luna, but I don’t care.”

Her face relaxes and she slowly nods her head. She breaks out into a smile.

“I hear you,” she calmly states as she takes one of your hands. “I will be here with you while we figure this out, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod in a soft whisper tone.

Maybe it was the cumulation of him constantly caring for you in his own way. Maybe it was the way he never made dumb jokes at the expense of your feelings. Maybe it was the way talking to him came so easily and naturally to you, like you’ve known him for lifetimes. Or maybe it was just the fact that you were young, like Luna said.

But you knew deep down you couldn’t wholeheartedly buy into that logic.

Because in the end, you knew you were right.

---------------------------------

You turned fifteen on November 25, so you’re always exactly three months older than Joel, which he definitely did not appreciate. He found out when the teacher wished you a premature Happy Birthday the day before Thanksgiving Break.

“I cannot believe you,” he said in a mockingly defensive manner.

“Joel, I can’t exactly control when I was born you know,” you jokingly shot back. The playful banter was your favorite part of the day. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t look forward to it now.

“Well, how am I supposed to wish you a happy birthday when we won’t be in class?” He dramatically pouted.

I could give you my number, you thought. You’d never actually say that, though.

Suddenly, he turned and snatched a random piece of paper from one of his friends, and judging by the sharp “Hey!” that came out of the friend’s mouth, it probably was of some sort of importance. He grabbed your pencil and borderline slammed them down in front of you.

“Here, write down your number and all of our problems will be solved.”

Did he just? Did what you think just...happen? Fourteen year old you was absolutely dumbfounded.

“Sure,” you said as nonchalantly as possible, when in reality you were about to black out.

You scribbled down your number and handed it to him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the bell rang, and you both scrambled for your things in the midst of chaos.

“I will be looking forward to that birthday wish,” you called out as he headed for the door. At first, you didn’t think he heard you, but at the last moment, he turned around and winked before stepping out the door.

You would have melted onto the floor if it wasn’t for Luna squealing in your ear like it was a holiday morning.

November 25 couldn’t come soon enough. Yes, you were excited to turn fifteen, but now you had another reason.

The question was, was that a good thing?

---------------------------------

November 25

Age: 15

Grade: 9

You woke up on your birthday morning with adrenaline coursing through your veins. After a fun Thanksgiving with family the day before, you were excited to finally celebrate your birthday with just your mom and dad, like you always did.

You’d be lying if you said the first thing you checked was not your phone. But, It was the first thing you reached for on your nightstand. Not your glasses, like normal.

You quickly scrolled through your notifications looking for an unknown number. There’s a text from your aunt, uncle, grandma, grandpa, cousins. Your heart sank when you reached the end. Nothing from him.

You placed your phone down and shook your head to clear out the negative energy that engulfed your body.

It was your birthday, you weren’t going to let anyone ruin this day for you. Even him.

---------------------------------

It was after dinner, which was your absolute favorite meal. You had gone to the mall with your mom and dad for some birthday shopping, a tradition you were very grateful for.

On the way home, you were happily thinking about the new outfits you were gifted, until your phone buzzed. Your heart quickened.

Luna!!: did he text you yet?

You exhaled sharply.

You: no, he hasnt :(

Thanks for the reminder, Luna.

Luna!!: bummer. i’m sure he will soon.

Luna!!: he’d be an idiot not to, don’t worry, love!

You mindlessly stared out the window of the back seat, hoping the blur of the trees would take your mind off of him.

You could sense your dad glancing at you using the rearview mirror.

You turned to look at him. “What?”

“Everything okay?” He asked.

You plaster a huge smile on your face and say yes, of course, because your parents have done so much for you that day that you should have been fluttering from happiness. You mean, you were happy. You couldn’t have been more thankful. Your heart just yearned for him to fulfill his promise.

Because you didn’t know what school was going to be like if he didn’t, and you weren’t ready to face that reality.

---------------------------------

That night, you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed. Your heart felt heavier each time you checked your phone and “No Older Notifications” was displayed instead of seeing the one you longed for. You glanced at your clock on your nightstand. The bright red numbers glared at you. It was close to 11:00.

You sighed and spun your phone around in your hands as you thought. Call it delusion, but you refused to put your phone down. You knew he was going to follow through.

Did you know why you knew? Not a clue.

Without warning, your phone vibrated in your hands. You couldn’t have flipped it upright faster if you tried.

Maybe: Joel

Maybe WHO?

Maybe: Joel: Happy birthday math partner 🥳

Maybe: Joel: This is Joel by the way, that’s probably important to add

Maybe: Joel: Although you do only have one amazing math partner

You really thought you died there for a second. They were, like, a handful of words (excluding the Joel part) but they were enough to make you hug your pillow from overload.

You spastically texted Luna.

You: JESFEUN You: HE IFHUHF You: HE TEXTED ME LUNA

She must have been waiting for this text all day, just like you. She responded right away.

Luna!!: YAYAYA WHAT DID HE SAY?

You: Happy birthday math partner with the 🥳 emoji and he forgot to say his name until the second text lmaooo

Luna!!: aww thats so cute! he sounds like he has an empty head but you go hon!!

Luna!!: now text him back idiot before you forget or he goes to bed

You: yep one sec

Your thumbs circled aimlessly around the keyboard. You wanted to say so many things. You settled on this:

You: thanks, math partner :)

You hit send on that, hesitated for a moment, then typed:

You: and yes you’re a pretty great one

You took a deep breath and pressed send. You changed his contact to “Math Partner”

You wanted to throw up, but in a good way? You sighed into your pillow. Almost as quick as you sent it, you felt another buzz.

Your hand shot out to grab your phone.

Math Partner: Hey, anytime you need a star, I’m here

You glanced down at your hand, where the orange star was just a few short days ago. It was gone. You wished it didn’t fade.

You: the orange one has already faded :(

Math Partner: Well, to make up for the late birthday wish, I can give you another one once we go back to school since we have another big test

You nodded vigorously, as if he could see that through the screen.

You: maybe in red this time? it’s my favorite color

Math Partner: Whatever you want, birthday girl

What a simp, you thought. Also, you were surprised you still had a pulse at that point. Birthday girl?

Math Partner: I have to go now, I have hockey super early tomorrow. Goodnight 😁

“Hockey?” you whispered to yourself.

You: yay, thanks :) and goodnight!!

He plays hockey? you thought. Shouldn’t you have known that?

You frantically Facetimed Luna and whisper-yelled every word you two exchanged. Luna beamed with so much happiness that you could have sworn she was getting the guy.

“This is literally the best thing EVER,” she quietly exclaimed.

You just laughed a giddy yet nervous laugh. You still had no clue what was happening, but you were ready to embrace it.

---------------------------------

January 25

Age: 15

Grade: 9

When the teacher switched around the seating charts during the year, she mostly kept you and Joel within talking distance each time. If that thing about teachers sensing when kids like each other was thought to be true, she definitely proved it to be so.

Thankfully, she kept this trend going when she switched the seats around on Joel’s birthday. She moved you guys back next to each other for the next quarter. Before, she briefly separated you guys for about two weeks (when Joel wouldn’t stop yelling to his other friend who was near him). During that time apart, you both were noticeably droopier and mopier than normal. He still joked with his friends, but you only heard his loud laugh a handful of times instead of….too many.

As for you, some kid you’ve never even talked to asked you if you were okay. The answer was of course no, but you couldn’t say that.

So when the brown haired boy sat down next to you for the first time in two weeks, it felt like the day he drew the star on your hand all over again. You wanted to reach out and hug him so he’d never leave you, much less say something, anything, but you just couldn’t still. Thankfully, he did the talking for you.

“Miss me?” he joked with his trademark smile.

“Very much so,” you said with a balance of sarcasm and lightheartedness. “Happy birthday, by the way.” You lightly shoved him, not entirely knowing where the guts to do that came from.

“Thank you, thank you. Did you get me anything?” he teased. He lightly shoved you back.

Your heart beated frantically. Your impulsivity urged you to do something you never would have a few months ago.

“Actually…” you paused for a moment. He raised his eyebrows. You reached for an orange marker and uncapped it with a pop.

“May I?”

He could hardly believe it.

“Do what?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Draw a star, dummy.”

“Ohhhhh,” he said as he connected the dots. He stuck out his clenched fist as he fought back a huge grin.

You couldn’t believe you were actually doing that.

You tucked your hand under his to keep it steady, just like he did with your hand a few months back. You took your time making sure each corner was connected precisely. You also didn’t want to let go of his hand, like, ever.

You finished way too soon for both your likings. You pulled away and closed the cap.

“Happy birthday, Math Partner.”

“Thanks,” he said. He had his eyes glued on the star you just drew. He didn’t even try to fight the grin that was creeping on his face.

Now you were the cause of his smile. Warmth flowed through your body. You just wanted to keep him that happy forever.

---------------------------------

That night, Luna called you on Facetime because apparently talking about those events in the hallway afterschool wasn’t enough.

“What’s up?” you calmly asked, as if you didn’t know why she was calling.

“What’s up? What do you mean what’s up? I mean, first you lightly shoved him. Yes, I saw that. But then you draw a star on him? I don’t know where this confident you came from, but I am living for it. I am so proud of you,” she sincerely said through a smile.

“Aw thank you, I appreciate it. Yeah, I don’t know either, honestly. He just brings out this good side of me now.”

“I can see that, and I love it. So...” She dragged out the “so,” and that was never a good sign.

“So?” you asked.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“About what?” You played dumb as best you could.

She didn’t buy it. “Oh come on, y/n. You know you love him, why don’t you tell him?”

You shuttered at that idea. By doing that, you risked losing what you’ve created so far. You were texting him roughly once or twice a week at that point about random stuff and talking to him in class every chance you got. Losing that was just something you were not prepared to face. And you told Luna that.

She (mostly) understood.

“I respect that,” she said. “But if you guys don’t hang out in the summer and keep this going, I will kill him.”

You snorted. “Me too, honestly.”

Could you guys keep this going for that long?

Only time would tell, you told yourself.

---------------------------------

April

Grade: 9

Age: 15

Every time you saw Joel, you came home with a pep in your step. It was like clockwork. You would bounce into the house with a grandiose “Hello Mother” and hum a song stuck in your head. Today it was “Love Story” by Taylor Swift.

“How was your day?” your mom asked with a hint of suspicion. After months of letting your intriguing happiness spell go, it was too obvious for her to ignore.

“Good,” you said. You didn’t really want to tell her much about Joel because you knew she wouldn’t believe you if you told her how you really felt about him. Those strong feelings didn’t waiver once over the last few months. Okay, maybe once on the day that he accidentally spilled water on your homework. But you couldn’t stay mad at him after he willingly placed his own homework in the same water.

“You’re very happy today. Anything happen in particular?” She prodded.

“Nope,” you pop the letter “p”.

“Who’s the boy?”

You froze. “Boy?”

“There has to be, you haven’t been this happy to go to school pretty much ever.”

You sighed. It was your mom after all. Maybe she would believe you if you told her.

“His name’s Joel, he’s in my Algebra class,” you mumbled.

“Is he nice? Is he smart? Does he play hockey?” The questions flew from left and right.

“Yes, he’s nice. He’s really sweet to me. He is way better at math than me. Yes he does,” you rattled off the answers to her bombardment.

“Excellent,” she smiled. “You like this boy?”

“Yeah, I really do. A lot actually.”

She raised an eyebrow. “A lot?”

“Yeah, honestly, I might love him.”

That confession froze the kitchen over. She paused.

“Honey, you’re too young to know that,” she tried to reason.

Your chest stung. “What if I’m not?” You questioned.

“You’re fifteen.”

“I know Mom, I know.” She opened her mouth to talk, but you said, “I have to go start homework.” You charged up the stairs and crashed on your bed.

So what if you were fifteen? You didn’t care how old you were. Call it being naive, but you were sure you knew everything when you were young.

You just had to wait for timing to fall into place to prove everyone wrong.

tagging: @teamcanadasimp :)

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 9: Intruloceit (Pt 1)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 9: When you write something on your own skin, it appears on your soulmate’s skin as well.

Content warnings: implied abuse (nothing graphic), self deprecation, some internalized homophobia concerning polyamory, angst. 

(Happy ending in next part)

Word count: 1.7k

Janus didn’t sleep the night before his eighteenth birthday. Instead, he sat curled up on his bed, wrapped in his blanket, watching the minutes pass in the dim light of his alarm clock. His heart pounded as it drew closer to midnight, feeling like the numbers on the display were a countdown to his death.

He didn’t have friends, and that wasn’t a topic he would ever admit to being sensitive about. Most people would spend the eve of their eighteenth birthday surrounded by their loved ones, count down the seconds until they reached the strike of midnight, and then huddle around the birthday person as they wrote a message to their soulmate for the first time. A little greeting, an introduction, something to begin the process of meeting the love of their life. In a decent amount of cases, probably half, Janus would speculate, they wouldn’t get a response until their soulmate also turned eighteen, but the first note was still a special moment; something to celebrate. He’d never been a popular person though, by any standards.  Even back in elementary school, his general dark demeanor and habitual lying kept people away from him. Sure, it would be more fun to play at recess with the other kids instead of laying in the sun and watching the clouds float by, but his defense mechanisms were not something he was going to let go of any time soon.

When his bedside display finally read 12:00, he expected to feel something. A shiver up his spine, a tingling under his skin, anything. But nothing happened, and he couldn’t tell if he was more grateful or upset. He stared down at his skin, pen held in his shaking hands, debating if he should do it. The minutes ticked by, suddenly a lot slower than when he’d been fighting for breath in anticipation and fear, and the pen continued to shake.

Downstairs, the front door slammed shut, causing Janus to flinch so hard the pen clattered to the floor. His dad wasn’t supposed to be home for a couple more days, and he could hear his mom voicing similar confusion as she made her way downstairs to greet him.

“Darrel? Did the trip end early?” He could hear the hesitation and uncertainty in her voice even from behind his closed door. His father had left with the excuse of a work trip. They both knew that wasn’t true, and both had an unspoken agreement to not say a word about it.

“What are you doing awake?” The man’s voice was gruff, sleep starved, annoyed. He clearly hadn’t intended to run into his wife, the soulmate he had stopped loving years ago.

“The headlights shone through the window, they woke me up.”

“Well, go back to bed. I don’t want to be grilled by you right now.”

“Do you want some dinner? I think there’s some leftovers in the fridge-”

“I said, go back to bed!”

“Darrel, please! You’re going to wake Janus!”

Janus shut his eyes and ears as the yelling started, abandoning the pen and what little excitement he’d had previously. Like every night, his sleep was as restless and chaotic as the day time, haunted with flashbacks and nightmares that he had no way to escape. Words hit with as much impact as fists, reminding him of how he was meant to be alone. A soulmate could never love a royal fuck up like him. His dad’s words echoed and distorted as the blows landed, shouts of unlovable and worthless setting in his mind as tombstones. Images of his parent’s failed bond rifled through his mind’s eye at record pace. Whether they were a one in a million flaw or just a cruel reminder that soulmates are never as perfect as displayed, he’d never know. All he knew is that he’d rather be alone for the rest of his life than be submitted to the fate that had befallen them, abuse and hatred but unable to leave, not with the expectations and stereotypes they lived under. ‘Soulmates were perfect, never failing, an unshatterable bond.’ Bullshit. He knew he was also subjecting his soulmate to a life alone, but his fear easily outweighed his desire to be loved, or his sense of compassion. 

He woke up the next morning with a new heaviness in his heart, glancing at the time habitually. It was ten minutes before his alarm, but the thought of going back to sleep was too daunting a quest, so he rolled off his bed and padded to the bathroom to get ready for school. It was his senior year, and no matter how much he would rather stay at home and mope in his room, zoning out as he tended to do, he needed his grades to stay decent. It was the only way he was getting out of here. Half asleep, he threw on his yellow comfort hoodie, a stark contrast to his mood. It had been a present from his mom a few years ago, given with the uncomfortable smile between two people who lived together but rarely spoke. 

He clambered down the stairs two at a time, freezing on the last step as his eye locked on the person in the kitchen. His mom sat at the table, nursing a cup of coffee silently, barely acknowledging he had entered the room. Without so much as a word, he scooted by her, eyeing the bruise forming on her left cheek and slunk out the door. They didn’t talk much anymore, why would today being his birthday change that?

The day was nothing out of the ordinary, and Janus didn’t know why that made a certain hole open up in his chest. Boring classes followed by lonely breaks, a quiet lunch hour in an abandoned classroom and an uneventful walk to the park after school. He preferred doing his homework anywhere that wasn’t home, especially now that his dad was back in town. He needed to get these done, and who knew what would pull him away from his work there. Besides, the grass was soft and the sun wasn’t too overbearingly hot, and he desperately needed a tan. The darker his skin, the more unnoticeable was the huge birthmark that covered the left side of his face, a little something that just made him that much more avoided by his peers.

His pen had barely scratched the paper when a tickle over his right arm made him gasp, like a feather ghosting over the skin. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was, and after a moment of adrenaline and panic, it occurred to him that no amount of putting it off would prevent the inevitable. He’d have to acknowledge his soulmate’s existence eventually. With a deep breath, he tugged the sleeve of his hoodie up, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

From wrist to elbow on his forearm, a deep blue ink had scribbled down bullet points that he must have not noticed throughout the entire day, since there were too many for them to have happened in the last few minutes. He started at the top, eyes drifting hungrily over the writing until he reached the last note, still being finished.

Chemistry test next Friday, study cephalopods

English paper on William Shakespeare, ask Roman for advice

Talk to Patton about moving movie night to next weekend

What far away is Andromeda from earth?

Fix V’s pin 

Yell at V to stop breaking their pins

Get dad to sign detention slip

Extra credit for calculus due tomorrow

Do you want to get coffee?

Janus froze. That last one… what the hell? Sure, his brain was decently sleep deprived, but he was almost certain he hadn’t written to his soulmate last night. Except, damn, that question certainly didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of his notes; it seemed aimed at someone. Nevermind how they knew he was there, knew he had turned eighteen, they were trying to contact him, and that was more important. He picked up his discarded pen off the grass, twirling it in his fingers. What should he say? Should he even say anything? His original plan to ignore his soulmate was suddenly significantly more difficult, now that they were making the first move. They were a real person, not just a stranger, no longer a figment of his imagination twisted into something evil. 

But before he could touch the tip to his arm to respond, to maybe introduce himself or ask where they were in the world (why were they offering coffee if they’d never even established where they lived, he wondered distantly), a barrage of green script exploded under his poised pen.

YES PLEASE! I was awake all night. I just saw your notes, you want help with the cephalopods? I can quiz you, I know everything about them. And I guarantee I know just as much about ya boi Billy Shakes as Roman, and I know the FUN stuff too! Not the prissy romancey stuff. Did V tell you their pin broke because they tried to stab me with it and hit my pocket knife? Because they did. What did you get detention for this time?

Even with the small writing, Janus had to rotate his arm to follow the messy scratching as the… new person continued to rant about their day. He sat in shock, not able to process what was happening. This had to be a mistake, right? It was astronomically rare to have more than one soulmate, and there was no way he was one of those people. He had never been special before in his life, in either a good way or a bad, so he in no way was deserving of… this. Maybe this was a mistake after all, just like his parents. Another cosmic fuck up, where he’d have to live out the rest of his life, watching the two people fall more and more in love while he looked on like a creep. Isn’t that what he deserved, though? The two other people obviously knew each other; two soulmates who must have turned eighteen before him and met a while ago, if their casual interaction was anything to go by. And… he couldn’t intrude on that. Even if he did, if he popped up out of nowhere like a bad cold, they wouldn’t want him to join their pre-established relationship already. They probably weren’t even polyamorous, and the whole idea would just make them uncomfortable. 

His mind was too far gone for homework. So with a lump in his throat the size of a meteor and tears stinging the corner of his eyes, he capped the pen, rolled down his sleeve resolutely, and packed up his supplies. Anything his dad would do to him would surely hurt less than this. 

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 45- Enemies of the State

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

A girls’ day out leads to a discovery, and the other hermits need to know about it immediately.

__________________________________

It wasn’t often the girls got to spend time on the mainland together. They love all the hermits, but the three of them are sisters. Very strange, completely different sisters. Even if they’re just getting shipments of food and letters, it’s a break for them. Besides, Stress is the strongest hermit- she easily carries two massive bundles of foods they can’t grow on the island. 

“I need to get some alloys, think we can drop by the smith shop for me to get bricks and ball bearings?” False questions, turning to Cleo and Stress with big, pleading eyes. She wants to test out her skills she learned in Alphasguard. She’s also been using her smithing skills to ease her nerves. 

After seeing the monstrosity in the forest, after leaving it to continue to grow, her nightmares have been plagued with tentacles wrapped around trees, eyes and mouths opening up to swallow the world whole. When the nightmares become too much, the only way she can ward them off is with the light of her forge and the music of metal. She’s made half an armor set in the night alone in the time they’ve been back on Eremita. 

Thankfully, the other two are more than happy to visit the forges of Coral Shores. Plus, it’s more time to themselves, and for Stress it’s more time free from the wretched rolling of Cleo’s ship. At this point, she’d rather walk across the water than get sick over the side of the sailboat. 

“So if you’re making more weapons, think you can give a look at my saber? I think she could use some fine tuning, a bit of that good Falsie touch.” Cleo bumps False on the shoulder, rounding the corner into the dry heat of the forgery area. Stress and Cleo recoil at every bang and explosion of fire from the mouths of the forges, like maws of dragons, but False never felt more at home than in the center of the chaos. She watches a bladesmith heat treat the blade of a battleaxe, fire bursting at the oil’s surface, before cooling as the heat travels from metal to grease. It comes out slightly bent, to which the smith races to fix before the metal sets. 

At the center of the forges, a warehouse of alloys operates as the hub. Smiths come and go, picking up all kinds of metals and materials for their craft. False joins the busy bustle, nabbing bars of iron and steel, even a few bearings and sheets. False prefers to make her own tools, and she knows she’ll need some rods and ball bearings to forge a new pair of tongs. The last one she broke when she fell asleep at the forge, and they melted beyond repair. She’d have likely perished as well had it not been for Wels checking in on his friend. 

When False returns, stowing the metal in her pocket dimension for later summoning, Cleo and Stress are staring at the ground. “What did you two find?” She questions, peering over their shoulder.

At the girls’ feet, a wanted poster catches on the cobblestone, the edges of the parchment singed black by wanton flames of the forges. It’s not something they haven’t seen before, a wanted poster of Doc. Even though his days of crime and revolt are mostly past him, every once in a while some arcane guard captain stirs up the reminder that Doc escaped jail, and they print a few new ones. 

But another paper catches False’s vision, this time bearing another familiar, all though very different face. xB. She stoops down, picking up the wanted poster. She flicks the undried paste from her hands, reading it aloud to the others. “Wanted for crimes against Lairyon, treason, political divide between kipling kingdoms and Lairyon, illegal congregation of a guild, and resisting arrest.” 

Stress has disappeared around the corner, but her gasp lures the other two to see what she’s staring at, wide eyed and shaking in her fuzzy boots. 

The entire wall of the tavern is covered in wanted posters. Every last face on each unique poster depicting every last hermit- including Jellie. Mumbo’s depiction is the most accurate, though his mustache is a little off. But whoever designed these sketches got the multi-mage’s constant look of concern down pat. They also notice who carries the heaviest price on their head. Grian, with almost a million rupees more than anyone else, his wings talking up most of the picture. 

False pulls down her own picture, tucking a blonde lock of hair behind the glass and metal of her goggles. She reads of the list of crimes she’s been charged with. Treason, theft, crimes against the Council and government, illegal congregation of a guild, resisting arrest, mercenary activity, illegal manufacture of weapons… the list goes on and on, more and more bullshit than the last. Most of these are laws she’s never heard of, or are so dated she’s sure they were dredged up from the early history of Lairyon. 

And at the bottom of every last wanted poster was the personal signature and insignia of the Magistrate of Lairyon. Dolios himself created these orders, and the Council approved them. She feels her heart stop, her head swimming, a sensation of vertigo as she realizes what this means. 

The hermits are wanted criminals. Not just lawbreakers, but Lairyon’s most wanted. “We need to get back to Eremita. Now.” 

“I knew things were going on with the Council, but I didn’t expect this.” TFC picks up his wanted poster, brushing out his beard and shaking his head. It’s clear the artist that drew this has no clue how to style dwarven hair. 

“I had heard rumors that there’s discord between the guildmasters of the Council. Do you think our work is affecting them?” Xisuma is half perched on the side of TFC’s desk, rifling through all twenty-something  papers in search of his. He pulls it out, looking at the masked face before him. His fingers brush the corner of the rendition where the mark of him and his brother would be, then runs his fingers over the scratched out metal on his face. 

“Perhaps Dolios is putting more pressure on them to maintain their power, to hinder us. Put enough stress on anything, and even a diamond will fracture.” TFC hums. “Well, as bad as this looks on the outside, we can also take this as good news.” 

“Good news? How in the world are we supposed to take being Lairyon’s Most Wanted as good news?” Cleos snorts, waving a green hand at the stack. Her’s is the only one that says ‘wanted undead or dead’. 

“Because it means it’s working. We’re backing Dolios into a corner. He’s threatened by us. It’s not just enough to deal with us on his own, now he wants all of Lairyon to do his bidding.” TFC stands, quite proud. All of their time spent breaking crystals, hunting down husks, and now discovering the monster in the forest is showing results. So much work, and it’s finally starting to crack his resolve. 

“What do we do about this?” Stress whispers. “The arcane guard and most of Lairyon will be after our heads. That’s a lot of money on each of us.” 

“We keep doing our work.” TFC walks out of the cave he calls home, standing in the sunlight and watching the other hermits train. “When isn’t the arcane guard after us? But the more work we do to stop Dolios and whatever he plans to do with that… abomination, the more we help the people of Lairyon, the less inclined they’ll be to turn us in.” 

“We’re already the champions of the Chimaera’s Cup.” Xisuma points out. Would people see their fall from grace as the pitfalls of victory, or would they read more into the lies spread by their leader. 

“And the Asklepions. Shellor, the other teams from the championship.” False straightens her shoulders, thinking of the people they’ve met so far. “They know we aren’t the villains of this story.” 

“It’s not much, but it’s a start.” TFC nods, and waves to Xisuma. “Keep working on finding more information about darkness. He thinks this will stop us- we’re just getting started.”

[nomtterwhere]

silent treatment || marco peña x reader

request: @mansaaay requested “Jealous or mad marco which leads to silent treatment?”

summary: a friendly game on a rainy day gone bad

warnings: not much, gets a little spicy towards the end, but no smut

word count: 2203

you and marco are in his room, you sitting in the chair at his desk and him sitting up on his bed. you had planned on going to the river today to have a picnic, but when you woke up that morning it was downpouring. it was supposed to rain for a while, so the two of you had just been hanging out at marco’s house, trying to figure out ways to keep yourselves occupied until it stopped.

“time!” you call out as the timer on your phone went off.

you open your eyes and look at your picture, laughing out loud.

“marco, i am genuinely so sorry about this.” you manage through your laughter.

“oh god, not again.”

one of the games you had come up with was like pictionary, except harder. each of you picked a card with an object on it and you had to draw a picture of that object with your eyes closed in thirty seconds. then you showed it to each other and if the other person could guess what it was, they got a point.

the game had proven to be harder than you had originally thought, considering you have been playing for almost an hour and the score was only 3 to 5. (a lot of that time was spent guessing and then fighting over who got the point) you were winning, of course.

you hold yours up and marco’s eyes widen. “um...” he tilts his head, as if that’ll help. “a sailboat?”

you shake your head, turning the paper and looking at it yourself. “are you kidding me? that looks nothing like a sailboat.”

“it doesn’t look like much of anything!” he exclaims. “hang on, bring it here.”

you get up and walk over to his bed, sitting cross legged in front of him and hold out the picture to him.

he takes it from you, holding it closer and starts laughing. “y/n, what the actual hell.”

you feign offense even though you knew it was terrible. “i did my best! come on, you have two more guesses, make good use of them.”

“okay,” he squints. “is it a plane?”

you give him a look. “are you even trying?”

“i am! it’s not my fault you suck at drawing!” he ducks as you swing a pillow at his head and gives you a smile.

“okay, okay.” he lays the paper down in front of him and studies it, his hands folded underneath his chin.

you roll your eyes, knowing he was only doing so to mock you.

“a car!” he says, looking up at you.

you shake your head, holding up your card. “it’s a tractor!” you take your picture from him, holding it up. “see, these are the wheels and see how the front is bigger than the back? i really don’t see how you got sailboat from this.”

“why is that even an option?” marco complains. “car, tractor, is there really a difference? they both have wheels.”

you softly pat his cheek. “don’t be a sore loser. now come on, let’s see yours.”

he groans. “mine is too easy.” but he hands it over nonetheless.

you smile, looking at the obvious depiction on the piece of paper. “a dog!”

“absolutely unfair. how come you get to guess all the easy ones and i get ones like tractor and velociraptor?”

you laugh at him. “because the universe knows what it wants. and what it wants is for me to win.”

“or because you’re cheating.” he says, raising an eyebrow.

you let out a dramatic gasp, placing a hand over your heart. “how dare you accuse me of such a crime? i would never.”

“you know, now that i think about it. you were the one to pick the cards for each round.” marco speculates, collecting the sheets of paper spread out on his bed.

he walks over to the trash bin in his room, dumping the papers inside.

“i hope you’re going to put those in the recycling bin later.” you say as he comes back over to you.

“yes, of course. i just don’t feel like going downstairs right now.” he wraps his arms around your waist and wiggles his way into your embrace.

you lean back on the bed, adjusting so his body was on top of yours, your arms around his shoulders.

he buried his head in your stomach, placing soft kisses on the exposed skin from where your shirt had ridden up.

you ran your fingers along his bare back, tracing a random pattern as you went. every once in a while, you would lightly scratch his skin, then gently rub it with your thumb and listen as he sighed against your stomach.

“you wanna play another round?” you say after a while.

“are you gonna cheat this time?” marco’s response came muffled.

you run a hand through his hair, tugging slightly. “you can pick out the cards for us if it’ll make you feel better.”

he picks his head up with a grin. “then let’s do it.” he reaches up and you lean down, giving him a quick kiss.

he whines when you pull away and tightens his arms around your center.

“i’m gonna need a longer kiss than that if you want to get up.” he closes his eyes again.

you laugh, but cup his cheeks and bring him in for a longer kiss. he hums against your lips, clearly pleased as he slips his tongue in. your mouths moved together in a familiar rhythm, slowly, as if trying to memorize each other. and you get that feeling you always do when you kiss him, a constant reminder of how much you love him. that is, until:

“still a cheater.” he mumbles against your lips.

“oh, shut up.” you push at his shoulders until he releases you, falling into his back beside you as he laughs.

you get up and grab the box with the object cards on them, bringing it over to marco.

“alright, let’s do this.” you toss it onto the bed.

“this is how someone who doesn’t cheat do it, for future reference.” he says, making a big show of putting a hand over his eyes and reaching into the box with his other arm.

he pulls out two cards and hands one to you with a grin.

“this is the last one. whoever wins this round wins the whole game.”

you watch as he sits up, glancing at his own card. “you’re just saying that because you’re losing.”

he looks up at you with a shrug. “whatever my reasons are, the terms still stand.”

you go back to his desk, grabbing a pen and two sheets of paper, handing marco one of the sheets. you decide to stay on the floor, not wanting to walk back to his desk.

“can you set the timer?” you situate yourself on the ground, laying in your stomach.

“yup.” marco’s voice came from above you.

you take this opportunity to finally glance at your card and grin when you see ‘giraffe.’ no matter how great you did, there was no way that was going to be the word that would pop into his head.

“okay, i’m ready!”

“alright...go!” he says and you close your eyes and start drawing.

and contrary to what others may think, you really did try. you thought you got the outline of the giraffe down and maybe messed up a little on the spots. but when the thirty seconds were up and you looked at your drawing, you couldn’t even tell if it was an animal.

you laugh aloud and marco groans, knowing what that sound means.

“you are definitely doing this on purpose, no one is this bad at drawing.” he says when he sees your finished product.

“hey! i tried really hard!” you defend your terrible drawing.

but he was right, it did look like you were cheating considering how awful the majority of your drawings came out.

marco shakes his head and looks up at you. “i have no idea, just tell me.”

you smile up at him from the floor. “you don’t even want to guess?”

guessing by the look he gave you, you were going to go with no.

“it’s a giraffe!”

he stares at you and then looks at your drawing, then back at you. “you’re kidding.”

“alright well let’s see yours then, picasso.” you hold out your hand for his drawing.

you study it for a moment, whatever it is, it’s big. he has one big circle as an outline and you could tell he tried to draw details inside of it but you couldn’t tell what they were supposed to be.

but you saw some squiggles drawn on the sides and assumed it was meant to be water so:

“a whale?” you guess and marco grins.

“nope.”

he looked so smug even though you still had two guesses left. and you were determined wipe that look of of his face.

you turn your attention a back to the picture, looking at the shape once again. it had to be something under water, unless those lines he drew were just to throw you off. you look at the circles drawn and realize they’re meant to be windows.

“is it a submarine?” you look up with a smile.

marco’s jaw drops and he grabs the paper from your hand.

“how on earth did you guess that? in what world does anyone ever guess submarine?”

you take the paper back from him. “uh, when the drawing looks like a submarine.” you hold up the drawing. “i win!”

“you cheated.” marco laid back down on his bed, folding an arm over his eyes.

“i did not. you even picked the cards, there was no way i could have known yours.” he didn’t respond. “marco?” still no response.

you stand up from the floor, gathering the papers you used and tossing them out. you look over at marco who is still laying on his bed, completely silent.

“so now you’re not talking to me?” nothing.

“you are such a child, you know that?” he only shifts of his bed.

“this is how children act. they don’t get their way and they throw a little fit just like this.” you gesture towards him.

he lifts his arm to glance at you for a moment and the places it back on his face, ignoring you once again.

you knew he could hold out for a while when he got like this, but you were already bored and wanted to be bored together. and you couldn’t do that if he was ignoring you. so you decided to speed up the process.

“marco.” you test the waters and he still doesn’t respond. “mar-co.” you sing song, walking towards the bed.

you sit next to him, leaning forward to try and peek underneath his arm. “marco, my love.”

he didn’t move but you saw the smile forming on his face and knew you were breaking him. so you take it a step further.

you get on top of him, straddling his waist and placing your hands on his bare chest. you trail your fingers down his chest, purposefully tracing his abs painstakingly slow.

marco lets out a groan, his hands move to grip your thighs, holding on to you tightly.

he opens his eyes and grins at you, shaking his head. “you play dirty.”

you drop a kiss on his chest. “according to you, it’s the only way i know how to play.”

he shakes his head and moves so he’s sitting up against his headboard, holding you in his lap. he leans forward, ducking his head into the crook of your neck.

“that’s because you were cheating. there is no reasonable excuse for how you messed up so much.” he says, as he trails his lips up and down your neck.

“i was blindfolded!” you say, then gasp as he nips at your skin.

one hand goes to the back his neck as he continues to tease your skin, a tingling feeling spreading through your body.

“yeah, so was i. and yet you managed to guess 7 of mine.” he murmurs and then looks at you, smiles, and kisses your lips.

he pulls you closer by the backs of your thighs, then moves his hands to your lower back, fingers creeping underneath your shirt.

you sigh as you feel his hand flatten against your bare back, then curl around to grab your waist. he squeezes lightly and you laugh into his mouth, your next kiss swallowing the sound.

“i’m still mad at you, you know.” he mumbles in between kisses.

you grin, pulling back for a moment. you rub your hands across his broad shoulders, watching as his eyes shut in relaxation.

“i’m sorry, baby. what can i do to make it up to you?”

his eyes open, and you can see them sparkle with mischief. he flips the two fo you over so he’s hovering above you and brings his lips right by your ear.

“oh, i have a few ideas.” he whispers before capturing your lips in another kiss.

alright, so maybe the silent treatment wasn’t such a bad thing...

taglist: @devilishdior @write-from-the-heart @shherlxck @minnyvees @lover1307 @sonnyalice @caro1115 @psg-for-life @mansaaay @thebookwormlife

[noxyfied]

This, is Noxy/Noxyfied/Nox. This is the character I identify as online, and I want to tell you my story with this adorable Arctic Fox because it is one heck of a tale from not so long ago

Things did begin rough at the beginning of my persona’s history. I honestly can’t recall how I came up with it, only how I inserted my love for something and went with it.

From the early years of 2017 to 2019 I was all paper and pencil. Ah yes traditional art was my big thing for a couple of years during that era of 2013 to 2020. I had a time where I wrote stories about characters I made, and not much. No fan art, no nothing, I wanted to stick to my own original ideas at first before I took the step to do something that I did not own; it was a weird mindset I know, I couldn’t hold myself to want to be original and develop to be good enough to draw other things.

It took me some time to develop, hell even to this day I still am unsure of my own skills but I enjoyed trying new things. I don’t reject much criticism even if it comes harsh it still lingers in my head when received anyway. I needed someone to identify as online, a persona who I would have an identity through as I was moving forward on this hopeful career I want to make with my art.

Idea #1 draw my own self accurate to how I look 

Scratch that...

Nononono, I am too bad at showing my face, even at that I don’t like myself.

So I had to come up with something else, 2019 was ending with my skills rising up to something neat. I had Fire alpaca and a wacom cheap tablet which I used time to time back then, and with how I moved foward I said “why not, lets draw a glaceon.

Not bad, not bad. I do enjoy anthropomorphic animals, and for a anthro Glaceon it wasn't so bad. Even back then I did not enjoy much of this picture but the idea sparked. I did roleplay around online a lot as a Glaceon. People always had referred to me as a Glaceon when talking, because furry friends tend to be like that and I don’t mind. It had definitely sparked the idea of identifying as one for my persona.

I had a hard time how I would draw this character, a more personalized Glaceon with my own flare of the art style I carry should be nice, should I make it tall? short? anthro? feral? the questions rose up. Even more as time passed, took some time unsure of it, Unluckily I had a Glaceon FURsona, not a persona. (Yes those were two separate things as I carried 7 fursonas as individual characters in their own stories).

But soon one day in class, my artsy self was bored and it just sparked.

This is it! yes! I love it! something about this just clicked for some reason, it was like nothing I had seen before I could not look away at it, this was it.

After class I went home and played some games. The idea was there but man am I tired. Things did go slow, but not for long as of January, the classes I took gave me the ability to better understand this Adobe Photoshop, an amazing tool for editing pictures but also... To draw?!? I have heard of using Photoshop to draw but was amazed to have the ability using such program. During my time 2019 I would doodle around on Photoshop in my school or at home (thanks to the campus giving me a cheaper prize to use it for assignments) Not bad, not bad, the program was for sure something nice to use. Look! I even drew my Fursonas there too, ain’t that nice

2019 was something for sure. It had just begun making 2020 quite the year as I took my wacom tablet, opened Photoshop, and on January there it was.

Oh how cute! I felt so proud of myself, firealpaca was nothing like how clean and pretty Photoshop was, I was amazed at this ability.

“I made this?” that would be what I ask myself everyday. Time to time I would, and still, look at my phone to my drawings and remember what I used to make some pieces, I will not forget how I used thick outlines with the line too from photoshop, added some depth on the eyes. But most importantly, I had a persona, and I introduced it

My friends loved it, I could not believe I am starting to do the shift, my days of traditional art were at a halt. Not at a complete stop since I do use traditional art for a few other things of course, this was just my main focus now.

This little creature was everything to me, cute, easy to make, helped me throughout a few months as I practiced with my digital art.

I also perfected it’s look, but something looked rather familiar about it. Could not put my finger to it, so I went on drawing it.

that was a few exceptions where I shifted the proportions for “it”

“It” “it” what was this thing supposed to be, I myself was unsure how to identify myself with this persona. Male? no, female? no. The issue was there, who am I really inside, who was my persona gonna be.

I still cannot tell you exactly what my persona was for the longest time. I at times felt lost and confused with my identity, it did not help that 2020 did its mumbo jumbo and a pandemic happened, it was a lot of time on my own at home just questioning really who I had been for the longest time. Classes were minimal so my free time was big around April and May.

I was always unsure of who I was exactly, through my early years late 2000′s I had in me that my body was uncomfortable for looking the way it did, 2010′s went silent but there was something in me I did not understand. why did I feel this way, why do I feel as I am not happy with who I am, and who I identify with.

This persona was the wake up call to who I really wanted to be. I saw it in me that I knew being a male was the main issue in me feeling unhappy. Throughout my life I did not enjoy masculinity as much as other kids, yeah I had some boy traits but it was rather minimal, I enjoyed other things more. I enjoyed a lot of things about being female it was something I had never seen before. as hard or confusing things tend to be from me to explain, its a rather hard thing for myself to explain. But that how it felt “confusing” I researched and looked for things and to my conclusion I had come to be, I come to identify as a MtF trans.

I felt relieved in me of it and I already enjoyed my days more after from it. The only issue is “who do I tell..?” I was timid to tell this to anyone, friends or even family. Especially family, those I come to admit they will never be told of what my decision was because of how hard headed they are. It is a tragic story to tell since most families are such closed minded people of rejecting others.

“My friends tho, my friends? I would feel bad if I told them” that was the mindset I had for a while before admitting to them time to time, one by one. This was a chapter in my life that had changed me early 2020′s but I felt a lot of joy in me to be who I wanted to be, I no longer took anyone else's guidance for controlling who I am, I just went with my own flow.

My persona was.... more comically confused, it could be either so I just left it how my mood wanted it to go for when drawing it. So, things went well, in 2019 with the money I got I found myself enjoying a lot of second handed games, with a game coming real soon that had me pumped for I had to get a console I wanted for so long

A PS4 for the the Final fantasy 7 Remake, I was so pumped waiting for the game, I got a used PS4 for it and even bought couple other games for it to get to know the console: Final fantasy 15, destiny, and later on this Persona 5 game a lot of people talked about. Hmm ok, well lets try it out and oh me oh my, a few days later:

The art style captivated me, can you tell I went all out to trying anything with my persona? I cannot believe I was my own guinea pig for these sorts.

Going around some friends and they will tell you that I used this pfp quite a lot back then, as well as updating it with a new oc I had come up with

A tale in due time will be told about this gal.

well, it was set and forth that this was me, my persona, this glaceon was who I was. People loved it, my friends really liked it, and I had a blast having this first pure year of digital art only. Meeting new friends, and admiring their art. Having old friends come back, and even losing a few others on the way. During the time of june, to July I was rapid about drawing my persona in many ways, short, tall, anthro, feral

even metallic.

 But there come some time I did not grew tired of. But a little worried that I had to rely on a franchise for my own identity, of course there is nothing wrong for those doing it. But reflecting on myself, back then when I wanted this art career to happen, I wanted to go all out letting out my imagination  with my own creations. I had to make the decision, it was time to move on...

...To a new art program and new drawing tablet

No, it wasn’t that. I had to branch out from this Glaceon, but keep my identity, my legacy of this persona in check, but with a new coat of paint of course. did not take a long time before choosing that I had to use a real life animal as inspiration for this change. Something at least close to it, ah yes of course! the inspiration of the Glaceon was an arctic fox, well those are some good stepping stones to begin with so what happened one day is that I began sketching, not before saying good bye to this old self that helped me begin. It was weird, this is me but it was old me?

Tested the new Brushes from this amazing program called Clip studio paint, and I gotta say I love the program. Sincerely the best choice I made to leave Photoshop for this.

At last, this is it. the new Me!

Familiar looking isn’t it,baby steps we can say.

I cannot blame the people for calling my new persona a “Glaceon-alike”

I headed to the right direction stepping away from it, but it was hard to let go

new program, new tablet, new me. the later half of 2020 went onto a lot of changes with myself, the chibi small version did not make me happy to make anymore, I was losing the touch and with the few comments I got of looking like a “powerpuff girl look a like” did set me off to do a drastic change I am thankful to do. This new me had some weird phases, don’t we all tho?

where else to brainstorm than back to the traditional old ways. Now, you may see this and ask what was I thinking when making this. the order of when i started and finish goes as: Top right: ok what if it was feral, nah nah scratch. Top left: Can I still make it cute with a round face and features I had from before? ew no! that looks scary Bottom right: lets make it more natural and wow hey! yes yes yes! this looks hundred times better. Bottom left: It is time I go all out and make it humanoid, it was how I found myself enjoying drawing most things but still did some anthropomorphic things. I was just not the best of it.

Back to digital and.... Amazing, I really out did myself this time, lets go for it, lets keep going with this

I even got a cool sword too!

My practice continued from here, the second half was great and fun. New persona got me in a place where I was happy with and through October and December I was having a blast with the more possibilities with it. I went on to practice with even more suggestive things after a life drawing class I took, proportions mattered to me and with this new persona I went out to make more better looking proportions that were attractive and stylish.

This persona was great, and I managed to make so much of it. even Drawing the more suggestive stuff had left me with an answer for this persona. Just make it gender fluid, my selection for this character being male or female made me so tired I did not know why I just made it gender fluid since the beginning. My mood swings for this character, and I can’t resist drawing it either way. Was I finished? of course not, this persona still had some work around to do. The hair became a pain to make to keeping up with  consistently.

2020 ended, with a year of exciting new things coming for this new year. I went through quite a lot in my life and my art career took a shaken with this new digital life style, my persona became the identity I saw myself through, something im happy with drawing to represent Me.

That isn’t to say that I gave up on drawing Me Me.

I drew who I hope to be, and will use this from time to time, nothing fancy but something.

It has been a year already since I began identifying myself with this persona from last year from now. ever since I sketched that doodle in class, it has been a happy trip through memory lane writing it and I am happy how things turned out. 2021 is what I hope to be as good as 2020 was (by that I mean drawing only of course) In 2021 one more change was made that had made me just as happy to continue on with.

I got more hair! as crazy as it is yes. More hair, and a different front style has been to this day what I been using.

I even made a discord emoji for all the warm hugs to have with my fursona!

and my first ever animation I have ever done before!!

I am always experimenting new things, and i’m proud to be an artists to go out there and leave my art out there to be noticed by anyone. The love and appreciation friends and others leave me are the best thing I could ask. I look foward to see what is up ahead, for me, my career, and Noxy.

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

Rachel-eve-puppet here! Changed username! I would die for some fluff with Matt and Spring Jr!

This life was more tiring, boring.

Matt had a 12-kilogram weight named Spring JR strapped to his leg.

An annoying condition, the bear robot, Lefty had that was nonnegotiable; was Matt being present for it. Like he had a choice, Lefty was ready to withdraw everything he had given whenever he wanted.

It was easy to make him happy but also easy to piss him off.

“What are you doing?”

He turned his attention from his laptop, he saw the little bear, Helpy looking at him curiously, he wondered if Lefty had left him here deliberately because he didn’t trust him, he knew Helpy couldn’t force him into things like Lefty but Helpy certainly looked like a tattletale.

“Nothing important to you,” Matt dismissed him, waving his hand in “shoo” gesture, preferring to be left alone.

It appeared Helpy didn’t understand, he just stood still, he watched Matt's hand but stayed still, Matt then repeated the gesture and said “Shoo! Go away!” for good measure.

Helpy didn’t move, but he had seen what Matt was looking at because he stepped forward and closed his laptop screen immediately.

“You're not supposed to be looking at that.”

“Why??” Matt asked him, “You're so worried about your secrets getting out??”

“No, because with the technology you're using, Fazbear Entertainment can track your IP and confirm your identity, and they will make you disappear,” Helpy emphasised the last part with a serious face and a flat tone, something about it was unnerving considering Helpy was like a Care Bear.

“And they will do it quick enough so you can’t talk,” Helpy snapped his finger, “They get suspicious of people who search up that stuff, please reframe from doing so.”

Matt didn’t think about that, Lefty said it would drive him insane and he shouldn’t be looking it up, he didn’t know they could potentially track him to the house.

Helpy clapped his hand together, “Since you aren’t working... how about spending time with your son?”

“I don’t view it as my son.”

“Yes, I think it's weird too, but technically you were the incubator for him, which is technically what a pregnancy is.”

Matt narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, yes I know you hate that term, but the kids only laughed at it for three days then they lost interest... they didn’t laugh at what happened to you, they laughed at the concept of it....” Helpy walked away then turned and said, “So what can you and Springle do?”

“Exist in two different rooms?” Matt suggested sounding hopeful.

“Painting! Ooh, I love painting! Has Spring ever done finger painting?”

“No, that's messy.”

“That's why we have something called outside... I can set it up! You just need to get Spring,” Helpy walked away.

Matt was irritated Helpy didn’t offer to get Spring JR himself, he was capable, he just didn’t want to, or rather Lefty told him he shouldn’t do that.

Spring JR was easy to locate, he was in his toddler bed, half asleep, he immediately perked up when he saw the door open, he looked even more excited to see Matt.

Matt brought him downstairs, Helpy had come out of the kitchen and looked at Matt before walking upstairs, he was probably seeing if Matt was actually holding Spring JR right, Matt once said he'd lift him by his ears and Lefty countered saying if he ever saw him doing that, he'd break his coffee mug and force him to drink coffee out of a bowl.

Helpy came back, pulling a box of things behind him, then lifting it, slowly coming down the stairs, then he stood next to Matt. “Outside,” He said then walked into the kitchen, directly to the door that led outside, he placed down the box, he stood up and pulled the door handle down, opening the door, he shoved it open and turned, pulling the box outside.

It wasn’t much, considering Lefty liked having a peaceful enclosed space outside, it was still nice. They were on the deck that Lefty and Rockstar Foxy built, which was under the shade. The deck had two areas to sit, Helpy walked towards the rounded table with six chairs, bringing the items with him.

Matt followed him, still holding Spring JR, Helpy pulled out one of the chairs, he used it as a step, putting the box on the table, Helpy then turned to Matt, “Come on and sit!”

Matt decided it was less of a pain to just do what he said.

Matt sat down, Spring JR was in his lap, Helpy opened the box and pulled out some items, he then paused, “Probably need to cover the table with something, I'm sure Lefty will hate me if the table gets messy.”

“He'd probably blame me.”

“You know you kind of remind me of a more sour Greg,” Helpy pulled a large grey material square out of the box.

“How exactly?”

“Greg thinks a lot of things are his fault, it isn’t his fault and neither is what happened to you,” Helpy placed down the box so he could put down the material over the table.

“Why did that feel like a lie?” Matt asked him.

“It wasn’t!” Helpy exclaimed shaking his head, “The problem is... I'll be honest Matt, you're kind of unlikeable... but you can improve! Everyone improved...”

“Even Lefty's favourite Alec?”

“Lefty doesn’t have favourites,” Helpy automatically answered pushing the material flat.

“Then why does he spend so much time with him?”

“Alec chooses to.”

“But why?”

Helpy looked up at him, “You haven’t been paying attention?”

Matt was silent.

Helpy sighed and placed down the paint tubes on the table, “Alec was alone, he was scared after what happened to him.”

“He was turned into a teddy bear, right?”

“Not quite, he was body swapped... like in the movie Freaky Friday. Lonely Freddy stole his identity... Alec was too scared to ask for help anyway... but when he was finally discovered, Lefty made a promise to him, that no matter what, he was going to get him back to his body... and well when it was just me, Lefty and Alec, we did everything we could to show him a bad experience doesn’t shape his life,” Helpy looked at the tube of yellow paint like he was checking how much there was before placing it down.

“Lefty never said this,” Helpy continued talking, “But I think he just grew attached to Alec after a while, he was use to seeing him every day, and eventually, Alec was also used to the life he had, I think he was okay as long as Lefty was there.”

“So Alec decided after he got his body back to get up and leave his family?” Matt asked, he knew Alec and Hazel's parents were still alive but they weren’t even mentioned at any point.

“Not quite,” Helpy answered, “It wasn’t easy... his parents never provided him with the emotional care he needed, and Lefty did, Lefty thought just because he was the way he was, it didn’t mean he should be sad... I could tell after everything, Alec was just conflicted, he wanted to stay with Lefty but he didn’t know if he could... it's similar to you, Lefty doesn’t want you to be sad either.”

“I’m not sad.”

“You're angry because you are sad, Lefty doesn't know exactly how to approach you, that was the same for Alec, Greg, Millie, and Devon, Lefty wants to respect distance by not getting in your face but he wants you to remember you can always come to talk to him if you want to, one experience can make or break someone, don’t let this break you.”

“I'm... I’m okay.”

“Doesn’t sound like it, why don’t you express the frustrations with painting?” Helpy suggested, he got up on the table and placed some paper in front of him, he then walked away and took his seat.

“Springy!” Helpy called his attention, “Watch!”

Helpy took a tube of paint and squirted some on the paper, he then placed down his hand, he smeared it over the paper, he then lifted it to show Spring JR, “Fun!”

Spring JR made an “Ooooh” noise, Helpy didn’t seem to care he had gone to the level of a child now.

Helpy nodded, “Yes! Why don’t you paint a lovely picture? What colour do you want? We haven’t got any purple but I can mix it using red and blue!”

“Green! Green!” Spring JR said.

Helpy held up the green tube of paint, “Here! Have fun!”

“He's going to make a mess,” Matt warned him how messy young kids could be.

“Yes, but it'll be a fun mess!” Helpy nodded.

Spring JR seem to test the technique Helpy used, he smeared it almost the same way, he stared for it for a minute then started smacking the paint in the page with his hands, creating an imprint.

Then he moved on, trying his own thing, Matt watched him draw a circle with the green on another piece of paper, he then turned it into a smile by pressing two dots and drawing a curved line.

“Ooh, that's pretty,” Helpy said, “Why don’t you take an interest?”

“Okay then, what are you painting?” Matt asked.

“I'm painting a fox,” Helpy replied.

“Foxes don’t have pink on them,” Matt spoke a matter of fact seeing the fact Helpy was adding pink on.

“They can in painting, reality doesn’t apply!” Helpy replied scratching in some pink over the muzzle of the fox he drew, “Have some fun Matt! Your son enjoys it!”

Matt looked at the colours, he took the pale blue colour, he poured some into the middle of his palm, he spread it over his whole hand, then he pressed it down on a blank page, leaving his handprint, now Helpy couldn’t argue he wasn’t contributing.

Spring looked curious at the handprint.

Then he pressed his own against it.

Matt immediately realised.

The little shit.

“Hey don’t do that! You ruin your own things!”

“No! No! He didn’t! It looks nice!” Helpy immediately said.

Matt's anger immediately burnt out, it was the quickest his anger ever died. Matt looked at the page, seeing his handprint with Spring JR's pressed in the middle, in the end, it was just a little handprint.

Father and Son.

He remembered that day.

Just being uncomfortable.

Now it had come to this day and this lifestyle.

Spring JR turned his head to look up at him, almost like he was waiting for a response.

“Don’t ever change...” Matt said speaking honestly, not looking forward to him being a teenager at some point, at least he was playful at this point and not angry.

Spring JR poked his tongue out, laughed and reached out his hands, Matt forgot about his paint soaked hands until he pressed them against his cheeks.

Well, two can play at that game.

Matt pressed the tip of his nose with one finger, leaving a blue dot on his little black nose.

Helpy watched, intrigued, not making a single sound, he watched the back to back responses, just naturally occurring, it was like Helpy didn’t exist and this was just them, Matt actually having his anger cancelled out by Spring JR existence.

It was a step forward in the right direction.

Helpy took that as a cue to leave and make himself a cup of tea, leaving the father and son alone for a few minutes.

A few minutes of bonding.

[bonesthebeloved]

Complicated- creativitwins

Digging up old drafts baby here we goooo.

The father in this story doesn't have a name so you can imagine it as anyone you'd like/ as simply a stranger. Happy reading.

Trigger/ squick warning: father figures, complicated relationship with parental figures, mention of screaming, child services mention (in like...one sentence) mention of crying, mention of animal death (bunnies) mention of homophobia. <- if I missed any let me know.

Edit: I did not check spelling. We die like men

-

Pappa had always been with them.

When they were three and just formed their first memories they might remember in distant futures when all was quiet and nothing was holding them back from reminisent, they would remember about the time they’d gotten two big stuffed bears bigger than themselves When Papa had still been alone and Dad hadn’t been with them yet.

They would remember the soft fur in their little hands as they cuddled close to the things when it was naptime.

Pappa was always there for them

When Roman was five and he woke up from a nightmare where a squirrel was chasing him around the playground pappa was there to wrap his long arms around him and tell him that he was safe and that he would get his squirrel catching gear out of the supply closet the man they had started calling Dad had built for them, first thing in the morning.

When Remus faked being sick the first day of school because a kid in his class had laughed at the white streak in his hair he'd had since birth pappa had come and picked him up, explaining that poliosis is nothing to be ashamed of and laughing warmly as his son tried to pronouns the word.

-

Pappa would always protect them.

When Roman first talked about his pappa and dad in school the teacher had looked like she'd eaten something nasty. Later on Roman was moved to the same class as his brother, his own teacher saying she didn't want to be associated with his kind.

When Pappa came to pick him up that day Roman asked what that ment. And for one of the first times in his life he'd seen pappa frown.

They baked a cake to celebrate them being the same class that evening and Pappa and dad lifted the two of them high up in the air and twirled them around while cheerful music played.

When Remus got told off by a teacher for the first time because he had pushed another kid in his class he had to sit in the corner for ten minutes.

When he was allowed to go back to his spot Roman thanked him for protecting him and Remus threw the paper ball that had been thrown at him right back.

When Pappa came to pick him up he and the teacher had a long talk and they left quickly afterwards. Pappa holding both his and Roman's hands in his own big one's and telling them about how they had done the right thing.

-

Pappa would always comfort them.

When Roman came back home with scrapped knees and an attitude Pappa had asked him what had happened.

Roman hadn't answered and his brother had later told their dad's that he had seen Roman getting pushed around by some older kids. The had been yelling a word he didn't know the meaning of. When he had told it to pappa he had looked angry. And told his boys that those kids were mean and to never use that word because it made fun of good people.

When Remus began to get more friends his pappa asked him to include Roman in all of their games.

His brother had trouble connecting to people and was quickly becoming the bullied kid. And while Remus would gladly take any bullets for him he couldn't protect him at all times.

And while Remus played star wars with his friends, running around the playground and pretending to know the characters, Roman sat and drew in the little notebook pappa had given him for school.

And Remus bought him a new one with his own pocket money when a mean kid threw it in the lake nearby when they went there to explore with the class around the time that eggs would magically appear in their garden and they pretended like it was a bunny putting them there.

Pappa would always be with them.

When they went to highschool and Remus his friends could no longer play starwars with him because one moved away, one said she’d never liked him and two others went to the same school but suddenly forgot about their being friends, he sat with his brother more often.

And when Roman got friends that he wasn’t sure he liked but hung around anyways because it was better than sitting alone, Remus was left sitting at a table at lunch, other kids coming to sit at the same one in the hopes he would get up and leave.

When he had refused to do just that they’d began whispering about him pretending he didn’t hear them. And when he acted like he didn’t hear they had began calling him mean things.

After two months at the new school they came home and both called for their Pappa with shaky voices too quiet to bare any sort of good news.

And when Remus showed off his bruised wrist he’d gotten when a kid had grabbed him harshly and Roman told him about how his friends hadn’t been friends but bullies in a trenchcoat and a mustache to make him think they were friends before telling him he was too weird to hang around, Pappa had brought them both into his arms. Whispering something like ‘oh my poor, brave boys,’ before holding them a bit tighter and then telling them that sometimes, the world was mean like that and that, sometimes, it takes a while before you find the right people.

And when they went to bed that night they laid in the room and stared at the same ceiling. Both pretending they couldn’t hear Pappa arguing with Dad in the hallway.

Both pretending they weren’t crying silently until they fell asleep to Dad accusing Pappa of being a vile and horrible human being.

Pappa didn’t have all the answers.

They learnt that when they were on their second year of highschool and both of their pet bunnies died in the same night. 

Roman had sniffled and stood near the gardendoor as he watched them dig a deep hole all the way at the back of their garden. 

Remus decided that he would be sad about this at night when nobody would see or worry and stood close by Pappa as he put the two bunnies in a shoebox and put it in the hole. Saying they had probably died because of the rat poision Dad had spread across the lawn and that the mice must’ve gotten into their food somehow.

They learnt this when Dad and him had sat them down after breakfast that had strawberries to tell them that sometimes love died and that weddingrings would rust and be put in two seperate homes in two seperate boxes that would never be opened again.

They learnt this the fifth time that Remus came home with bruises and Roman began to listen to darker music and emote less dramatically. Unlearning all the expressions he’d picked up from those animated childrens series they weren’t allowed to watch but watched them anyways. He faked having imagined a happy place when the woman that was supposed to help them through the divorce told him to invision one. Instead invisioning Remus, and how he should have punched the guy that had made him drop his books the moment he saw it happening.

Pappa was  a human being.

They realised this more clearly than ever when he’d found out why Remus only wore long sleeves and got sent to therapy after their Pappa had hysterically cried over it and begged his son not to leave them before he could grow old.

When Roman stared at the ceiling after he’d taken 14 paracetamol and googling how many it would take to leave them before he could grow old, only to find that he would probably be fine and go to school the next day feeling as empty as usual. Pappa had yelled at him when he had gotten back to be more careful and not get invloved with his brothers troubles after he’d shown off the scratched shoulder from where he’d been thrown against a fence when he'd tried to stand up for him.

And when Remus got diagnosed with dyslexia and Roman with depression they said nothing. Roman shaking his head when the doctor suggested therapy and Remus sitting quietly as they explained that he might have adhd aswell.

Their father wasn't perfect.

They learnt this when Remus came back from school with a black eye and a failed math test and the test was all that was focused on. Shouting not unlike the one they'd heard all those years ago when love began to die and rings began to rust booming through the house and piercing through the music Roman was listening to in his room. A bottle cap with water falling off his desk and the little growing plant in it falling with it.

They learnt this when Roman said he was asexual aromantic and their father said that he should consider therapy again because surely that couldn't be normal.

And when Roman told him that maybe they weren't normal he'd been send to his room. Doors slamming shut and noises too loud for Remus to process.

-

Their father was wrong sometimes.

They realised this when Remus first brought a friend home and jokes about countries the kid wasn't from were made around the otherwise uncomfortably quiet dinner table. And when religion was brought up in a house full of atheists Remus stood and took his friend's hand, saying that they'd eat something at a foodtruck and storming of, leaving Roman to feed little stripes of unseasoned meat to the cat.

-

Their father was bad sometimes.

They learned this when the both of them started college and the racist microagressions turned into jokes about how they'd never make it since they were both going to art schools.

And when Remus showed him his homemade costume he huffed and said it looked great in a tone that Implied anything but. And when Roman showed him the finished piece he'd worked months on he said it looked nice even if it had mistakes while pointing at every single one of them while his son, hands still stained with markers and pencil smudges, gave a watery smile and the artwork was put in a art map to never be looked at again.

Their father wasn't good for them.

They realised this. Finally realised this, when Remus was twenty and had decided to move out, getting a small apartment would have been to expensive had his brother not eagerly asked him if he could come with him.

And they told their father while their bags were already packed and the rent was already payed.

And their neighbours registered a noise complained and whispered about calling childservices when their father started another screaming match to tell them how much he didn't want them to leave and how they wouldn't make it.

And they painted the walls mint green while Roman painted a mural around the spot where their couch would be.

And they ate lukewarm noodles from the plastic canisters while sat on the empty apartment floor.

And Roman bought a dozen succulents to take care of and make it feel more like home.

And the wall was always covered in outfit designs and storyboards as the jar they had put the sticker 'for a couch' on slowly filled up.

And they still send him Christmas cards but didn't plan on visiting that house for a long long time.

And their father would have killed them for the mess they made of the apartment sometimes.

And they preferred it that way.

-

This is both an extremely specific vent and goes out to all the kids with complicated relationships with their parents.

You're allowed to not like your caretakers. You're allowed to not want contact with them after you've moved on. You're allowed to think how they treated you was unjust because it probably was.

-

-

Taglist

@purp-man @crazycookie13o @deceitifullies101 @sapphire-knight @ragingdumpsterfiremess @chronophobica @lance-alt @mylifeisadeceit

[daisiesforlacey]

clouds - chapter 2 : cirrus

Pair: Julie x alive!Luke

Summary: After her mother’s death, Julie Molina moved away from Hollywood, across the country, to Ithaca, New York. She’s left behind her two loves in life: her best friend, Luke, and her music. There, she finds new friends and enemies, new experiences and joys, she might even find herself. Every night, Luke calls Julie to talk about the clouds. But what if Luke is hiding something? 

Word Count: 3,344

Warnings: angsty??? I mean we gotta move the story along soooo

Note: I started writing this and it got away from me! I think this series might be longer than originally intended, but that’s not a bad thing. I can’t wait to delve more into Alex, Reggie, and Carrie’s storylines, but for now, here’s this! Please please comment, like, reblog; feedback is always appreciated :)))

Masterlist

Taglist

--- 

The morning had been much chillier than the previous day. On their way to school, Julie and Flynn had bundled up in their favorite sweaters and scarves, along with matching thermoses of tea. Julie had tried to stuff her hair into a wool hat, but after failing miserably, she settled on tying her hair back into a ponytail. Flynn had offered to help style her curls that morning, but she had declined.

The ground next to the sidewalk was blue with frost and they could almost see their breath if they squinted hard enough. 

In Ithaca, the winter was dryer, she had found that her lips chapped more often and she seemed to constantly have the sniffles. In L.A, when it got colder, it mostly rained, snow was far and few between and was never terribly enjoyable; the second it hit the ground it would become this sort of grey sludge. One thing they both shared was the unpredictability. Seeing the sun one day did not often guarantee a warm week, which left Julie to keep an array of coats of different thicknesses. 

There weren’t too many clouds to see, if she tried hard enough, she might be able to make out a flying saucer. She shook her head, spaceships were too easy and basic; anything could be a UFO. 

As they walked and the sun slowly rose, they talked about their upcoming day; if Carrie was going to be tolerable, if they would be getting new music projects, and who was buying lunch.

Luckily for Julie, she could already feel the air warm up, unfortunately, the conversion had shifted to Luke.

“How is your friend? Liam, or whatever?” Flynn asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Luke,” Julie snorted and looked down at her hands, “He’s doing well, he didn’t see too many shapes yesterday, so our conversation was relatively short.” Flynn knew about their nightly calls, but Julie had left out most of the reason they happened. Flynn didn’t need to know how much she missed her friend, she didn’t want the other girl to feel inadequate. 

“It’s really cool that you guys still keep in touch, if all of my friendships drifted apart that nicely, Carrie…” Flynn drifted off into thought at the mention of Carrie. Contemplating Julie, frowned, she didn’t particularly like to think that she and Luke had drifted, but she supposed they had literally done just that. 

“Well when you have a history like Luke and I have, it’s impossible not to talk to him.” Julie didn’t mention that he seemed to be a part of her that was now missing, or that Luke had this sort of magnetism that drew anyone and everyone to him, or that when they wrote songs together she had felt more alive and seen than anything. 

Those things didn’t need saying, those things had been left in L.A. 

But in here she had Flynn and a small town and a family. 

A broken family, she thought. 

---

As Nick finished his guitar solo, his lacrosse buddies whooped and hollered in the small music room. 

It was smaller than the one back home, but just as welcoming. Cinder block walls had been covered with sound absorbers and music posters ranging from “hang in there” cats to major and minor scales to student made flyers, advertising the school dance coming up. 

Their mascot, a yellow and black cougar, had been painted on the wall by an art club some time ago. It was slightly lopsided and its snarling mouth looked more mangled, but the sentiment was there. 

Julie had zoned out long before Nick had started, staring at the chipped paint on the wall. She knew the second she walked up to the piano to play, she would freeze. No amount of mental preparation could prepare her to set her fingers on the ivory keys and play something, anything. 

“Okay, we have one last performance,” Her teacher said, “Julie.” 

The girl looked up slowly. She stumbled toward the piano with hesitant steps. She sat down with a sigh and opened the sheet music. Her blood was rushing and her head was pounding. The room seemed to blur and spin, but was also eerily still and quiet. 

She could feel the eyes of her classmates boring into her skull. As they watched her, she could guess what they were thinking, here we go again, I wonder if she’ll actually play this time, just get on with it. 

Julie knew that Flynn was trying to encourage her, even from where she was sitting, but she  couldn’t bring herself to look at the girl.

“Take your time,” Her teacher assured. 

Julie might take forever. 

She opened the case of the piano and grazed her fingertips on the keys. They were cold and unforbidding. The second she pressed one of the keys she knew that she would break.

Memories of her mother would come rushing back; every scraped knee, every hand holding in the parking lot, every crush whispered in secret, every night spent over the stove learning what spice goes in when, every uncontrollable fit of laughter. 

She would remember every Christmas and Easter that they would break out her Abuela’s Arroz Con Leche recipe, every concert they went to where they would scream lyrics until their throats were raw. 

Every failed test that her mother had stayed up late to help her study for, every flu shot where her mother still held her hand, no matter how old she got.

Every note written or melody sung would fill her mind. She didn’t know what would happen when it did, and she desperately didn’t want to find out. 

She stood up, “I’m sorry.”

Julie thought she heard Carrie say some snarky remark and that Flynn had retaliated, but she couldn’t have been sure before she was rushing out the door. 

After the school day, Flynn and her walked home as quickly as they could, sometimes sprinting. They needed to beat Julie’s father home after he picked up her brother, Carlos, up from his own school. She was praying that he hadn’t heard the news that she was out of the music program yet. 

She groaned as she saw his car already in the driveway

Flynn quickly hugged her, “It’s fine, he’ll understand.” She withdrew from the hug and held Julie at arms length with a sympathetic smile before they had to part. Flynn waved as she unlocked her front door and stepped inside. 

Julie took a sharp breath in before doing the same.

---

“So is ‘Clocks move faster / cause it’s all were after’ the first pre-chorus or the second pre-chorus?” Reggie ran his fingers through his hair, his nose scrunching, “Because wouldn’t it just make more sense to have the same pre-chorus on each verse?” 

The brunet’s bass was slung over his body as he rested his hands on the body of his guitar. He looked over to Luke, who was crouched over his lyrics. 

Luke shook his head , his air already dripping with sweat, “It’s the second pre-chorus, the first is ‘Clocks move forward / but we don’t get older.’” He semi, sang, strumming along on his guitar. “Changing it up adds movement, we don’t want to bore the listeners. It keeps the theme of staying young at heart.” 

Reggie nodded and plucked at his bass, testing out different rhythms. Moving his hands up the neck and over the strings, he finally settled on some semblance of a tune, repeating it over and over again. 

Alex joined him, adding a hit on each of the beats of the song. This gave the song a drive and pounding rhythm, working with Luke’s line of ‘Electric hammer to the heart.”

Luke stood up after scribbling something and added his guitar part over it, humming along with the melody, and soon they got well into the song, improvising along the way. There were still some wrong chords and off beats, but they had the bones of what they felt like would be a hit. 

Luke had gone from humming to singing, Reggie and Alex joining in. Luke felt his pulse quicken as he grinned. 

“‘We ain’t searchin’ for tomorrow’,” Alex sang, to which Reggie echoed, “‘Cause got all we need today’.”

Luke bopped along, “‘Living on a feeling that’s been running through our veins.”

They looked back and forth to each other, knowing what was coming next.

Reggie was supposed to have a line to end the bridge, but it hadn’t been written yet. Luke had spent hours trying to come up with something, but it just didn’t click, every line he wrote either changed the meaning of the song or was too clumsy.

Luke sighed as they all stopped playing and he cast an apologetic gaze to the bassist, “I’ll get it. I promise.”

The boy in the flannel just shook his head, “No worries bro, we’ve done a lot in,” He checked the clock on the wall and his eyes widened comically. “Five hours…”

This mock practice session had started in Alex’s garage right after school after Luke had presented them with a song at lunch. 

“It’s totally us,” He had said, sliding to the table with a lunch tray and a scribbled mess of paper, beaming, “Totally mid 90’s. And look, you-,” He pointed to Alex who looked excited but skeptical, “Can start the bridge and you-,” Luke turned his attention to Reggie, “Can echo, ending with…” 

Luke trailed off, he didn’t have an ending line yet, he knew it had to be perfect. Everyone knows you can’t end a bridge without a call to action, something that stirred and emotion so deep that you couldn’t help but sing along. 

He sighed as his mouth twisted, “I don’t know, I haven’t found the perfect line yet.” He looked down at his chicken scratch, then slid the paper across to Alex, who examined it. 

“I like it, have you decided where the harmonies should go yet, or nah?” Alex flipped his blond  hair back, after adjusting it in his snapback. He was already trying to decide what type of beats he would do, where the drum fills would be, and what he should consult Reggie on. 

The makeshift band had a process: Luke would write a basic lyric and chord progression and then he would bring it to the guys. From there Alex would come up with the heartbeat of the song with Reggie. Reggie would work with Luke to see what melodies he should be playing and how he and Luke would bounce off of each other.

When they came together, the three friends would look at who sang what, harmonies, and fill in the gaps in the music. They worked like a well oiled machine

But lunch had been 7 hours ago and it was now 8 o’clock, well past when Luke should have been home. The boy jumped as he looked outside, saw it was dark, and cursed under his breath. He quickly put his guitar on his stand and grabbed his book bag, then ran out with a wave to Reggie and Alex.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, if I’m still alive,” he called before getting on his bike and going home. 

The air was damp and it had just rained, making the pavement slippery. Despite being almost winter, the weather was warm enough to where he only had to put on a shirt and jeans to be comfortable.

On his way to his house, Luke looked to the sky. He cataloged some shapes of dark clouds, moose, cat, spaceship, he thought. He chucked to himself, anything could be a space ship, it wasn’t creative enough, all the cloud had to be was somewhat circular. 

His mind drifted to Julie and what she would have to say about these clouds. She would probably smile, her adorable gap showing, and tell him all of the wonderful odd shapes she would see. 

“There, right there, a cat chasing a dog,” She would say, “No, no, scratch that, a dog chasing a cat chasing a pigeon. Wait sorry, a shark without a back fin. Or maybe a line of ducklings crossing a street.” Then she would narrow her eyes as the clouds shifted and formed new images, “Well now I don’t know what I see.” 

Luke would then look over and tell her that everything she saw was amazing, even if it was truly unremarkable. She was always able to see things he couldn’t, even if it was something as menial as a cloud. She could look at him and know exactly what was wrong no matter what; he didn’t know if she was truly super powered, or if he was super transparent. 

Which was why he was glad she couldn’t see him on their calls. 

She knew about Reggie and Alex, they had met before she left, but she didn’t know that they played music together. She didn’t know that Luke was writing songs with them like he used to with her. He didn’t want her to feel replaced.

And as far as she knew, his parents were completely fine with his music. They may have had little gripes here and there, but she thought that was the extent of it. 

As he arrived at his house and opened the front door, that wasn’t the case at all.

“Lucas Patterson!” His mother yelled from the kitchen, “Do you have any idea what time it is!”

Luke winced as she ran into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. He could see that the dining room table had already been cleared and the leftovers put away. 

“It is 8:14! Would you like to tell me why the hell you missed dinner again for the third time this week? No wait! I bet I know! Let me guess, you were at Alex’s!” Her eyes were steel. It wasn’t a question, they both knew the only thing that would keep him out at night would be music with the guys. 

He gripped the strap of his back pack before looking at the floor, his knuckles white. “I’m sorry Mom. I just lost track of time, you know how I get.”

Emily smoothed her brow with her fingers as her husband walked in from the kitchen. “At least tell me you did your homework.” 

Luke didn’t answer.

His mom threw the dish towel to the floor, “Luke we had a deal! You can keep playing your guitar and going to ‘band practice,’” She used air quotes, “As long as you did your homework before then and always made it home for dinner. Always! Your family and school work is important! I know you don’t think so, but as long as you live under our roof, you abide by our rules!”

He threw his hands up and scoffed, “I’m not going to stop playing music, it’s my life! And you can’t stop me! I am sorry if I miss a few family dinners a week, but isn’t that fine if it means I’m happy?” 

His mother looked at him like he had sprouted another head, “Son, I know it’s been hard ever since Julie left, and I know you miss her but--”

“But what Mom? There’s nothing I can do about it, she’s in New York! And the only thing keeping me connected to her is music, and right now, you don’t even let me have that.” Luke stormed through the living room into his room. 

He dropped his bag down with a thunk, and sat on his bed, smashing his head into a pillow and screaming. He regretted that he didn’t bring his guitar back, if only to take out his anger by shredding on volume 10. 

The day kept getting later, and while he didn’t like calling her while angry, he dialed Julie’s phone number. 

The phone rang a couple times before she picked up, “Hello, this is Her Majesty Queen Julie Molina, what is your concern peasant?” She said in a haughty voice, before her façade broke with a giggle.

“Well Your Highness, I have come to discuss today’s weather.” He replied, playing along, her voice instantly making him feel better.

“Today we have seen a couch, a baby, and many many trees.”

“I have also seen many trees; they are very common in the sky.” Luke laughed, “I may have also spotted a suitcase and an umbrella. Sadly my Queen, the rain made it quite hard to see too many shapes.”

Julie clicked her tongue, he could see her face now, her nose scrunched and her mouth down turned, “That is a downright shame. Is there any news to report?’”

Luke perked up at that and rushed to get the words out of his mouth, “Actually, yeah. I wrote a song, ‘Now or Never,’ and it’s actually not that bad. Except I can’t figure out this one line, and it’s been bugging me all day.” He huffed, “Do you wanna hear it?”

She replied just as giddy as he is, “Of course!”

The brunet then launched into singing an a cappella version of his song from memory, stopping here or there to say things such as, “A harmony would totally go here,” or “Add a little guitar riff and it’d be perfect.” 

He kept going until, “‘Living on a feeling that’s been running through our veins’. And then of course another line, and then the chorus.” He was staring at his popcorn ceiling now, smiling like a kid in a candy shop. 

Julie paused, then said, “We’re the revolution that’s been singing in the rain.” 

“What?”

“That’s it, that’s your missing lyric.”

Luke froze, she really couldn’t get any more perfect.

“Queen Julie, you are a genius!” He jumped off of his bed to grab a scrap of paper off of his messy desk before writing down the lyric. “You songwriting genius! If you have stuff like that flowing through your brain, how aren’t you playing it?”

He didn’t mean to bring it up, it just sort of happened. But it was true, how could she be so good at writing and let it go to waste?

Julie cleared her throat, “Well actually--”

“You sang again? I knew it, I knew you would!” Luke cut her off.

“Well no,” She rushed out, he could already see her running her hand over her face in exasperation. He has to stop interrupting people. “I got kicked out of the music program. I haven’t played anything since I got here, and I couldn't either today. I guess that was the last straw, because my teacher called my dad and said that unless I could play something by the end of the week, I need to choose a new elective.”

They sat in silence. 

Luke played with his hands, knitting his fingers together and pulling them apart before an idea came to him, “What about your mom’s song. Not for class I mean! But, if just to sit down at your piano again and play something, what about that? She wrote it for you after all. And then maybe afterwards you’d be good to play for your class and boom! You’re Julie, songwriting pianist extraordinaire again!”

“I-I don’t know about that, Luke,” She swallowed. Right before her mom passed, they had written a song together, but she hasn’t even been able to look at it since she moved. If she sat down to play it, she’d be accepting all of those memories back. But then again, if she needed to sing anything it would be her mother’s song. They had taken a few months to write it, and Julie’s mom had completed it before…

“I mean maybe. I’ll see. I’ll try.” Julie nodded to herself and gave a determinant look to her wall. Tomorrow morning she would go to her garage and play her mother's song.

“You promise?” Luke asked tentatively. 

“I promise.”

“Alright. I guess I should go, it’s probably pretty late where you are. I’ll see you soon?”

Julie nodded, “See you soon.” Then hung up.

[spookyceph]

Good Graces Pt. 2

Finally got the second half of this fic together. Find it on Ao3 or the first part here on Tumblr. 

Nothing explicit takes place, however, the non-canon talk is of a sexual nature. Also, Dabi is a masochist and likes being ordered around. But we knew this already, didn’t we?

Words: 2,789

Rating: M for language and sexual themes

The wait ended two days later in the same spot. Dabi was in the process of pouring himself his second drink of the night when a misty-edged hole opened in reality behind the bar. From it stepped the tall, elegant form of Kurogiri. Dabi had never really considered what a demon might look like, but the League’s second-in-command/butler/voice of reason provided plenty of inspiration. Impeccable suit. Ability to show up anywhere. Form too immaterial to hurt, but still capable of making someone pay for trying. As always, Dabi gave him a polite nod and fought back memories of how it had felt to unexpectedly be elbow-deep in that shifting darkness.

“Ah, Dabi. Just the person I was hoping to see.” Deep. Smooth as high-end nihonshu. The kind of voice that could talk somebody into trading away their firstborn. Or into joining a half-assed villain ensemble.

Dabi paused with his glass to his lips. He made a sound he hoped came across as Yes, I’m listening rather than Help, I’ve swallowed my own tongue in mortal terror.

“Shigaraki Tomura wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”

This was it. This was not a drill. Dabi put down the glass without taking a sip. “Where?”

“He is in his room at the moment. I will open the way, if you wish to go now.”

He’d just slid off the stool when the words registered. The air behind him changed. It was like the faint static charge living things gave off and a feeling of being watched all at once. Except Dabi knew if he turned he’d see only a hazy oval of black floating there, the perfect width and length to swallow him completely.

He didn’t want to use the warp gate. No fucking way. Problem was he’d already gotten up—couldn’t sit back down without looking like a coward or a dumbass or both. And he sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he already knew where Shigaraki’s room was to the person who amounted to the closest thing the guy had to a father.

So, Dabi grabbed his glass again. Knocked back the contents. Pretended it was just like jumping into a cold pool on a summer day as he turned and plunged into the waiting darkness.

Nothing existed anymore. Not time. Not space. Not self. Then something—maybe Kurogiri’s will or just simple momentum—carried him back into being. He returned to reality with a gasp. Catching his balance, he blinked and took stock of his new surroundings.

Shigaraki sat on his heels not a meter away, staring up through the stiff fingers of his favorite fashion statement. Large sheets of paper littered the floorboards in front of him. Maps, Dabi realized, noting the grid lines and coordinate markings. Somewhere way out in the sticks, if all the green and brown were any clue. Turning his head, he saw shelves lining the walls. Books? No, too many the same size and too thin. Cases for games—hundreds of them. More than one person could finish without giving up on everything else in life. Then again, what did he know? He’d never been allowed to have any as a kid. Never been allowed to have anything that might distract him from the glorious future planned out for him since day one. And just look at how well that had gone.

At any rate, the room didn’t seem to have the right ambiance to banish or murder someone in. Dabi let his hopes peek out from the bunker of suspicion.

“What’s this stuff for?” he asked, nodding to the maps on the ground.

Nothing from Shigaraki for an adrenaline-spiking second. Then, he crooked the fingers of one hand. “Sit.”

Dabi obeyed, pacing himself. Step in closer. Let one leg fold under him. Just bend the other so the sole of his boot lay flat on the floor. Rest same side elbow on knee. Prop the whole casual façade up with the other hand behind him.

“You got something you wanna say?” Cool nonchalance despite all the spit having vanished from inside his mouth.

Closing those intense eyes, his boss-and-possibly-more drew a long inhale. Didn’t even gag on the musty museum specimen smell of the taxidermy clutching his face. Then it was Dabi’s turn to suck in a breath as Shigaraki pulled off the gray hand with fumbling fingers, setting it aside.

“I want you to lead the others on their first job,” he said, complete with direct eye contact.

Any pretense of self-assurance abandoned Dabi. His stomach clenched as if braced for a punch. He pumped his brain for something droll, snappy, cocky in response. The well had run dry. He settled for practical.

“What do you want us to do?”

Shigaraki’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his stoic expression never wavered. “I was given some interesting information about UA’s precious fledgling heroes. Seems they’re headed to a remote training camp in the mountains for the summer. No one will be looking after them except two of their teachers and four pros who specialize in wilderness rescue missions. I want you to ruin their little retreat.”

Dabi’s spine went stiff and straight as an exclamation point. “I didn’t sign up to kill kids—even baby heroes.”

But Shigaraki was already shaking his head halfway through. “Killing them isn’t the point. That would generate too much outrage, hypocritical or no. The police might actually pry their heads from their asses and make a united effort to hunt us down with that much public pressure on them. Not to mention every third-rate pro in the country would crawl out of the woodwork, looking to make headlines. We’d be finished before we ever got started.

“No, what I have in mind is some training of our own.”

Attention swapped places with apprehension. “Oh?”

“None of us have worked together. Most of us haven’t worked on a team at all. This is an opportunity to test how well your quirks and styles compliment or clash with one another.”

“So, what? We crash their field trip and start fucking shit up? Flee the scene when the fighting gets too heated?”

“I came up with a level objective for you to focus on.” From on top of the maps, Shigaraki scooped up a thick manila folder and handed it to him.

Taking it, Dabi flipped to the first set of pages inside. His expression stayed set in stone while his stomach took a cliff dive.

A pretty girl with skin the color of bubblegum and squiggly little horns peeking out of her cotton candy hair smiled out at him from the photo in the top corner.

Name: Ashido Mina

Age: 15

Quirk: Acid

“You got hold of the students’ profiles? Impressive.” And a potential fucking disaster waiting to happen.

Shigaraki shrugged modestly, lightly scratching a new crop of scabs that had popped up in jagged furrows on both sides of his neck. Scabs that hadn’t been there a few days ago. “It’s just their teachers’ assessments of their quirks and performance during class assignments. Personal information like relatives and home addresses were better protected.”

The vice slowly closing its jaws around Dabi’s thumping heart released. Regardless, he made sure not to linger on any one student as he leafed through several of the profiles. Just focused on breathing normally and pretending to read for what seemed like a reasonable amount of time before moving to the next. He’d wait until he didn’t have an audience to allow himself to register anything.

“What’s this objective supposed to be?” he inquired.

“Capture one of the stronger, more notable students and ask him to join us.”

A muscle in his cheek jumped when Shigaraki reached over and flipped to a report in the middle of the folder. Dabi forced himself not only to look but see.

The boy scowling out of the picture was blonde. Broad-shouldered. Red-eyed, though not as beautifully as the one sitting across the way. Dabi’s pulse evened out.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he read. “Isn’t this the kid they had to bind and gag at UA’s Sports Festival—even though he won the damn thing?”

“The same.”

“The hell do we want him for? I thought we were full capacity on lunatics already.”

A sigh. “To spook the school’s supporters and society at large, for one. It’s not enough to kill heroes. More will just take their place. We have to convince people to withdraw their support of them. Turn against them, though that won’t come until later.”

Dabi snorted. “This little asshole will never agree to sign on with us. He’s obsessed with proving he’s above everyone else. I know the type.”

A twitch of interest crossed Shigaraki’s face. Instead of pressing, though, he filed the slip away in that mysterious brain of his. “I don’t give half a shit if he agrees. All that matters is he blabs to anyone who’ll listen that we targeted and tried to corrupt him once we let him ‘escape’.”

Tapping his fingers on the stack of papers, Dabi let the big picture come into focus. “Instead of outright attacking the school, we’re undermining their image. Making all the mommies and daddies wonder if a career as a pro is as great as they thought it would be for their precious snot-nosed bastards. Getting donors to think twice before reaching for those wallets. We’re playing the long game. Smart.” A thin smile tugged at one end of Dabi’s mouth. “Which leaves just one question. Why have me lead instead of yourself? People might accuse me of sleeping my way to the top.”

A lovely shade of pink, like the inner coating of a seashell, livened up Shigaraki’s cheeks. “We never—!” He huffed and turned away, pink deepening to rose and spreading to the tops of his ears when he noticed Dabi’s smile had widened to a grin. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“Guilty. Well, on the last part anyway.”

Shigaraki continued to fume, hopes of an answer dwindling with each second of silence. Then, just when an apology was in the works, “Because I’m a shitty leader.”

Dabi exchanged his smile for arched eyebrows. “”And you think I’d make a better one?”

“You take initiative when you need to, and show restraint when you should. You’re able to read people without giving away much of anything about yourself. The others respect you. They like you. Anyway, from a purely tactical standpoint, since your quirk is long range you can attack and give orders without getting swept up in the melee. And…” Blood-soaked irises looked at him through a tangled curtain of white hair for a moment before flitting back to the safety of the maps. “I trust you.”

Every response Dabi had lined up crumbled. With them gone, he couldn’t pretend not to notice what they’d been hiding. Exposed to proper light and air, it bloomed, bright and bold despite the ruin it grew from.

“I won’t fail.” The words were hoarse, but came out easily enough for a promise he’d swore to make to no one except himself ever again.

“I know you won’t. Because this isn’t about winning or losing. I want you and the others to test yourselves as individuals and as a team. Do your best. Find what works. What doesn’t. We’ll figure out where to go from there. Together.”

He’d joined the League of Villains looking for a means to exact revenge. Being told what he’d always wanted to hear made for a hell of a bonus prize.

Dabi pounced. His mouth mashed into Shigaraki’s, muffling an astonished yelp. Cold hands latched onto the front of his shirt. Not Decaying. Not shoving. Clinging. Insisting. He obliged, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist and shoulders, then letting his weight carry them both to the floor. They rolled across the maps, scattering stolen papers as they went. Lips and teeth and tongue combined in different ways between every panting break for air.

Winding up sprawled on top, Dabi relocated his kisses to Shigaraki’s neck. The whimper that came out of him when just a bit of suction was applied under the corner of his jaw went directly to Dabi’s dick. Shigaraki writhed, supple and strong, yet unsure and overwhelmed. His fingers—three on each hand—clutched hard enough to hurt through a carapace of scar tissue. The scabs crosshatching his neck scraped the tongue and tasted of rust.

He surpassed any fantasy conjured up in the past few weeks. Because he was real. Unpredictable. And, in that slice of time at least, he was Dabi’s.

Shigaraki gasped and arched at the feel of a hand slipping up under his shirt. Dabi became so absorbed in the smooth, cool texture of the skin beneath his fingertips he didn’t think anything of the arm that snaked around his own, or the heel hooked behind his knee until, with a sharp twist of hip, he was rolled. The air rushed out of him in a huff as he hit the floor. Shigaraki didn’t look it, but he was solid, planting himself on Dabi’s chest and pinning both his wrists above his head.

“No,” he said, decisive if out of breath. “We do this my way.”

Dabi kept perfectly still. One wriggle, one shift, and he would’ve cum in his pants right then and there. So, he relaxed one muscle group at a time. Controlled his breathing. Showed his boss what a good boy he could be.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, already positive he’d like the answer.

Despite his command of the situation, Shigaraki’s gaze wandered off to the side. Unsure. Shy. God, it was going to be fun fucking both descriptions right out of him.

“I don’t have…experience…with this, ah, subject.”

Dabi had to keep his teeth clamped together to keep from laughing. Good. He had to be good or he wouldn’t get any treats.

“So, I thought…maybe we could each make a list. Of things we like—or might like. And of stuff we don’t, or aren’t interested in. Then…pick and agree on an option. Until…until someone gets bored or just doesn’t want to anymore or…whatever.”

The habit of exceeding expectations was quickly becoming one of Dabi’s favorite things about his new boss. “Is that what you’ve been up to these past three days? Thinking about what you want to do to me?”

Shigaraki shifted his weight forward a bit, breathing definitely speeding up a notch. “Not the entire three days,” he muttered.

Dabi rested his hands on slim hips, keeping them still before they sent him over the edge. “When did you want this list?”

He considered, worrying his already cracked bottom lip with his teeth and then catching the trickle of blood with the point of his tongue in a way that made Dabi’s toes curl in his boots. “We’ll need to start meeting regularly to work on the plan anyway, so…tomorrow, at this time.”

Meaning he had already made a list and wanted to see what Dabi came up with. “Done.”

“Well.” Shigaraki cleared his throat lightly. “It’s settled then.” Carefully, he started to slide his leg over. Froze when a soft hiss escaped Dabi. A finger stroked one of the staples in his cheek before pulling back, remembering permission to do so hadn’t been agreed on yet.

“Did I hurt you? When we rolled over?”

Absolutely precious. Dabi smiled. “Not as much as I want you to.”

Red eyes blinked rapidly, wide and startled. “I’m…sorry?”

“Don’t be. Now go on. Let me up.”

Still looking a bit lost, Shigaraki did, sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs. Dabi sat upright on a long exhale. Paused to collect himself. Got to his feet when he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t ruin his last clean pair of pants doing so.

“You’re leaving?”

The note of disappointment in Shigaraki’s tone almost toppled his resolve. He looked over through lowered lashes. “I have something pressing to take care of at the moment. Unless you don’t want to wait for a list to find out what it is.”

One glance below Dabi’s belt transformed confusion into open-mouthed understanding. “Oh.” Shigaraki buried his face in his knees. “Sorry?”

“I already told you. Don’t be.” And before his willpower evaporated completely, “See you tomorrow.”

He’d made it to the door when a final thought sprung on him. Pausing with his fingers on the handle, he peered back over his shoulder. “You didn’t come up with this whole training camp plan just to score some alone time with me, did you?”

The choked sound that came from Shigaraki was answer enough. Dabi finally allowed himself to laugh as he let himself out.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

A Slice of Forever

Word Count: 3,110

Overview: They were just stories. Werewolves, Witches, Gremlins, Vampires...they were all a story that thrived off of Halloween. At least - that’s what you thought - until you met them.

Pairing: Vampire Namjoon x Human Reader x Vampire Yoongi

Genre/Rating: Fluff - Angst - Poly AU - Implied/Mentioned Smut - Rated PG-13

Warning: mentions of Bite kink, a few swears, pure honest love, Yoongi squeezes the reader’s boob once cause he was woken up.

Master List

Halloween Special

©thatmultifandomhoe 2019. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The blankets shifted against your skin, warm and cozy from spending all night tangled up underneath them with Yoongi. Lazily blinking your eyes open, a tired smile appeared when your gaze landed on him, his lips parted slightly as he slept next to you.

Behind you, a bare body pressed against your back with a low groan. Looking over your shoulder, Namjoon’s face scrunched up in his sleep, arm tightening around your waist as he buried his face in your hair.

It had been surprising to learn that Vampires were able to sleep. After all, you had grown up on stories that told tales of monstrous creatures who lurked within the shadows, with long yellowed nails and blood red eyes who slept during the day, and went hunting at night.

That’s what all the stories said.

Meeting Namjoon and Yoongi however, had been a different story.

It was only supposed to be a one-night stand. You met them at the bar, the three of you only had a few drinks and by the time you left, you found yourself unable to keep your hands off of them, not wanting just one or the other, but both of them. They took you back to their place and you lost yourself in their touches, the way their lips left you buzzing even more than the whiskey you had drank, and how with every caress, thrust, and guttural groan, you wanted to get higher.

You weren’t someone who typically ventured into those kinds of situations, so waking up that next morning, you had hurried to get dressed with the intent on leaving and never seeing them again, but your clothes had been thrown across their house and in your search of finding all the pieces, Namjoon had woken up.

“It’s eight in the morning,” his low voice spoke, surprising you.

Jumping, you took a shaky breath as he raised an eyebrow at you, his gaze slowly taking you in from head to toe. It wasn’t hard considering you were only wearing your bra and underwear, still searching for your remaining clothing.

“I…I know,” you answered. Running a hand through your hair, you nervously glanced around the living room, hoping you’d be able to spot the dress you had been wearing. “I just…I’m sorry.”

“For?” He entered the living room, his steps silent as the pajama pants he wore loosely hung on his hips, displaying his toned body for you to see.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, unsure on how to word what you were feeling. The longer you remained silent or stuttered as you attempted to find some explanation, only served to amuse Namjoon, his lips curling into a smirk. By the time his hands settled on your bare waist – hands cool against your flushed body – and his lips nibbled at your jaw and down your neck, you had forgotten all about why you were searching for your clothes in the first place.

Trailing your hands against his chest, eyes closing as you tilted your head to the side to give him all the room you desired, a moan was ripped from your throat has his hands gripped your ass. In seconds he had you up, legs wrapped his waist and your back pressed against mattress as he ground his pelvis into yours.

While Namjoon was occupied with kissing your chest, a second pair of lips kissed yours, drawing another moan from you as he tangled his tongue with yours. By the time Yoongi ended the kiss, you were sucking in a breath, trying to get air to your lungs as you blinked up at him, seeing a matching smirk on his face.

But his gaze softened. “If you want to leave, you’re free to do so,” he murmured.

Namjoon leaned up then, his hair messed up from where your fingers had tangled into the locks. “But if it means anything, we’d like for you to stay awhile.”

Both men shared the same desire for you within their eyes. Memories of last night reminded you that being with them was something else entirely. Something amazing and otherworldly. Simply thinking about it had your heart racing and a familiar wetness pooling in your underwear.

Instead of speaking, your hands wrapped around Yoongi’s neck, pulling him back down for another kiss. He was eager, hungrily kissing you like you were his last meal as you felt Namjoon’s lips kiss their way down your stomach, his groan vibrating your skin.

That one-night stand turned into the casual hook-up. Which then quickly formed into friends with benefits, and then without you realizing it, your heart longed for not Yoongi or Namjoon - you didn’t favor one over the other - but you had fallen in love with both of them.

It was months filled with movie nights and dinners at the family owned Mexican restaurant that the three of you loved more than was healthy, of finding out that Yoongi taught music to high school students and Namjoon was working on his PhD in literature while busting his back as a bartender. Late nights when you would help Namjoon study for tests and work on papers, and then early mornings when you would join Yoongi at the piano he owned, enraptured with the way he created these beautiful pieces simply with his mind and fingers.

To you, it was Namjoon and Yoongi.

When you told them that you loved them, their responses hadn’t been what you expected. Granted, you finally did it after another night wrapped up in their arms, enjoying the post-sex bliss and cuddles they knew you enjoyed just as much.

Instead, silence had greeted you as they looked at each other over your body and in that second you wondered if you had gotten everything wrong. Maybe they only enjoyed the sex and your company for the moment. Maybe they were simply looking for a short fling until they grew tired of you. These thoughts attacked your mind in seconds and when they didn’t answer, tears overflowed your eyes without warning.

“No, don’t cry baby, you don’t understand,” Yoongi cooed, sitting up with his back against the headboard as he drew you into his embrace. Namjoon was quick to cover your backside, his tall presence reassuring as he left sweet kisses on your shoulder.

“In reality,” Namjoon gently added, leaning his temple against your head. “We love you very much.”

“But we haven’t been honest with you.”

Those words had you raising your head from Yoongi’s chest, the tear stains cracking their hearts as you tried to wipe them away. “What?”

Yoongi sighed heavily, looking at Namjoon with torn eyes. While they both loved and trusted you with everything, Yoongi was afraid that if you learned the truth, you’d be afraid of them and run out of their lives for good.

Always having a way with words, Namjoon turned your body so you were facing him. He wiped away a few tears with his thumbs and leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, only when he lifted his head, his brown eyes were tinted with regret.

Behind you Yoongi pressed his face in the back of your hair, arms hugging your waist as the smell of the shampoo you used calmed him down.

“Baby, Yoongi and I aren’t human.”

Carefully moving so as to not wake Yoongi, you rolled over to face Namjoon, his arms loosening enough to allow the change. As if he didn’t want to be excluded, Yoongi followed your body movements and curled his body around yours, effectively sandwiching you in-between the two males, their arms crossing over your body to hold on to each other as well.

You hadn’t believed them at all.

Vampires were nothing but a story that Hollywood used to terrify movie goers, novelists used for a smutty romance, and a costume to wear on Halloween that never went out of style no matter what age you are.

But for the two men you dearly loved to say that’s what they were, wasn’t simply possible.

There had been plenty of times when you were around them with either a scratch or getting a paper cut next to them, and there had been multiple times of suffering through your period and they were there to help offer comfort when needed.

“We’ve had plenty of time to learn self-control darling,” Namjoon weakly joked, seeing that you didn’t believe him one bit.

Shaking your head, you tried to look at Yoongi but his grip tightened as he hid his face further into your hair. He didn’t want the last memory he had of you was your face contorting into fear at them.

Namjoon sighed as he cupped your chin, coaxing you to look back at him. “I’ll show you, but please remember, it’s still me. I’ll still be me, your Namjoon who loves you and Yoongi very much.”

“You’re scaring me Joonie,” you whimpered.

His face fell at your comment, although he already knew that without you speaking. The racing of your heart spoke for you. “The last thing we want to do is scare you.”

You hated how everything was sounding like a goodbye. Goodbye wasn’t what you wanted or had in mind when you decided to say I say love you. But you never got the chance to speak because your voice was stolen as Namjoon’s face changed.

Brown eyes so dark they appeared black that would crinkle in the corners when you did something he found adorable, lightened to a muddy red as his canine teeth elongated until they poked his bottom lip, the very one that had been kissing you everywhere on your body not even half an hour ago.

It was your Namjoon, but at the same time, it was someone you didn’t know at all.

You had wanted to leave. For a split second you had actually considered breaking out of Yoongi’s arms, putting your clothes on and getting the hell out of there. Break off the relationship before it could get any further.

But he had asked you to remember that underneath it all, he was still Namjoon.

The night had been filled with questions and even more tears, but as it had gone on, Yoongi’s arms had loosened enough and he had even lifted his head from its hiding place. They weren’t in their twenties like they had told you, but really, Yoongi was two hundred years old and Namjoon was one hundred. Namjoon had lost count of all of his PhD’s – but proudly had his diplomas organized on a bookcase in his office organized by year.

It had always been a joke that you liked older men, but apparently life had decided to make that concept a reality.

They answered every question you were able to think of, silently relishing in the fact that you were still there are, even when some of the thinks you asked were stereotypical. Garlic was more of a light food allergy, sun light was a mild annoyance but was tolerated, holy water and the cross didn’t faze them, and didn’t everyone need permission to enter a house that wasn’t there’s or risk being considered an intruder?

They did however need blood to survive. Apparently, there were just as many vampires as there were humans, which meant that privately owned businesses that organized in selling blood were a great investment since without it, they would ultimately die.

“Remember when you went to go open that bottle of wine?” Yoongi asked when you mentioned never seeing any blood in their fridge. “And I accidentally shouted at you not to touch it?”

The memory came easily, if only because it had been the first and last time that you heard Yoongi ever raise his voice at you.

“You said it was one of your rare bottles,” you murmured, tilting your head to look back at him.

You heard Namjoon snort as Yoongi sheepishly smiled. “Well, that wasn’t wine love.”

It had been a lot to process and it took time to come to terms that your boyfriends were Vampires, but you loved them. They had your heart and soul and never once had they given you a reason to worry about your safety around them. They loved you just as much as you loved them, and that was all that mattered.

“For someone who hates waking up early, you certainly have a habit of doing so,” Namjoon murmured from above.

Scrunching up your nose, you shifted enough to lean your head against Yoongi’s shoulder as you pouted up at Namjoon.

He sleepily smiled in response though, eyes tender as he gazed down at you and Yoongi. It was the weekend, which meant that all three of you didn’t have to work and were fully allowed to bum around for two whole days if so desired. Although you never understood why they subjected themselves to having full time jobs, a perk of being alive for so long meant that their savings and investments gave them more than enough money for them to never have to work again.

“It’s a habit,” Yoongi had explained, “that, and when you live forever, you tend to get bored easily.”

“You shouldn’t even be awake,” he continued, his smile shifting into a teasing grin. “Especially since none of us went to sleep until sunrise.”

“I don’t recall you complaining,” you murmured, shivering once as you ran your palms over his bare chest.

Removing his arm from the two of you, he pulled the blanket up higher, enveloping you in a warm cocoon of blankets and their bodies before slipping his hand down your arm. “Believe me, I will never complain. Especially when you tempt us more than usual.”

A knowing grin appeared on his face as his fingers traced a bite mark that was placed on your side, sending shivers up your spine. It was one of the many that littered your body at the moment, but give a few days and they were be long gone, but the hickies would take longer. Those tended to linger longer if they fed from you.

The first time you asked for them to feed from you had been a humorous moment, if only for the slacked jaws and raised eyebrows on their faces.

The piano abruptly stopped playing after you voiced your desire, causing Namjoon to choke on the beverage he had been drinking.

“You want us to what?” Namjoon set the book he had been reading aside, sparing a glance at Yoongi. They had been relaxing in Yoongi’s office – spring break had begun at the high school, giving him the freedom from his students that he had been craving – which meant that music filled their home more often than in the last few months.

Your lips curled into a smile, noticing the way their Adam’s apple bobbed as they gazed at you. “I want both of you,” slowly speaking, you settled on the arm of the couch, right smack in-between them. “To feed from me. The blood you drink is always kept cold, and I thought you’d want something different.”

A soft groan emitted from Namjoon, the ice in his glass clinking together as it was put on the end table. “Do you understand what you’re asking of us baby?” He rasped out, having to clear his throat as he leaned back against the couch.

“Of course. I trust both of you with everything. The two of you make me feel alive all the time, so why not give you two the life you need? And besides,” with a slight shrug, you smirked at Yoongi who had remained silent, taking in the way his eyes never left yours, his hand gripping the edge of the piano stool. “I’ve always had a bite kink all my life.”

Before you could even blink, Yoongi slotted himself between your legs. The sudden movement threw you off balance, but Namjoon wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you onto his lap.

Yoongi wasn’t a rash man, always calm and collective, but as he palmed your thighs while standing above you, he seemed to be barely hanging on as his desire became known by the fangs that were suddenly extending.

“You best not be a tease, dear heart,” he warned. His fingers curled around the belt loops of your jeans, tugging your body until your legs were completely over the arm and your head was in Namjoon’s lap.

It wasn’t often that Yoongi slipped into the older variations of English, but the idea of drinking from someone – someone who loved and trusted them to even ask it – felt like a rush to his younger years, back when he was a new Vampire.

“For you are not the only one who has a bite kink.”

A quick glance at Namjoon sent your heart racing – in the best way possible – as he stretched his right arm across the back of the couch, his other hand soothingly stroking your hair. But that wasn’t what had you gasping. Like Yoongi, his eyes were pools of desire and his bottom lips was being indented by his fangs. A slight shift of your head revealed his erection.

Meeting Yoongi’s gaze, you maintained the eye contact as you undid the button of your jeans and then the zipper. “Prove it,” you whispered, linking your legs around his hips.

“Why are the two of you always up so damn early,” Yoongi muttered. Deeply inhaling, he lazily kissed your neck, palm sliding up your stomach and chest until he was cupping your breast and gave a teasing squeeze.

Namjoon chuckled as you twisted to glare up at your other love, simply relaxing against the bed as he watched the way your eyes were filled with adoration for Yoongi.

It was the same look you all gave to each other when the receiver wasn’t paying attention. For decades, Yoongi and Namjoon thought they were all that they needed. They didn’t need anyone else when they ran into each other when Namjoon was made into a Vampire against his will. The years had been long and dark for him, but Yoongi was always there to help him back up and stay by his side.

Then you appeared, and suddenly, the world evened out for both of them. You were the piece to completely their hearts. Even though you were only human – a timestamp still looming over your life – the choice was going to be your decision. If you didn’t want to change your path, then they were determined to give you a forever to remember, even if it was only a slice of theirs.

[imaginesandsmut]

A Fireplace and A Confession

Word Count: 2981

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: Fluff and a lil bit of smut (don't know how to phrase it)

You and Sirius have had a frenemy sort of relationship. One moment you're joking around and playfully throwing food at each other, then next, you're sending each other death glares as you’re both covered in squid ink due to your prank war. What happens when you're both alone in the Gryffindor common room? Will you admit your feelings or will you continue to keep them inside?

Sirius Orion Black. 

When you first saw him at the train station, he was in a fancy wizard suit and you were in a jumper you got from your dad and pants that came from your cousin. You were saying goodbye to your parents before your first year at Hogwarts, you saw his soft face and held his gaze. He stared back at you with the same curiosity and wonder but was snapped out of it when his mother laid a harsh hand on his shoulder and muttered something to him before pushing him away from you.

You knew about the prejudice against muggleborns in the wizarding world and being from a muggle family, you knew your fitting-in-process would be difficult. Many purebloods stuck their nose up at you when you first asked if you could sit with them on the train, the only person who invited you to stay was a red headed girl with bright green eyes. Lily helped you get informed on everything about the wizarding world since she had already read all the history books, your friendship blossomed on that train ride through the snow.

Sirius Black was in your first class. Transfiguration. He commented a stupid remark about muggleborns and their likeness to trolls, as soon as you saw Lily’s face drain colour, you grabbed hold of your ruler and launched it at the back of his head. Sirius whipped his head around and was about to say something before being shushed by Professor McGonagall.

From then you decided you hated Sirius Orion Black.

It was fine because Lily also hated his best friend, James Potter. You both liked their other friends though, Remus and Peter, they were nice and didn’t bully other kids for a quick laugh. The years went by in a blur, first year was a haze of hate and snide comments at each other. Constantly torn between wanting to bicker with them or wanting to ignore them.

Your second year was filled with trying to compete for best grades in the class, almost as if there was an actual prize at the end. Sirius would flaunt his high score on a Transfiguration test whilst you would casually say how you got the top grade in the Care For Magical Creatures assignment. The teachers didn't know whether to stop the arguing or let it continue since you were both rising to be the best in every class.

Third year was when Sirius Black decided to grow out his hair and girls took notice. Obviously, you made fun of him in the beginning when his hair was nothing but the shortest bob on the planet, but you couldn't make fun of him when it reached past his ears. Never kidding yourself, you still made fun of Sirius, but you couldn’t deny that his hair looked good. 

Fourth year was when you both had a prank war and turned Hogwarts into a battle ground. With every misplaced shoe and teeth staining water, you and Sirius Black started getting closer. Even though you both dyed each others hair bright pink before Quidditch trials, and you both shrunk every piece of clothing each other had until there was almost nothing for you two to wear, you and Sirius seemed to smile about it instead of sending scowls at each other. You both had detention after he filled the dinning hall with nifflers at the same time you enchanted every pudding to explode when someone touched it. When McGonagall stuck you both in a room together, forcing you two to talk it out, you and Sirius Black realised that you didn't hate each other. And maybe, you could become friends. 

Fourth year was when Sirius Black became your best friend. 

Fifth year was the one that confused you. Sirius was getting a lot of attention from girls and you hated it. Not because you want to be with Sirius, it was just because he seemed to move his attention from competing and joking around with you to competing his tongue with other girls’ tongues. Lily suggested here and there that maybe you liked him, but that was just as ridiculous as her liking James Potter. You could never see Sirius that way. 

It is now sixth year and Sirius has been ‘boring’ lately. Well, that's what the girls he normally hooks up with have been saying to every girl who would listen. He has seemed to stop meeting up with them in dark corners before class and now spends most of his time in the Gryffindor common room. Every once in a while, Marlene swears she sees him staring at you whilst you're reading or talking to the group. Of course, you didn’t think anything of it drew it up to probably having something on your face at the time. On Friday, after Herbology, you overheard James asking Sirius why he has been acting different lately and all the black haired boy replied with was, “I've got my eye on someone else.”

“He was probably talking about you,” Lily commented whilst applying another layer of lipgloss on, “Merlin knows he stares at the back of your head during Potions more that he actually looks at the board.”

You snorted a little before replying, “Lily, soon enough Sirius will go back to his gaggle of girls that follow him everywhere and you’ll be left with me saying ‘I told you so’.”

Sirius Black never did go back to his ‘gaggle of girls’; every chance of spare time he got he spent with you. It ranged from helping you with homework, walking you to class, asking for you to explain a simple concept to him, and basically any other excuse he could think of.

Now you’re in your final term of sixth year, in the common room with all your friends. You’re supposed to be doing your Care for Magical Creatures assignment but the library is closed and Marlene is ‘using’ your shared bedroom with a Hufflepuff girl.

“I don’t care, James.” You fought back, pointing your pencil at him from across the common room. “Riding a unicorn will not be cool and you will die.”

“But imagine having that on a resume,” James was leaning on the fireplace as he opened his arms wide and pretended to read out a title, “Young Man Rides Unicorn And Doesn’t Die On Contrary To His Friends Belief.”

Remus whacked him on his knee with his book and caused everyone to giggle. Sirius looked over at where you were on the large couch from his chair near the fireplace, smiling at you.

“I love you, Y/N, but I feel like you could have more belief in me.” James was like your older brother, annoying you at any chance and loving you like family at the same time.

“James, I am studying unicorns for my assignment, so I think I would know best if you would die or not.” You looked down at the discarded textbook in your lap, the illustrated Unicorn looking back at you. “Besides, you know they hate men.”

James ignores what you say about him dying and instead asks about your assignment, wondering how it’s coming along. “I don’t see you writing anything down.”

“That is because the only space I can study is here and you guys are a distraction.” You laugh in hopes of not hurting their feelings and making sure that they know you’re not actually upset with them.

“You know what?” Remus announced to the room as he got up from his chair and picked up his books. “I’m gonna head to bed.” 

He sent a look to the rest of the group and they all catch on, saying their goodbyes and goodnights to each other. You give Remus a thankful smile as he says goodnight to you. As you watch Lily leave and see her frame hide behind the staircase turn, you turn your own head back to the fireplace. You thought you were finally alone until you saw Sirius, still sitting in his chair.

“Aren't you going to bed?” You mostly asked this in an attempt to nudge him into leaving. Merlin knows you can't write this assignment with Sirius Black in the room, it’s too distracting.

“Thought I might help.” He got up and brushed off the imaginary dirt from his jeans before making his way over to the couch you’re sitting on and plopping himself down. “I don’t know much about Care For Magical Creatures but I could help you with the writing?”

“You don't even take this class?”

“Y/N, no one takes this class. You’re the only sixth year who kept it as their major subject.”

“Then why help?” You didn’t want to push Sirius away but an unrelenting nervousness was overtaking your body. This nervousness only started a year or so ago, but it’s growing stronger with ever day that passes and you can't figure out why.

“Cause.” He started, taking a quill from his pocket and grabbing a piece of parchment from your pile. “There's frown lines in between your eyebrows and you keep biting the inside of your cheek.”

Sirius points out the two quirks on your face and makes you realise that your were doing them right then. Slowly relaxing your features, you turn to see the paper he held in his hands.

“And what does that have to do with anything?”

“It means you’re stressed,” Sirius said this as if all of Hogwarts knows, “and I don't want you to stress out over a subject you love”.

You didn't know what to say, Sirius is giving up time he could be spending with his friends or sleeping to help you with an assignment. You looked over at him to see him spreading giving you the biggest, cheesiest grin he could muster, causing you to crack a smile on your own face.

“Here is my draft.” You handed him a piece of parchment with a draft of your assignment written badly all over it, the sentences looking like chicken scratch.  “Just copy what I wrote and if you don’t understand my handwriting, just ask me and I'll translate.”

Sirius nodded before beginning to write the final copy of the assignment, his hand steady and smooth. Sirius couldn't help but smile a little, and you couldn't understand why he would when you saw it from the corner of your eye.

Half an hour passed before you started feeling sleepy. You and Sirius have been writing up your final copy of your assignment, one page each. You were doing every odd numbered pages and he was doing the even. You were almost done with your last page when you felt your head starting to lower onto his shoulder. You felt Sirius tense for a moment before relaxing and continuing his writing.

You told yourself that you’ll only close your eyes for a few minutes before going back to work, but when you woke up, you noticed a pile of stacked and perfect parchment papers on the coffee table. Quickly lifting your head up from his resting spot on the back of the couch, you saw Sirius bringing over a hot chocolate from the coffee/hot chocolate machine he and James stole from the Ravenclaw common room.

“How long was I out?”

“Only an hour.” Sirius smiled as he placed your cup down on the coffee table.

“An hour?! What about the assignment?” You scrambled forward to reach for your draft before being pushed back down by Sirius.

“Y/N, calm down.” He chuckled, was it just you or did his chuckle seem to be more heavenly when you’re half asleep. “I finished it for you.”

“Why? You didn’t have to.” You felt bad for him doing the work for you but also thankful cause your hand hurts like hell from all the writing.

Sirius sat down next to you as you shuffled up to be closer to him, “you have been freaking out over this assignment for two weeks now, I wanted to help you but if I stepped over the line, I'm sorry.”

You didn't know what to do so you grabbed your hot chocolate, moved around in your place on the couch to be side by side with him and leant your head on his shoulder, “thank you, Sirius.”

This was the real Sirius. Not the boy who said stupid things about muggles that his mother told him, not the mean boy who made fun of other kids, and definitely not the boy who you hated. The real Sirius is the boy who helps his friends when they need him, the boy who tells his friends that they can do anything they set their mind to, the boy who helps you with your homework when you passed out cause he knows how badly you want a good grade.

You look up at him and catch him staring down at you, his relaxed features make him seem younger, his eyes seemed to be a brighter blue in the light of the fire and his skin looked more golden. You hated that you were noticing all of these things about him, but you hated more that you wanted to keep looking at these things. 

You noticed his hair falling in front of his eyes so you cautiously moved your hand up and tucked it behind his ear, trailing your fingertips back down, over his jawline and down his neck before he grabbed hold that same hand.

Your heart was beating a million miles per hour cause you thought you crossed a line, well, you defiantly crossed a line. You’re supposed to be friends, best friends. Best friends don’t do this, best friends don't make an intimate gesture in the light of a fire when they're alone.

Sirius was still holding your hand, frozen on the spot of his neck that you last touched. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, your breath got caught in your throat.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“I was just trying to get your hai-”

“No. What are you doing to me?”

You didn't understand. With his spare hand, Sirius grabbed your hot chocolate from your other hand and placed it back on the table. When he turned back to you he held both of your hands in his and held them by his chest, causing you to shuffle into a more comfortable position, closer to him.

“Sometimes I think we’re just friends cause you never show any interest in me other than when we’re in a group setting......and now we’re alone.....and I can’t keep my eyes off you,” Sirius’ eyes flick down to your lips then back to your eyes, “what do you want, Y/N?”

“I don't know.���

There was a pause as you both looked at each other, then down to each others lips and back up again.

“I want to kiss you.” Sirius whispered.

You waited. You didn't know if he wanted you to say anything or if he was just saying what he thought. Deciding to test the waters, you closed your eyes and whispered, “kiss me.”

With that, Sirius quickly pressed his lips against yours, letting go of your hands and moving you back so you’re lying across the couch and he's hovering over you. Sirius’ hand held your hip as the other was above your head, your hands gravitated towards his hair. You open your mouth for him and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in, earning a small moan from you. Sirius’ large hand caressed your hip which resulted in your tugging his hair for more. A groan came from the black headed boy as you pulled on his hair, causing him to grind his hips against yours. Sirius could've sworn that the moan that came from you was the most heavenly sound he has ever heard. Wanting to hear it more, Sirius grinded himself down on you as he broke away from your lips and kissed your neck, a few nips here and there.

You were in heaven, looking up at the roof and feeling Sirius grind against you, his hot breath and tongue on your neck and collarbone. You wanted to continue but you didn’t want to be just another girl he has sex with, you couldn't let him charm his way into making you something you're not.

“Sirius.”

Sirius mumbled as he grinded his clothed dick over your thin pyjama shorts, milking a moan from you and a growl from him.

“Sirius.” You tried again.

“Yes?” His voice was dreamy and a little husky, but you couldn't be distracted.

“We can't do this here. We can't do this.”

Sirius lifted his head from your neck and looked at you, stilling the movements of his hips, “what do you mean?”

“I can't be the next girl on your list of conquests, and I defiantly don’t wanna be the girl you hook up with casually as you’re going after someone else.” You pushed him up so he was away from your face so you could see him clearly, and so you're not tempted to kiss him again.

“Y/N, you don't understand, I wan-”

“Thank you so much for helping me write my assignment and for doing the rest of it but if that was just to get in my pants then I'm sorry but it didn't work.” You got up to collect your things and as you were about to leave, Sirius grabbed hold of your hand.

“Y/N, I love you.”

What. Pft, no. No he doesn't. He's Sirius Black. Sirius Black doesn't love anything besides himself, his hair, and stealing Remus’ chocolate.

“You don-”

“I didn’t kiss you because I needed to get my dick wet, I wanted to kiss you because your Y/N.  I’ve wanted to kiss you for years, because I’m in love with you.” Sirius looked stressed, as if every second of silence that passed, you were slipping further and further away from him. Sirius searched your face and when he noticed that you weren't going to say anything, he continued.

“I want to win this war, Y/N, not just for the wizarding world, but to be able to build a future with you. Merlin Y/N, I wanna marry you one day.” Sirius had gotten up now and was pacing the floor in front of you, only a coffee table standing between you. “When I first saw you, I instantly fell. But I was scared, my mother knew you were a muggleborn by the looks of your parents and told me to stay away from you. Threatened to abandon me if I even became your friend. I said that stupid comment in our first class together and you hated me, I didn't know what to do but if you hated me and that was the only was I could get you to notice me, then I would make myself be the person you hated the most.”

Sirius talked with his hands, using them to explain his point properly. Now his hands were flying all over the place, going between messing with his hair and swatting around imaginary bugs.

“God, Y/N, the whole reason why I started that prank war in fourth year was to have a reason to see you everyday.” Sirius laughed a little at the stupidness of his plan but smiled at the relief that it actually worked. “Juvenile, I know but I didn't know what else to do. I loved you and I was stupid”

You didn't know what to say. Sirius Black, your best friend, they guy who you thought hated you for a good part of your school life together, loves you.

“Y/N, please say something. I’m dying here. Please tell me you love me too. I can't go on pretending that you don’t tear me to pieces.”

You were looking at Sirius with wonder on your face, wonder at how lucky you had gotten in this lifetime to find someone. Your mother told you that love is a friendship with more trust, others told you that it was finding the most beautiful person and worshipping them with all your heart. 

But as you stood there in the fire lit common room, finding yourself to love not just your best friend but the most handsome of men is your crowning glory. Slowly, you stepped around the coffee table and moved to stand in front of Sirius. You could tell the boy was freaking out by the way his eyes were wide and how he watched every movement you made.

You raised your hands and held Sirius’ face, looking into his eyes before reaching up to place a quick kiss on his lips, you pulled away and looked up at his closed eyes. “I loved you from the moment I met you, I was just to stubborn to realise.”

Sirius’ eyes sprung open and the biggest grin crept its way onto his face, you smiled back at him as he pulled you into his arms for a hug with his head resting on top of your own head, swinging you around like a rag doll.

“I’m gonna be the best boyfriend you have ever had.”

“Oh really?” You chuckled at his statement. Sirius looked down at you with his award winning smile, he looked so boyish but also so beautiful.

“Really. Cause I know that I love you more than anything in this world. And if that doesn't say something, I don't know what will.”

[precure-stuff]

Aikatsu Dream Chapter 3 +4

Read previous chapters here

03.  Aikatsu With You!

Wanda and Maya were sitting in class as Ken explained the vocal exercises they needed to do each day. He wrote on the board as Maya stared out the window. Wanda was sleeping and Cress impatiently tapped on her desk. Once Ken’s lecture was over he whipped out a poster written in makeup. No response. His enthusiasm faded as he cleared his throat, “Basically, I wanted to announce something…” Cress taps her wrist impatiently, “There’s a minor competition tomorrow. It’s being held by the school to give you a taste of real idol activities.” He turned to write the requirements on the blackboard, “Simply show up in the field at lunch and take part in an obtstacle course. If you come in first, you can put on a live that we’ll broadcast around town. Don’t waste this chance.” He said as he looked straight at Wanda.

Maya stood up as break approached nudging Wanda to eat with her. “It’s no fun if we only meet in the dorms.” Wanda continued to sleep and Maya went to eat alone. Cress spotted Wanda, recalling her walking out during the performance. What was it that Maya had that could get Wanda’s attention that she lacked. She decided to find out for herself.

In the café, Maya was looking through the baked goods when she spotted Cress reflected in “I am aware,” Cress smiles, “I’ve decided! I’m going to spend my break with you.” Maya ordered three with different flavors and Cress did the same. She ate hers more daintily than Maya did. Maya scoffed hers down and rose to ask for more but Cress stopped her, “Wait, so what is your relationship to that girl?” Maya sat down and gave Cress an honest look.

“Oh! Wanda is my roommate. She’s a really cool girl but she doesn’t speak much.” She wiped away the crumbs on her chin, “I could introduce you to her-”

“No need,” Cress said standing up. She neatly folded her cupcake’s paper and wished Maya luck.

“I guess that makes us friends.” Maya said to herself.

The next morning in the dorms, Maya chose Wanda as her partner. “Wanda! You’ll have to be a bit more…energetic today. We’re definitely going to win this time.” Wanda stared, baffled by Maya’s delusion. She looked at Maya’s mattress which had her results stuffed underneath it.

“Sure. Let’s aim for victory!” She stretched about as Maya tried to pry the results from her bag. “Just ask next time.” Wanda handed them to Maya who feigned cluelessness. She noted that Wanda had a prefect average score. She scored just enough to pass each test. Every score was only one or two points above the cutoff. Maya commented that Wanda was really well rounded. “Yeah, I guess.”

Later in the day, the girls assembled in the field.  Excitement filled the air as Kagami came out with his clipboard and whistle. He asked them to get in pairs. “Wanda! Where are you?” Maya called. Wanda waved at her from behind a few girls. Her dusty tracksuit drew some bad attention so Maya helped her dust it up. “Where did you keep this?” Wanda shrugged in response. Once the third race started, Wanda and Maya got in place. Kagami finished scribbling on his clipboard and blew the whistle.

Maya started off well. She gave it her all but only made it to third place. Once Wanda was handed the baton, Maya sat down to catch her breath. She lay on her back and let the sun bathe her skin. On the track, Wanda was doing quite poorly. Even their classmates looked on in disappointment. From Tamaki’s high office, she could see most of the school and looked over at the races. Wanda never took off her beret and was easy to spot from afar. Tamaki scoffed and turned around in her chair, “Who does she think she’s fooling?”

As Kagami concluded the races, Wanda went to sit down next to Maya. The girls all sat resting awaiting the results. Unsurprisingly, Cress and her partner had won. She ran with a girl named Thuo who announced she would step down letting Cress perform alone. Maya sighed. “I wonder what our time was,” She said. Wanda looked over in panic as Maya asked Kagami for his clipboard. Her eyes looked through the names until she made it to theirs. The worst time in the group, far longer than the rest. Maya’s grip loosened as her breath got sparse, “How did we do so badly?”

Ken came to take the records from Kagami and looked over them with scrutiny. The class went to watch Cress perform leaving the girls with Ken and Kagami. Wanda got up to leave but Wanda caught her by the hand. Ken handed Wanda the clipboard and asked her to read out her time. She couldn’t. As Maya saw it again, she turned to Wanda and said “You weren’t really trying were you?” Her tone didn’t carry much anger but rather disappointment. “I guess it didn’t matter to you, since we wouldn’t win anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Wanda said. She looked over at Ken and Kagami who decided to give them some privacy. “I just didn’t want to try and you know, fail.” Wanda tried to hug Maya but she inched back.

“Why did you come here then?”  Maya asked. The question cut through Wanda and she struggled to find an answer.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.” She felt exposed. It had been a long time since she felt so vulnerable. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?” Wanda looked in Maya’s eyes. She searched for warmth in them and found it. Maya shook her head as she calmed herself. She hugged Wanda and asked her to watch Cress’ show with her.

“Those two make a good pair. They’re both bad on their own, but together,” Tamaki said to herself. In the auditorium, Cress performed Gost Coaster in her Gothic Check coord. The two girls enjoyed the show and Cress threw her bow into the crowd. As the girls jumped to reach it, Wanda couldn’t help but think back to her younger days. Maybe someday, she would perform like that again.

02.  Sweet Success

In Star Harmony, Chiharu sat sketching away. She had enjoyed her free time that way for years. It’s been a joy to work both as a designer and a teacher. She felt pride being a light to idols in as many ways as she could. As far as work ethic went, even Ken couldn’t compare. He had started teaching after her and couldn’t manage his time well enough to do make up and teach. So it was rather ironic that Maya walked through her door in that moment. Chiharu raised her head in acknowledgement. Maya walked up to her desk and placed her hands on it firmly, “Chiharu, I have a request,” She started “I’d like a Premium Rare.” Chiharu’s pencil scratched into the paper. She looked up in surprise.

“I’m sorry, have I seen you here before?” Chiharu adjusted her glasses, “I’m honored you love Sugar Melody but isn’t this a bit too soon?” Her tone warmed Maya up. Chiharu couldn’t help being nice.

A second year student walked in with a question about some assignments and Chiharu had Maya wait a while. As Maya watched Chiharu help the girl, she saw how kind she was. Not once did she blame her for making mistakes and she even moved her own sketches aside. Once Chiharu was done, she turned back to Maya. “I think you should work a little harder then come back. Why don’t you ask Ken for some tips to improve? Or maybe a classmate?” She said.

“I mean…I guess I could.” Maya sighed. Before she left she looked over at the design Chiharu was working on and rushed off to class. Once there, Maya noticed the usual crowd around Cress and woke up Wanda. “Can you believe Chiharu won’t give Me a PR?” She cried. Wanda woke up amused.

“Maya, do you really think you’ll just get those?’ She laughed.

“How am I supposed to shine as an idol without a dress to match?” Maya lamented. “Wanda, what do you think I should do?” Wanda looked up. It was the first time Maya had actually asked for help.

“She’s finally realizing she’s as great as she thinks,” Wanda thought to herself. Hearing Maya say that takes her back to her childhood. She remembers when she used to take dance practice and copy idols on TV. Wanda lay stuck in her memories as Maya waited for an answer. Maya waved at her but she couldn’t get through. Maya sighed and smiled. Ken walked in to start the lesson.

“Welcome back, ladies. Today we have something fun to learn.” He turned around and wrote on the chalkboard, “We’re going to be learning about events. These are important things to a rookie idol. In fact, without these it’s unlikely you’ll gain notoriety. Why don’t we use this upcoming event as an example?” He took out a poster for a bake off in the next few days and left a sign-up sheet as the lesson came to an end. Maya dragged Wanda over and had them sign up. She reluctantly agreed.

In the café, Maya went avoided the other girls and walked straight into the kitchen. It was big and clean with neatly labeled bottles stacked by size. Here, the Star Harmony baker, Suzuka kept herself busy for most of the day. She was rolling dough when Maya tugged on the straps of her apron.

“Hello,” She said, “I was wondering if you could help me.” She showed her the poster and Suzuka handed her the rolling pin. Maya put her phone away and washed her hands. As she took the rolling pin, Suzuka stepped back.

“If you want to be a better baker, nothing beats getting right into it!” She declared. And so the next few minutes were filled with Maya failing miserably before Suzuka stepped in to correct her. It took a while to get used to the patience of baking but eventually Maya had a tray of somewhat decent cookies. She thanked Suzuka and was about to leave when she felt a tug on her collar.

“That’s far from everything child,” Suzuka said. Maya smiled nervously, “You should show up again tomorrow. I’m certain you’ll be better by then.” She joked. Maya thanked her and promised to return.

Maya handed out the cookies she made to her classmates. They didn’t look great but tasted sweet enough. Maya appreciated all the feedback she got, even if most of it was fluffy flattery. The break came to an end shortly after and Maya decided to eat one before she went to class. “Alright, let’s see how much of that was true,” She took a bite and chewed through its uneven texture. After finishing the first bite, she knew it wasn’t good. Regardless, she hadn’t eaten anything else and so finished the rest on her own.

When Maya went back to her room that night, Wanda wasn’t asleep. She was sitting there waiting for her. “What’s gotten into you?” She seemed a lot more open than she usually was.

“I don’t know Wanda; I just really want to stay here. If I don’t get even a little better, then I might not…” She renounced the thought, “I want to make my dreams come true. I’ll be the idol that fills the void! The new top.” Wanda winced at the sight of this. Though she had wanted the same, she couldn’t help but worry that Maya’s failure would crush her, as her own had years ago.

“Alright then.” Wanda said. “If you want to improve then you can’t just bake. From now on, you’ll have to train just like the other girls. Let’s try out a short dance routine.” Wanda got a little excited and decided to text Kagami. He responded and she requested he open up a dance room for them. Without realizing it herself, Wanda was going to dance again.

In the dance room, the two started with some stretches. Wanda helped Maya keep rhythm and showed her how to count beats accurately. On top of that, she also pointed out some mistakes she made during the entrance exam. Maya worked up quite a sweat working with Wanda but kept going for there was more to come.

For the rest of the week Wanda agreed to help Maya dance better and Suzuka let her bake in her free time. It was the most Maya had worked before. At home, her mother took complete care of her, but from now she would need to do things on her own. Maya took note of her own progress and by the time the bake off came, she felt rightfully confident.

On the day itself, Maya was driven to the bake off as Wanda promised to watch the event live streamed. At the event, Maya met several other idols, including some who had formed Friends. Despite feeling intimidated, once she was up she could remember all that Suzuka had taught her.  She turned over the dough with care and kept her table relatively clean while preparing the frosting. Once the baking came, she was able to keep the crowd entertained with more information about her recipe. In Star Harmony, Wanda watched the live stream with Suzuka.

By the time the judging started, there was a clear difference between Maya’s cake and her competitors. The judges took a bite out of her cake and Maya hoped they could taste her skill and effort. It was the hardest she’d worked thus far. Their faces let nothing slip as they moved on to the other idols.

Once the judging was over, they had the girls stand in a line before the live audience. Maya stood nervously and waited for the results. As she wiped the sweat from her brow, she saw the door to the event hall open. To her surprise, Suzuka had showed up as well as Wanda. They waved at her and sat down to minimize their intrusion. The judges walked on stage and the room fell silent. The main judge was an old man who lowered the mic before speaking into it.

“Good afternoon everyone. I hope you all enjoyed gathering here today. I’m not one for words and so, let’s declare the winner right away. However, before we do I’d like to thank every idol who came here. Baking in front of a live audience isn’t easy.” He took a pause to catch his breath. Maya looked at Wanda who gave her a thumbs up. “Now, the winner of today’s competition will be allowed to perform if she wishes and her cake will be shared among the crowd first. The idol whose cake impressed us the most was...” The spotlight shuffled between the idols. “Maya!”

Maya smiled as she skipped along to the mic and shook the main judge’s hand. A picture was taken and her cake was cut to be distributed to the crowd. Wanda came on stage to congratulate her personally as they walked backstage. “I can’t believe you did it.”

“I know, and I’m glad you were here to see it.” She peers out into the crowd and pulls out her cards, “I want to put on a show that’ll energize the crowd.”

“Well go ahead, it’s a small event so don’t worry about it if you fail.” Wanda chuckled.

Maya placed the Mint Fueille Coord in the machine and emerged on a pink round stage with a star on it.“You can send love and sparkling smiles all over the world! (Go! Go Up! Go Up Stardom!)” After the first line, Maya’s aura suddenly appeared. Pink cotton balls and golden stars floated around her. She continued to perform and the crowd began to cheer. As Maya saw this she grew even more excited culminating in a Special Appeal, Dream Melody.

The crowd continued to cheer as Maya thanked them. Wanda was clapping too. The event had been a complete success.

In Star Harmony, Chiharu was watching the event too. She smiled as she put the phone down. Pulling out her design papers, she looked at the design Maya had seen earlier “This girl just might be the one.” She whispered as she continued to draw.

[qhostqizmo]

the truth can be hard to swallow

I wanted to name this piece bad o/mens but then realized some fandom folk would find this and be sorely disappointed so thought better not

- - - - - - - - - -

Alone. Just like before. Wasn’t this the way it was supposed to be?

No. No, this wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. This was never what she wanted; the smothering silence, the dull ache in her chest, the feeling that she wasn’t good enough. She would never be good enough. Not for herself, not for anybody.

‘I need no one.’

A lie. Pretty lies, keeping the world at bay. If she kept them at arm’s length, they would be safe. She would be safe. They wouldn’t need to fall to the misfortune of being around her; or the bane of knowing her, and she would not be tricked again. No one could get under her skin if she didn’t want them to. No one could break her more then she already was. Haunted by words and wounded by piercing dagger tongues of others; damned by her own demons which whispered and spat her own self-loathing and hatred back at her.

Nevertheless, Essätha’s heart betrayed her. She craved. She wanted the things she passed from town to town; the smiles on the faces of others, the ordinary life, the jokes, the friendship shared. It made her sick to want. Beautiful things she could not have, and people reminding her with every sneer and curled lip as gazes met that she never would.

She opened her eyes, staring ahead blankly.

Maybe not everyone despised her…

The unlit fireplace, cold and empty, allowed a breeze to sweep down and chill her to the bone. A shiver coursed through her veins and into her aching joints. The musky odor of mold lingered in the air. With a snivel, she pivoted on the creaky floorboards to examine the remainder of the dark, dingy, dusty room.

Curtains draping the cloudy windows were chewed to rags; lined with holes and brittle from bugs eating the fabric. The only sitting furniture in the room; an impressively large sofa, had its metal springs breaking the surface and was filthy. Like the shades, it too was a mass of holes and scratches from pests eating away at it.

Something about this place seemed familiar. Maybe because so much of it was such an echo to her own soul; void and forgotten, left to rot and wither away.

Essie escaped the eerie room to walk the path of the hallway. She avoided stepping on the most warped boards and near the holes that riddled the floor, revealing slivers of light to the first floor. Below and among the other rooms of the imposing house, she could still make out the muffled conversation of her allies sorting through the building.

Breathing heavily; coughing as she inhaled the choking stale aroma of the air and dust, she covered her mouth.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

What was wrong with her?

What isn’t wrong with me, she thought with bitter scolding to the small, longing voice in the back of her head.

Pacing down the adjacent corridor, her mouth parted in surprise. A ladder that entered to the attic, partially pulled down and leaving a gaping maw open to the loft. She inched closer suspiciously, half expecting something to jump down upon her.

Nothing did.

Squinting suspiciously, Essätha examined the old wood. None of the dirt upon it looked like it had moved recently; still caked on it layers. Strange though. She wondered if the steps had unlatched itself with time. Perhaps the catch had gone bad? Certainly the estate itself was spooky and ominous, but it was unlikely people would depart leaving this open?

She took the rung, and pulled it down the remainder of the way. More dust fell upon her, leaving her staggering and coughing as she stepped away.

Definitely unused.

With no paw-prints and no scat immediately in sight, she tentatively tested a boot against the bottom step. It was firm, and steady. Curious, she tested the next, and the next; gradually climbing up to poke her head up at the top.

Nothing spectacular. As with most home owners, it appeared this room had been used as storage space.

Still, she wondered if they’d left anything useful behind. Maybe a magical heirloom, or some books that might come in handy for study…

Clawing her way the remainder of the way up, Essätha swung her legs over and crawled on her hands and feet cautiously across the baseboards. They softly groaned, but didn’t appear overly worn. She got on her feet, and brushed as much of the dust off her slacks as she could. So far so good, she hadn’t fallen through at least.

Various boxes, old lamps, neatly organized files, and portraits greeted her. She cared little for these, as they eyes appeared to follow her judgmentally as she moved slowly around the room.

I know I’m a hideous creature, you need not point it out, she thought sourly, glaring at one extraordinary well detailed painting of a man who appeared to be sternly glowering towards her. He appeared quite youthful in the painting; not entirely attractive or unattractive, but plain. Many of the drawings were actually uneventful; images blurring together. Some had more defined noses, or a broader forehead; some older and some younger, but they weren’t spectacular. It was difficult to tell if they were related or not.

Traversing the room, she paused curiously at a desk behind a row of boxes. It had parchments lined upon it, and a dried out ink bottle. The spot appeared to be a little nook for privacy, hidden out of sight. It offered a slanted view of the only window up here; small, but one that could offer decent light in the day to avoid keeping a lantern on. She wondered what they’d been writing…

Stepping closer, Essie’s sharply darted her eyes over the faded, yellowed paper. Stained with time, the pigment of the ink barely legible and handwriting atrocious and difficult to read. Her feet dragged her closer, trying to inspect the delicate pages without daring touch them, and ruin whatever may be written on them.

‘Talon of the Raven Lord, You are hereby charged, by the order of His Glory…’

She exhaled sharply, stepping away from the table. Her rear bumped into one of the boxes on the floor. It fell over, spilling out paperwork and scattering it upon the floor.

Essie’s eyes moved to the bumbling mishap, and all the letters.

‘Talon of the Raven Lord-’

‘Talon of the Raven Lord-’

‘Talon of the Raven Lord-’

“Oh Gods,” she wheezed, taking a side-step away from the tainted parchments. Nervously licking her lips, her gaze shifted hastily from the mess, towards the desk.

With horror, she realized that the ink upon the paper began to steadily darken. As if written new, the paper, too, began to change; taking on a soft manila over the fragile yellow-age. A droplet of red began to bleed out from the corner. Nausea swam in her stomach, staring at the frayed edges reform and for more of the off-colors to grow bolder splotches of crimson.

From above, a drip splashed against her nose. Essätha reached up, stepping away from the study as her fingers swiped at the liquid upon the bridge of her face.

Her digits came away stained crimson.

Against all better judgment, her eyes moved towards the ceiling.

With empty eyesockets and rotted flesh hanging off of bones; and what remained of its clothes, a corpse offered her a twisted, welcoming grin from above.

A terrified scream tore through her throat, making it feel raw. She fumbled backwards, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from the dreadful sight. The figure moved; its head cracking to the side like an intrigued bird. Fragments of bone from the neck vertebrate rained down, and the undead thing began to climb with gangly arms, like a spider, from rafter to rafter and down the side of the wall with the grace of a spider.

“Where are you going, Essätha?” the skeleton cooed in a masculine voice, its teeth clicking together as it laughed. Old blood flaked off its matted hair, and what remained of its scalp. Fresh blood oozed from beneath its ribcage, and left splotches and smeared imprints of its hands where it gripped.

As it spoke, a chill ran over Essätha. She found it possible to tear her eyes away; finally, and back towards the scuttle. She lunged for it; knees hitting the floor.

It rolled upward, slamming shut before her very eyes.

Someone distantly cried out her name in alarm.

“Look at you,” the creature scoffed, reaching out with bony fingers. “You are just a girl. Only a frightened child.”

“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, whirling away. She scooted back on her rear, using her hands to scrambling out of its reach. As it coaxed towards her; curling its fingers, she raised a hand to wave a shaky gesture; muttering the ancient draconic words of a spell.

A skeletal hand appeared; pale transparent and ghostly with a blue aura. It reached out; gripping the abomination crawling towards her by the face.

It loomed at her. The sickening appearance of a grin with what remained of the flesh on its cheek stretching up into a smile. More grimacing in appearance, but delighted.

“Oh Essätha, you can not get rid of me so easily.”

“H-How do you know my name?”

The skeleton laughed; husky and raspy. Its entire body shuddered violently, and maggots and flies came rushing out of its abdomen. Appalled, Essie drew herself further away.

“I know all of your names,” it sang. “Abernathy Harding, Adela of Rivesee, Amon Thomad Illiad, Penimra Korvis, Pri’cha Sunspot, Ravamora Carnivale, Sulhadur of Vuulthidel… And you, dear Essätha Meduza.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she held out out her hand as though it would keep the corpse away like a bared shield. Her other jerked and shoved at the attic’s door, but it wouldn’t budge. It didn’t so much as creak under her weight as she bore all of herself upon it. Anything was better then this unholy sight; even falling face-first into the floor below.

“What is one little Yuan-Ti doing so far from home?” the figure chortled, inching closer. “I forget myself; this one does not have a place to call their home.”

Her breath hitched, and a ghastly wash of sweat peppered her temples as she leaned away. Her face was drained of color, and her eyes round and wide enough to show her whites and the thin slit of her pupil.

“S-Stop.”

“You are a broken thing, aren’t you? A lost, broken, unsightly thing.”

“Leave me alone you don’t know me!”

“I know you better then you know yourself,” the monstrosity argued sweetly. The tones of is voice changed; altering until it sounded like a chorus of people were talking at once.

Gasping through a spring of tears, Essie was left to forfeit the door. She scurried backwards as the creature crept forward, allowing it to take a place on all fours, standing guard above the only exit she had. Below, the continued bellowing of voices, and a sharp thudding against the floor, reminded her that someone had to be looking for it. But it was muted; growing quieter. It existed less and less, and she could feel the hope dashed and draining from her chest until she was saturated in loneliness and terror.

Trapped and desperate, her eyes scanned the area for any sign of help. Her gaze paused on the lone window; much too high and too small for her to fit through, but her common sense had left her. Instead, forcing herself on shaky legs, she reached up for it. It lay out of reach of her fingertips.

“Where do you intend to go, little snake?” the Multi-Voices echoed, drawing on each syllable. When she did not answer; clawing at the wood with her nails, it spoke in Many-Voices of amusement, “What catastrophe’s you have wrought, dear Essätha. Do you think the next hiding place you claim will be any safer?”

“Please,” she whined, her heart hammering against her chest. Just a few more inches, that’s all she needed…

As she lunged and scratched the walls, a haze of black descended from the ceiling. She cringed, sliding down to her knees as the force of dark magic swirled like a storm’s black cloud above her head.

Another series of laughter; too many to count.

“You want to run, don’t you?” the Voices taunted. “You are a coward; only looking out for themself. You are going to fail them. People don’t fail you, do they, Essätha? You fail them. It’s what you do. It’s what you’re best at.”

Hiccuping, she sagged lower on the floorboards. All of her hope, her energy, her faith, her will; it was all gone. She had nothing. She felt weak, and tired, and empty. Helpless as a newborn babe, curling up into a ball against the wall. Her tears welled up to the surface, spilling over onto her cheeks silently as her breath hitched uncomfortably in unending silent sobs.

“You wonder why they do not trust you; why they do not want you. What is there to devote, from something so undependable? You are never there. They call you flighty, and skittish behind you back. If you are not ugly on the outside, perhaps it is the nature of what is inside that wards away everything you touch.”

“Stop it,” she whispered hoarsely, rocking herself. Tears spilled over the dams, rushing out, falling upon her clothes and the floor.

“No one is coming for you. No one wants you. No one is going to protect you; a stupid girl, a fragile child. What do you have to offer them? What importance does Essätha Meduza of nothing have?”

“STOP IT!”

Her cry unanswered, the being rattled closer. “They pity a poor Yuan-Ti; an animal tangled in their grievances. Better to be rid of it, but you are an obligation now, aren’t you? You do not really believe they could like you?”

She turned her head away, rancid breath close enough now to begin billowing over her as the creature whispered, “You do not really believe Lord Amon Thomas Illiad could possibly love a monster like you?”

Twisting her face away, Essätha shuddered violently. Her stomach churned, wanting to toss her last meal. The odor from the undead beast was becoming worse by the second; burning her teary-eyes and nose, making her skin crawl; as if any of the insects occasionally tumbling out of it were not already possibly skittering upon her clothes.

“Look at me.”

Ignoring the demand, she kept her face turned away; eyes squeezed shut.

The skeleton clattered closer still. It hissed out in a clear, singular voice this time; a foreign tongue she did not know nor understand, and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to spin her face towards it.

Either by fright, or some unknown force, her eyes opened wide and frightened. She stared up into the unsightly view of the corpse’s face.

“Such a disappointment,” the Many sighed with sorrow, stroking her face with the back of its other hand. “Such potential, wasted.”

Essätha whimpered, trying to ball herself even more. She could not close her eyes. She could not close them, what was wrong with her? Why could she not look away? This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t possibly be real.

Within the black of its sockets, twin flickers appeared. She squinted, but could not turn away. It was quiet. There was no banging, no screaming, no hollering of her name. No one was coming.

No one was coming for her.

The pin-pricks of crimson suddenly flared up, revealing licks of flame. They began to burn a searing blaze, but emitted no light or no warmth.

Many roaring echoes of laughter; all different but sinister and gnarled as the twisted bony fingers touching her, began to fill the room, her head, the space. They were everywhere.

Essätha let out one, final scream.

[possiblypeachy]

tea & schemes. (4)

―; summary: Jacob visits Florence for the first time. Florence is left with far too many emotions.

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 4.9k (its a big boy, babey)

―; warnings: light swearing. anxiety-esque feelings towards the end (Florence gets overwhelmed ): )

―; A/N: i love Florence muchly at this point and, trust me, i already want to write cute little fluffy smoochy things but there’s a bit of time before that still. society has a lot to say about how a woman should be at this time and it really has begun to wear on Florrie, as demonstrated at the end of this chapter.

don’t worry though!!! she’s just babie and will work past it soon. the heart wants what the heart wants, after all.

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

― ❊ ―

Freddy and Florence had spent the next few days having tense conversations between their self-isolation to their own bedrooms. There was a sense of regret that hung in the air but neither siblings seemed to want to speak of it. Florence, nerves too high to even stay in the same room as him for a while and worried that he would further draw attention to her mortal flaws, kept herself to reading. Freddy busied himself with paperwork and patrols until the late evening. That is until Lissie, fed up with their pride, sat them both down and commanded that they talk to one another, lest the cook quit and leave them to fend for themselves.

Oh, if she had a shilling for every time she’d had to do this since working for the Abberline’s, she’d have enough money to finally buy that necklace she’d always ogled on the way to the market. It was the way of siblings, she supposed: they always had to prove they were superior to the other in one way or another.

They had reconciled after a few moments of silence then them both leaning forward and mumbling an “I’m sorry” at the same time. Frederick admitted that perhaps his leash on her was too tight. Florence said that she understood that he was just trying to protect her. Her brother sighed tiredly, thankful that this was all over, and joked that at least she didn’t have to write about their bickering now in her letter to their parents. When she laughed, everyone could feel a weight lift off of the household.

All was well with the Abberline’s once again.

That afternoon, after Freddy had left for work with a smile on his face for the first time in days, Florence had retired to her room, finally content enough with life that she could write a sufficient letter to her parents. Edward and Hannah Abberline were kind parents and especially lenient with their children, much to the dismay of other mothers and fathers of their rank. Their only condition for Florence to move into Freddie’s house in London was that she wrote regularly and that she at least try to find a nice man to marry. She was more than happy to uphold those terms.

The brunette was lucky that, when three knocks came to her bedroom window, her dip pen was away from the paper; with the way that she jolted in her seat, it surely would’ve ruined the page she had been writing on. A string of meowing began from her bed, her cat obviously peeved at the disruption to his sleep. When her gaze finally dragged to the window, half-expecting to see an insistent bird, she met eyes with Jacob, who’s grin told her that he found her surprise amusing.

Florence stood and slid the window up, letting Jacob haul himself inside. “The window is usually open; you didn’t have to knock.”

He dusted himself off, readjusting his coat. Before he could speak, the tabby cat to his left honked at him. Shocked, Jacob looked about before meeting the stare of perhaps the most tired-looking (and sounding) feline he’d ever seen. The cat yelled at him again and he gave Florence a look.

Florence scooped the cat up into her arms, much to its displeasure. “Don’t worry about Duncan. He likes to tell people off for disturbing him.”

Jacob chuckled. “He’s called Duncan?” He reached a hand out and Duncan sniffed it cautiously.

“An urchin gave him to me a year or so ago. The poor child said that she wanted him to live a nice life with a nice lady. She said his name was Duncan.” Florence looked fondly down at the cat, who seemed to have now forgiven Jacob and was gently purring. When Jacob drew away, Duncan meowed and clawed his way up to balance on his owner’s shoulder, sniffing the air. Florence looked inconvenienced but decided to allow it, continuing to speak with Jacob. “What brings you here?”

“Adventure, dear Flor.” He had begun to peruse through her belongings, eyes scanning the letter she had been writing and the cat figurine on her desk. “You, me, the great city of London: are you up for it?”

Florence tutted, leaning to let Duncan hop down onto the bed from her shoulder, and shuffled Jacob away from her desk. “That’s not particularly specific. You could be planning on taking me somewhere nefarious like a…” She paused to think, during which Jacob was practically challenging her to say something terrible, “... brothel in Whitechapel.”

Jacob grimaced but huffed out a laugh. “Nothing of the sort. I don’t even know what that is, Miss Abberline.”

Florence nodded mockingly. “Of course, Jacob.”

“Anyway, before I let you poison my mind with thoughts of brothels,” He gave her a pointed look, reaching down to scratch behind Duncan’s ear, and Florence grinned, “I thought that I could introduce you to a slice of my world.”

Florence cooed, clapping her hands together, though her movements dripped of sarcasm. “Ooh! Are we going to derail a train together?”

His smile said ‘you cheeky mare’ but he continued before she had the chance to berate him further. “No, I was going to take you to a newly liberated stronghold. Evie and I run a gang, you know? Well, it’s more me than Evie but--”

“Where?”

Jacob thought for a moment, like he’d forgotten its location entirely, before breaking out into a terrible smile. “Whitechapel.”

Florence sighed but couldn’t hide the glint of excitement burning in her eyes. Gangs? A stronghold? Goodness, it sounded like a piece from a gritty book or perhaps a play. How delightful!

“I’ll come along but if I get pickpocketed you’re getting my money back, Jacob.”

“Certainly, dear lady.” He made a sweeping gesture to her bedroom door. “Shall we?”

--

Florence hadn’t been expecting to venture into Whitechapel again for a good few months. Catching her brother and meeting the twins there a few days prior had been enough for her. Now, she never looked down upon the poorer; before her father had opened that little shop of his and gained a seat on the town’s council, their family of seven all squished into two rooms and lived off of scrimping. Rather, she felt terribly bad for wandering around perhaps the most impoverished area of London in full health with a warm meal being cooked for her at home. Of course, she didn’t feel sorry for the thugs on the streets that ruffed up those who already had nothing and simply saw them as even more of a reason to visit as little as possible.

When Jacob began to lead her down a dingy alleyway, he seemed unfazed by the drunk man passed out on the floor and… was that his vomit beside him? Florence unconsciously began to walk closer to Jacob, a hand coming up to adjust her hat-- almost hoping that, if she moved it in a certain way, the shadow cast over her fast would hide it. “Are you certain we’re going the right way? Or, are you just leading me down here to test my resolve?”

He chuckled, giving a brief nod to a tall, bald man in a green jacket. “Why can’t it be both?” He stopped walking to let her go in front of him, gesturing for her to do exactly that with a sweep of his hand.

Florence hummed, dissatisfied, but walked ahead of him anyway. She could feel that he was close behind, almost like he was making it painfully obvious that the well-dressed, middle-class lady was with him and not available to be robbed today. It brought her a small degree of comfort, though she couldn’t help but think of her brother’s disapproving glare.

“Oh.” He muttered from behind her. She would’ve turned to look but she decided against it, not wanting to risk accidentally bumping into anyone strung about the narrow pathway. “I almost forgot. Here.” Jacob’s arm appeared at her side, palm upturned and holding the bird figurine from the market. Much to his delight, Florence made what sounded like a pleased little coo and took the sculpture from him, inspecting it with a collector’s eyes. “I went back to the market the other day and bought it; I thought you deserved a gift after the work you did.”

It was a sweet gesture and Florence couldn’t deny the happiness felt in her chest or the smile that immediately cracked her anxious demeanour. “That’s… quite kind of you, Jacob.” She ran a thumb over the intricately carved feathers then, in an effort to keep her newfound treasure safe, she pulled it closer to her body without much thought.

Jacob, however, grinned at this, seeing the amusing resemblance between her and a creature that hoards-- like a magpie or a squirrel. “You collect them, don’t you?”

Florence huffed out a laugh, allowing herself a brief glance over her shoulder to meet his eyes. “Yes, I do. They’re always beautifully crafted and they make a lovely addition to a mantlepiece or desk.” She paused for a moment, pondering. Then, she sighed. “I also collect coins, though they are a lot harder to come by and… I have a book in my desk drawer filled with stamps.”

“Stamps?” He repeated, intrigued. Florence could hear amusement in his tone.

“Stamps.” She confirmed. Wanting anything but having to assess whether or not Jacob thought less of her for this, her sight stayed firmly on the path ahead.

With a simple “I’ll keep an eye out, then” Florence felt altogether better about the situation. It wasn’t often that people simply left her be with her ridiculous collecting habits. She simply enjoyed the… satisfaction that came with the task; she was not a madwoman.

Jacob was becoming more likeable by the minute.

More and more people clad in green began to appear, all regarding Jacob with considerable amounts of respect and admiration. A few made comments about her, telling him that this was “no place to bring a bird like that”, to which, from the corner of her eyes, she could see him throw up two fingers at them. A half-smile tugged at her lips, though she made no audible observations.

They finally got to a small square behind four buildings. A few urchins ran about the place but most were men and women, dressed in green and chatting with one another or having what seemed to be playful brawls. A curious gaze dragged across the surroundings, slowly piecing the puzzle together. Flags of the same shade of green flew and, if she looked closely enough, she noticed that a symbol had been painted onto them: a bird holding a chess piece.

A rook holding a knight.

“You and Miss Frye are the ones that rallied the Clinkers?” She spun around to look at him, face etched with awe. Florence gestured wildly to their surroundings. “I expected a little gathering of rogues and crooks not… this. From what I’ve heard, your new Rooks have been taking down Blighter territory left and right.” Jacob’s eyes were wide but he said nothing, unsure if she was excited to be here or more frightened. A few seconds passed, then Florence broke out into a grin, pointing a finger at him. “I’m impressed.”

The tightness in his shoulders left and he visibly relaxed, mirroring her expression. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. Not compared to what I usually do.”

A nearby gang member-- a rook-- booed at him, though it was through a laugh. The man to her side shook his head, breathing out a chuckle through his nose. It was nice to see that there was such a strong sense of camaraderie between them all, despite them being up against huge and (until now) unbeaten opposition. Florence supposed that being united under two people so outwardly courageous and rallying for change that it would make any group be reinstilled with a sense of hope.

She tutted at him, chiding him for trying to take all the glory, but the smile that twisted at her lips told that she didn’t take him too seriously. “Don’t be a prick, Jacob; I didn’t venture here for you to take all the fame from your men.” He feigned offence, holding a hand to his chest. Clearly having just arrived at a stop on her train of thought, Florence tilted her head slightly, “Speaking of which, why did you bring me here? If you hope to enlist me, I’m afraid my days are all taken up with reading and looking for a husband-- you know, the usual.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile and a sarcastic dip of her head.

Jacob kissed his teeth. “A shame, really. Could’ve used a woman with your skill in…” he searched for something to fill the gap. Florence stared at him, a challenging light dancing in her eyes, “... making men feel small.”

She threw her head back, a glimpse of her signature, ridiculous laugh gracing the world. One of her fingers pointed at him and she nodded, “Not bad, Frye. Not bad. But,” Her giggling quietened down and she threw her arms up, as if to gesture to the square and its people, “besides making me feel all-powerful, why exactly have you decided to bring me here?”

“Well,” he began, moving toward a small alcove. There were a few sacks held up on sticks, littered with holes and slices. A crate beside them had a few practice weapons, though she was almost certain that, if she were to be hit over the head with that��� wooden stick it would hurt. A lot. “I thought that, what with the mishap--” His eyes flickered to the fading bruise on her cheek, now a sickly yellow colour, and she grimaced, “-- the last time we were together, I might introduce you to extra forms of protection.” Jacob pulled a throwing knife so swiftly from his person that Florence had no idea where it actually came from. He turned it in his hand, fingers carefully holding the bladed end while the grip pointed toward her. “Protection besides a good kick to the bollocks, that is.”

Florence huffed out a laugh and took the knife from him, weighing it cautiously in her hand. “Freddy would go insane if he saw me holding this.”

“Through fear or anger?”

“I’d take a stab at both.” There was a twinkle in her eyes, begging him to pick up on her pun.

He had indeed and gave a “ha, ha, ha” in response, to which Florence shot him an over-exaggerated frown.

Jacob moved to stand beside her, his position forcing her to turn and face the mounted sacks. He pulled another knife out and her gaze flickered towards it. Florence seemed appropriately wary of the weapon and, without knowing, had begun to lean away from Jacob while he held it. His lips curled into a discreet smile upon noticing this but he said nothing; it’s better that she feels in control and comfortable when trying things like this.

“The key to throwing one of this is the power in the wrist.” He rotated the knife around, letting the bladed end almost rest near his wrist. His thumb and first two fingers were at the grip, supporting it, though she could see how loose the hold was-- presumably to make it easier to throw the knife. Jacob looked to her and gestured with his head for her to copy his position. Florence pursed her lips, unsure if she was willing to risk accidentally cutting herself and facing her brother’s wrath, but, after a few moments of quiet deliberation, she did it anyway; she didn’t come all this way just to waste her and Jacob’s time.

He gave her a smile so reassuring and kind that something skipped or bloomed or… something in Florence’s chest and she had to look away.

No. We won’t be having any of that, Florence Abberline.

“Then, once you’ve got a good hold on it, you use the flick of your wrist to--” Jacob threw the knife and, to her amazement, it landed in the centre of the sack, “-- throw it. It can be difficult to get the power right but, once you’re as good as me, you won’t have to think much.”

Florence gave him a harsh side glance. “You continue to gloat even when I’m holding a knife? You’re a foolish, foolish man, Jacob Frye.”

He gave her a sly grin. “It appears you just make me lose all sense, dear Flor.”

Their eyes stayed locked for just a second too long and, in an attempt to distract them both, she threw the knife. Its trajectory was wobbly and the side hit the sack rather than the sharp end but, all in all, he had to admit that it wasn’t too bad; he’d seen some of the Rook initiates throw them worse than that.

Jacob’s lips curled into one of those ‘not bad’ frowns, brows darting skywards. Florence glowered at the fallen knife, never one to enjoy a loss. “Trying to make sense of one of these is ridiculous.” She sighed, pointing to the weapon in the dirt. “Can I not just use one of those as a… normal weapon?”

“It is a normal weapon.”

“Shut up-- you know what I mean.”

As he went to collect the knife, he gave a chuckle. “I suppose you can but only as a last resort; it’s not made for close-range combat.”

Florence huffed. “Well,” A light grew in her eyes, gaze flickering to Jacob. When he turned to face her again, he could tell that a thought was brewing; she had that same look when they first met, “if I were to ever fight someone further away from me, I would much prefer to use a gun.” She glanced down to his hips-- at the straps and holster that held his pistol.

Jacob shook his head, clicking his fingers to draw her attention. “My eyes are up here.”

She grinned, the dimple a deep crease in her cheek. There came a playful wink and a “What can I say? I like a man with who can handle his pistol well”. Innuendo dripped from her tone and he threw his head back to laugh.

“Are you only using me for my gun, dear Flor?” Despite his words, he still pulled the weapon from its holster, checking the cylinder to see how many bullets were inside. He removed all but one.

“If I am, you’re making it terribly easy.” A hand was on her hip when he handed the gun over to her, an impish smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “No resistance, Jacob? You seem like the type to treasure his weaponry.” Florence raised a brow, eyes raking over the pistol in her hand.

He shrugged as she held it up toward the sacks, moving to lean beside a nearby wall to stay clear of… whatever might happen when she shot it. “When a pretty lady offers to play with your gun,” Jacob scrunched his face up, pitch heightening, “you don’t tend to turn her down.”

Florence cackled, leaning over herself to allow her shoulders to shake for a few moments. “You’re terrible.”

“I do try.” He grinned. Then, one of his hands came out to gesture to the training area. “Right. Are you gonna shoot that or n-- pass it back to me.”

“What? Why--”

Jacob took a few urgent steps forward, leaning toward her with his palm open, “Pass it back--” She heard him quietly curse under his breath and stand up straight-- almost too abruptly. He was facing the opposite direction to her now and, as she turned to see who was there, he uttered a devastating: “Hello, Evie.”

Impending doom had appeared in the form of Evie Frye.

Florence could tell that Jacob was caught in between a rock and a hard place with how his brain appeared to have dripped out of both of his ears and he was stood beside her, completely absent. Evie looked between the both of them. Florence hoped that her hat obscured some measure of her face but she also knew that Evie wasn’t an idiot.

“Miss Abberline,” Fuck, “I didn’t expect to see you here of all places. Don’t tell me that my brother dragged you here.” Evie already knew what was happening and that made it triply worse when Florence decided that the best thing to do in the situation was to lie.

Pure desperation coursing through her veins, she grabbed the rook closest to her-- a skinny man in his mid-twenties-- and hooked her arm around his, shuffling herself so they looked like a couple. He didn’t look particularly convincing. “I was actually here to visit…” Florence looked into the bloke’s eyes, her lips drawn into a thin line and her expression panicked. He said nothing and she quietly kissed her teeth, “... Paul. He’s enchanting and I can barely keep myself away--”

“My name is Terrence.”

Beside her, Jacob’s hand flew up to his forehead and he turned away from the pair of them, breathing out a heavy sigh. Evie still stared at Florence, who had frozen in the face of her badly made lie falling apart.

In one last attempt to redeem herself, Florence slapped Paul’s-- Terrence’s-- arm in the same way a wife would when she has to laugh at her husband’s joke. “Don’t be so silly, my love.” She gave Evie a smile, to which the assassin returned but it seemed impatient and altogether unconvinced-- like she was simply trying to speed up her breaking point.

“Good old Paul likes to mess about to try to get Miss Abberline all flustered. He says that her blush is beautiful, isn’t that right Paul?” Jacob joined the fight again, though there was a dimness to his hazel eyes that told Florence that he already knew his sister had won.

Paul frowned. “I just said my name is Terrence. And, why is this woman holding onto my arm?” Florence and Jacob cursed in unison. A smile twisted at the gangly man’s lips, however, when he finally gave Florence a proper look over. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind having a go on a posh bird. You got any plans for tonight, love?”

Disgusted, Florence yanked herself away from him and crossed her arms below her chest. Jacob grimaced beside her and, with a flick of his hand, gestured for Terrence to leave. The man in question went into a sulk and began to kick dirt up as he disappeared around the corner.

“Are you finished?” Evie glanced between them. The pair said and did nothing, which Evie took as a ‘yes’. She pointed a finger to Jacob. “I need to speak with you about something important so you should--”

“Is it about the gang war, Miss Evie?” One of the rooks piped up from a few feet away, having just strolled into the middle of the chaos-filled alcove.

Jacob perked up at Florence’s side. “The what?”

Before Evie could ask the rook to be quiet, they had already started to speak again, “Kaylock has agreed to a fight over Whitechapel. Whoever wins owns the borough.”

He grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. “That sounds perfect.” Hazel eyes flickered between Florence and his sister. Both women seemed to anticipate his departure before it even began. “Sorry ladies but I have a borough to become king of.” He looked to the rook, who gestured loosely in the fight’s direction. Jacob nodded and was off on his way, musing “King Jacob: sounds good, doesn’t it?” as he passed the girls by, pinching the gun back from Florence.

Florence, finding the whole thing quite amusing, began to laugh quietly, while Evie at her left simply gave a sigh. Blue eyes dragged over to the smaller woman and she raised a brow, gesturing to the direction he left in. “One of the many reasons why anyone should just stay at home if Jacob invites them out.”

“I think his passion is inspiring.”

“Not when you’ve lived with it your whole life.” Evie gave her a solemn look.

Florence breathed out a chuckle, shaking her head. “You and Freddy would get along well.”

Evie, all things considered, didn’t regard Miss Abberline in a negative light; her apparent desire for adventure and little escapades through London didn’t work to destabilise something greater-- like the reckless decisions Jacob had the tendency to make. She only worried that having her brother form some kind of hopeless attachment to Florence would hinder any progress that he might make and keep him perpetually senseless.

A softer look gracing her features now, Evie gestured for Florence to walk with her. “I think, now that my brother has abandoned you, we should get you home, Miss Abberline. Will Sergeant Abberline be back by the time you arrive?”

Florence pondered then her answer came by way of an inconvenienced frown. “If he’s on his break, maybe. Knowing my luck, he will be.”

They finally reached the main street and Evie seemed to search for a carriage. Briefly, she turned to regard Florence, an eyebrow raised. “I heard that Sergeant Abberline didn’t seem particularly happy when you returned home last Tuesday. Has it passed?”

“This morning, actually.” Florence confirmed. “Lissie made us reconcile; she threatened to leave if not.”

“Your sister?” Evie asked, nodding her head toward a carriage parked on the other side of the road.

Florence followed after her, allowing a light laugh. “No. If anything, she’s more like an over-enthusiastic aunt. Lissie is our live-in cook. She tends to help me like a handmaid, though.”

For the first time, Florence heard Evie’s genuine laugh. Her grin formed in the same way that Jacob’s did but wasn’t given out as freely as he tended to. Reaching the carriage, she gave Florence a hand to help her up onto it before clambering into the driver’s seat herself. “Well, this Lissie sounds like a good woman.”

“Ah,” Florence smiled, huffing out a giggle, “only sometimes. I think she enjoyed when I moved in with Freddy; it gave her someone more lively to gossip with.”

Evie hummed, amused, then silence fell over them both for a small while, leaving Florence to gaze out at the changing boroughs of London and let her thoughts run loose. No matter what her mind tried to focus on-- the book she had been reading, the play her and Freddy were due to attend at the end of the week, the dress she so desperately wanted to buy-- all lines seemed to lead back to Jacob and the (albeit limited) actions they’d had throughout the past few days. It was ridiculous to have suddenly become fixated on this one man. He knew nothing about her and she knew just as little about him. Yet, the thought of him persisted.

Was it him? Or the adventure that came from him?

She began to chew on the inside of her lip, thumbs playing with one another in her lap.

Liking and love were not for Florence. She had tried love once and declared that that would be her last time. A life without that burden was liberating, she’d always told herself. It’s why she despises the idea of getting married and having someone always able to hold onto her reins. It was a useless endeavour and would not serve her in any way that she would like. It would suffocate and surround her. That’s what she’ll always tell herself.

She liked the adventure he caused.

“Miss Abberline?” Evie called over her shoulder and Florence straightened up again but her head was still spinning. The hum she gave would’ve been a voice break. “I think…” Evie gave a sigh, “I think it would be in everyone’s best interests if you don’t indulge my brother. He’s-- he needs to focus on our plans in London. We are working for the better of the people and being close to him-- us-- could put you in a delicate position.”

Of course.

"It's obvious that he enjoys the time spent with you and already counts you among one of his friends but I just..." Evie sucked a breath in through her teeth, leading the horses neatly around a corner, "He hasn't yet realised the gravity of our situation. He just needs to focus."

Of course. Of course. Of course.

It was really beginning to grate on Florence: the fact that everyone wanted her to leave something or another alone. Freddy wants her to stop her business in helping him. Her parents want her to stop messing around and find a husband. Now, Miss Frye wants her to stop interfering with herself and Jacob’s plans. It was only ever ‘stop’ and never a push-- an encouragement to ‘go’.

Frustration rioted in her blood. Her hands were shaking. They held each other tighter.

Maybe they were right. Perhaps it would be easier for everyone if she stopped doing and simply let herself be. Freddy only wanted her to be safe and sane. Evie was saying this to protect her and keep London’s best future on the cards. It wasn’t selfish of them to ask; it was selfish of her to disregard.

It was considerate, the part of her mind that wasn’t fire and brimstone thought-- soothed.

“That sounds fine, Miss Frye.”

It’s for the best, the growing calm of her thoughts said in an effort to pacify.

“You have a fair reason for asking.”

All will be well and fine, her mind-- now having ceased its chattering-- assured.

“I’ll let him down gently.”

[mysticsparklewings]

Fairy Enchanting‪

A bit later than I expected, but here we have the art that I used for the examples on my Commission Sheet! (Unoriginal title is unoriginal and also a pun based on "very enchanting") When I started thinking about putting together a commission sheet in the first place (which was something I wanted to do for the new year, as before I was just using a lengthy pricelist), I knew that I wanted to make a piece of art specifically for it and track my progress as I went, so that I would have an example for each stage in the process I take commissions for. And for the art, I more or less wanted to "go all out" since it's supposed to be an example, and I figure the example needs to be as close to top-notch as possible. Admittedly, I probably could've done even more than this, but me being me I procrastinated and ended up having less time to work on this that I initially expected, so... In deciding what the drawing would be, I also decided to return to my roots a little, and a do fairy as an homage to back when I used to do Winx art all the time. Likewise, as Enchantix to this day is my favorite transformation from the show, I drew heavy inspiration from it, and I'm sure that's so obvious that if you know the show I probably didn't have to point it out to you. Anyway. I actually didn't start completely from scratch with the sketch; I re-used this pose from a previous sketch I did that never saw a full-finished piece. I liked that other sketch okay, but it didn't feel like a "finish me" project. I did have to alter the feet because the original sketch was made with feet for ballet slippers (bigger heels, more rounded/curved toes, etc.) and much later on in the process I ended up angling the leg on the left more outward, as that felt more natural for the direction I was taking this new sketch in. In sketching all the bits that make this sketch otherwise unique from the old one, as I mentioned, I was taking heavy inspiration from Enchantix. One of my favorite parts of the transformation has always been the leg-wrap/barefoot sandals, for reasons I can't explain. So those were a must. I also really like how the Enchantix outfits tend to be short dresses that are more form-fitting at the top and more flowy and soft at the bottom. Here, I decided to bring the ribbony look on the leg wraps up into the bodice, and to frame the collar/shoulder area I used a sleeve & choker style similar to what I did for the dress for Ink Dance, which itself was based on a dress I actually own and love to pieces despite never getting a chance to wear it because of how fancy it is. The main difference for both of the drawing versions is that I skipped the lace overlay that connects the sleeves and choker, mostly because both pieces are traditional and drawing lace/mesh traditionally, especially when it's so teeny, is a nightmare I do not want to engage with. And the choker part fits nicely, as in Enchantix each fairy has a necklace (usually a choker) that holds their fairy dust bottle. I'm not sure if this fairy has one or not, but she very well could! Enchantix usually has long gloves, but I altered these to be shorter and fingerless (more like Magic Winx or Believix gloves) since this fairy is also based partially on myself, and I'd be more likely to wear that kind than the full-length formal gloves. And for the hair, as is maybe obvious, I was primarily inspired by Stella's for her Enchantix, since I've always loved that part of the transformation sequence for her's. Also, even though it doesn't look that way on my commission sheet, IRL I drew only one wing and left it separate, off to the side, to make positioning and flipping it easier. Once the sketch was done, I did try inking it traditionally/by hand once, and I just really wasn't happy with how it turned out. And I also realized I had drawn the skirt billowing/ruffling in completely the wrong direction anyway; It was moving to the left when it should've been moving to the right like the hair. So I had to take time out to fix that. As opposed to wasting more paper trying to ink traditionally after that fiasco, I instead went with what had been my gut instinct anyway; I scanned the sketch in and did the lines in Photoshop. Well, most of the lines. I was a dumb-dumb and when I did the lines for the wings, 1. it took forever because they're large curves everywhere and 2. I used a slightly bigger brush than for all the other lines, as I had mistakenly thought I was going to be re-sizing them significantly and the lines would be altered to for me when I did that. When I realized that wasn't the case, I did not want to have to redraw most of those curves again and risk not being able to get the right a second time. So I ended up booting a copy of the wings I'd already done into Paint Tool Sai and made use of the linework layers to redo the wings without having to draw the same line fifty times. Then I booted that back into Photoshop and adjusted the wings to be angled/aligned with the rest of the lines as I saw necessary. It was also at this point that I played around with positioning the leg on the left more outward than what it was on the sketch and ended up going with the position you see here. I could have then gone back and added weight to the lines in some places, but at this stage, I was already thinking that I wanted to print the lines out and use my digital lines to hopefully get cleaner traditional ones, as opposed to just printing the lines off outright. (Mostly because I wanted to use some super thick mixed media paper that I would bet serious money will not go through my printer.) That's what I ended up doing, and I have to say that attempt went a lot more smoothly than me trying to ink from the original sketch. And once I had the initial lines done, then I went back and thickened them in certain places. And I should probably mention here that the wings were a little tricky to figure out how to handle traditionally, as that's not something I've had to do very often. I ended up using my clear stardust gelly roll when I did the normal inking, and then, later on, I used colored pencils to go back over the outlines before coloring them in. After doing some tests, I started coloring with markers for the hair and skin, and a little colored pencil for some blush. I tried to get a little more bold with the shading than I usually do, which I'm sure still looks pretty tame compared to most. But I'd rather the shading be too light than too dark. Originally, I thought I was going to do all or mostly all of the coloring with alcohol markers. (Sidenote: is it just me or does it seem like there’s a lot of alcohol marker related stuff going on in the art world lately??) But then I did some testing with the lines I originally inked and didn’t like, and was reminded why I normally don’t use alcohol markers for gradients like the one on the skirt...frankly, I’m not very good at them...yet. Even though the test went better than expected, I still wasn’t happy with it. Then I tried a few more tests with watercolor, and that didn’t fare much better. Watercolor would’ve worked if the gradient wasn’t also supposed to be shaded, I think, but trying to shade it without using another supply wasn’t working. That left me with good ol' tried and true colored pencils. But colored pencils are relatively slow and textured, and I didn't really want that for the skin. The texture would've worked for the hair, but I didn't want to make the time investment for it either. And so I ended up sticking to my mixed media instincts and I used the colored pencil exclusively where I had to (on the dress so I could get the gradient for the skirt right) and then I used alcohol markers everywhere else, shading and all. With the alcohol marker doing most of the work, then I came back and added additional shading/highlights with the colored pencils as needed to everything except the skin. I added blush, but otherwise, I was quite pleased with how the skin turned out and didn't want to touch it for the risk of ruining it. The dress is supposed to be black/really dark gray, but I did brighten it up a bit with some of the blues from the skirt gradient as opposed to pulling out specific grays, so it definitely looks/feels more navy in the final product. Although my relatively dark/saturated color choices for her outfit made figuring out what to then do with the wings more challenging. I didn't want the wings to be the exact same colors as the rest of the drawing, because then they'd blend in too easily and be too distracting from the rest of the piece. But at the same time, I wanted them to match/look like they belong. (Again, similar to how the wings are in Enchantix) After some back-and-forth testing and a LOT of color sampling, I decided to color the wings in with alcohol markers in colors that were similar to her clothes but overall lighter/more pastel and outline them and the sections inside the wings again in colored pencil. Most of the colored pencil is slightly darker than the marker colors I picked, but I went with purple for the black/gray rims of the wings because I thought a dark gray or black would be too harsh. I'd already decided I wanted to do a slightly more complex background digitally, but even with that in mind, the traditional drawing still felt like it was missing one more thing after that. Namely, the wings didn't seem special enough. I realize that sounds a little weird; I was just talking about how I didn't want the wings to be too distracting, but I think there is a delicate balance to having them be special in the way fairy wings should be while still not overpowering everything else. And I'm not sure I achieved that, but I at least tried to. Though not a perfect solution, I ended up adding some metallic watercolor on top of the "true" (less purple-y) blue and pink sections on the wings.  You can't really tell here on the scan, and what little you can appears to be the wrong color, but in person, both colors now how a lovely pink or blue sheen to them when you move the picture in the light. (The metallic paints, in this case, are very opalescent, so they're almost completely transparent when you see the flat color despite still have a really pretty metallic sheen in the light.) After that, I felt there wasn't much more I could do traditionally, so I scanned it and moved on to that background. At this point, I was kinda pressed for time because me being me, I had unintentionally put making my commission sheet off to the last minute. I really wanted to have it finished before the ball dropped on New Years' Eve ("new year, new me" and all that jazz), and I still hadn't finished my example art by sunset time the day of. So I had to keep things moving. Early on, I'd had the idea to either digitally make a slightly more complex (but not too complex; I wanted to keep at least a little of the sanity I have left) background or perhaps make a special watercolor piece to use as the background. Unfortunately, I just didn't have the time for that anymore if I wanted to have the commission sheet finished by my self-imposed deadline. (And if we're splitting hairs, in theory, I could still go back and change the background if I wanted to, for reasons I'm about to go over, so of all the things to get rush-cut that's really not so bad.) What I ended up doing instead was taking some of the left side of my Starfall Mountains painting (I was looking for a background-type thing I'd already done/made that would suit this drawing or that I could quickly tailor to make it work, and I'm just as surprised as anyone else that this frustrating tiny painting ended up being the one I liked best of my options) and I blew it up to comfortable cover the background here, flipped it around so the colors would flow a bit better, and used the hue/saturation slider to make it more of teal color for a little more contrast. But of course, there was still just one more thing missing, even after all that. After a little tinkering, I decided I didn't like trying to making the wings transparent (I could do it, I just didn't like the way it looked in this case), so I went in and added a touch of sparkles digitally to both tie them more into the piece as a whole and to give them a little more pizzazz. And finally, blessedly after all of that, the artwork was finished, I was very happy with it, and I could move on to making the actual commission sheet.   I have to say, for as rushed as it was towards the end, I do really like how it turned out. More particularly I like just how blended both digital and traditional art ended up being here. To me, this is the next step beyond what I was able to do for mixing digital and traditional art with my Doodle Moon piece, and if I weren't currently in the middle of a tablet crisis, I'd really want to do more with this concept of going back and forth between the two on one artwork. However because of the tablet situation, the thought of really trying to do that right now kinda fills me with dread, so we're gonna have to wait a little while on that. I do also really like the anatomy/proportions in this. Which is not something I normally feel comfortable saying.   It's not the best art I've ever made or anything, but looking at it makes me happy. It's good to see it finished and it's good to think of where a lot of the ideas for it came from. (Re: Nostalgia for my life a few years ago) I'm not sure if I will since it kinda counts but also kinda doesn't(?), but I'm tempted to put this and some of my old Enchantix drawings up on the "Draw This Again" template, just to show how far I've come. I'm still thinking about it, we'll see. Speaking of "we'll see," I got word that the sketchbooks from the contest I made Designiest Design for back in October are finally in, which means the prize packs should be sent out anytime now! I'm excited to see how the sketchbooks turned out and get my hands on the Powder Pack and see how said powders work! I was admittedly starting to wonder how that was coming along, so that was some good news and a nice surprise I'd really been needing here lately. Rest assured, there will almost definitely be an art piece talking about that stuff once I have it in my hands! 

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