#How could anybody bear such awful knowledge?

[patchwork-crow-writes]

78 - Against Time's Tides

Time rolls in like the breaking of a wave over a sandy shore, inexorable and unstoppable, rendering the day's labours to nothing more than memory. And in this way, our days together shall soon come to an unceremonious end.

It seems such a cruel twist of Fate, that the very prophecy which allowed us to meet should so quickly part us. I've always known that it has to be this way, but it's one thing to know something intellectually, and quite another to feel the fabric of your heart fraying at the thought of it...

...wouldn't it be better if we...?

...no, I cannot think that - I mustn't. I have to be strong for us, I have to keep smiling for us, because if you found out... if you knew what I know, you'd... you'd definitely try and stop it. And oh, how bittersweet my heart sings to think of such defiance for our sake...!

But neither time nor destiny can be fought or negotiated with. You could no sooner prevent this than stop the sun from rising in the morning. You would be utterly crushed if you were to even attempt it, and I cannot allow any harm to come to either of you.

So don't ask those questions anymore, my dearest ones; let us while away the few hours we have left as friends ought, with laughter and idle chatter, adventures of no consequence and happy memories that will endure across time and space...

...and I'll try not to count the seconds until you have to go.

______________________________

The Dark Menagerie No. 78

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[svtton-o]

meet sutton!

Welcome to Aurora Bay, [SUTTON OCAMPO]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [HAILEE STEINFELD]. You must be the [TWENTY-FOUR] year old [LOUNGE SINGER]. Word is you’re [INTELLIGENT] but can also be a bit [BRATTY] and your favorite song is [I DID SOMETHING BAD BY TAYLOR SWIFT]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [AURORA BAY DRIVE]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

Full name: Sutton Elizabeth Marie Ocampo

Age/DOB: 24 / July 28th, 1998

Hometown: Gainesville, FL

Gender/pronouns: Cisfemale, she/her

Positive traits: intelligent, bubbly, creative

Negative traits: bratty, spoiled, closed off

Hobbies/interests: writing/playing/performing music, reality TV, social media

Family: Gabriel Ocampo (father, alive), Sarah Goldmann (mother, estranged)

sexual assault tw, abandonment tw, neglect tw, abuse of power tw

Sutton Ocampo was not supposed to exist. She was the product of an affair between Gabriel Ocampo, the CEO of a large marketing firm, and Sarah Goldmann, a young receptionist at one of their locations. When she fell pregnant and told Gabriel, he made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with the baby, or furthermore, with her. He paid her a large sum of money to leave before the baby was born and never contact him again. And young Sarah, afraid and desperate for money, agreed. She moved back in with her parents in Gainesville where little Sutton was born.

The first two years of her life went by unspectacularly. Sutton and her mother lived with her parents in a very small home, but of course, tiny little Sutton didn't know the difference. She was loved and happy for a baby. However, things weren't as pleasant as they seemed for Sarah. She loved her daughter, she did, but this wasn't the life she wanted for herself. She was so young - only twenty when she gave birth - and wanted to be out living her life. So without saying a word to anybody, Sarah packed up her two-year-old child, left her parents' home, and made the trip to Aurora Bay to Gabriel Ocampo's house.

Sutton was dropped off at the hospital with a small bag of belongings and a note explaining who her father was. By the time the DNA testing came back positive, word in Gabriel's social circle had already gotten out that he had a child that had been dumped on him by a now estranged mother. And with no knowledge of where Sarah had vanished to, Gabriel couldn't bear that embarrassment of everyone knowing he pawned his daughter off on anyone else. So the life that Sutton would continue to know as her own began.

Things were very, very different. She was raised by nannies and house staff, with her only contact with her father being minimal and unpersonal. Though on paper, she was never left wanting. The newest toys, nicest clothes, coolest gadgets were all hers, before she could even think to ask for them. The quaint manner in which her life had begun changed drastically. Sutton was spoiled rotten by her father's lifestyle and it started to show at a very, very young age.

(rape tw) Like most teenagers, Sutton felt she was grown by the time she was fifteen years old. She felt she was mature and could handle herself. And, devastatingly, she felt she could handle the attention of adult males. One of her father's employees, a man over ten years her senior at the time, took advantage of her "maturity" and started giving her a little too much attention. He would take any excuse to come see her, even if it meant she had to sneak out to do so. But Sutton didn't realize how evil his intentions truly were until it was too late. She wound up hurt, horrified, and disgusted by herself. And any initial attempts to tell her father fell on purposefully deaf ears. So Sutton swore to die with her secret in shame.

In fear of anyone finding out and blaming her like she did herself, Sutton bounced back to her usual snotty, snappy attitude... except maybe a bit more intense. It became a defense mechanism, to keep people from getting too close again, and it was all she knew. But she was fine with it; in the wealthy social circle she came up in, it was sort of expected for her to behave the way she did. No one raised a brow at her, which was exactly what she wanted.

As she got older, Sutton's behavior only increased. She tested well in school, but her grades didn't reflect that fully, as she neglected her homework in favor of going out with her friends. And when she graduated, that only continued. She chose not to go to college, angering her father tremendously. And when she came to him to tell him she wanted to turn her love of music into an actual career? The entire street of beachfront villas they lived on probably could've heard his screams. He told her, in no uncertain terms, he would not pay a cent to her "silly pipe dream" and that she'd have to figure that out by herself.

So she does. She landed a job as a lounge singer at the Golden Hour Longue and spends her free time writing songs. It's her only real escape - besides binge watching 90 Day Fiancée, of course. You can catch her there a lot in the evenings, if she isn't maintaining their house on Aurora Bay Drive while her father is away pretty constantly.

By and large, Sutton is a spoiled brat with a very private, tragic past that even the Lord Jesus himself couldn't get out of her. She's always down for a good night out, or a good night in with a few drinks and her guitar.

A few wanted plots I have would be

Close friends! She doesn't have many, but maybe a few people that have lived in the area for a long time that she'd have been friends with for a long time?

Ex flings of any gender! Relationships aren't her thing but hook-ups? Friends with benefits? One night stands? Keep 'em coming.

Maybe one or two actual exes? Sutton's cold lil heart is capable of being thawed if a brave soul would try hard enough. Definitely didn't last, but there was something there.

Enemies is a strong word, but.... like come on, I'm sure there's a lot of people that don't like her lmao

If you're playing a wealthier character, I would looove for her to have some friends/connections from that side of her life! Country club people, fundraising people, anything!

And lastly, maybe some babysitters she had in the past? Any little semblance of actual affection and stability from her childhood, pls

Aaaaand last but not least, hi, I'm Kirby! I'm 24, CST, I use she/her pronouns, and I've been roleplaying for way too long. It's been a minute since I've done it on tumblr though so forgive me if I'm a silly little dude sometimes! I'm getting re-used to everything.

[catt-nuevenor]

Hello 😍 , ros reaction to very sick and in pain mc?( you say there's angst so I want a sample if you don't mind of course 😘).

Okay, this is going to be a heavy one, though I shall try to avoid lingering on the symptoms. I'm sure most of you are here for the angst and fluff, not a crash course in Historical Epidemics.

But do take this as your warning, if you have dealt with severe illness recently, experiencing it as patient, or carer, or bystander, please do consider carefully reading through the react. I want everyone to enjoy their time on this blog, not to unnecessarily relive traumas.

I've selected Sweating Sickness as the malady in question. Mostly due to it's prevalence in rural communities, its rapid onset and culmination (you live or you succumb after typically one day of the onset of symptoms), its questioned transmissibility between humans (some modern theories think it was an exterior infection that could not be passed on through contact alone), and it's lack of grotesque symptoms.

So, context: The MC has come down with Sweating Sickness, the RO has been tasked with attending them through the night by Erda. By this stage the RO and MC are a exclusive couple. The Child is being kept away for their own safety.

I HIGHLY recommend you head over to the reacts page to read this. There you can enter your own names and pronouns for the characters.

Reacts Page

P

MC felt so small in their arms. Quivering like the last leaf on the bough, their hands clutched desperately over P's.

"I'm right here." They soothed, holding their bodies together, rocking them both steadily back and forth. "I'm not going anywhere."

 MC whimpered. "Please... please..."

 Burying the agonised expression of their face in the burning skin of MC's shoulder, P tried as best they could to suppress the sob that threatened them.

 "I'm here." They repeated, their voice wavering as a convulsion made the soul in their arms jerk and writhe.

 They called for them. Their voice so fragile, yet so desperate for comfort it tore into P's soul.

 "I'm here. MC, my darling, I'm right here."

 But their darling couldn't hear them. No matter how often they said it, no matter how they might plead, might beg to be heard through the terrible delirium that brutalised them, MC never seemed to hear a word.

 When they started to weep, P could not stem the tide of their own tears.

 It would be over by the morning. In either the best of ways, or the ways in which P could not bear to think of, this horror would be over by sunrise. Erda had wanted to stay with them, but with another four cases of the same terrible malady spread throughout the town, she was forced to leave them in P's care.

The bitterness of the word made them want to vomit.

 Care.

 What care could they provide in the face of this? Nothing they did seemed in any way to help, nothing alleviated their suffering. Their own helplessness disgusted them.

 "Be with them." The old woman had said. "So long as you are there, they won't have to face the worst of it alone."

 P clutched their quaking frame as close to their own body as they could. Even if MC could hear them, perhaps they could still feel that they were there.

 "You're not alone." They whispered, kissing the sweat slicked skin with pale lips that shook. "I'm here darling, and I'll stay here... until the end."

  L

 L was the wrong person for this.

 They just were.

 No ifs, no buts.

 Anybody, ANYBODY, would have been better than them.

 "Be with them." The old woman had said. "So long as you are there, they won't have to face the worst of it alone."

 Sure, L groaned silently, pressing their tear stained cheeks into their hands. Easy for the top Cunningwoman in the county to say.

 It had been awful.

 The screams still rang in their ears. MC's screams. Those terrible, torn wails that ripped their sound from them. And what had L done? They hid.

 L hid behind fractured smiles and broken promises that it would all be over soon. Just a little more, just a little longer.

 "Just hold on."

 "You just need to get through tonight."

 "It'll all be better tomorrow, just stay with me, okay?"

 They muffled their cry of frustration as best they could, biting into their own palm to suffocate the emotional torment with the physical sting.

 Just!?

 There was no just about it. This wasn't just a sniffle, or just a bit of bad food. This could kill them.

 Is that what Erda meant when she said 'the worst of it'?

 L was there so MC wouldn't be alone when they died?

 "L?"

 The blankets shifted a little as MC shifted in their fractured sleep, curling closer into the warmth of L's stomach, weakly nuzzling at the spot just above their belly button.

 MC had succumbed to the exhaustion of their body a few hours after the delirium had peaked. Collapsing into L, slumping, boneless, and limp until their heavy head came to rest upon their trembling lap.

 Fresh tears scoured their cheeks as MC whimpered softly, tormented by fevered horrors L couldn't protect them from. Gentling their movements, parting their fingers, they tentatively reached down and traced their fingertips over their partner's burning cheek.

 "Please..." They whispered, heart fluttering as MC turned weakly into their touch. There were so many things they wanted to ask, so many things they would readily beg for.

 But MC couldn't hear them. Anything L could say felt pointless when the one person they wanted to hear, was so out of reach.

 Instead, bending low to lightly touch their foreheads together, L only said a single word.

 "Please."

  A

  It was always going to be bad. A knew this. They knew what Sweating Sickness did to people, they knew how it made the sufferer twist and writhe, how it turned the sensation of their own skin into the prickle of a thousand barbed needles, how it either passed or killed the victim in a day.

 All of this and more he'd learnt from Erda's books, page after page of symptoms and remedies, always underlined with the brutal truth that no amount of craft could cure everyone. They should have been ready for this.

 All the theoretical knowledge in the world could never have prepared them for what it was to see MC like this. Erda had offered to tend to them in their place, they could go and support the other families in town laid low.

 No. As much as it shattered his, to watch them at the mercies of a pestilence without pity, A knew they had to stay with MC.

 The first few hours passed as they knew they would, with confusion, pain, and a deep aching weariness which made MC's limbs lead. They settled on the bed, A's arms cradling their lover's body as the waves of crashing chills rolled over them. The discomfort could be eased, the warmth of their embrace could chase away the worst of the cold, and speaking softly, A could still whisper sweetly into MC's ear, keeping the spectres of delirium away.

 There was no comfort to be given when the true onslaught began. A could only hold them, and try to keep their own desperate sobs from choking them. Nothing could have prepared them for their helplessness.

 It lasted for most of the night, until MC's body collapsed in upon itself and they succumbed to a deep yet fitful sleep.

 A watched the rise and fall of their chest desperately, their pulse leaping every time a breath came too slowly, or sped into breathless wheezing gasps. They counted, every time MC whimpered, every time their features contorted into terror, every time they seemed to blindly reach out for the comfort of A's waiting embrace.

 For every terrible suffering, A would find a way to show MC how much they adored them, once they woke, once they were well again.

 It was an utterly foolish thing to promise. Erda would have scolded them. Or perhaps she would smile in sombre understanding.

 A placed their hand over MC's heart, felt the irregular beat pulsing beneath their fingertips.

 "I won't let you die." They whispered. "I promise, I won't let you die."

  K

  K could understand their protests. They knew nothing of sickness. Had the affliction been one that could be nursed, they may have stepped aside to let Erda or A attend MC. It was not. So, K stayed with their efenhlytta.

 It was strange at first. As they watched MC's sanity began to slip. The odd word as they spoke, an erratic flick of their gaze to the empty air beside them. Then their words faltered, sticking to their tongue thickly as MC's hands began to tremble.

 "Sorry." Their efenhlytta gasped when K moved to embrace them. "It's... I can feel..."

 With sharp jerks they stabbed their fingers into the already sweating skin, moving rapidly in attempt to explain the sensation.

 K had no context for the irritation, but they knew pain. Every living creature knew pain.

 MC's skin began to swelter, the heat rising up from a ravenous flame that seemed devoted to their destruction. Perhaps in this one regard K could help where all others could not.

 On a slow outward breath they let the warmth of their own blood ease away, letting the cool tide return in it's wake. The unnatural chill took the bite from the fever, and though MC still lashed out, driven to fight the demons of the fever, they were not made to suffer their terrible fire.

 "I forbid you to die." K said, while their efenhlytta thrashed once again in their supple embrace.

 It was clear MC couldn't hear them, but K wasn't really talking to the part of them that could listen. What they addressed was deeper, behind the consciousness that fronted MC's being.

 "Do you hear me?" They hissed, fixing their ice blue eyes on a single point in seemingly empty air.

 "I forbid you to die."

Extra material:

Just in case folks were interested in historical context, below I’ve linked my source material for a contempary description of the sickness.

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/42686/42686-h/42686-h.htm

pg.241 C.Creighton 1891 "A History of Epidemics in Britain"

Dr Forrestier 1485

"...This sickness cometh with a grete swetyng and stynkyng, with rednesse of the face and of all the body, and a contynual thurst, with a grete hete and hedache because of the fumes and venoms.....pricking the brains,... some appear red and yellow, as we have seen many, and in two grete ladies that we saw, the which were sick in all their bodies and they felt grete pricking in their bodies. And some had black spots, as it appeared in our frere (?) Alban, a noble leech on whose soul God have mercy!”

Modern English Translation:

"This sickness comes with a great sweating and stinking, with redness of the face and of all the body, and a continual thirst, with a great heat and headache because due to the fumes and venoms... with a prickling sensation seeming to come from inside the skull... some appear red and yellow in pallor, we witnessed such in two noble ladies, both of whom were severely sick and who also felt great pricking in their bodies. Some of the infected had black spots across their skin, as it appeared in our fair Alban, a noble leech on whose soul God have mercy!"

[percabethfiles]

Charlie

Uh... Hello? Anybody still here? I haven't been around in years and years. But I keep my fandoms stored in some corner of my brain waiting for something to tug them out. And of all things this time it was Taylor Swift re-releasing her old songs, because I used to imagine so many percabeth scenes listening to "Fearless". So have this little something that's been sitting unfinished in my archives for years now.

Remember that time Percy saw Sadie Kane and thought “Hey, this is what mine and Annabeth’s daughter would look like”? Yes.

(Also there are small nods to that fic I wrote about Logan, Hidden Heritage, but I've been meaning to re-write it someday because there were SO MANY PLOT HOLES omg)

When they find out it’s a girl it’s a bit too soon to know for sure, or so the doctor tells them. They’ll have to wait for the next appointment to know for certain. “So don’t go buying any tiny dresses yet,” he jokes and they laugh along, but they’ve been together for approximately eighteen years now, they can tell what the other’s thinking with a glance and the ecstatic grin that breaks through their lips lets him know they’re on the same page. Too late. They’re already thinking plush bow and arrows and a Merida costume for her first Halloween.

Percy tries to keep his cool. As the weeks progress, he tries not to get his hopes up, but in his heart he knows already. They hadn’t really had a preference before, they’d been too happy knowing their baby was fully human and had all its limbs (with the number of deities they’d pissed off, you never knew), but a little girl? It feels right after their two boys, it feels like their family will be complete.

(He thinks about a slight blonde girl with streaked hair and a British accent dropping from the sky on a magic camel, remembers thinking “if Annabeth and I had a daughter…” and his chest squeezes tight with happiness so raw he has a little trouble breathing)

When the doctor beams at them next appointment and says “Congratulations, Jackson family, it really is a girl,” he’s not surprised, but no less elated. He doesn’t hear the lame joke about Jackson Five, he’s too busy trying to be a manly man and not burst into tears because he’s going to have a daughter. When Annabeth’s in the other room paying for the appointment, and he’s waiting for the doctor to print the really impressive high tech 3D picture of the ultrasound, the man asks him “So did you go ahead and buy a tiny dress anyway?”

Percy blushes.

The man shakes his head in amusement. “Every time”.

His work colleagues, proud dads of little girls themselves, try to terrorize him with tales of tea parties and future boyfriends, and Percy thinks somewhere in the middle of all that teasing they mean well, but really, he’s mostly annoyed. It’s not like he’s new to parenthood, he’s got two sons already and they seem to be turning out okay, and before, when Logan and Nathan were just a nice dream for the future, there was Estelle, the little sister Percy had never expected, but loved to bits all the same.

And then Charlie is born.

She’s tiny, warm and pink, all curled up in her yellow cable-knit blanket, a tuft of blonde hair peeking out of a tiny, tiny beanie, features scrunched into the most adorable variation of a grumpy face. He’s not new to parenthood, he’s been here twice before, but the rush of affection and protectiveness and awe and raw love is just as genuine. He’s smiling like a dork, can’t seem to stop, walking from side to side, avidly searching her traits. She’s bigger than Nate was when he’d been born, but smaller than Logan. Her hair was light, like Nate’s, would it stay blonde or darken with time? Would her eyes be like his or Annabeth’s? And oh, she had her mother’s nose (they all did).

It never fails to amaze him how such a small, vulnerable being can shake up his whole world until it’s made a space for her. And he’s done this before, he’s no first time sailor this time, he’d thought he had it all under control. But she blinks and looks up at him with half-lidded eyes and a frowny face and—they’re green. Her eyes are the blue-green Logan’s are, Percy’s are.

(He’s got two sons who are his life, and he does love all his children equally, but holding his daughter for the first time, he thinks he understands his friends’ warnings. He doesn’t love her more, it’s just… different. It’s special.)

When he goes back to work, Nick takes one look at him and bursts into laughter. He claps him on the shoulder in commiseration.

“I told you.”

He’s completely wrapped around her finger already.

It’s not too different, he finds out. Especially having been pre-trained by Estelle. He’s got to brush up on his Disney princess knowledge, and hair braiding skills. He hasn’t gotten much better at color coordinating the polka dotted bows and tiny shoes, but Charlie is really forgiving. She is a very happy baby, much happier and easy going than any of the boys had been.

She’s also fucking crazy.

She is smaller and skinnier than her brothers, likes to wear frilly dresses and talk to plush animals and dance around the house in a pink tutu, but she’s wild. She never learned to crawl, just held on to the couch until she was wobbling on two feet, and it seemed like the very next day she was running across the house, the mall, the park, and if he turned his eyes away for one second, she was shooting off in the streets and nearly getting run over.

He’d found her dangling from the kitchen cabinets, trying to reach the cowering cat. She had a phase when she thought she could fly and she would climb furniture and stairs and the window sill and just… Launch herself into the air expecting her flying powers to manifest spontaneously. If they hadn’t been trying to raise them away from the whole mythological world, he would have sat her down and clarified that she had the wrong Olympian Grandparent in mind. She might have had more luck jumping into the ocean.

She had a way to jut out her lower lip, and turn those big green eyes on him that could render his every effort to be a responsible parental presence useless.

Besides, she was so funny. He could never muster enough anger to discipline her, because if he found her on the kitchen table covered in peanut butter, somehow sporting a very sticky Mohawk, and looking entirely unapologetic, well, he just couldn’t stop laughing.

One day he’s coming home from work and he hasn’t even pulled the key from the lock when Charlie calls out ‘you’re back daddy,’ in what sounds vaguely like a new jersey accent. He finds her sitting on the floor of the living room, drowning in one of Annabeth’s bathrobes, pink plastic barbie sunglasses on, holding a pooh bear sippy cup with one hand and a pinky stretched out.

“Charlie, what are you doing?”

“It’s wine Wednesday, daddy.”

“It’s what?”

“Wine Wednesday.”

He had half a mind to check if her sippy cup actually contained wine because they hid their alcohol way up in the cabinets she can’t reach but that girl could climb like a monkey. He knows he should follow that remark up with some kind of questioning of where she’d even heard of ‘wine Wednesdays’ and then explain that kids don’t drink wine or some other kind of responsible parent speech, but a sudden burst of incredulous laughter bubbles up in his throat and he takes refuge in the kitchen, lest he encourages her behavior.

He finds Annabeth there, hand over her mouth, clearly in stitches over their daughter’s performance. He wants to question if she gave her permission to wear her bathrobe but finding his wife nearly doubled over in silent laughter in the kitchen is too much and he finally lets out the guffaw he’d been trying to hold on to.

It’s not the first time Charlie leaves them breathless with laughter, and he’s almost scared of what she’s going to cook up in the future.

Charlie is a hellion.

There isn’t one person safe from her pranks, but she’s so adorable she hardly ever catches hell for it, and she’s learning to use it in her favor – thankfully, just in time for her parents to develop immunity to her puppy eyes. And she’s… difficult, yes, but not always, and not in a terrible way. For all her climbing the roof, organizing illegal cookie sales, getting in fights with her classmates, she’s not a bad kid. She’s got Percy’s penchant for befriending the kids no one wants to go near, and defending her ragtag team of losers. She’s loyal to a fault, and it gets her in trouble often.

She and Nate have epic jealousy fights over everything, including – but not limited to – Logan’s attention, the crayons, the biggest piece of cake and all the videogame characters in the world are not enough, they will always want whatever the other picked. It gives them many, many headaches. Logan, on the other hand, positively spoils her, and whenever Charlie gets in trouble they can be sure to find her hiding behind her big brother while he gives them this solemn look and says “It’s ok, mom and dad, Charlie promises she won’t do it again. We’ve talked.”

When the whole “Logan being attacked by a dracanae in school and thus finding out his Olympian heritage” debacle came to pass, and they started frequenting camp again, there was nowhere in the entire Camp Charlie would rather be than the stables. She’d spend hours there with the Aphrodite kids, brushing the pegasi and talking to them endlessly about all her classmates and her friends, and her dolls, and her new dress, and the new book grandma gave her. It was all really cute until Percy realized the pegasi were talking back, and she fully understood their replies.

And it’s funny, really, because Logan had taken after Percy, to a point where bathing him had been hard as a child because he tended to stay dry in the tub, and Nathan was Annabeth to a T, but Charlie was a perfect mix of them both.

He guesses it makes sense it would be so explosive.

When Charlie is twelve, she gets kicked out of school.

Percy is not overly worried about it himself – the number of schools he’d been kicked out of reached double digits, and this was only her first – but he is worried about how she will feel. Getting the boot from a place that’s housed you for years, where your friends are, where everyone already knows you and having to start over is never pleasant, no matter how used to it you were.

He’d expected the school to have gotten tired of all her pranks and misbehaving, which was fair, he guessed. But when Annabeth comes home from the meeting with the school director, she is seething, and not at their daughter. Charlie is angry too. In fact, it’s the first time he’s ever seen his daughter well and truly pissed off. The two of them are a sight for nightmares, both blondes standing side by side ranting with righteous fury, they look ready to start a revolution. What he gets from her angry snarls and Charlie’s rushed rambling is that Charlie had talked back to a teacher that was picking on the autistic kid and demeaning the thirteen year old who was repeating sixth grade.

She’d called him a brain-washing small minded overgrown bully who, he was quoting, didn’t get enough love from his parents.

And Percy is so proud his eyes even get a little misty.

Because he’s getting old and sentimental and raising kids is very hard. No one knows what they’re doing, not one person, not even the fancy psychologists with those books on raising perfect, well rounded, high-achieving members of society that Annabeth insisted on reading when she was pregnant with Logan. You do your best and you hope for the best, and you don’t know what you get until it’s basically too late to do anything about it. And even if he did have the best mom in the history of the entire world to draw example from, he was also half of an absent Olympian father whose heritage condemned him to dance in and out of battlefields half his life.

He’s always been terrified of being a crap father.

He looks at Charlie cussing out with every mild version of actual cuss words, stalking around the kitchen like a little lioness in a cage, furious at the unfairness of the whole situation, caring less about being expelled and more about who was going to defend her friends from that awful teacher when she’s gone.

His daughter is only twelve, but she’s already so brave, such a force of nature. She won’t stand for injustice, and she won’t take insult lying down. And she’s so kind. She’s growing up, and the person she is slowly turning out to be… is good.

And something in his heart shifts and settles down, smooths over old fears and anxious thoughts.

Percy doesn’t mean to brag, but he thinks he’s not doing half bad as a parent.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

I feel like the reason why autistic!Aziraphale is so important to me is precisely because he's "just enough of a bastard".

And it's not because of his autism. Well, okay, sometimes it is. There are points— see a lot of the negative comments he makes about Crowley being a demon— where you get the sense that he's not actually intending to be mean, it's just that he's not necessarily aware of the effect his words could have on the other person.

But there are also an awful lot of moments where you know that Aziraphale is totally aware of the effect his words could have on the other person, and he is using that knowledge to be a snarky bitch because he can. "Do you have a better idea? One single better idea?" isn't an example of Aziraphale not realising that he's coming across as kinda snippy and sarcastic, it's Aziraphale being pissed off at the world in general and letting off steam by being deliberately snippy and sarcastic to Crowley because he knows the demon can take it.

(Crowley, btw, is by far the one bearing the brunt of Aziraphale's bastardry, and it's for this very reason. Aziraphale has to be polite and respectful in Heaven, or he'll be labelled a 'bad angel'. He has to be nice to the humans (barring those who try to buy his books), because Heaven and God are, officially at least, judging him based on how he treats them. But Crowley? Aziraphale can be an absolute asshole to Crowley, and Crowley will just say something equally dickish back, and then they'll both brush it off and go have lunch. Crowley is the only one who ever gets to see the real Aziraphale, because their relationship is the only one in the angel's existence where he doesn't live in constant fear of what would happen if he let the 'good angel' façade slip for a moment.)

And the thing is, autistic people, we don't get characters like that. Your typical autistic character in media is either a sweet cinnamon roll who would never hurt a fly, or a total and utter bastard who nobody is actually allowed to be annoyed at, because they can't help it, they don't know what they're doing.

And again, there are absolutely times when autistic people say things that come across as rude because we genuinely don't realise how they can be interpreted! That's a thing and it's something that you should totally bear in mind when talking with an autistic person! But also sometimes we're just being dicks on purpose, and to deny that we could possibly have the ability and/or inclination to do that sort of thing is kind of infantilising.

My point being, Aziraphale is a prick sometimes. Deliberately. But he's also a character that a lot of people see as autistic, and I think it's so cool that I don't think I've ever seen anybody try and claim that all his bastard traits are purely down to having a communication disorder. As a fellow snarky and sarcastic autistic person, I feel represented.

[dent-de-leon]

Hey Leo! I hope you don't mind me rambling about critical role in your inbox... Remember how Tal said that Molly wouldn't change much? I think that's impossible in a D&D game (but it's Tal we're talking about so who knows). If Molly didn't die and if Matt had thrown Lucien at the party wanting his original body back as planned... Do you think (alive) Molly would have those visceral reactions like (our) Lucien does because of how similar they were thus eventually changing?

Hi! Oh I don’t mind at all, I love talking about this stuff too! I think this is a really interesting concept, because we actually do know that Mollymauk has felt these faint touches of Lucien’s presence for sometime. It might not have escalated to these very physical manifestations we’re seeing in Lucien now. But Lucien definitely left behind enough of an impression for Molly to feel something:

“Few months after I came to, I started noticing I could do things, knew things that I didn't necessarily know I knew.”

“Okay, here’s the thing that you’re not catching. That wasn’t me. This is mine...That person is someone else...I did not feel good coming out of that.”  

“Whoever that was came to that end, and I want nothing to do with it. Whatever it was, it doesn't feel good when I--the moment when something creeps through, I don't like it. I don't want anything to do with it...”

“That sounds terrible. I don't want to remember anything. I don't want anybody else's baggage in my head and I don't want anybody else's problems, thoughts, ideas. I like this person--this person, right now, is a good person. Is a fine person. A happy person.”

I think part of what actually drives Molly to embrace his own identity and completely distance himself from Lucien is the fact that he’s already felt these echoes of him. And whatever remained of Lucien, Molly realized that he hated him. In Zone of Truth, Mollymauk admits he believes himself to be a good person--and he tries to be one entirely in spite of these remnants of Lucien that he can’t bear.

Beau: “Molly, you seem to have a pretty solidified identity for someone who has only had consciousness for two years.”

Mollymauk: “Things came back quick, and the circus helped. They were good people. They did a lot for me, and joy can fill an awful lot of a person’s life.”

Beau: “Things came back quick. Do you feel like there’s still remnants of who you once were that have informed who you are now?”

Mollymauk: “Maybe. I feel tinges of things on occasion, nothing I like.”

These errant pieces of Lucien creeping in terrified him. Molly likes his joyful, charmed life, the fun and freedom of a traveling carnival, with no burden of heavy memories attached. I think Lucien had already been changing Mollymauk, in the sense that Molly caught these glimpses of a life that wasn’t his, and made the conscious decision to tear himself free of it. Because he’s happier shutting out these remnants of Lucien’s, a better person than what chasing after those impulses would have made him.

Molly tried to tattoo over the Eyes of Nine. And when that wouldn’t work, he took back his body piece by piece, decorating himself in his own art to hide and conceal these marks Lucien left behind. He tells Cree to abandon the book, because it will only bring more trouble for her. He has what Taliesin describes as, “a mild nervous breakdown” when he first actives his Rite of the Dawn--likely because he’s terrified of gaining anymore of this stranger’s powers, these abilities and this knowledge that still don’t quite feel like his. He makes a point of telling the Nein that, in spite of his bullshit and games, he tried to be a good person. To leave every place better than he found it. I think Lucien’s influence was enough to change Molly, in the sense that he actively tried to be better than whatever person left this body behind.

But I also think Molly was in a very different place before. Because Lucien was mostly shattered and scattered in another plane of existence, Molly was mostly free of him. We knew from Matt that Lucien was going to try to take his body back, but that would be quite a way’s off, I think. For the most part, Lucien was cut off from the body. But now, it seems to me as though that shard of Molly is...suppressed. Quieted, but still present. And as time goes on, it seems Molly himself is developing more of a presence--enough that he could possibly wrestle control of the body from Lucien. It’s the kind of thing I don’t think Lucien would have been able to do to Molly unless he was returned to the material plan and had considerable help, but it’s an interesting thought. I could definitely see it playing out something like this.

For context, whenever I throw out stuff like this, I’m speculating under the assumption that Molly is still a wholly separate entity from Lucien, a broken piece who grew into his own person because of all his bonds and beliefs and experiences. Think the Velveteen Rabbit. Molly is just a speck, a fragment. A hollow vessel. Empty. But, he was loved by his little circus family and grew to love them and this colorful world all around him in turn. He filled his life with joy. And that made him more than just a shard of a soul, made him real.

The reason Molly believed he was free of Lucien was because, well, he was dead. But Lucien seems to think Molly isn’t even a person to begin with, little more than a forgotten fragment. “I believe you seemed to fall for one of these pieces left behind.” “You felt for this empty speck?” Lucien cannot fathom why the Nein would ever care for a broken piece, or how something without a “whole” soul could care for others in turn. And that will be his undoing, I think.

But, despite Molly now being his own soul, I think he and Lucien are kind of still inexorably tied together. So sometimes, the feelings and vague impressions of one bleeds through into the other. I hope that makes sense? That might not be entirely accurate, but that’s just how I see it. So, just like how Molly admitted he sometimes felt this residual influence of Lucien and was haunted by it, I think Lucien is very much experiencing the same. Only, much more pronounced. Whereas Lucien was shattered and mostly scattered, I think that shard of Molly is still trying to cling to the body. And that’s why it seems like he’s gaining more of a presence and even fighting Lucien for control. I hope that makes sense?

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 19

First time reader click here

Summary+TWs: We're talking serious feelings here, okay? Reader, you're literally emotionally illiterate. You also have PTSD, which is finally addressed - kinda. Bruce does his best. And he also knows how to kiss... But y'all know that if you read my ramblings about lucid dreaming/shifting/whatever... Chile-, anyways...

My phone kept buzzing and I ignored it until Bruce declared it was time to take a break and review the results. Whilst the man was typing up the data on a nearby StarkPad, I fought the sudden influx of messages that I received from haters and supporters alike after Tony decided on tweeting a reply that could be interpreted in an alarming variety of ways. It was a smart move, I'll admit, but a fucking bother for me nonetheless.

Disabling my DMs and dealing with a follower increase in the thousands wasn't hard; I didn't consider myself a problematic asshole and didn't need to be afraid of "exposure". The parties I went to - I doubted there was any blackmail material in there and the few nudes I'd sent over the years were always face-less. As a gen Z, I knew my internet safety.

The trolls didn't bother me either. It was more sad than annoying, people shitting on others for clout. Iron Man stans were witty, at least, if jealous. I must admit I've never considered the influx of popularity I would experience should I publicly out myself as a friend of Tony's. Girlfriend? Intern? Science child? Whatever cover story he was going to feed the press worked for me, as long as I still got the hugs, the kisses, the dick and the attention.

"Tony..." Bruce groaned, evidently done with the data processing, had to have opened his social media to see his own skyrocketing popularity.

"Yeah, our Tony is being a Tony again," I chuckled, having reset my social media settings so my phone wouldn't constantly beep, vibrate and bother me. School was going to be fun.

Bruce shook his head, fond, coming over to my side of the lab after removing his own hazmat suit. His eyes shiny with newfound knowledge and hair turned adorably fluffy in the confines of the head covering. He was smiling softly. "Food?"

"Sure."

We chewed our sandwiches in silence for a moment, each of us lost in our thoughts.

"I still can't believe Tony told everyone on Twitter you're his girlfriend, usually he keeps this stuff private or schedules a fancy press conference," Bruce's tone was thoughtful.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what it was? Seemed ambiguous to me..." I trailed off, confused.

"He worded it like that on purpose, I mean, you're still in high school," The scientist was confident in his words. "But I know Tony. I'm a hundred percent sure that he meant exactly that. Aren't you?"

Shock flooded me. Suddenly, I understood I completely misread the situation. "Um, no? I thought we were, y'know, just fucking. We never defined our relationship and we're definitely not exclusive." I said, chewing on my lip. "You make a valid argument, I'm a high school student and he's a grown ass man that does grown man stuff. Putting aside the fact that he could have anybody in the world so why would he choose me?" I was rambling, thinking out loud. Discussing my feelings has never my strong forte. "It would be stupid to impose monogamy on such a complex man like Tony. Downright idiotic to expect a genius to confine to social norms just because it suits others." I finished with a wave of my hand. Another bubble of thought that had festered within me for the longest time. I felt relieved, finally voicing it out loud. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I wasn't previously consciously aware of.

Bruce was watching me intently, with an unreadable expression that held the tiniest bit of awe, admiration perhaps. The silence that followed was unnerving. I fidgeted with my hands, not really knowing where to put them or where to look.

"You know," He took off his glasses, fiddling them in his hands. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. For the longest time, I thought you were going to inadvertently hurt him when you get bored with whatever you've got going on. I respect you, don't misunderstand me, but you are young. Now, I've changed my mind. You've changed my mind," He punctuated his statement with his hand on mine, grasping it. "I think you managed to understand him in a way most people can't. Or don't want to. Understand and accept him in a way that some of us can't even after years of working and living side by side with him." Bruce's gentle fingers skimmed along the top of my palm.

"I don't always understand Tony but I do accept him," I agreed. "Because Tony is a great man."

"I think you're in love with him," Bruce said, absolutely having ignored my previous statement. Just like that, point blank, he pushed to the surface the very feelings I got so good at ignoring. There was no rest for me in this place.

My heart fluttered, picking up the pace. I kept my mouth shut, not trusting it whatsoever. My thoughts became akin to panicked hares, jumping and zigzagging aimlessly in my skull. I didn't see the point in defending myself because the scientist had pointed out the obvious.

Bruce looked at me, softly, warmly. "And don't think we haven't noticed the rise in team morale. The improvement not only in communication, but on the battlefield, too. It's easier to entrust your back to someone with whom you've shared a laugh and a drink the previous night. You're the glue that keeps us together."

Something warm and wet was on my cheeks. I stared at our clasped hands, his words echoing in my head over and over and over. The moment I realized I was crying, I willed myself to stop and failed spectacularly - only more salty fluid streamed down, some of it getting in my nose, on my lips. The sleepless nights were making me unstable.

It took a single sniffle for Bruce to pick me up and wrap up in his kind embrace. I didn't resist, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, holding onto the back of his lab coat, inhaling the smell of his skin and chemicals. It was familiar, calming. Minutes ticked by with me slowly leaking the tension out of my body.

"He loves you, too, maybe he just doesn't realize it yet." Bruce whispered into my hair. "I've never seen Tony so happy, even with Pepper. You are special and you are loved."

There was something unsaid, I felt it. It hung in the ear, it burned the tips of my ears, stood sharp on the tip of my tongue. "I love you too, Bwucie-bear," I whispered into the space between his ear and his jaw. His arms tightened around me.

The man placed several chaste kisses in my hair, running a palm over my back. In moments like these, the crush for him, the very crush that got out of control, blossomed fully into a deep sense of respect and admiration. He made me feel safe. He said all the right words at the right time.

Drowsiness overtook me. As usual, any worries and anxieties I had evaporated, once Banner had his arms around me, shielding me from the world. I didn't forbid myself this time: delicately, my hand slipped through the man's soft messy curls, eliciting a contented sigh.

"You haven't been sleeping well," He more stated than asked.

I had no choice but to nod. "Clint keeps dying in my dreams. Or even worse, he doesn't, he just suffers, endlessly, painfully." I admitted.

Bruce flinched under me, tensing. My face was in between his hands in a second, the scientist sternly looking into my eyes. "Why didn't you say anything? All of us assumed you were okay after what happened." He looked - angry. Not Hulk-out pissed but Bruce-pissed, which equalled a kicked-puppy look seasoned with a great pinch of disappointment.

"I am okay." I lied, shamelessly. "It's getting better. That's why I want to have a party - relax a little, dance, socialize. I don't think Tony would let me go on my own so I figured I can convince him to throw one here." I looked away. It was better for everyone if I dealt with my own problems - they were superheroes, not babysitters.

Bruce frowned. "Why wouldn't Tony let you go?"

"Because of that one time I snorted coke," I rolled my eyes at Bruce's naiveté, leaving the less obvious parts unsaid. Tony knew exactly what I was going to do once I got free reign, he considered it destructive and told me so himself. Admittedly, he had a point but still... I wished I'd been given a choice.

"I'll talk to him," Bruce nodded firmly. "That's not acceptable. He can't forbid you from making mistakes and learning from them."

He was met with my shrug. No excitement came from me regarding this particular turn of conversation. I was drained, limbs like jello, thoughts sluggish. My face was drooping.

"Let's get you to bed," Banner stood up with me wrapped around him. "You need a nap."

"No," I protested. If I went to sleep now, only Satan knew at what ungodly hour I would wake up.

"Yes, Princess," Bruce smirked. I wiggled uncomfortably - when he went all caretaker like, my ovaries wreaked havoc on my body and brain. My thoughts weren't appropriate if Bruce wanted me to see him as a father figure. The signals he was sending were mixed. People around me did that a lot and I wasn't sure how to act so I usually just went with the flow. I decided to do the very same thing in that particular moment.

Curiosity sparked within me, tightly interwoven with the deep longing that settled below my collarbones whenever Tony or one of the others wasn't sitting next to me or talking my ear off. I've almost forgotten how it was to be alone with my thoughts. The maze of my very own self was becoming unfamiliar territory. Alarming.

I allowed Bruce to help me shed my shoes and outer layer of clothing, shivering in the coolness of my room. Despite being a frequent visitor, I still had a 'guest' room in the tower - I mostly stayed at Tony's or Wanda's anyways. During our sleepovers neither me nor the witch minded sharing her enormous bed, to be fair, we could have fit at least two more people in it besides us. Tony took care of his own - all the tower's residents had their apartments furnished with the best stuff.

"Sleep now, Princess," Bruce chastised, tucking a blanket around me, having noticed an earbud in my ear and my smartphone in my hand. I had hoped to kill some time online, damn well knowing sleep wouldn't come easy.

"I don't think I can fall asleep, Bruce," I admitted, looking away. There was just so much going on. My brain wouldn't shut up and if I couldn't drown out the cacophony by being productive, I'd troll the internet, as usual.

Banner sighed, coming to sit next to me, leaning against the headboard. Gently running his fingers through my hair, brushing the outside of his palm against my cheek. "How do you usually deal with this?"

Involuntarily, my eyelashes fluttered. "Tony does most of the work," I admitted coyly. The engineer had a whole arsenal of tricks up his sleeve - sexy and exhausting tricks.

"I see," Bruce muttered, thoughtfully.

I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me with a look I haven't seen before. The usual mildly absent, slightly anxious face he wore was replaced by something I could only describe as hurt envy, like a kid looking at their schoolmate who had all the newest, coolest toys. I used to be on the receiving end of that look far too often and I hated it.

I hid my face against his leg, rubbing my cheek on the raspy corduroy fabric of his pants. "Got any good ideas of your own?" I wondered lowly, thinking about what in the world possessed Bruce to wear corduroy trousers on a semi-casual day, in the twenty-first century.

"Only bad ideas," He replied in a matching low tone. His soft fingertips relocated to my nape, goosebumps rising down my back.

"Humour me," I grinned against his leg.

Bruce was quiet for a moment, the sound of his thinking screaming louder than any words could have done. Knowing the scientist so closely, I found out he was full of surprises - bolder than he appeared outwardly and competitive to a boot. He thought he had a lot to prove to himself and by extension, to others. The unknown, the mystery dangling in front of my nose was exhilarating, trepidation addictive. It took me away from the chaos in my mind.

A gentle grasp on my chin had me turning to look upwards, Bruce's face flushed and focused on my own, open and trusting. He needed to see the obvious, that I trusted him to take care of me. He pulled and I followed, sitting up on my elbows, coming up to his shoulder level, our faces inches apart, enveloped in the unique, intense scent of his herbal tea. It was a tart, strong smell and it suited his quiet but passionate character.

Once, twice, I caught my eyes sliding to his plump lips. They looked far too appealing in this position. I usually strategically stayed away from positions so compromising, fearing the very thing that I'd already let happen, however this time the atmosphere was different. We stood on ambiguous grounds, waiting for Bruce to make a decision.

The man wasn't stupid, he saw the way I looked at him. The nightmares and inability to take a break from life put a significant dent in my resolve to keep a distance between us, romantically - I could have settled even for a pity kiss, a pity fuck. Anything to put my brain on pause.

His lips were softer than I had imagined. Skilled, too, he easily steered the kiss into the shallow waters of our combined longing.

With Tony, it was like an avalanche. Tony ran hot like Peterbilt engines, hard and fast, almost angry in his race for satisfaction. Tony was a man that was used to getting whatever he wanted and it became plainly obvious when we fucked.

Bruce was the opposite. He savoured the kiss, losing himself in a way that could almost be described as delicate. Bruce was humming, softly, as we tasted each other, holding the left side of my face with careful fingertips. Almost as if he was afraid to break me. The feel of his skin on mine was soothing in a way that made me sigh and relax even further.

"Wanna make you feel good." His voice had dropped, gone husky, but his breathing held even. He must know all about self-control.

"Yeah," I was ready to agree with whatever the fuck he was offering. My eyelids remained shut.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

PS. Letsby, please don't combust. The underwear is coming off in the next chapter. 😶

[sparkkeyper]

May Prompt Fill - Bait

Fill for the Ace Omens Discord May prompts.

Summary: Set late 1700s/early 1800s. Crowley is scheduled to hang for someone else's crime, but when Aziraphale shows up the demon doesn't want a rescue.

Warnings: hanging, strangulation, fake death

Word count: 1,457

------

"So you're going by Johnathan Smith now?"

Crowley whirled to see the angel standing just outside the bars of his cell, looking far from impressed. "What are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same." Aziraphale looked him up and down. "Rumours do fly, you know. I had to hear about this from the baker three towns over. Murder didn't sound like your usual style of work at all. How long have you been in here?"

Crowley pulled a face. "Two weeks, and let me tell you the food is terrible."

"Two weeks?!" Aziraphale glanced down the prison hallway to be sure his notice-me-not miracle was still in effect. "You could have sent me a message in that time! I don't know what's stopping you from breaking yourself out, but you're lucky the gossip reached me in time."

He raised his hand to snap but Crowley grabbed his fingers through the bars. "Stop that! I'm supposed to be here. But you don't need to be, so you can turn around and..." He made a shooing motion but Aziraphale did not shoo.

"You're scheduled for execution in an hour!"

"Yes! It's part of my plan!"

"Your plan involves getting hanged?"

"Yes!" Crowley groaned and leaned against the cell wall, hands stuffed in his pockets as Aziraphale just stood looking flabbergasted. "It's not really hanging, per se, you know we don't need to breathe. Look, there was a reason I didn't call you. I didn't want you to have to see this."

"What kind of stupid-"

"I'm behind on my quota, all right? My last several assignments have all crashed and burned. Is it my fault that humans have free will and can choose whether or not to give in to temptation no matter how good I am at it? Is it my fault the last couple targets turned out to be disgustingly virtuous? No, but Dagon doesn't want to hear about it. I need to bag this job, angel. Please don't interfere."

Aziraphale stewed for a moment, but he knew the necessity of filled quotas. "Fine," he grumbled. "Who's your assignment?"

"The judge. Hell's had their eye on him for a while now. Really, really wants him. His nephew strangled the girl and he knows it, but he'll do anything to avoid the scandal. That's what I'm counting on here. The town wants a satisfying conclusion to the murder and the judge doesn't want the messiness of being related to a convicted felon. He's been looking for a scapegoat."

Aziraphale looked him over. "And that's you, is it?"

"Few more reliable ways to end up in Hell than to knowingly execute an innocent man. I fit the description. I have no alibi. The evidence against me is easy to manufacture. That's why I'm Johnathan Smith here - I needed a moniker that can die."

Aziraphale glowered. "I want you to know I don't approve of this at all."

"Don't expect you to, that's why I didn't invite you to my hanging." Crowley rolled his eyes. "Anyway it's not like I'm planning on actually discorporating. I get sentenced, I drop, I pretend to asphyxiate, I slip out the back afterwards when nobody's looking. As far as the judge's conscience is concerned, he just ordered the death of an innocent human to protect his own reputation. We all go on our merry way."

"Yes, that's the word for it, I'm sure," Aziraphale responded dryly. "Very well, I won't interfere. But I expect you to walk out of this town with me when this is all over."

"You don't have to stay for the festivities."

"Well I'm going to, and that's final."

"Fine." Crowley sounded exasperated. "Doubt it'll be pretty. But if you insist on sticking around, do me a favour and don't let them try to bury me in the churchyard. Now get out of here, they're going to come for me any minute now."

Reluctantly, Aziraphale did.

-----

Less than an hour later saw several dozen people gathered in the courthouse square. An angel stood unobtrusively among the crowd. Sadness and wrath tugged at his senses. Many of them had known the murdered girl, he gathered, and were eager to see her killer punished. They would not tolerate a lenient sentencing, fearful that their own daughters could be future victims. He tried not to bear too much ill will towards them - to the best of their knowledge the court had convicted the right person - but it was hard when Crowley was the one being led up onto the gallows in shackles.

The demon looked uncharacteristically subdued as the executioner steered him to his place over the trap door. He shrunk in on himself, small and frightened. It was all an act, Aziraphale knew, to give the judge the rope to hang himself metaphorically speaking, but that didn't make it any easier to watch.

The noose was placed around his neck and the judge addressed him from a raised platform. "Johnathan Smith. You have been accused and found guilty of the crime of murder. It is the verdict of this court that you be sentenced to hang by the neck until dead on this, the eighth of June. Do you have any final words before you are sent to meet your Lord?"

Crowley made a show of frantically pulling against his bonds. "I haven't killed anybody! I swear I haven't! You've got to believe me, please! Please don't do this!"

The crowd buzzed angrily, drowning out the words of empty ceremony that came next. The executioner secured the noose properly. "I haven't killed anybody! You know I didn't!" Crowley began to shout his denials over the din and the courtyard filled with a cacophony of pleas and condemnation and cries for blood. Then the judge gave a signal and the trap door fell out from under him.

Aziraphale was certain Crowley already had a miracle in place to keep his corporation's neck from breaking, but he layered on another just in case. The demon was slim enough that a failure to break was believable. As he wasn't human, it wasn't necessary for him to breathe oxygen or cycle blood through veins. Even so, it was gruesome to watch him pretend to suffocate. His face went as red as his hair, then purple the more he thrashed. His eyes shut tight behind the dark glasses to hide the yellow, and any noises he might have made were lost to the jeering of the crowd. It was all Aziraphale could do not to turn away from the awful sight.

Crowley, fortunately, was not interested in drawing out the scene for longer than necessary. He struggled for less than a minute before he appeared to lose consciousness. His movements slowed to bare twitching, then finally to nothing. The executioner let the body hang there for several minutes more before checking for a pulse or breath.

It occurred to Aziraphale that Crowley could have led some other innocent human into the path of the judge instead. He tucked that knowledge away and, with the fun over and the crowd dispersing, made his way over to the cluster of town officials.

-----

It was nearly half an hour later that he pulled the blanket from over Crowley's head. "You can get up now. We're far enough from the town limits."

Crowley gave a great inhale and coughed to start his lungs again. He sat up in the back of the small wagon, brushing straw from his hair as it trundled down the path. "About bloody time. Almost thought they were gonna leave me hanging there as a cheerful summer decoration."

"They thought about it," Aziraphale admitted as Crowley climbed up to join him on the driver's bench. To his relief, a series of miracles was quickly repairing the demon's skin colour and neck bruises. "Fortunately I told them I knew a medical student who needed fresh cadavers for dissection. It turns out you're worth four whole shillings."

"Lucky me." With a snap, Crowley's clothes were immaculate again. "Ugh, glad that's over. Remind me to stay out of this area for a couple decades."

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. "Do you pull that trick often? Playing the scapegoat?"

"Nah." Crowley settled back into the bench. "Not the first time, though. It's not a fun trick. I don't recommend adding it to your temptation repertoire."

"And I don't recommend you keeping it in yours."

"Well this ought to keep Hastur and Dagon off my back for a bit. Do I owe you for the..." He gestured vaguely to encompass the two of them and the direction of the receding town. "For the ride?"

"Oh absolutely. There's a very expensive inn we're headed to. You owe me four shillings."

[chestnuttoast]

Neon

1k words

It was a Thursday in April, the day that I woke up and everything was neon. I thought it was just my eyes at first. I had been pretty overworked recently so I assumed it was taking a toll. After going back to sleep and waking up mid-morning, everything was still neon.

I don’t mean that everything was just the neon version of the colour it had been when I went to sleep. Everything had become either yellow, pink, blue or orange. Only those four colours. I looked out of the window. Trees had neon blue trunks and neon orange leaves. The sky was neon yellow and the roads all neon pink.

My apartment was much the same. Everything was a different colour to what it had been when I’d gone to bed and everything was neon. It was unbelievable how bright everything was. My walls looked like they would glow in the dark.

I was certain that I really had just gone too far. I had no idea whether anyone else was experiencing this but there was no one on the streets that looked very confused. Maybe they had just got up earlier than I had and had accepted this as their reality now. It seemed unlikely, but it was the only way I could rationalise it.

Eventually I wandered into the kitchen, thinking it was about time I ate breakfast. It was already half way through the morning and the shock of my world being neon was wearing off so I was feeling a little hungry.

However, I’m not sure anything could have ever prepared me for what I saw when I walked into the kitchen. My washing machine was tucked into the back corner, so I didn’t see anything straight away but I did hear it. It didn’t sound anything like any noise a washing machine should or would usually make, so I immediately went to investigate.

Climbing backwards out of the barrel of my washing machine was a tiny humanoid creature. I had no clue what colour his hair or skin would have been if it had not been neon but as it was it was quite a sight.

For a moment, I don’t think he noticed I was there. He smoothed out his clothes and fixed his hair a little before turning to look at me.

“Ah. There you are.” he said, extending a hand out which I assumed he wanted me to shake. I bent down and did the best I could, but everything looked off in the wrong colours. It hadn't been long, but my eyes were starting to ache. I really just wanted to eat some leftovers from the fridge, but here was this… I didn’t know what to call him, standing in my kitchen and so I would have to bear with it for now.

“You were expecting me?” I asked, with no idea what was going on.

“Of course! I need your help.” Tiny - as I decided to call him - said to me as though I should be aware of this fact. “It’s inside out. That’s why the colours are weird.”

“Inside out?” I had no idea what could possibly be inside out to make everything neon, but I had already spoken when it occurred to me to ask.

“Yes. Inside out. And I need your help.”

I was so confused, but I decided to just go with it. The morning had already been weird enough there was no use fighting it.

“What do I need to do?”

“Nothing much. You just have to take me to the convenience store down the street. I’ll need you to cover for me so that I can get inside the fridges. Only from there can I put everything the right way around again.”

“And it had to be me?” I frowned. This seemed like something anybody could do, not just me.

“Yes. You were the best possible candidate. I spent all night looking.” Tiny said very matter of factly.

“All night?” I asked. Nothing had been wrong when I went to bed. “When did things turn inside out?”

“Signs started to show around 10pm yesterday. Just after midnight everything flipped despite all my efforts to stop it.” Tiny explained. “So now I have to fix it.”

It sounded like Tiny had had prior knowledge that this might happen. I had no idea how he had known, but I had a feeling there was a lot I had no idea about.

“Okay.” I said. The neon was really bothering me now so the sooner I could get it fixed the better. “I’ll need to find a way to hide you until we get there. And this is going to look awful on any CCTV cameras. However, if it get rid of this colour nightmare I’ll do it.”

“I can tell you where the blind spots are.” Tiny said straight away. I thought nothing more of it and went to find a backpack I could take him there in. It felt wrong, but I didn’t really have any other options.

It was a bit of a struggle to get him in, but soon we were on our way. As he had said he would, Tiny told me exactly where to stand to avoid the cameras and I discreetly let him out of my back and watched him crawl inside the fridge.

I decided it would be best for me and look less suspicious if I browsed to the store. Tiny had told me on the way that he would knock on the fridge from the inside a couple of times if he needed to call me over. Other than that, he said, there was nothing more for me to do. I just had to trust him.

The knock didn’t come, however, and as I walked around the store, I blinked. Before, everything had been neon. Now, everything was normal. Tiny had done it!

I have never been pleased to see the dull tones of a convenience store. My eyes instantly felt the relief and I couldn't wait to head hime, finally have those leftovers I’d been thinking about all morning and go back to bed.

It had been a long morning.

[folderolsfollies]

Sangyao Arranged Marriage.... III

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Word Count: 2.7k  Rating: T Warnings: None to date (Besides discussion of canon events)

Nie Huaisang idly notes that it had taken three servants blanching and running through the halls of the Jinlintai at the sight of him freely wandering through its gilded passageways before he’s caught. He tears his gaze away from a beautiful and entirely inaccurate mural commemorating Jin victories during the Sunshot campaign. There’s Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun in front of him, pieced out in larger-than-life gold. Jin Guangyao, the hero of the Sunshot campaign, is absent from the scene.

He fully turns when he recognizes a quiet but unmistakable pair of footsteps. Jin Guangyao, alone, moves with a leopard’s prowling grace.

“San-ge, thank god you’re here! I got so lost…” he lies hurriedly before Jin Guangyao can say anything, clasping onto his arm. This close, the warm, spicy smell of cloves curls towards him. “Oh! You smell nice,” he says, entranced into losing his train of thought, and leans forward, to where the scent is deepened by the heat radiating out from Jin Guangyao’s jugular. “Have you remembered my trick with the incense?” he says, remembering frozen nights in Qinghe carefully draping his long sleeves over the incense burners. At the time, Meng Yao had kept his sleeves sensibly bound to the wrist, but Nie Huaisang had noticed the hungry way that he had stilled to watch all these invisible tricks of the gentry from out of the corner of his eyes, even back then. It had been the first time anybody had wanted to imitate Nie Huaisang. It had been the first time Nie Huaisang had felt the urge to impress someone, stirring new and strange within him.

“I will always remember your kindnesses, Nie Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao replies in the present, polite to a fault, and admirably suppressing his clear desire to ask what exactly Nie Huaisang is doing in Koi Tower. His San-ge, always so thoughtful! “The Jinlintai welcomes you.”

Nie Huaisang finally remembers his twice-stated promise, and, releasing his arm, darts backwards from him like a startled fawn.

“Jin-er-gongzi, thank you for the hospitality,” he says formally, and bows as deeply and as properly as any Lan.

Strong hands catch him from beneath the elbows before the arc of his bow is complete, and he’s hauled back into a standing position. They stand there for a long moment, with Jin Guangyao’s hands wrapped tight around his forearms, and Nie Huaisang’s hands gently draped on his arms. For a moment, Jin Guangyao’s face is startled into openness, as he looks at Huaisang with his large deer-soft eyes, and Huaisang looks back at him.

There’s a lock of Nie Huaisang’s hair, braided for the dust of summer travel, curling around Jin Guangyao’s sleeve and tickling his wrist. Jin Guangyao swiftly tucks it behind Nie Huaisang’s ear, his thin, cold thumb briefly brushing over Huaisang’s cheekbone. His fingers flex against Nie Huaisang’s scalp, briefly, before he releases him, and Huaisang beats down the brief impulse to envelop those cold hands in his own warm ones.

“Let’s go to my office,” Jin Guangyao finally says, and smiles, a small, reflexive thing.

The room Jin Guangyao brings them to is bright and well appointed, and utterly impersonal. There are no decorations. It is the office of a bureaucrat. It is the office of someone who can leave it at any time. Nie Huaisang, kneeling across from Jin Guangyao at his plain desk, feels suddenly desolate at the idea of bright Jin Guangyao entombed in this dingy room. Even in Qinghe, stark as it was, Meng Yao’s office had a few scattered effects, even if it was mostly scraps given by Nie Huaisang. Huaisang wants to give him something beautiful, something that would chisel him into the very walls.

He’s been silent too long. “San-ge, if I get you a fan, would you hang it there?” Nie Huaisang says, pointing randomly at an alcove in the corner. He’s sure to make the words sound artless, casual. Nie Huaisang knows enough to spare Jin Guangyao the sensation of pity.

It must work well enough, because Jin Guangyao says indulgently, “Of course, Huaisang.”

“Don’t just agree with me! What if it’s awful?” Nie Huaisang says.

“I doubt you would ever choose anything that was not in exquisite taste,” Jin Guangyao demurs.

For some reason, at that, Nie Huaisang flops on his elbows and sighs heavily. He thinks he sees Jin Guangyao’s lips twitch up briefly from the corner of his eyes, but when he darts a glance up at him his face is smoothed into placidity once more.

A servant comes in, bearing a tray laden with the dainty little walnut cakes Nie Huaisang favors, placing them on the table to Jin Guangyao’s polite murmur of thanks.

When she leaves, Nie Huaisang leans in, hiding them both under his fan. “Ah, San-ge, what was her name?” he asks.

“Tang Zhu,” Jin Guangyao says in response, and doesn’t ask why Nie Huaisang was curious, sparing Nie Huaisang from having to answer that he simply wanted to see how quickly he would answer, plucking facts out of his well-ordered brain. Sometimes Nie Huaisang’s thoughts spin out from him, wild and untethered and frightening; at those times, Jin Guangyao’s straight-pathed mind settles something deep within him.

When Meng Yao had first entered the Unclean Realm, there had been a long stretch of months when Nie Huaisang had been anxious and sulky about this new addition to Qinghe’s roster, the slight figure at his brother’s right side who carried no saber and who had nevertheless earned such a large portion of his brother’s respect. It had lasted until the day Huaisang had trailed him silently through the secret passageways of the realm to see him pinching off crumbs of bread for one of the stray cats that jostled around the gates. He had felt an affection tinged with the bloody edge of loneliness. He’s like me, he had thought. He could be like me.

He had looked at him then. Jin Guangyao, only two years older than Huaisang, had seemed to have a steady presence that burned brightly within him, outshining any golden core. And Nie Huaisang never really stopped looking at him.

He spreads his fan in front of his face. He has a sudden hope that Meng Yao remembers how they’d use his fan as a silent method of communication with each other back in Qinghe, the way a brisk tap meant rescue me, a shift from hand to hand meaning, watch out! Da-ge coming. When he twists his wrist he thinks with each flutter: trust me, trust me, trust me. “Jin-er-gongzi, how are you settling in?”

Jin Guangyao looks trapped between exasperation and banked amusement, and Nie Huaisang feels such a rush of nostalgic affection that it makes his teeth hurt. “It would be best if you do not refer to me as such in Koi Tower,” he says instead of replying, lightly scolding. “Our positions are dissimilar.”

Nie Huaisang tilts his head unhappily, but smiles to cover it. “Then you’ll be my San-ge. What would you like to do while I’m in here distracting you?”

“I’d like to do my work , Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says, pointedly, picking up a sheaf of papers on the table.

It gives him pause. In Qinghe, Meng Yao was as familiar to him as the downbeat of his own heart; Jin Guangyao in his Lanling gold has new expressions he doesn’t know how to read. Has he been presuming too much on a friendship grown stale through time? He doesn’t know. He has to know.

“Then forgive me for encroaching on your time, San-ge,” he says, penitently. He may have pulled the words from a drama. “I can see myself out.” He stirs to leave.

“Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says, and stops. Hope blooms in Nie Huaisang’s chest like a rose, flowered but barbed. Jin Guangyao’s lies are quick and fluent, easy to surface. Deliberation means he’s close to the truth. His smile is a little sad at the edges. “I can spare some time,” is what he settles on. “What brings you to Lanling?”

“Mostly, just avoiding Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang says, shamelessly. He feels giddy, pricked all over with excitement at the familiar cadence of the conversation.  “He’s been after me to keep to a training schedule.”

“He only worries for you, you know that,” Jin Guangyao says patiently.

“Ah, I know, I know that,” Nie Huaisang says, “but this is peacetime! Surely the point of the war was to actually enjoy the rewards of peace.”

“Sometimes leadership demands sacrifice, even if it is peacetime, Huaisang,” says Jin Guangyao, offhandedly. Nie Huaisang puts his fan on the table.

Are you happy? He thinks. But then again, when he knew him best, Jin Guangyao was many things, and happy wasn’t necessarily one of them. When he thinks that he feels such a melting tenderness towards his old friend he has to hold his own hands.

“You always work very hard,” Nie Huaisang agrees. “But San-ge, shouldn’t you enjoy some of the rewards of peace too?”

“Nie Huaisang, you are not subtle,” Jin Guangyao chides, but his smile has turned more fond.

Caught out, Nie Huaisang grins back at him. “I’ve badgered Da-ge into finally letting me host a yaji for the next full moon, you should come, if you can make the time.”

“If I can make the time,” Jin Guangyao echoes neutrally.

“San-ge,” Nie Huaisang, pouting, “I’ll even sweeten the pot; should I invite someone for you?” Jin Guangyao will suggest Lan Xichen, who will be a good buffer between Da-ge and San-ge; he waits for confirmation.

Jin Guangyao looks down at his papers. “It would be a good opportunity to strengthen your relationship with some of the tributary sects. Some of the smaller sects produce fine artisans, like Laoling or Dingtao,” he says, neutrally.

Nie Huaisang tosses his hair back in exasperation. Jin Guangyao looks up again, tracing the arc of its movement. “You know that’s not what I meant, San-ge - wait, since when does Laoling produce artisans?” Laoling, a minor city kissing Lanling’s borders, produces golden maize in the summer, sticky purple jujubes in winter; it does not, to Nie Huaisang’s knowledge, produce any scholars of the Great Arts. Jin Guangyao’s smile freezes; Nie Huaisang feels triumphant. “You’ve been holding out on me, San-ge! Who’s in Laoling?”

Jin Guangyao ducks his head, affecting a modesty Nie Huaisang is sure is feigned: “Lord Qin’s eldest daughter. Now that my brother’s engagement is secure, it’s time to start thinking about my own marital duties.”

“You wish to marry... Qin Su?” Nie Huaisang asks, astonished. Qin Su is sweet, Qin Su is pretty, in a delicate fashion, and Qin Su has a winsome manner that would, Nie Huaisang imagines, make a person who cares for such things want to sweep her up in their arms. Nie Huaisang would rather be swept up, but he is not blind to the appeal.

“She is a generous and loving woman, and she would make anyone a fine wife.” says Jin Guangyao, and there is an admonishment cloaked in his even tone. There’s Jin Guangyao’s protective streak again, and it sends warmth into Nie Huaisang’s chest even as it feels odd, to hear it directed on the behalf of someone else.

“No, I know that,” says Nie Huaisang, so blankly that it seems to mollify Jin Guangyao. “But I had thought… Zewu-Jun…” he trails off, suddenly aware that he is shown more of his hand than he had planned, but helpless against the rush of curiosity. Zewu-Jun is the top cultivator of the cultivation world, the pride of Gusu Lan. Nie Huaisang could never possibly strive to his heights - it exhausts him thinking of trying.

That would be the caliber of a suitor that he would find for Jin Guangyao. That was the caliber of a suitor he had thought he had found for Jin Guangyao.

Jin Guangyao’s eyes glint, and for a second Nie Huaisang is pinned under a piercing gaze. Jin Guangyao has not looked at him like that for a long time, and there is a small, hungry part of Nie Huaisang that would take the anger, if it means having the honesty. “You should be careful about what you think, and who you tell your thoughts to,” Jin Guangyao says. There you are, Nie Huaisang thinks.

Nie Huaisang makes his mouth twist. “Ah, I’ve upset you,” he says mournfully, “I only want you to be happy.” Jin Guangyao doesn’t smile, precisely, but his gaze softens slightly.

“I’m sure you do,” he says.

But something within Nie Huaisang thrums like a badly plucked qin. So that’s the type he likes, he thinks, without knowing why. Agitated, he taps blindly at his wrist with his fan. It’s then when he realizes that to many, a betrothal to Jin Guangyao would be seen as an insult. It feels like a betrayal to remember, but a greater betrayal to have forgotten.

(Once, Da-ge and him had overheard a chef say “What a pretty child the young master is, too bad about the mother.” Da-ge had her thrown out the next day.)

“I’ll set aside your usual room, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says, in lieu of asking how long Nie Huaisang is planning on staying, which is rather deft of him. Nie Huaisang squirrels the phrasing away for safekeeping and raises his hands placatingly.

“Ah, no need, no need, San-ge, I just stopped by to say hello before proceeding to Lanling! Between the two of us, it’s a little difficult going shopping in Qinghe, everybody knows Da-ge there,” he says, knowing that his face is steadily turning more flushed and batting cool air at his face with his fan.

Jin Guangyao’s face is as smooth and impassive as a creamy block of white jade. “And what would Nie-er-gongzi need in Lanling that you wouldn’t want your brother to know that you’re buying?” He tilts his head, smiling as serenely as ever.

Nie Huaisang squirms and points at him with his fan accusingly. “Ah, you’re teasing me! That’s so unfair, nobody would ever believe me if I tell them that you have a sense of humor.” He wrinkles his nose against the laughter that threatens to bubble out of him. Decorum, Huaisang.

Jin Guangyao raises his eyebrows. The dimples deepen. “And who would you plan on telling?”

Nie Huaisang grins back at him. “You know I can’t tell anyone, you’re the only person I can actually gossip with.”

“I don’t indulge in gossip, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says primly, which is an obvious lie, and has been since the day Nie Huaisang had first met him. “It’s frivolous, and detrimental to the spirit.”

“But San-ge, I’m very frivolous,” Nie Huaisang points out. “Spare a thought for us lost causes.”

“You’re not a lost cause,” Jin Guangyao says, and for a moment he looks almost angry, the raw emotion rippling across his features the way a shark fin breaches water. He calms, and smiles placatingly. “You’ve been raised to this, you and your brother both.”

Jin Guangyao lies. Huaisang knows this. But sometimes, he lies to craft the world into a better shape than it is.

Nie Huaisang smiles at him. “I’ll invite the Qin family at the end of the month; I want to help you.”

He watches Jin Guangyao come to a decision. “You’d be putting me in your debt,” he says, as if doubtful.

Nie Huaisang thrills. “No debts between us, San-ge, we’re brothers!” he says, full of innocence, and watches Jin Guangyao relax in increments - softening his brow, the corners of his eyes, the rigid line of his shoulders entombed in layers and layers of fine silk. That’s never been true, but what would the thoughtless Second Young Master know about obligation? The trick with trapping a wild animal is that you can’t let them know that you see them, or it gives the whole game away.

“I have to go now, there’s only so much time before Da-ge figures out I’m not actually at Lotus Pier,” Nie Huaisang explains, with a trace of regret. He places a hand on Jin Guangyao’s slim wrist as he moves to leave, silk and skin nearly indistinguishable to the touch. “But it was good to see you again, Yao-ge.”

Jin Guangyao blinks slowly down at the hand at his wrist, and then upwards at him. “The pleasure was mine entirely, Huaisang.”

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Madelaine//i wasn’t ready then, i’m ready now, i’m heading straight for you

Request: Maybe you could do an imagine for Madeleine where reader is pregnant and is hanging out with cami Lili and Vanessa while Madeleine films a scene and she goes into labor and the girls start to panic and Madeleine has to cut the scene short & just fluff?

hey! its returned!! wooo! i hope you like this!!! also, thank you @statticghost for helping me with the title! it’s from adele’s ‘sweetest devotion’ which she wrote for her kid, which is quite nice. anyway, go check out @stattic-writes because they’re great and i like them a lot!! and have a nice day!! 

To most people, the behind the scenes of the Riverdale set is one huge maze that takes an eternity to walk through. With giant sets, an uncertain amount of rooms used for anything from storage to nap rooms and an unlimited amount of wiring lining the walls and floors. 

However to a very pregnant woman, it’s almost impossible to get through without getting lost at least twice, tripping at least five times (made even worse when you can’t see past your own stomach) and having to sit down every five minutes. Plus, the dull ache in your back you’ve been feeling all morning hasn’t really helped you. You’ve spent a good hour walking around and looking for your friends, and you’ve only now just found them, sat in what is usually the student lounge of Riverdale High. 

“Y/n? Did you swallow a planet?” Lili asks and you send her a sarcastic smile as you waddle towards her. 

Vanessa and Cami stop talking at the mention of your name, and large smiles appear on their faces once they see you. Cami and Vanessa stand to help you the last few feet to where they’re all sat while Lili moves along on the brown sofa so you can sit down. 

“It certainly looks like I did.” You huff once you’ve sat down. Your hands rest on your stomach as you take a few minutes to catch your breath. 

“Don’t listen to her. You look great.”

“You are a terrible liar Cami.”

“I’m not lying, you look amazing, especially considering the fact that you’re 38 weeks pregnant.” She argues, both Vanessa and Lili agreeing with her and you roll your eyes at your friends. They’re very sweet, but they’re all awful liars. 

“39 actually.”

“Shouldn’t you be at home?” Vanessa shifts in her seat so she’s facing you and you huff loudly, crossing your arms over your chest. You probably look like a grumpy toddler right now, with a pout on your lips and your arms crossed, but so would anybody that had been asked the same question every time they had a conversation with someone over the past few weeks.

“I should.” You nod. “But there’s only so much day time television I can take. My god its boring, I need to do something.”

“You’re gonna miss boring when they come along.” Lili glances at your stomach and you smile softly. 

“I know. But right now I couldn’t care less. I just want to talk to somebody that isn’t myself or a baby that can’t reply.”

“You’ve been talking to yourself?” Cami asks with a hint of concern in her voice. 

“I spend hours alone in the house, who else am I supposed to talk to.”

“Your friends?” She shrugs. 

“You try answering the door, or the phone with this attached to you making everything ten times harder.” You reply, sending her a look. 

“Fair point.” She nods. 

“How’d you get here then?” Lili asks. 

“With great difficulty.” You say, despite the lack of humour in your tone, the girls still laugh at your comment and even though you don’t want to, you feel a small smile breaking through your grumpy facade, until all four of you are giggling quietly. “Is Madelaine around?” 

“She’s filming at the minute, but she should be done soon.” Vanessa tells you, grabbing her phone and checking the time. You nod slowly, weighing up your lunch options while you look around. 

“Who’s facing Cheryl Blossom’s wrath today?” You ask. 

“Archie.” Lili replies, sending you a look and you grimace. 

“Poor KJ.”

“I think the stress of the baby is making her acting even better. She seems to channel all of that stress into making Cheryl the bitchiest woman ever. Its fascinating to watch.” Cami says and you smile at your friend. 

“And kind of scary.” Lili adds making you laugh. 

“Yeah. She’s kind of gone a little crazy over the past few weeks. She’s been planning literally everything. She has notebooks filled with baby things, the nursery was finished within the first month that we found out I was pregnant. And last week, she started setting alarms at weird hours of the night to get used to the sleep schedule.” You explain and they look at you with varying amounts of alarm. 

“Its sweet that she’s excited though.” Vanessa says. 

“Yeah it is.” You smile. They’ve never seen you smile like that before, full of excitement and joy and it makes them all smile too. Madelaine has the same look whenever somebody mentions you or the baby, and its very sweet to witness.

Your fingers draw light patterns over your stomach, and the baby kicks in return. Despite the pain, you smile anyway, wondering if they can hear you take about their mom.

They could come at any time really and you and Madelaine are waiting eagerly to welcome them into the world. Its something you’ve been wanting and waiting for, for two years, so you’re more than excited. Its been a long and draining journey filled with high exceptions and disappointing realities, doctors surgeries and needles and tears and frustration, but its all been leading up to this, and so its more than worth it. 

“I can’t wait to meet them.” Cami interrupts your thoughts and you look at her slightly dazed. 

“Yeah, me too.” Both Vanessa and Lili nod in agreement and you smile at the three of them. 

“Do you have any names?” Vanessa asks. 

“Nothing for certain yet. I think Madelaine’s convinced that when it comes out, it’ll just have a face that fits a name.” 

“So the answer is no then?” Cami teases. 

“Basically yeah.” You agree, laughing a little. 

“I don’t know if Madelaine has told you but, I hope you know you’re probably going to need a bigger house with all of the stuff you’re going to get just from us three.”

“Yep.” You nod. “She’s told me. And she told me about all the other cast and crew. Is it true that Casey got a huge 6ft teddy bear.” 

“Yes.” Lili laughs. “It lives in his spare room and he’s become quite attached to it.” 

“I’m pretty sure he said he was keeping that one and just buying you a new one.” Vanessa continues and the four of you laugh loudly. 

Yours however, is cut short by a sharp pain in your lower stomach. Your sudden inhale stops all laughter and the three of them look at you quickly. Your eyes screw shut while one hand grips your lower back and the other holds your stomach. 

“Y/n?” Vanessa asks quietly. “Is everything okay.” 

“Nope.” You force out through gritted teeth, slowly opening your eyes to look at them. 

Even though you’re fully prepared for this, you’ve read every book and article, some even twice because of Madelaine, now that its actually happening, all of that knowledge has gone out the window and all you want to do is cry. Nothing is right, Madelaine is busy, and its a week early and even though you love your friends dearly, the way they are looking at you is making you feel more panicked. 

The pain dulls a little at you let out a long breath, gripping the corner of the sofa and all three of the girls wince as they watch you. You feel something shift, and then another wave of pain rolls around and you grit your teeth again, pressure building up in your lower abdomen. 

“Is it happening?” Vanessa asks and you nod quickly. 

“Are you sure?” Lili asks, helping you stand when you try and do it yourself. Vanessa and Cami surround you, all of them steadying you while you’re doubled over in pain. 

“No. I’m just trying to tell this apart from a stomach ache, yes of course I’m sure. How can you not be sure that a human life is coming out of you?!” You grumble angrily, trying to focus your breathing. 

“Okay, just checking.” She apologizes. “Why don’t you sit down?” 

“I don’t want to sit down.” 

“Okay, me and Cami will help you stand, and Lili will go find Mads. Okay?” Vanessa takes charge of the situation and you’re glad somebody has. You don’t know what you would have done if all three of them stayed this panicked. 

“Okay.” You nod and Cami takes over from Lili. “Please hurry.” You hear Lili walk away, her footsteps getting quieter and you try to focus on listening for her coming back. 

“Okay, right. What do we do? I’ve never been in this situation before, what do we do?” Vanessa says frantically, looking around and trying to find something to help. Okay, maybe you were a little quick to think that she would know what to do. 

“We...breathe!” Cami says quickly. “Okay, Y/n, Y/n? Take deep breaths. In and out. In and out.” 

“Please stop saying in and out.” You cry, another contraction coming and going and the grip on her t-shirt tightens. 

“Sorry.” 

“Do you want anything? A drink or something?” Vanessa asks.

“I’m, ow, ow, ow, fuck, fuck fucking, shit OW.” 

“Owwww.” Cami cries, her legs buckling slightly as you squeeze her hand. 

“Stop being a baby.” Vanessa scolds and she sends her a glare back. 

“You’re not the one thats having the life squeezed out of their hand.” 

“You’re not the one pushing a melon sized thing out of your vagina! I get to say ow and nobody else.” You interrupt, getting more and more annoyed by the second. Where the hell is Lili? 

She’s only gone for two minutes, but two minutes feel like a life time when you’re pushing a human out of you. And so when she returns with a very panicked Madelaine in tow, you don’t know whether to hug her or hit her. 

Either one wouldn’t do much to stop the pain you’re feeling, but when Madelaine places a gentle hand on your back, taking over from Vanessa and Cami, you do feel a little bit better. 

“Hi babe.” Her voice is soft and comforting and dulls the pain slightly. You manage to stand up a little to look at her, and the smile thats lighting up her face is the best thing you’ve ever seen. She looks happier than you’ve ever seen her before and if you weren’t in so much pain, you’d definitely tell her how cute she looks. 

“Hi.” You manage to reply, despite it feeling like you’re being stabbed repeatedly. Her smile fades as she watches you grimace, and now she looks worried. But she tries to hide it, painting on a slightly wonky smile as she looks back at you. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” She says, trying to distract you and a you let out a small laugh. 

“I got bored.” 

“Not so bored now are you?” She teases. 

“Nope.” You steel yourself against her and she wraps an arm around your waist, the other holds your hand tightly as she leads you towards the door. 

“Can one of you grab my bag please?” She asks the girls and Vanessa quickly runs off to grab it. Madelaine continues to lead you out of the door and after a lifetime (a minute) of walking, you’re stood by the doors that lead into the cast and crew parking lot. Vanessa catches up with you, and follows you to the car, putting Madelaine and yours’ bag in the backseat. 

“Are you telling me I could have just walked through that door instead of wandering around for an hour.” You huff as Madelaine helps you into the car. 

“Well, I told you to stay in bed but you wouldn’t listen to me.” She replies while fastening your seatbelt and you catch her gaze, sending her a hard glare. 

“Do you really want to argue with me right now?” 

“...nope.” She shakes her head quickly, double checking that you’re safe and you have everything before moving around the car and climbing into the drivers seat. The girls have already left, off to tell various people what is happening so its just the two of you. 

Madelaine starts the car, but takes a moment to look over at you, sat panting and sweaty in the passenger seat, but she knows she’s never loved anyone more. There’s nobody else in this world that she’d rather be doing this with, you’re her best friend and her soulmate and she’s going to love you and this baby for the rest of her life and beyond. 

“I love you.” She reaches her hand over the console to hold yours and you stop what you’re doing to look back at her, a small smile twitching at your lips. 

“I love you too.” You reply and press a soft kiss to her hand. 

“Are you ready?” She asks. 

“No.” You say honestly. “Are you?” 

“Absolutely not.” She laughs. 

Neither of you are worried though, because you know you have each other. 

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Twelve: The One With the Coffee

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3073

Lily Briar Osborne. The girl that would lay her life down on the line for anyone who even showed her the slightest of affection. Or even just said hi to her on the subway or something. She would never hurt a fly. Never raise her voice or become angry. Even when parents grew upset with a diagnosis Lily had given to their child. But when it came to her son, her boy, the earth she, the sun, revolved around. That's when she would cut someone. She would go to war for Hunter, and everybody who knew Lily understood this. And they all knew never to cross her when it surrounded her only child.

She would even dare to take on the challenge of a six-foot-four, 220 pounds, man, made out of strictly muscle. Lily Osborne. The five-foot-five, 128 pounds, meek, and frail doctor would throw down in an apartment building parking lot almost an entire foot taller than her if it meant protecting her son from his reckless tendencies for the rest of his (hopefully) long-lived life. The surge of strength that ran through her veins rivalled the primal levels that a woman can feel while experiencing childbirth. For it has been scientifically proven that the mama bear instinct is indeed a real thing women experience, their child or not. It is wired in a woman's DNA to place their own life at risk or face an unspeakable force if it meant protecting a child. Especially when that said person is a mother, it heightens that instinct.

So the sheer thought of Scott putting their child, and Mary's, in danger, was enough to make Lily a new woman. One with no reservations or any sort of anxiety holding her back. She wished to inflict the pain he made her feel on to him. Make him experience the heartache that he had caused her for over ten years. Together or not. The heartbreak he inflicted on her. The feeling of abandonment that Hunter experienced at such a young age. And it all came to a head because he had decided to make the brilliant choice of leaving his children home with a deadbeat babysitter. And all she wanted was to strangle the life out of him.

But that would create more problems than it would solve, wouldn't it?

"What do you mean I'm done being a father? He is my son Lily," Scott grumbled, his voice dropping a few octaves in an attempt to create a more domineering presence.

"He is more Gen's child than he will ever be yours. The divorce gave you a second chance to be better. And you blew it. Again," the blonde snapped, stepping back and draping her arm across her son's frail shoulders, "Tell Mary to call me if she needs any divorce tips."

With the final dig served, Lily lead her son and the others back towards her car, where everybody piled in. But before the doors shut. One voice, one powerful and overprotective voice spoke out, "See you in court, jackass." Rose's voice called from the driver’s seat before Gen slammed the door and everybody was locked inside of the car.

-----

After dropping Gen and Rose off at Gen's apartment building, Bucky took over the wheel after Lily inputted the GPS. Seeing as he was the only sober one since Rose left...being a supersoldier and all. Lily sat in the backseat of her car, gripping her son close to her chest as the car revved along the empty streets of now suburban New York. Gentle music played in the background as Lily listened to the soft breathing emitting from Hunter's lips. The boy had dozed off not too long ago, and let’s face it, the boy deserved to have some shut-eye. He had just gone through something that would stick with him through all of his years. But one thing kept sticking inside of Lily's mind as if stuck on repeat.

Why was the guy calling out Scott's name while banging on the door?

"Want me to carry him in?" Bucky's soothing voice cooed, snapping Lily out of her thoughts. Without realizing it, they had arrived back at the quaint-style house that she and Hunter called home. Her hand halted from stroking the blonde hair atop of her son’s head and gave the man upfront a gentle smile.

"Oh, that's okay. I've carried him from the car a few times," Lily smiled while popping open the car door and scooping her son into her arms. She let out a quiet grunt as she stepped from the car, forgetting that he was still a growing boy. Seeing as he was turning 12 soon...Lily almost became tearful at the thought of him growing up. Clearing her throat, she nodded to the keys in Buckys hand, "Unlock the door for me would you?"

Complying, the three passed the threshold, coming face to face with a sleeping Joey at the front door. Lily smiled gently and stepped over the large dog that continued snoring on as she walked Hunter up to his room, tucking him in under the blue Captain America comforter she had gotten him for Christmas last year. Flicking on the Thor nightlight that sat on Hunter's bedside table, Lily placed a kiss on his forehead before shutting the white door behind her. She slid into her own bedroom to step out of her dress and pulled on pyjamas, scrubbing the makeup off of her face and letting her hair down. When she exited her room, her eyes spotted the kitchen light on, the blonde walked down the wooden stairs, feet tapping gently. Her green eyes laid on Bucky, looking at the framed pictures of the little mismatched group that Lily called her family.

Pictures of Lily, her brother, and her sister as kids. Lily a ripe 14 years old, Rose standing at a solid seven, and Cedar still being a young three-year-old. His eyes flickering across to one of Lily and Hunter in front of Stark tower When the young boy was only eight. Or Lily, Rose, and Gen sharing glasses of champagne at her bachelorette party all of those years ago. One of Lily's personal favourites though was her graduation photo. A bright smile plastered on her face as she held her diploma in her hands. But the one that Bucky couldn't seem to take his eyes off of is one of Lily's least favourites.

The first time that Lily held Hunter in her arms. Her hair stuck to her forehead from the sweat of childbirth. It had been 27-hour labour, and Lily's face stayed puffy and red as she held the freshly swaddled and cleaned baby in her gentle arms. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the baby halted his screaming the moment his mother’s heartbeat began to radiate in his ears. The god-awful hospital light beat down on Lily's face, creating a fluorescent glow around her already beaming facial expression. Everything inside of her wanted to toss the photo off of the picture table and keep it for her eyes only. But her mother loved the photo and managed to convince her ever-so-insecure daughter to leave it. Alicia Osborne had said it showed genuine happiness from her daughter and created a new light. It was raw and real. And that's what everyone loved about it.

Especially Mr. Barnes.

"Twenty-seven hours later..." Lily sighed gently as she leaned on the banister, "I wanted to get a c-section but looking back at it I'm glad I didn't...but the pain is still a haunting memory." The blonde commented, eyes scanning over the pictures herself.

In each picture that was taken without Lily's knowledge, her smile was bright. A warm glow lit up any room that she managed to find herself in. It was an infectious thing, the doctor’s smile. It radiated kindness and sincerity. A certain type of authenticity that seemed to be a gift that was few and far between. Everybody had become too hostile and aggressive with one another, but that one diamond always seemed to be found in a group of coal. And that's how the majority of people in her life viewed Lily. She was the one tomato that would grow on the plant when you first started gardening. The rose that stuck out brighter than the rest. And even though she tried so hard to blend in and run with the crowd, Lily's energy, or aura as Gen would say, was too charming for anybody to ignore. Much to the eldest Osborne's dismay.

"You look beautiful," Bucky began, hand resting on the side of the silver frame and lifting up the photograph, getting a closer look at all of the small details. The way the tears made her eyes light up like green Christmas lights. or how they seemed to be made of stained glass. How he could see all of the similarities between Hunter and Lily, even when he was just born. The curve of their noses, the twinkle of love in their eyes. A bit of Bucky's heart broke at the domesticity of it all. Sure he was a playboy back in the ‘40s, but he had dreamed of a family one day. A small home and a dog. A beautiful wife beside him and a son and a daughter, similar to the life that Lily leads now. but he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to find that, "Just...naturally."

Placing the sentimental picture back down, Bucky raised his ice-blue eyes to look at the woman that stood on the stairs. Her golden hair tousled, laying perfectly messy across her shoulders. The pale skin of her cheekbones that were naturally coloured a bit red. How Lily's face was so naturally beautiful, even with the faint acne scars on her cheek, the blemishes across her forehead and chin (no doubt from her work). The deepness of her under-eye that was permanently stained a purple hue from countless late shifts and sleepless nights. The way her eyes fluttered open and closed as she attempted to keep herself awake and coherent after the hectic night that she had just suffered through.

"Thank you. I didn't feel very beautiful at that moment though. Just a lot of emotions going through my mind." she chuckled sleepily, barefoot landing on the cool hardwood of the main floor of her two-story home. Lily stepped forward, past the supersoldier as she herself lifted the picture from his hand to look at herself and her son. But who was missing from the picture? You guessed it. Scott, "You're probably wondering where the father of my son is in this picture," Lily commented, tears welling up on her waterline, "Supposedly stuck at work. But I learned later that wasn't the case."

Dropping the framed photo back onto her small table collection, Lily kept her eyes down on the floor. She had grown ashamed (?) of her past relationship. How he had so obviously been walking all over her like she was a rug. And instead of standing up for herself and confronting the son of a bitch, she took it. For seven years, Lily took the pain and emotional trauma that Scott had inflicted upon her heart and mind. All because she hadn't had the strength or the courage to stand up for herself. To know her own worth and realize that she was Lily Osborne. One of the top pediatricians in new york. Single mother of an eleven-year-old boy. The woman who graduated top of her class, all while raising a child alone in New York. The girl who came out on the other side of an emotionally abusive and draining relationship alive and intact. She was Lily fucking Osborne. And she had allowed a deadbeat, no good, son of a bitch, to use and manipulate her like a pawn in his game.

And she was ashamed of it.

"And who's this big guy." Bucky's smooth voice cooed, once again, reeling Lily in from the dark corners of her mind. Lily glanced over her shoulder to see Bucky delicately stroking Joey's ears. The dog had a stupid grin on his face, just enjoying the attention from the new person his mom had decided to bring into her home.

"That's joey. The other boy in my life." Lily smiled, eyes creasing as she admired the way Bucky interacted with her dog. Though not much of a guard, clearly, Joey was an excellent judge of character. Lily had learned this when she once brought home a nurse friend and Joey lost his ever-loving mind. It was later revealed that that nurse was stealing money out of Lily's wallet. And really, ever since that moment, Lily trusted Joey's reaction to people she brought home.

And by the looks of it, the German Shepherd had a new favourite friend. Lily's heart swelled at the sight that had taken place in front of her. The soft touches Bucky made with his left hand. The metal one. It seemed as though Bucky was nervous he would scare Joey, or worse, cause harm. But to Lily, it was one of the most endearing things she had seen him do in the entirety of their friendship? If that's even what it was. The two weren't romantically involved, they weren't close friends. They were more so acquaintances. Of course, Lily was attracted to Bucky, he looked like he had been sculpted by the Greek gods. Not to mention, he was a kind soul. He was sweet and caring. And the way he acted for Hunter and the way that he treated Joey was evident of that.

"Uh, do you want some coffee?" Lily asked, scratching her cheeks with her nails, shifting her weight before walking off towards the white and grey-styled kitchen with navy blue accents. Her thin hand dripped the dark kettle and filled it with water before placing it back onto the boiling device. Her deep-set eyes glanced over her shoulder to see Bucky once again admiring the pictures placed aesthetically on a brown stained wood table, "Bucky?"

"Hm? Oh, sure. thank you." his voice echoed. It was a deep vibrato tone that sent a shiver down Lily's spine. It was a voice that Lily would love to hear in the mornings. One that she could only imagine would continue to drop a few octaves. Small grunts as he stretched after waking from a deep slumber. cradling Lily tight in his arms as Joey snored soundly at the end of their bed with the light shining through the sheer white curtains.

The feeling of his calloused flesh hand and the contrast of his cold metal hand sliding along her pale and supple side in the morning. Slightly chapped and swollen lips kissing her forehead as her soft breathing radiated against his chest. Whatever it was about Bucky, it had an everlasting effect on Lily. It kept her heart beating rapidly and her face growing a deep shade of red that matched the natural rosacea of her cheeks. She longed for the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around her thin waist as he pressed gentle and generous kisses to her cheek and down her neck, creating goosebumps on her skin.

Lily pulled out her coffee grounds from the cupboard and perked up when she heard the soft footsteps of Bucky's shoes tapping against her floors. After the kettle screamed at her, Lily poured two cups and took out the cream and sugar from her fridge and baking cupboard. Turning around, she came face to face with that same broad chest that she did all those weeks ago. A small gasp escaped her lips as the coffee sloshed inside of the navy blue mugs she held in each hand as she bit her lip.

"I take two sugar," he stated, cool eyes looking down at the girl as she attempted to avoid any contact between them. When she moved left, he thought to do the same. When she went to duck around his right side, he accidentally blocked her path. It was an uncoordinated, unplanned tango that neither one of them knew how to end. Well, that's what Lily thought at least.

His large hands reached forward and grabbed the mugs from Lily's. The supersoldier placed them on the counter island behind him before returning his attention to the much smaller blonde girl in front of him. Without thinking, he placed both hands with no hesitation on either side of her face. Her breathing came to a halt as he leaned forward and planted a deep and passionate kiss on her flower soft lips. His human hand threading into the hair that hung on the left side of her face, the golden tresses tangling into his fingers. Her own eyes fluttered closed as she returned the pressure that he had initiated onto her lips. Lily's arms slid around the man’s neck as she took a hesitant step forward, closing the small gap that kept them apart.

And after what Lily believed to be hours, the two broke away, lungs gasping for air. Lily's face exploded into a fit of red as she stared into the same eyes that always seemed to make her feel like she had a place in the world. Even if she had only seen or even been around him a handful of times, Bucky Barnes made Lily feel like she was the most special girl in the world, just by maintaining (or attempting) eye contact with her through those steel-blue eyes of his. The same eyes that used to be hidden by a mask and glasses because it was too dangerous for anyone to see his face. The same eyes that had seen the horrors of the world. The ones that watched men and women die at his hands.

"Your room is on the left when you go upstairs."

And with that, Lily darted out of his grip and up the wooden stairs with her heart pounding in her chest so loud she wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it. It played a dangerous rhythm in her ears as she shut her own bedroom door and fell back onto the plush pillows and blankets that laid decoratively on her bed. Lily's calloused hands slapped her forehead before sliding down to cover her entire face. The moment replayed in her head 1000 times over.

He kissed her. And she liked it.

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

When I Find You

If somebody wants to adopt this fic, feel free. I love to see more of this trope and you all are amazing <3

Notes: :’) I needed a break from work so I wrote a little snippet that I may or may not finish later because I have other things to worry about and another fic that I wanted to really focus on. So, in the meantime, here’s some angst with fluffy ending because reasons :’)  

Au Setting: Au of some sort I guess lol. I um...couldn’t help but make Tai-chan look like the hunter from Little Red Riding Hood, so he’s basically a lumberjack because I have needs.

Warnings: Angst because I love torturing our poor reader ig? Living in fear of the possibility of non-con, reader kinda being a stalker? Improper knowledge of wolf dynamics and other things because of plot, and Fatgum being too heckin’ sweet and understanding. Also, reader is too thirsty lol.

…………

 The pack had adopted you when you were a lone pup, whose rogue mother hadn’t returned to her den with food for you. Your little howls of despair reached the alpha, who decided that it wouldn’t hurt to take you in. It was against the usual behavior and tradition of your wolf-blooded packs, and although the elderly alpha accepted you, your kin did not.

You thought for sure that over time, they would accept you and treat you as your own, but you were wrong. Your smell wasn’t close to theirs, and your furry ears and tail were a different color. An oddball is what you were. Sure you had the same behaviors and characteristics of your fellow wolves, but this was not your pack, and growing up with the obvious glares, odd stares, and blatant ignoring or snapping at you, you knew that you could never fit in.

You had always felt so alone, and when the alpha had passed away, a new one took his place, and all but chased you off. Being stubborn, you tried to talk your way into staying, because not only this had been your home, but you had nothing and nobody else.

It led to a fight, and you were badly wounded in the forest. With a few last harsh words, your new but former alpha had left you to die as the pack ignored your whimpers. Blacking out from the pain, you awoke, snow covered and cold in your human hybrid form with your own blood surrounding you. The wound must have dried over or froze, because now you had a permanent scar on your throat. Not near your scent gland, but close enough to your heart.

You were alone, scared, and scarred, and it confused and horrified you to no end. You needed a pack, you needed stability, and you vaguely thought that if you ran into humans, there might be a small chance that they’d take you in. Your kind was considered a monster in their folklore and myths, but what choices did you have? A lone wolf would surely be snatched up by either enemy packs, poachers, or whatever else. Not to mention, that you were a young and fertile omega who’s scent could lure unwanted attention. Even humans could smell the potent smells that your kind gave off during heats or ruts. You shuddered.

You couldn’t stay here. The blood had coated your human fur coat, making it sticky and smell awful, as well as it’ll leave more questions than answers that you weren’t emotionally ready to give. Chucking it off, you shivered but knew that you would survive if you stayed in your lycan form. Maybe you could scent out a human village and linger there.

 A sigh escaped your lips, knowing that it wouldn’t be easy. Human villages and kingdoms were a rarity in this part of the country. It was nothing but snow and ice and certain death. South is where the old alpha mentioned that although it was productive and rich with food and trade, they were a little more strict around monsters such as the wolf kin. Your legs felt wobbly as you got up from the ground. Your neck was in constant pain and everything was so cold. Yet you started walking. It was an odd feeling, you didn’t really know where to go or what to do, but you felt a determination. You didn’t want to die here. You always wanted a mate with pups and a caring pack, and although your chances of survival was questionable, you wanted to try to live for yourself. The thought of love and acceptance burned hotter than any star that you wanted to chase.  

Shifting into your wolf form, you went from prodding to full out running on all fours. The chilly wind hitting your face and the aurora borealis kissing the stars above you was your only company, for now.

You couldn’t be in your form, forever. You took breaks during your travel, letting your human self sleep in old dens, burrows, or short trees during the day time, and let your wolf form take over during night. Your scar healed over more nicely than you thought it did, but it still showed. You weren’t too weak to catch fish from the river, quickly snapping the lazy salmon in your jaws, but you had to be careful of bears and other predators.

It was as if shock never left you. You were in the twilight zone of being a lone wolf, and it scared you. You had nobody to protect your sleeping self from predators, to hunt with you, nor did you feel at least a little secure like you did in your old pack.  You were very vulnerable, and couldn’t wait to see a human village, soon.  

The thought of having your heat terrified you. Although it happened once every five months, it lasted two weeks, and even then your intoxicating scent lingered on you for three more days before fading. It was close to time for you to gather food for three weeks and try your best to keep safe held within a den. Although a monster to people, you weren’t the only one. Dragons, ogres, orcs, and even fellow hybrids had the capability of scenting you out and entering a rut because of your scent.

It was terrifying. You weren’t accustomed to such trivial, because although your old pack didn’t really care for you, your former father figure, the alpha, would always to make sure that you were protected and left alone. Wolf kin mated for life, but you didn’t know about other dynamics or beings, and the thought of being used and discarded with the possibility of pups from an unwanted encounter scared you.

Just like your mother, a dark thought cut to you. It made you try your best to push forward, and hopefully find safety, soon.

Six months had gone by, and it was late June, and the summer was more evident in the south than your cold northern home. You sweated easily and were huffy and upset. Time dragged on and you felt hopeless as you saw no signs of any human life so far. There were always more “monsters” such as yourself that you tried to avoid. Curious onlookers were the majority, thankfully.

At wits end, you were about to just sleep the rest of the day away. Let yourself worry about nighttime. A strange scent hit your nose. Curiosity getting to the better of you, you wanted to follow it, and so you did. It was the smell of smoke, but burning meat and vegetables were mixed into it. It was so weird and foreign to you, for you ate only fish or what the earth grew, and you knew that you wanted to check it out.

It had taken you a week to get to this forest. The surrounding area had mostly nothing but trees with beautifully dying leaves, those of which were unlike the evergreens you were familiar with. Your feet crunched against the multiple of colors of green, yellow, brown and red and although usually silent, you didn’t mind.

The smells here are mostly faded, and the only fresh scents were those of wild animals, not the fellow beasts or humans that run within your homeland, so you knew that it was a safe place. The smell of smoke, however, was new and farther in the distance in which you have yet to explore. You knew that you should rest, first, but you endured months of no pack had you aching for structure and security, and this very well could be it. It didn’t take you very long to reach your destination.

 Awe didn’t began to cover on how you felt when the sight reached your eyes. Houses and other buildings were nestled within the center of the forest. Your heartbeat picked up when you noticed that there were small chickens running freely, a dog barking in the distance, and most importantly, people. Human people. It was as if a miracle happened, and although you wanted to step into the town, fear gripped you with bitter remembrance.

What if they feared you? Although in human form, you still had your physical wolf attributes such as your ears and tail, as well as you carried your own specific scent that didn’t scream human. You knew that all of that traveling wasn’t for nothing, but now faced with the real thing, you felt scared. You didn’t want to be ran off, again, or hated. Slipping further back into the woods, a sight caught your eye.

Soft and yellow hair poking out from a red cap, brilliant amber irises, a friendly wide grin, all belonged to a tall man walked out into the clearing. He wasn’t like anybody you’ve seen before. He was bulky, muscular, and had a roundness to his belly and face, he was unlike your lithe and limber brethren, and you found yourself appreciating the sight, if you were blunt with yourself. His attire was that of an odd shirt, it was orange and checkered, and he had leather boots with rabbit fur adorning them.

You noticed that he carried and ax, and was holding a bunch of split logs with just one arm. He was pretty strong for a human, and you liked that. Of all the humans, you couldn’t help but find this one the most attractive, and you hushed your omega instincts as they hummed with approval. You couldn’t find a mate, just yet.

 However, you decided that if you were to be accepted within the village, he was the first on your list for courting. Just wanting to get it over with, you kept your human form as you took mental breaths on how to breach the humans. Timidly, you approached the handsome blond first when he reached the edge of the forest. It was probably stupid to creep up on somebody with an ax in their hands when your kin wasn’t very welcomed, but your desires were far more greater than fear.

Alright, you still were a little scared. Hiding some odd feet away in hiding, you let your presence known by stepping on twigs, making them crack. His head snapped up to your direction, eyes squinting in confusion as he readied himself for possible danger. What he didn’t expect was your voice murmuring through the trees.

“Hello.” Was the first thing that came to your mind.

“Who’s there?” A soft yet husky accented voice answered you and you liked it.

“A monster.” Came the reply without a filter. You could have said something better, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“A monster, eh? You gonna eat me, or hide all day?” He chuckled, and you liked the way it reverberated through the trees as it reached you.

“Aren’t you going to kill me if I show myself? My kin really isn’t welcomed with humans. No we don’t eat people.” You kept blurting out. Years of anxiety and being basically alone didn’t grant you favors with talking to people, but your friendly woodcutter didn’t seem to care.

“Hm? What terrible awful being you must be, hidin’ behind those trees and talkin’ so softly? Besides, how do you know that I’m fully human?” He teased lightly, and you couldn’t help but feel your muscles relax a bit as curiosity gripped you.

“I’m a wolf.” You admitted.

A moment of silence followed after that, and then a laugh. You tried to keep yourself from feeling funny in your chest.

“What’s so funny?” You all but demanded

“Nothin’. Just that, you’re suppose to be big and bad, but you’re bein’ so shy and timid, and honestly? It’s kinda cute. Come out, Sugar, I won’t hurt ya. Promise.” He finished laughing, and you kept yourself from humming with approval with the complement and name. Taking a breath, you stepped outside from your hiding place, and the both of you froze as he took you in.

To him you must be a small, feral thing. Your long tunic and pants looked as if they were about to tear with age, your hair was a mess, although you bathed, you still couldn’t get all the dirt off of you, and you were sure that your tail and ears were unkempt, as well. You expected him to change his mind and turn on you, or just run you off. What you didn’t expect, was that his cheeks turned into a shade of pink as his amber eyes softened to a more yellow tone, something that you were unaware of.

“You’re not a monster. No, you’re alright. Come on, let’s get you somewhere to stay.” He broke the silence as he gently held out his hand, and feeling an odd burst of warmth shoot through you, you took it gingerly as he led you to who knows where.

  You were at a home where you can finally feel safe.

………….

I know, it’s short, but I’m focusing on another fic that took me many times to re-write because I wasn’t sure of it. For now, enjoy some stuff n’ thangs.    

[goldencursive]

Chapter Two: 1965 words

Title: bro, will you be my bro forever, bro?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Kaminari Denki/Sero Hanta, Kaminari Denki & Sero Hanta

Characters: Kaminari Denki, Sero Hanta, Uraraka Ochako, Ashido Mina, Hagakure Tooru, Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki

Additional Tags: BNHA Rarepair Week 2021, Fake/Pretend Relationship, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Humor, or At Least an Attempt at Humor, Carnival, Meet the Family, a wedding wheeee, its not kamisero's lol, POV Kaminari Denki, POV Sero Hanta, POV Alternating, Mutual Pining

Summary:

alternatively titled: five times denki and hanta pretend to boyfriends and one time they actually are

“Brooooo, look at that!” Eijirou’s excited voice calls from ahead. The Bakusquad were hanging out at the fair during a rare day of relaxation. Most of the other members of their class are scattered around the fairgrounds somewhere, but right now, the five of them - minus Kyouka, who’s on a date with Yaomomo - are standing in front of a small contest stage.

“Wow,” Hanta remarks. “That is a giant Pikachu plushie.” Denki gapes at it. It’s in a sitting position, arms out, face beaming. It’s as big as he is. He wants it.

“I want it,” Denki announces out loud. “It looks so soft and cute and huggable. Can you imagine the cuddles you could get out of it?”

The Pikachu is sitting close enough to the front of the stage that they could touch it if they want to. Well, if they had really long arms. Like, arms twice as long as their legs, while holding one of those claw grabber thingys.

Okay, maybe they can’t touch it, but still. They can see it close up in its full, fluffy glory.

“Hey, you guys admiring our Pikachu plushie?” A bubbly girl with bright green hair pops up from behind it. “You can win it from our contest! Couples only, starts in an hour. I can give you a sign up sheet if you want it.”

Denki turns to Hanta immediately, because he might not have a boyfriend, but he does have a best friend who he’s totally not crushing on what do you mean and who owes him so many favors for charging his phone. “Hanta, bro, please. I have never wanted anything more in my life.”

Mina snickers and drapes her arm around him. “Didn’t you say that last week about the cake Sato made?”

“His cakes are like heaven and angel tears rolled up in the burrito of the gods, okay? Don’t judge me, Kiri said the same thing.” Denki crosses his arms, pouting. “Anyways, I have never wanted anything more in my life, Hanta, please help me.”

Katsuki smacks Denki in the back of the head (but nowhere near as hard as he would have in first year because they’re totally friends now, no matter how much he likes to deny it). “Idiot, you didn’t even see what kind of fucking contest it is. Don’t just jump into it without being prepared.”

“Says you,” Mina snickers.

“Oi, you wanna die?!”

“I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me,” she answers playfully, ducking behind Eijirou.

While Eijirou tries to defuse the Bakubomb, Denki turns to the sign next to the Pikachu. “How well do you know your partner?” he reads. “Hey, that doesn’t sound too hard! We know each other pretty well, I think,” he says, turning to Hanta. Although he’s not sure the kind of information he knows, like how Hanta still sleep with a blanket his mom made

“I mean, it’ll be fun,” shrugs the taller boy. “I’m down.”

Denki cheers, and accepts a sheet from the girl. “Let’s gooooo.”

<><><><><>

An hour later, they’re sitting across from each other with a whiteboard in their hands. The three couples sit at tables arranged in a row with the two hosts in front of them and the prize Pikachu on a raised pedestal behind them.

“All right, let’s get started!” cries the bubbly girl from earlier. “I’m Hina and this is Yumi.” She gestures to the pink haired girl beside her, who cheerfully waves to the crowd gathered in front of the stage. “This is our ‘How Well Do You Know Your Partner’ contest for couples. It’s a lot harder than you’d think! We host this every day at the same time, so if you wanna participate but missed out today, you can always come back tomorrow! Now, can we get some introductions from our couples? We’ll start with you two,” she says, gesturing to the couple on the right of Denki and Hanta, a shy looking boy and brown haired girl.

They wave to the audience, introducing themselves as Yui and Haruto. “We’ve been together for over a year now, so I’m certain we’ll win!” the girl, Yui, says, smiling.

“All right, long term relationships are the best for this kind of contest! How about you guys?” Hina continues, gesturing to Denki and Hanta.

“What up, people? I’m Denki, and this is Hanta, my best bro and the love of my life.” Denki gives Hanta a dopey smile that’s not hard to fake because it’s not fake, and playfully bats his eyelashes, making Hanta crack up.

“Bro, stop, you’re going to make me blush in front of all these people,” Hanta says between snickers.

“What a lovely relationship! We love the ones where you can play around with your partners,” Hina says with a grin. “Now, what about the last couple?”

“I’m Ayaka and my girlfriend is Sora,” grins a girl with hair red enough to rival Eijirou’s. “We’re just here for the Pikachu!” Her girlfriend smacks her arm for being so blunt, but Ayaka’s grin doesn’t falter.

“That’s right! Our lovely prize, a giant stuffed Pikachu plushie, will be in the possession of whoever wins our contest! Now, our rules.” Hina looks over to her partner, who smoothly jumps in.

“The rules are simple: we’ll ask twelve questions of varying difficulties. Each of our contestants have a different color based on the seat they sit in, red or blue. We’ll direct our questions to either color. For example, if we ask Blue what Red’s favorite color is, Blue will write their guess on their board, while Red writes the correct answer on theirs. You’ll have thirty seconds to answer the question. Everybody got it?” She looks back at the contestants, who all nod back at her.

“Then let’s get started!” smiles Hina. “First question: what is Blue’s favorite food?”

Okay, blue, that’s Hanta. Denki looks down at his whiteboard, thinking. The first two things that pop to mind are oranges and soy bean flavored food. But which does he like better? Can he write down both? Is that allowed?

“Ten seconds!” Yumi calls. Ok, no time to agonize over it. Denki quickly scribbles ‘soy bean flavored stuff’ down. Hanta drinks soy bean milk all the time and hardly ever steals Denki’s orange juice, unlike SOME people who shall remain unnamed (cough *mina* cough cough). “Time’s up! Please flip your boards around to show the audience!”

Denki cranes neck to see what Hanta wrote. “Hey, we wrote the same answer word for word,” he says, grinning at Hanta. “High five!”

“Looks like everybody got this question right! Congratulations!” says Yumi. Hina makes a show of adding points to a large whiteboard bearing their names. “Next question: when is Red’s birthday?”

Denki writes a neat “July 29th” on his board, smiling as he remembers the first time they told each other their birthdays. Denki had been so excited to find out that their birthdays were only a month apart.

“All right, another easy point for everybody,” cheers Hina. “Keep it up! The next question: what is Blue’s favorite hobby?”

Favorite hobby, huh? Well, they don’t really have time for any serious hobbies outside of hero-ing, but Denki remembers oohing and aahing with Mina and Eijirou over the beautifully hand-woven rugs and tapestries all over Hanta’s room. His family owns a crafts shop, and Hanta had gotten into weaving that way, saying it was fun playing with the patterns he could create and good stress relief as well. So, weaving then.

“Let’s check out your answers,” Yumi says, calling the time. “Hm, looks like Yui and Haruto are the only ones missing this question.” Yui, sitting in the blue seat, frowns at her boyfriend for getting it wrong, but softens when he murmurs something back.

“I’m surprised you remember I like to weave,” Hanta says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Denki snorts. “Your room is covered in the stuff. It’s kinda hard to forget.”

The next few questions go by without a hitch for Denki and Hanta. “Hey, we’re doing pretty good,” Hanta says. “We’re the only ones who have a perfect score right now.”

“Heck yeah, that Pikachu’s gonna be mine,” grins Denki. He’s honestly kind of surprised that they were the ones with the perfect streak, even though they weren’t even dating. But he can’t deny the burst of satisfaction that comes with getting each question right, and further cementing their brohood.

“Okay, we’re getting into the last few questions now. Who was Red’s first kiss?” Hina asks deviously.

Aw, shucks, this might actually throw their score off. Denki’s not sure if he’s ever told Hanta who his first kiss was since the guy wasn’t really anybody special. Actually, Denki kinda feels bad for forgetting the dude’s name as he scribbles down “a boy in middle school.” When the timer runs out, Hanta’s board only has a question mark on it, and he smiles sheepishly at Denki.

“Sorry for not knowing,” he says.

“Nah, dude, you couldn’t have known since I never told you,” Denki says, brushing it off. “But, hey, we still have the lead!” he continues, beaming. Hanta returns his smile with a wider one. Honestly, Denki could get drunk off Hanta’s smile, sweet and goofy and always there, like the way All Might’s always smiling, but softer and infinitely cuter.

Get a grip, Denki, he scolds himself. He’s definitely going to notice if you keep staring at him. So he looks towards the two hosts and gets ready to answer the next question.

“What is Red’s weirdest fear?”

Huh. It would be an easy point if the question were biggest fear since it’s common knowledge that Denki hates spiders as much as Katsuki loves swearing, but weirdest fear? Denki has lots of fears, ranging from insects to angry pomeranians (thanks katsuki) to forgetting his homework to Midoriya with no sleep (you’d understand if you saw it). And it has to be one that Hanta knows, so what about...sand foxes.

Okay, listen, Denki knows next to nothing about sand foxes, but he does know that their faces are NOT NATURAL and CREEP HIM OUT, so DON’T laugh at him. Seriously, the first Denki saw one, he couldn’t stop thinking about that face for hours. It still haunts him to this day. And it's definitely a weird fear that Denki complains to Hanta about all the time.

“Alright, let’s see your answers!” Looking around, Denki sees that only he and Hanta got this question.

“Dude, we’re totally gonna win,” Denki whisper-shouts excitedly, leaning into the table. “Look at how far we are compared to everyone else!”

It comes as no surprise, then, that they do end up winning. The contestants line up in front of tables. “Hey, that was a great game! In third place, unfortunately, is Yui and Haruto, with six points.” Kinda strange, that the couple has been together for over a year and they have the lowest score, Denki muses. Meh. Worked out in his favor. “Second place, we have Sora and Ayaka, with eight points. And finally, our winners, Denki and Hanta, with eleven points!”

Denki whoops, turning to give Hanta a high five. The other two couples walk off the stage while Yumi and Hina hand over their prize. “I know this Pikachu is huge and kind of hard to carry, so you can leave it here until you’re ready to leave,” Hina tells them.

“Promise we won’t let anyone steal it,” Yumi adds, winking.

“Nah, I think we have to go now,” Hanta says, shaking his head. They say goodbye to the two ladies and rejoin their waiting friends, carrying the heavier-than-expected plush between them.

“Bro, it’s even bigger up close!” Eijirou raves.

“And it’s so fluffy I’m going to die!” squeals Mina. She strokes it reverently. “Denki, you have to bring it to our next Bakusquad sleepover.”

Denki laughs. “You know it!”

<>

one thing that i couldn't find a proper place to add in: i promise denki's not being inconsiderate in assuming the pikachu all for himself! they had a convo abt it while they were waiting for the contest to start

part one | part three

[angelsunflowers-fanfics]

Nathan Prescott x Female!reader (The Sketchbook incident)

Request: I had this idea for a Nathan Prescott and female reader imagine where he’s secretly her muse and she drawing him every day in her sketchbook but one day he sees and destroys her sketchbook and she gets so upset she stops drawing and he feels bad and realizes how special it was to her and buys her a new one Sorry if that long, it’s my first time Also love your writing <3

Fandom: Life is strange

Genre: Mix of Angst and fluff (Happy ending)

Linktree

~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Rough sketches, pencil marks, pen and an assortment of colors rubbed onto her fingers and arms as she shaded in a certain area of the model, of her picture of Nathan. As an artist, (y/n) needed a muse and without his knowledge, she had chosen Nathan Prescott to be it. She didn’t know how he’d react if he even found out. Would he be embarrassed? Angry?

Who knew?

(y/n) grunted in an effort as she finally finished shading the base of Nathan’s neck in her beloved sketchbook. The book itself had been used and filled up to the brim with photographs and sketches of the school, her friends but most importantly, of Nathan.

The two didn’t talk very often, but she saw how soft he could actually be; in the little moments, he let his facade vanish. She wanted to be closer to him, but… How do you approach a person like that? Not to mention, that he had a reputation for going too far.

(y/n) pulled herself away from the sketch, glancing around at the yard to admire everyone enjoying life peacefully.

Max was talking to a few people as always, being a bit nosy, but nice. Evan was taking pictures, Warren was probably watching another weird movie of his in his dorm. Everything was pretty normal except for Nathan Prescott storming up to (y/n) with rage-filled eyes and clenched fists. He was angry, anybody within 50 feet of his could see that. He was too obvious with his anger, didn’t even try to hide it.

(Y/n) gave a polite smile to the obviously Pissed off Prescott, nervous about what he might say or do. He could be a bit unpredictable. He stopped in front of her, glaring at the large sketchbook in her hands.

“Good morning Nathan. Lovely day, isn’t it?” (y/n) asked. 

Nathan only continued to glare harshly, the students in the surrounding area began to stare In curiosity.

No one dared to say a word, they didn’t want the wrath of Nathan directed toward them.

He dug a hand into his pocket to fish out his phone, he found the photo that could be the cause of his anger of the day and shoved it into (y/n’s) face. It took her a moment to realize that the photograph was of one of her drawings of Nathan.

And she knew exactly how it got onto the web. Victoria Chase.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked, anger seethed into his words.

(y/n) nervously laughed but soon stared up at his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes and that pretty dirty blonde hair wasn’t helping. It was the perfect combination. There didn’t need to be a reason as to why she liked to draw him so much, the pretty face and different expressions he used in day-to-day life were amazing. So was he. (y/n) wanted to find a way to tell him that she actually liked him but knowing Nathan, she wasn’t sure if he would recuperate her feelings.

“Um, a drawing of you that I made… Nathan, I’m sorry. I showed it to Victoria, I didn’t know that she took a picture and posted it online,” She confessed. 

The taller boy slowly pocketed his phone before he grabbed the sketchbook out of (y/n)’s nimble fingers. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” (y/n) asked, panic seeped into her chest.

Nathan tossed the sketchbook into the trash can before lighting a match, (y/n) stood up quickly knowing what he was going to do. (y/n) rushed to him, trying to grab the match out of his hand but failing in the end as he dropped it into the trash can watching the sketchbook go up in flames.

The students surrounding (y/n), stared at her with empathy but didn’t say a word. Nathan slowly turned to (y/n), crossing his arms over his chest. He still looked angry, even after destroying the one thing that (y/n) held precious.

“I’m not your subject to use,” Nathan growled.

Nathan glanced into (y/n)’s eyes just in time to see her tears building up and drip from the pools in her eyes. Nathan felt a strike go through his heart, guilt. An ugly emotion that he felt all too often, but now toward (y/n)? Someone who was actually nice to him no matter what other people told her?

He clenched his jaw in anger, this time toward himself. He watched as (y/n) slowly turned around and walked into the dormitory building, needing to be alone for a while. He made her cry. Nathan Prescott made (y/n) cry. He messed up, big time. Was there even a way to fix what he broke?

The group surrounding Nathan slowly disbanded, not wanting his anger to blow up again in such a short period of time. 

Nathan was left alone with his thoughts, he ran a hand over his face and picked up his phone as it rang. Victoria. Fuck, what was he supposed to say?

“Hey,” Nathan whispered, his voice hoarse. 

Nathan slowly trudged back to his own dorm, he had thinking to do indeed. How was he going to make this up?

“Nathan, what the hell happened? Did you burn her sketchbook? I told you to go talk to her. There are videos all over social media… The comments are brutal,” Victoria said. 

Nathan barreled into his room and sat on his bed, running a hand through his hair to tangle it lightly. He didn’t know what he was thinking. If he was thinking at all during that moment. The sketchbook that he burned… sketchbook, maybe he could try to make it up by buying her another one? It was a start…

Nathan and Victoria conversed over his previous actions and how he could fix them while (y/n) on the other side of the dormitory building, stared out the window, wanting to fly away to get away from these gross feelings. Even after what happened, she still liked him. Anybody that found out about her feelings would call her insane. She had no will to draw anymore, what was the point if her own muse didn’t want to be drawn? Right?

She fumbled with her fingers lightly before glancing at her watch, great. She had physics in 10 minutes, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about art for a while now. She slowly grabbed the bag she threw onto the ground and slowly left the dormitory building, hesitantly. If it were her choice, she’d stay in her dorm all day, but she didn’t.

She slowly trudged into the academic building and into her class, wait. No. Nathan was in this class as well, how did she not realize that sooner? (y/n) ignored Nathan’s pleading stare and sat next to Victoria, hoping for some peace and quiet before class started.

“He feels awful you know. I know what he did was terrible but–” (y/n) shrugged her shoulders, cutting off Victoria’s plea.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done,” (y/n) whispered. 

Victoria glanced to Nathan, giving him a pity look before turning her attention to the front of the class as it finally began. Maybe she and Nathan could try again later.

The class was boring and dull. All Nathan could think about was how to make it up to (y/n). For over a year now he had been trying to get closer to her but each time he talked, everything just blew up in his face. 

The bell for the end of class finally rung, Nathan quickly shoved all of his things into his bag before trying to talk to (y/n). She was almost out the door now. So close. Nathan maneuvered to be right in front of her, using his arms to block her from leaving before talking to her.

“Wait, just stop for a second. Look, I feel real–” Nathan spoke, regret spilled from his lips. 

(y/n) glanced around the room for a moment before ducking under one of his arms and leaving, using his height to her advantage. Nathan blinked for a few moments before leaving the classroom and trying to find a sight of her but (y/n) had quickly disappeared into the crowd of rowdy teenagers. 

“Fuck,” Nathan whispered to himself. 

The crowd slowly began to disperse as teenagers found their next class or left the building but there was still no sign of (y/n) anywhere. Nathan groaned and slowly walked back to his dorm to try to figure a way to talk to (y/n).

(y/n) on the other hand, was holding her breath as she watched Nathan walk past her hiding spot and to the dormitory building. She stood out of the spot and started to walk to her own dorm when she bumped into Kate Marsh, she was an absolute sweetheart.

“Hey, (y/n). I heard about what happened. Are you alright?” Kate asked.

(y/n) brushed her hair back stressfully, she didn’t even know where to begin in what was wrong at the moment. So many things. Too little time.

“Yeah, I just… I didn’t expect him to do that. I’m kind of thinking of giving up drawing,” (y/n) mentioned. 

Kate’s eyes widened slightly but that didn’t stop her from pulling a brand new sketchbook from behind her back. (y/n) was slow to grab the item, she had been thinking about not going to Blackwell anymore because of what happened.

“Well, in case you want to pick it up again. You can use that. Okay? Maybe things will turn out alright?” Kate offered.

(y/n) gave Kate a genuine smile before gesturing to the dorms, “I’m gonna head to my room for the night. I’ll see you later.” 

Kate stepped out of the way and watched as (Y/n) carried the sketchbook naturally and quickly walked to her dormitory. But what she didn’t know was that all of the girls in the dormitory building had a little surprise in store for her.

(y/n) rubbed her eyes tiredly and walked through the main door of the dormitory to see all of the girls crowding the hallway bearing gifts of the art variety; sketchbooks, pencils, markers, etc. She jumped back lightly at the picture in front of her.

“Um, hey?” (y/n) asked akwardly.

Max was the first to walk out and grab one of (y/n)’s hands, guiding her to the center of the hallway to talk to everyone. (y/n) wasn’t normally very social but with the girls that live in the same building as her? Quite close.

“The video of Nathan burning your sketchbook is everywhere… we just wanted to do something nice for you,” Max said. 

(y/n) smiled gratefully and took more sketchbooks from her neighbors. She knew that they were only trying to help but how could someone draw if their muse didn’t want to be a muse? It was difficult to find someone else.

Max grabbed half of the gifts from all of the girls and followed (y/n) into her dorm to put all of the gifts on her desk. She didn’t know if she’d even fill these out at all considering that her will to draw was drained because of what Nathan did…

“Oh, I get it… Nathan was your muse…” Max set everything down, taking a seat on (y/n)’s bed before continuing with her thought, “That’s why you’re not drawing… he gave you the will to draw…” Max gave her friend one last smile before approaching the exit of the dorm. “Oh, before I forget, Warren had something to talk to you about. He’s In his dorm.”

(Y/n) stared at all of the art supplies given to her a few short minutes ago. It was stacked high on the desk, about to topple over. She was happy that her friends cared so much.

Without much thought, (y/n) walked to the boys’ dormitory building to visit a friend. Hopefully, she wouldn’t run into Nathan. She just needed to be careful.

(y/n) walked through the main door to the dormitory building and made a beeline for Warren’s room, she didn’t even bother with knocking on the sophomore’s door and just let herself in. She didn’t want to be caught by Nathan again. She was not ready to face him.

“Warren? Max, said you wanted to see me?” (y/n) called out.

The younger student quickly popped out of his desk chair and strolled up to (y/n), arms spread out for a bear hug. He was the most touchy of the group of friends she had, which was perfectly fine. (y/n) gave him a soft smile before slowly closing the gap and letting him hold her fragile form.

“Everyone said you were having a hard time and then Nathan… I’m sorry. Maybe everything will be better soon?” Warren apologized sympathetically.

(y/n) could only shrug lightly before slowly pulling away, letting herself become comfortable in the small room. But the thought of being in the boy’s dormitory, where Nathan lived, was peaking from the back of her mind. Warren stepped out of her space for a moment before grabbing a pack of oil paints from his desk and slowly handing them to (y/n); cautious to not scare her. 

“I got you something, you said that you’ve been wanting to try oil paint for a while now, right?” Warren said.

Though, she wasn’t sure when or if she’d be able to draw again, she appreciates the kind gesture. (y/n) slowly slipped the paints into her bag for safekeeping as she slowly gave Warren a small smile.

“Thanks, Warren… I think I’m gonna head back to my dorm… Sleep everything off. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The younger classmate only nodded lightly and watched as (y/n) slowly walked out of the room to hide away for the rest of the evening. The events of the day were hectic and cruel, all she wanted to do was sleep it off and hope that the morning would be better.

(y/n) peaked around the hallway for a few moments before deciding that it was safe and leaving Warren’s room before heading toward the main entrance of the Dorm building, wanting to find her own dorm before Nathan caught onto the fact that she was even in the same building as him. 

She breathed a small sigh of relief as she slowly started to pass the last dorm room and reached a hand out for the door when a pair of hands reached out from the last dorm and grabbed (y/n) to pull her inside.

(y/n) started thrashing in the arms of her unknown attacker as they placed a hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream out for help. (y/n) stiffened as an exhale slowly reached her ear, causing her to shiver and listen closely.

“Stop squirming, It’s just me.” 

(y/n) roughly shoved Nathan away and faced him, her back pressed against the door. She stared up at him with a confused stare, why did he basically kidnap her? What for? He was fidgeting with his fingers nervously, he was scared to what will come next.

Her eyes were red and puffy from crying all day. The last thing she wanted to do was face the cause of her sorrow. Nathan Prescott, prestigious figure of Blackwell Academy… he was flustered by her mere appearance. He felt guilty about what happened this morning, he felt lower than low. To make it up to (y/n), Nathan wanted to get something for her… all she needed to do was open it.

“What do you want, Nathan? I should get back to my dorm, it’s late,” (y/n) said resentfully.  

It was not late, but everyone knew that (y/n) usually liked to return to her dorm after school and relax instead of partying like all of the other kids on campus.

Nathan took a step back to grab a wrapped box before presenting it to (y/n), a red hue was covering his features. He had never really apologized to someone, this was a first for him. Luckily, it was in the comfort of his own room and not the courtyard for everyone to see… again.

“Open it, please. This is my way of saying sorry… I… wasn’t thinking… I can be reckless and irritable…” He apologized.

(y/n) stared up at Nathan with an unknown look, she was not sure if she should take the gift. It could be anything, right? But Nathan didn’t go around giving just anybody random gifts… Maybe he really just wanted to try to redeem himself?

(y/n) ran a quick hand through her hair before making the mistake of glancing into Nathan’s eyes for a split second. His gaze was soft and pleading as he held the gift in his hands, his breath shaking only in the slightest from the nervousness of being near (y/n) once again; so soon.

“Fine… But if this is a joke–” (y/n) started to threaten but Nathan cut her off by carefully handing the recklessly wrapped gift into (y/n)’s paint-covered hands, their fingers brushed together lightly. The action quickly sent jolts of electricity through her and Nathan’s veins but neither person said a word about what they felt, too scared.

“It’s not. Promise. Open it,” Nathan said. 

(y/n) sighed lightly but gave him a half-smile before slowly opening the present before her hands run over the cover of a brand new sketchbook. Did he buy her a new sketchbook? She slowly let the wrapping paper fall to the floor so she could look at the sketchbook as whole, quickly glancing through the paper and the little accessories attached to it. (y/n) didn’t say a word as she discovered the feeling of the new gift. 

“I was angry and scared… Not about you or anything you did or said… I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I would never dream of doing that,” Nathan apologized.

(y/n)’s smile brightened as she realized that this was the sketchbook that she had been eyeballing for months now. She wasn’t able to buy it because it was far out of her price range for a sketchbook, but this one was special. It even came with pockets and sketching pencils. She glanced up and slowly placed the sketchbook onto his desk to grab both of his hands in her gentle grip.

“Nathan… I-” He was quick to cut her off, paranoid that she was going to yell at him like just about everyone in his life did. He was too used to it by now.

“I know that this will never replace what I did to your last sketchbook and I didn’t realize that I was your… Your muse. But I’m hoping that this will be a star–” 

(y/n) reached her hands up to grab Nathan’s face to slam her lips onto his, surprising him surely. Nathan flailed his arms for a few moments before deciding to rest his hands; one on the door next to (y/n)’s head and the other tangled in her hair. Nathan slowly relaxed into the motions, pressing his body closer to (y/n)’s.

Nathan tugged on (y/n)’s hair as he deepened the kiss, eliciting a soft moan from (y/n)’s lips. Before Nathan could ponder on the small action further, she bit down on his bottom lip. She wanted him to know how long she had been wanting this kiss to happen.

Nathan felt the same way, but before things could escalate, (y/n) softly slid her hands from Nathan’s face down to his chest to lightly push him away. She didn’t want things to go too far tonight.

“I forgive you… I was never angry at you for what you did, just sad. It hurt to see my muse destroy my work but maybe you can help me?” (y/n) asked.

Nathan didn’t say a word as he launched himself to his bed, propping his head up with one of his hands as he brought one of his knees up; turning to the side to face (Y/n). a small smirk ignited his face as he says the simple line that made (y/n) burst out laughing.

“Draw me like one of your french girls.”

(y/n) ignored her phone as it lit up with a few texts from Warren and Max, both worried. But she couldn’t be bothered with the sweet scene in front of her.

Maybe everything would be okay?

(y/n) glanced up from her sketchbook to get a quick glance, the growing confidence in him caused Nathan to send a small smile her way.

Yep, everything was going to turn out okay. Her muse was still hers, this time with his knowledge.

Nathan liked the idea of being a muse, it felt foreign but fitting.

[heycallmeladytypewriter]

The Call of a Siren

Chapter One

She could not, for the life of her, find her goddamn charger. If she was going to make it the rest of the stupid day without music in her ears which blocked out most of the annoyances, she’d flip a table. Or she would when it was finally unloaded from the moving van on the street. 

“Cordelia, would you please come get your brother!” Her mother shrilled from the bottom of the steps. 

Delia sighed and flipped off the boxes stacked in her room who refused to give her back her charger before stomping down the stairs. Her little brother, Henry, was tugging on her mother's hair and yelling nonsense only a toddler of age three could understand. She walked past her mother and went straight to the luggage bags from the flight next to the doorway. Spotting her purple carry on, she rummaged through until she found some fruit snacks she packed but never ate. Coming back over, Cordelia waved them in Henry’s face until he took notice and reached for the snack. 

Grabbing Henry from her mother and putting him on her hip, “ Mom what do you want me to do with him? Fruit snacks are gonna last about two minutes.”

Her mother threw up her hands, “ I don’t know! Just keep him occupied until we have everything in the house.” 

Rolling her eyes, Cordelia fed him a fruit snack one at time trying to buy time until she thought of what to do with him. Most of his toys were still packed and the ones he had on the plane were of no use now as he was now done with them after a 14 hour flight from the States to Japan. Pursing her lips, she thought about seeing a playground not too far from here on the drive. 

“Mom, I’m taking Henry for a walk around. Be back in a bit.” Her mother nodded and waved her off from the kitchen. 

After wrangling Henry’s shoes and light jacket on, they set off with him still in her arms as she didn’t know where the stroller was in that mess which was her new life. Henry was lightly tugging on her hair and quietly babbling as she walked towards the small playground down the street. She already missed home. Well, previous home as she bounced around enough to never really know one place as home. Army brat problems, she thought with slight disdain. Well actually, detective/police brat? Is there even a word for that?

Her dad was former military but since the age of heroes, the military need was still there of course but not as much as it used to be. Her dad decided to go into police work afterwards when she was seven and has since climbed into a detective which made her mother happy as he was more or less off the streets but still dealt with the hardships of the job. Her mother was actually the one to want to move from the States to Musutafu, Japan. 

Thanks to the number one hero, All Might, crime in Japan has lessened significantly which made it a safer place to live in her mom’s eyes. It also helped that her mother had grown up in Tokyo when she was younger before her parents decided to move to Chicago. 

Cordelia didn’t have anything against Musutafu but it still was another move, another restart, another everything which isn't too fun when you are fifteen. 

“Del, we go swing?” A little voice broke her train of thought as she saw them reaching the playground. She smiled at his nickname for her as he couldn’t pronounce her full name yet. Sometimes it was ‘Del’ or ‘la’ but both always made her smile as it was so cute. 

“Sure, bud.” She walked over to the swings and placed him in the little toddler seat. “Ready?” Henry squealed and kicked his feet in excitement. “Ye-es!” 

Cordelia started to push him, preparing to do this for some time as Henry could be in the swing for the whole time. It definitely qualified as a workout.

“Tch, stupid Deku.” Cordelia glanced over to see a blonde boy angrily muttering to himself while kicking a rock on the sidewalk. He was wearing some kind of school uniform but all rumpled like he had some kind of fight or fall before walking home. 

“Del, keep pushin’!” Henry’s voice broke the silence. She didn’t realize she stopped after watching the boy on the sidewalk. “Sorry, buddy.” She murmured before resuming as she didn’t want to call attention to the fact she was being nosy. 

“Oi, what are you looking at?!” The angry boy had unfortunately caught that and was now facing her. 

“I’m not looking at anything. Just pushing my brother.” She replied coolly. 

“That's what I thought, extra.” 

Extra? What was that? “Actually, I was looking at you. Rough day, buddy?” Cordelia shouldn’t have goaded him, a complete stranger, but what the hell was calling her ‘extra?’

“Shut the fuck up!” 

“Hey, child present!” Cordelia waved around her brother. Thankfully, Henry didn’t seem to care as long as he was swinging. 

“Tch. He can mind his damn business too!” With that, he flipped us off. So she did too. Then he walked off, looking madder than before. Weirdly, she wanted to laugh. 

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

After they got back to the house, Cordelia took her slices of pizza that her mother had ordered and slipped upstairs to organize her things a bit more and hopefully locate her freaking charger. Her room was towards the back and furthest from anybody else which she preferred with windows facing the small backyard and back alley street behind the houses. Quiet and isolated with the ability to blast her music a bit without getting yelled at as she liked. She wasn’t a complete loner but did like her space from her nosy family. 

She closed the door and plugged in her small dinky radio in, orange and covered in faded stickers from over the years, and found a decent radio station to unpack. Placing her hands on her hips, she faced the boxes and nodded. “ Okay, here we go.” She said sternly to herself. “Don’t get distracted by every little thing and get it over with.” 

It was three a.m by the time she got done but she was much further than before. There were still a few scattered boxes she stacked in the corner to deal with later but the essentials and whatnot were out and placed. 

Figuring she earned a break, she took out a bowl of water she filled earlier and placed it on her nightstand while sitting criss cross applesauce on her bed. 

Breathing deep, she raised her fingers towards the bowl and the water lifted out and into the air. 

Cordelia took her time and played with the water, trying to manipulate it into shapes before settling on her go-to weapon: a water whip of sorts. She had earlier set up her old stuffed animals along the furniture in the room and tried to knock them down one by one. 

Unfortunately, she whipped too strongly and made a divot in the wall and cut her teddy bear's arm off. 

“Aw crap. Sorry Mr. Tubbs.” Whipping the water back into the bowl, she sadly picked up the teddy’s arm off the floor  and then looked at the damage on the wall. “Yikes. Gonna cover that up with a poster..” Her dad will kill her for practicing in the house again since she usually damages something. 

Cordelia went to one of her leftover boxes to find something to tape on the wall when she found a paper she forgot about crumpled on top. 

U.A ENTRANCE EXAM APPLICATION

Biting her lip, she looked over her application she had printed before flying here. That was the one thing she was looking forward to with moving here: to be accepted in one of the world’s top hero schools. She wanted to be a hero more than anything. Unfortunately, her family did not share that dream nor like them very much. Her eyes flicked over to her family’s picture on her dresser, taken a few months ago on Henry’s third birthday, and sighed. Her mother, a prom queen in her day, had her arms around her dads buffed up arm with her wavy dark hair in a long plait down her shoulder. Her dad stood tall and proud over little Henry in his crooked yellow party hat while her sister, Josephine, grabbed their mother’s other arm. Like her mother, Josie held a sort of grace even in a casual stance and small smile with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Delia stood slightly off to the side, hair unbound and free flowing in the wind, and was held tied to the picture by only Henry’s small hand in hers as if to keep her in place. 

Her mother had a quirk of healing small cuts and wounds with water which helped since she was a nurse in the ER. Nothing to scoff at, in Cordelia’s opinion. Her father had a quirk of weapons; particularly the knowledge of them and how they work. Again, nothing to scoff at especially considering his line of work. Her older sibling, Josephine, took after their father but instead of weapons, it was machines like a typewriter or an air conditioner. Pretty useful but she decided that a career in accounting was for her. They didn’t speak much. 

Despite having quirks, they resented them. They believed the world would be better without them and hero work was not a true profession to aspire for. Thus, a discovery of your quirk at a young age wasn’t anything to celebrate nor was it encouraged to practice and train other than the bare minimum of control. That did not stop her from wanting to be a hero. Everything about it seemed amazing. She would collect articles about them and hide them in the back of her closet along with a poster or two. She’d watch videos on the internet about all the top heroes and wonder how she could be just like them. 

 Getting her parents to agree to this...would be so hard. Hence why she printed the paper but never filled it out. 

She stared at the divot in the wall for a moment before sighing and placing the paper back in the box. 

____________________________________________________________

After only having slept a measly three hours, Cordelia gave up and put on some shorts and a tank top. She snuck outside as her parents and brother would be getting ready soon and she wasn’t ready for any human interaction yet. She was not a morning person in the slightest. 

She favorited her new home’s address in her phone since she didn't know the neighborhood or have a specific route around yet. Then she set off. 

After thirty minutes of light running, she came upon a beach. A sign on a big rock read ‘Dagoba Municipal Beach Park.’ Cordelia felt her heart explode with joy at the sight. Water was close to her. No, the ocean was close to her!

“Oh my god!” She shrieked to herself. She found her place. This is where she would practice and train and just be and just...breathe. She jogged down the steps to the sand and couldn’t stop herself from giggling from pure happiness. The only sad part was the mountain of random trash and junk off to the left of her on the beach. Hell, maybe she’d move it all just to clear more space or put in a request to the city as she saw refrigerators and car pieces which looked way too heavy for her to just lug. 

All of a sudden, a giant boom and junk flew outward causing her to yelp and duck out of the way as a toaster almost took her head off. 

“The hell..?” She marched over to the source and stopped cold. A skinny boy looking around her age with a mess of green hair stood in a clearing in the mess. Her brain could only notice that much about him as her focus was being pulled to the shock before the boy. 

All Might.

All Might was in front of her.

ALL MIGHT WAS STANDING IN FRONT OF HER.

HOLY AJKFC SHIT!!

Cordelia couldn’t breathe. The number one hero in the world was right there and this boy was familiar with him enough to have a conversation. Holy wow. Thankfully, she was hidden by some of the junk so they didn’t seem to see her. 

“..towards being a hero.”

“Um..All this?” The boy looked back worriedly at the junk piled all around him. “But..There’s so much. That’s impossible!”

“ Young Midoriya, you wanna go to UA, right?” 

“Well, yeah. Of course! You went there. So it must be the best school around, right? It’s a long shot but still..I’m going to shoot for the moon.” She smiled at the sound of how earnest he was to try. To be honest, it made her want to try to despite her family’s lack of support. 

“You’ve got a lot of spirit, fanboy! But, as I’ve mentioned before, Heroeing isn’t easy to do without a quirk. It’s not fair but that's the reality. UA is the hardest hero course to get into. So that means..”

“..that I have to prepare my body for your Quirk really fast. UA’s exam is in ten months!” 

Ten months. 

Backing away slowly, she turned and ran back to the stairs to grab her shoes before running home. 

By the time she got home, she had made up her mind. 

After her shower, she grabbed the crumpled application out of the box and a pen off her desk. 

She wanted to go to UA and just like the boy on the beach, she was going to shoot for the moon.

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A/N: Hey guys! I decided to take a shot at a fanfiction I’ve had in my head for a while with everyone’s favorite (especially my favorite) angry boy. I could use some beta readers and maybe some coverart if anyone is willing?? Feedback is more than welcome and I plan on updating at least once a week!