#I think about this piece everytime I go to work on my silly au man

[pngjamie]

they posted this like 3 days ago but I just wanted to finally reblog it at some point <3 It makes me viscerally happy such a pleasing art style <33 This is the one and only fanart ive received and I cherish it :)

I know absolutely nothing about this au but I love it so much I physically could not stop myself from doodling it already

SICK ASS HAUNTED MANSION AU BY @jamieenthusiast I KNOW THEY ONLY SHOWED DESIGNS BUT THAT WAS ALL I NEEDED AND IM HOOKED

[sunflowerstrays]

sixteen candles // seo changbin // au

anon requested:

hey lovely! sixteen candles is actually one of my favourite movies as well, it’s like my go to movie if i need a good laugh. so i thought this was absolutely wonderful and really loved writing this! tank you for such a wonderful, creative idea. it will be a four part mini-series hopefully so there should be lots more to come!

seo changbin x reader.

words: 2.3k.

genre: ???? nothing inappropriate.

summary: see anon post.

---

“I seriously can’t believe it, Seungmin,” you sigh, leaning against your locker whilst your best friend busies himself with the mess he calls his locker. Seungmin pokes his head around the locker and raises an eyebrow. “They forgot it.”

“What, your birthday?” Seungmin asks, a frown crossing his face as he glances at you. You nod slowly, explaining what had happened in your somewhat chaotic morning.

Somehow, in the midst of your sister’s crazy wedding that is tomorrow, your whole family had forgotten your sixteenth birthday. No balloons, no candles, not even a happy birthday from your dad as he had walked out of the door. Even when you had blatantly asked your mother whether there was anything special about the day, she had just shrugged, kissed your forehead and sent you on your way to school.

All your life you dreamed you’d wake up on your sixteenth birthday with a nice car on the driveway with your name on it, a lavish birthday cake on the table and your stupid high school crush waiting for you at school with open arms and a will to fulfil your dreams. Yet so far, your parents had forgotten, the driveway was as sad and empty as ever and Changbin had been spotted still very much in love with his year long girlfriend. You couldn’t be angrier.

“At least I remembered,” Seungmin says with an attempt to cheer you up, but it just made you feel deflated. Seungmin had in fact screamed at you as you had walked across the car-park, ran to meet you from the bus stop then kissed both of your cheeks in the elaborate way he always does, before handing you your present. It had been a beautiful bracelet that you had wanted for ever, and you hugged Seungmin so hard that he confessed to nearly bursting.

“You are the only person that did,” you sulk, holding your wrist up to look at the bracelet. As Seungmin slammed his locker shut, the devil himself walked past in black trousers, a red checkered shirt and a smug grin on his face. Changbin had his hands in his pockets as he strolled past, the entire corridor parting for him like a wave. He was a whole year older than you, and paid no attention to anyone younger than him; least of all you, the quiet girl who just showed up to class, blended into the shadows and had her sixteenth birthday forgotten about by her parents.

“He gets prettier everytime I see him,” Seungmin whispers, probably loud enough for the silent corridor to hear him, however. “Like, wow.”

“This is so stupid,” you continue to grumble, feeling like a big heavy cloud filled with rain was following you around. “Why won’t it go away, Seungmin; why won’t he go away?” Seungmin just laughs as he loops arms with you, carrying you away down the corridor to your first class of being sixteen; Science, with Dr Kwon, meaning your day could not get any worse.

---

“Say, Chan, have you heard of Y/F/N?” Changbin asks as he kicks the football high into the sky, passing it to his friend and team captain, Chan. Football practise has taken up the whole of their lunch period to Changbin’s joy, meaning that he didn’t have to sit through another lunchtime with Jisoo and her fake friends, pretending to be happy in a relationship he didn’t feel the love in anymore.

“She’s the year below us, right? I think she’s really close with that Seungmin kid that is in our music class; you know, the really intelligent one that already skipped a year and now sits in our classes for music as well. Why’d you ask?” Chan replies, kicking the ball back harder than Changbin was anticipating and making the younger boy turn quickly to save the ball from hitting the ground.

“Yeah, I think so. Just wondering, I have seen her around school a few times and I don’t know, I was curious.”

“Don’t tell Jisoo that, she is already convinced you are seeing someone behind her back,” Chan jokes at the slightly obsessive nature of Changbin’s girlfriend. “I’m kidding man. But you see loads of people around school, why her?”

Changbin didn’t want to tell Chan that he had somehow admired you from a distance. Despite being in different years at school, you sat in his literary and art classes in school, too intelligent for your own classes anyway. He couldn’t help but admire the passion you had when you were working, sat alone in a room of strange, older kids, happily doing what you loved. For a while now he had been curious, but anytime he looked at you to approach and spark a conversation, you’d turn in the other direction and leave.

“She sits in a few of my classes. It’s not everyday you meet someone that intelligent,” Changbin just muses instead, kicking the ball back. “As for Jisoo-”

“You really ought to sort her out, Changbin,” Woojin says, pulling off his sweater and rolling his arms. “They are all freaking out over you stood here in shorts and a vest. She’s acting like she’s about thirteen years old and your biggest fan, and you are the lead singer in a band.”

Changbin looks at Chan, who nods slowly before saying that it was Woojin said it first when he spots how annoyed Changbin appears. Despite his annoyance at his two friends, Changbin can’t help but agree; Jisoo does seem to act far too young for her age, very immature and silly. It was fun at first, but he is slowly beginning to hate it now.

Football practice continues and sure enough, Changbin spots his obsessive fan of a girlfriend, grinning at him like mad from the stands. Sat in the back corner, soaking up the sun are two unfamiliar faces to the football fields; it’s Seungmin and Y/N. They are laughing together and sharing food, and there are birthday balloons bouncing around the two of them. Changbin feels a pang of jealousy, but at what he doesn’t know.

---

Sitting in the stands, you and Seungmin share the final slice of the tiny cake he had bribed one of the kitchen staff to give him. Somehow Seungmin had managed to gather some balloons - probably having skipped history earlier to do so - and had blown them all up for you outside. As your best friend he hadn’t wanted to see you so sad, so insisted on spoiling you at lunch, even if it was with the dollar store balloons, a tiny cake and the bag of crisps he had for your lunch.

“Besides, Changbin has football practice today, so that’s my next present to you,” Seungmin sings in his stunning melodic voice, before kicking his feet up and eating the last piece of cake whole. You laugh as you rest your arms on your knees and pick at the chocolate cake between your fingers. Sure enough, Changbin is on the field, kicking around his football with his teammates and having his girlfriend watch and cheer him on from the side lines. It confuses you that she is cheering quite so madly when it’s just a football practice, but it must feel nice for someone to love you so much that they will cheer for you like she does him.

“Say, are you going to the dance later?” Seungmin asks, going on to explain how the girl he had wanted to take dropped him last minute and now he’s going solo. “Because if you aren’t, I’m definitely dragging you.”

“Seungmin, please I’d rather just go to bed and sleep until the weekend. Then I will miss this dance and the stupid wedding-”

“First of all, you aren’t missing the dance, secondly the wedding isn’t that stupid-”

“I have to wear purple. I hate the colour purple!” You exclaim, handing the red haired boy the rest of your cake before sighing. “Besides, I have nothing to wear to the dance. Everyone has all these pretty dresses and I have jeans.”

“We’ll go shopping after school?” Seungmin asks, “Or you can borrow one of mine.”

“Why on earth do you own dresses?” You ask, laughing at the thought of Seungmin in a dress. When you finally catch your breath, you see Seungmin staring at you on the field. At first you feel a fluttering in your chest, but that passes when you realise he is probably watching Jisoo, and was just distracted by your overly loud laugh.

“I meant you can borrow one of my suits, if you wanted. But we could both just go in jeans and a nice shirt if that makes you feel more comfortable,” Seungmin rattles on, and you just nod, not entirely sure what you are agreeing to. But most of your thoughts are preoccupied with Changbin to your disappointment, and all you know is that you are grateful Seungmin chose this spot for lunch.

---

“I will be outside your house at six thirty for the dance!” Seungmin says as he runs off in the direction of his bus, blowing you a kiss before hopping on the wagon straight from hell. As you climb on to your bus and sigh deeply, struggling to find a free seat with all the screaming kids throwing themselves around, you spot Changbin getting into his expensive looking red car, Jisoo and her friends parting with a kisses just like Seungmin blew to you ironically. You aren’t sure whether it is the light of the lazy afternoon sun or you being delusional, but you could swear he was watching you from the seat of his car, his muscular arm lazily hung out the window and head tilted forward, hair falling in his face.

You hated the effect he had on your stomach and your feelings.

One of the kids near the front of the bus jump out of their seat and you dash forward to steal the seat, putting your bag on the seat beside you and watching Changbin from the window again. Now he’s smiling at Jisoo again, probably spilling his love for her into the space between them. She leans forward to kiss him before kicking her feet up and letting him drive away.

As he passes the bus he glances up at you again, but it is the briefest of looks that you wonder if it was ever there.

The bus ride home is a torturous as it always is, and considering you are one of the last stops, you have to wait the longest. Eventually it is just you, another girl in your classes that you’ve spoken to like twice, and a boy who you recognise from your geography class. And he is walking straight towards you.

“Afternoon, beautiful,” he says, looking you up and down before helping himself to the seat beside you.

“Sorry, this seat is taken,” you say, turning away from him and staring out of the window. Your stop is still about three stops away and the bus driver today is taking his sweet time to get you home. “The bus is empty enough. I’m sure you won’t struggle to find a seat.”

“But I want to sit beside you,” he sighs, grinning at you with a toothy smile. “I’m Minho, also your date for the dance tonight?”

“I’m not going,” you say, contemplating getting off of the bus now and walking the thirty extra minutes home. Knowing Minho, he’d probably follow you home.

“Why not? You’d be the star of the show; the queen of the night; the one-”

“Minho, I appreciate the flattery but I’ve had a really bad day and would much rather be left alone. I’m sure there will be plenty of the girls there tonight for you to dance with,” you interrupt with gritted teeth, pushing yourself as close to the window as possible. Minho pulls a sad face, running a hand through his hair and making you roll your eyes.

He stays sat next to you in silence for the remainder of the bus journey, when he tries to ask you why your day was bad you just grunt at him and hope that that says enough.

Finally your bus stop arrives, and you disappear off of the bus without another word. Minho watches you from the window, but you wait for the bus to disappear out of site before you turn to walk to you house. There is no way you are having him stalk you home.

When you arrive back home, your house is as chaotic this afternoon as it was this morning. Both sets of your grandparents have arrived for your sister’s wedding tomorrow, and as a result you had been demoted to your brother’s bedroom. However, upon entry into your brothers bombsite of a bedroom, there had been a very unfamiliar face, and the cute Australian stranger sat in what should be your bed for the next three days had given you the fright of your life.

When you had questioned your mother about it, she had just laughed gently, explained that he was Felix and would be spending a few days with us as he was an exchange student that one of your grandparents had offered to host for a few weeks. You’d attempted once more at whether she had remembered your birthday and that you’d actually have a sweet sixteen after all, but instead she dumped you with dinner and that was that.

A quick phone call to Seungmin had you certain that you’d be going to that dance, whether you wanted to or not. You would not be risking staying in this madhouse any longer than you had to; you hated it here. And you couldn’t wait to go to the school dance, and get crushed by all the cute couples around you, wishing that you had more with someone when that was clearly never going to happen. As you prepared for quite honestly, the worst evening of your life, you had a constant running commentary from your new friend Felix, who had somehow found a great deal of interest in the albums on your shelf.

If this didn’t honestly sum up how your sixteenth birthday had gone, you don’t know what will.

---

i hope you all enjoy! this was so much fun to write! much love <3

requests are still open <3

[theonceoverthinker]

“A Gentle Passing” Wish Hook Week: Day 7 - AU/Canon Divergence Day

Summary: Alice’s Papa has done everything and more for her. She may have never been freed from the tower, but she had his love. But all good things must come to an end, and saying goodbye, no matter what, hits you like a punch to the gut. Canon divergence - What if Gothel never came back to the tower after escaping?

The story you are about to read is a little piece of canon divergence concerned with what would have happened if Gothel had never separated Killian and Alice, but Killian had been unsuccessful at freeing Alice from her imprisonment. 

This is my final entry for Wish Hook week! I’m so glad that I got to be a part of it. Honestly, I’m a little surprised/proud of myself for posting something everyday. That’s a first for me! 

Trigger Warning: Major Character Death

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The kettle’s shrieking.

Best hush that.

It’s whistle is fine by my ears, but these days, it seems to be hurting Papa’s.

Who made it so a kettle had to be so loud anyway?

There’s got to be a better system.

Maybe I’ll just build one.

I pour our tea and bring it to Papa.

He’s laying in bed. It’s been days since he last got up, but I don’t mind.

At least he’s comfy.

It’s been weeks since he’s climbed up the tower last. After hearing him moan from his back aches from the last time, I had to force him to stay in place.

Thankfully, he wasn’t spry nor argumentative enough to get his way.

Odd for him.

In all fairness though, it had been his fault for his pain. He was bringing so much up.

Fourteen jars of marmalade - sixteen, according to him, but two didn’t survive the trip.

Six new outfits.

And an astounding twenty new books.

What was he honestly thinking?

Well, he isn’t leaving the tower again in his condition - that much I’ll make certain of.

I hope to let him go when he starts feeling better again.

The only problem is that I’ve yet to see the ‘better.’

But it will happen. Of course, it will.

Papa thanks me. His voice is always soft, but these days, I can hardly hear him. But that’s the good thing about living up in a tower, away from all else.

Nothing you can do but listen.

I tell him to wait for his tea to cool before sipping it. He agrees, and after a while, he shakily takes his cup and enjoys his first sips.

“We should invite Lady Poppingfield and make this one of our tea parties,” Papa says, mostly through wheezes. There’s a light in his voice and his grin as he makes the jest.

I can’t help but smile.

“I don’t know, Papa. Such a handsome man like yourself. She’d fall madly in love with you.”

Papa winks. “Even among dolls, I’m still the envy of men.”

We continue to sit and talk. As always, our jokes fly, one hundred per minute.

But the wheezing continues, and Papa’s voice only gets fainter and more caught in his coughs. His breathing is shallow and his eyes glossy.

I’ve looked at our medicine supply before. Unfortunately, there’s not much that can be done.

My attention drifts from Papa onto his condition as I try to think of an alternative solution.

Should I make him drink more water?

Should i stop giving him solid foods?

Should I just give him marmalade? Works out well enough for me. Not hard on the throat at all.

Another wheeze brings my focus back to Papa.

There are tears in his eyes.

“Papa,” I ask, worried. “Is there something you need - something I could get you?”

He shakes his head as the tears continue to well.

“What’s wrong?” I don’t realize that my voice has gotten louder until I’ve already spoken. Papa’s smile is gone and it’s like a knife to the heart.

“I’m so sorry, Alice,” he sobs. “I couldn’t do it. All these years and I couldn’t free you.”

I feel tears prickling against my own eyes now.

“Papa, you’ve nothing to be sorry for,” I assure him. My voice croaks a bit. “Now, stop. You’re just being silly.”

Dammit, I’m crying too.

Why is he bringing this up now?

“You did everything you could,” I continue. “You -”

But he interrupts me.

I can count the times he’s done that over the course of my 43 years alive on a single hand.

“I wish I could’ve brought you more books,” he intercedes, “more marmalade, just...more.”

“Papa, what are you talking about? Last time you brought all that stuff! It took six trips for you to bring it all up!”

“Just needed to ensure that you’ll have everything you need and everything I can for you.”

“But why in one trip?” I press. He looks at me - a pointed look.

Before anything else can be said. I blink.

I get it.

It’s because he never expected to make another trip back down.

Thought he made it too easy when he succumbed to my nagging and agreed not to leave the tower.

Papa never gives in to my nagging.

It’s the Jones stubbornness at its finest.

But why is he doing this? Why doesn’t he think he’ll make another trip?

…

No.

…

NO.

He must know that I’ve figured it out. His pointed look is gone, replaced by the look he gave me when he first taught me how to use the stove when I was 10. It’s instructional, and his following words only add to that.

“Alice, the tower will bring food to you after I’m gone. And there’s money underneath the bed should you ever require it. Maybe if a wizard come by, he can help you.”

He’s so calm as he speaks.

Why is he so bloody calm?

My whole body starts to shudder.

“No - no, Papa. You’re fine.”

Spilled tears still all over, Papa shakes his head.

“I’m not. I’m old, and I haven’t gotten out of bed in nearly a week.”

“You’re just sick,” I say, half-shouting. “You’ll get better.”

“I just want you to know that I love you.”

“Stop talking like that!” I’m now actually shouting. “Stop talking like you’re about to go away!”

I look Papa straight in the eyes. Mine are filled with resilience.

But that resilience abandons them as I take in Papa’s eyes.

They’re soft and kind - always soft and kind, they are - and there’s a gentle truth and finality to them.

He knows his time is coming to an end.

And now I know it too.

I turn away. This is too much. I’m sobbing outright now and I can’t stop shaking.

I’m shaking so much that I fear the tower will collapse from under us.

At least then we’d leave together.

But Papa wouldn’t accept that - never before and especially not now.

“Please, Alice,” he begs. “Stay with your father. Don’t let me pass from this world without you in my sights.”

My breathing and shaking are still hectic, but in that moment, I force them to settle.

I couldn’t deny him the world itself with that look he’s giving me.

We hold hands as I sit beside him once more. His are so cold, and his skin - once able to fit perfectly against his flesh and bones - is now looser. I squeeze a little tighter - not so tight that it could hurt him, but tight enough that hopefully, I could warm him up.

It doesn’t work.

I feel despair overcoming me.

Papa’s dying.

Why?

There are so many ways to expand upon that sentence, but for now, all that fills my mind and heart is just the one worded-question.

Why?

Papa sees me.

He always sees me.

“Smile for me?” His voice is such a quiet whisper. I can just barely hear him.

Nodding, I do just that. I make this the best and brightest smile I’ve ever given him, fighting that despair off like a pirate fights off an evil king. Memories of bedtime stories and evenings spent perfecting our sword fighting and tea parties and birthday celebrations and chess games - especially chess games - make it genuine.

How will I play chess without him?

The whole time I’m smiling and sitting, I’m pleading - nay, praying -  to whoever could be listening from beyond. Papa’s told me Gods exist. Maybe one of them can save him.

Apathy looks to be their answer to that hope.

For all my efforts, I’m treated to my Papa beaming, despite everything.

He has the greatest smile in the world.

I force the tears that well up in my eyes to back off.

Papa blinks, slowly - so slowly.

Everytime he does, it feels like an hour has passed to wait and see if he’ll open them again.

“I love you, Alice.” His words are like a single leaf in the wind on a stormy autumn day, but I catch it.

And I never let it go.

“I love you too, Papa,” I respond - quick with my words as to not risk even the chance that he won’t hear them. “Thank you. For everything.”

His smile is weakened by forces stronger than even he, but it ultimately persists as he closes his eyes for the last time.

[moonraccoon-exe]

Beauty and Beast Gladnis AU - The Dance

Here go more headcanons for the Ignis and the Beast AU, this time regarding that famous dance scene, scribbled more like a fiction of sorts (adding a Read More). Just as a note, I’m agreeing over here with @vinsmoke03 (tagging you so readers know, you don’t have to read this through if you don’t want, buddy) on Prompto’s and Noctis’ roles in this AU. :)

It is Ignis who asked Gladio for that dance, not the other way around. 

Ignis, despite being a town boy, behaves as if he belonged to royalty; he’s cousin to the town’s mayor (?), works second hand to him, and hence he moves into the “high society” world (among commoners).

Hence, Ignis knows how to dance. It’s etiquette. Besides, he always liked the shadowy “abandoned” castle in the distance and often fantasized as a kid about how life would be there if it was occupied (poor child had no idea about the magic in there, like the rest of town), so it was usual to find him learning to waltz on his own, holding a teddy  bear as dance companion.

Even though it started as a child fantasy, his constant training lead him to really develop formal dancing skills.

During his stay in the castle, and after a couple months in there (already used/befriended to Gladio, just not as intimately), he finds himself missing the dancing; there were not many chances in town (besides the informal parties), and he had been so busy being scared and sassy against Gladio that he hadn’t even thought about his private dancing.

He was cleaning/exploring a room with his furniture friends when the desire of dancing came back. In the room he came across an abandoned harpsichord; destroyed and dirty, Ignis smiled nonetheless and sat down, toying quietly with a few keys. Prompto, the candelabra that’s insisted all the time to follow him around, asks him happily if he knows how to play.

Ignis, however, does not. He recalls that it moved him to see the instrument because it reminded him of dancing.

“Ooooh! You used to dance?”, “In great ball halls?”, “With a lot of noblemen and women?”, “And pretty wide dresses?”.

Ignis laughs at how cute all his furniture friends can be, and a bit at himself, and shakes the head. “In my room, actually. No music. And my companion was a plush toy”.

Noctis, a clock that’s always hanging with Prompto, and who the rest of the furniture behave oddly formal to as if though he was their leader of sorts, laughs at that, “well, I bet you’re at least better than I could ever be, Specs”.

There seemed to be some inside joke Ignis didn’t quite understand, but he let it slip. 

“Ignis, you seem excited at the idea of dancing” Iris, a tea pot, says happily. “This room is very big. And there’s no moody beast nearby. Why don’t you dance a little?”

“Without music?”

“You said you danced with no music in your room.”, “Plus, we can all sing something!”

“Hm..there’s just a little question now. Who would be my partner?”

“OH! I WANNA! I WANNA!”, Prompto, of course.

Ignis laughs with his little friend and stands up, both heading to the centre of the room. Ignis reverences and Prompto dumbly follows him, and the rest of the furniture friends that are there start singing lyric-less music.

Except none know any particular song so it’s just a mess of “La la la” choruses as if it was a children party.

Ignis laughs anyway while he dances with Prompto; at first he tried to stay bent down to carefully hold Prompto’s candles (turned off), but Ignis’ to tall and Prompto’s too tiny, so it doesn’t work, and both decide to just dance together one in front of the other.

Ignis does small, too small steps and doesn’t dance properly, because his companion can’t do it like him; so we have an amused Ignis trying not to pressure his companion, a candelabra that’s awkwardly and furiously jumping around.

That’s how Gladio walks in on the scene: a lot of the furniture loudly La la’ing like little children, Talcott, a small tea cup, and Iris jumping on random harspichord keys, Noctis awkwardly moving a bit with a white feathered duster, Luna, as if trying hard to dance properly but dealing with a limping leg,  and Ignis trying to dance with a candelabra that’s desperately jumping side to side.

Gladio, much more self controlled after a few months with Ignis, decides to just let them be: he’s keeping the guy prisoner, the less he can do is let him have fun, and seen (from Gladio’s perspective only, tbh) as Ignis apparently has no enjoyment in Gladio’s pressence, the latter decides to leave him alone with his friends for once.

That night, Ignis is dragged to a room he had not been to before by his friends, and, excitedly and not stopping to jump (they behave like kids at times, but that’s just because Ignis is so open and kind with/to them, and they hadn’t had this much fun since long ago), they show him some of the royal parties clothes abandoned in there.

Ignis finds himself asking permission to see through them, and he finds this particular suit that catches his eye: yellowish golden on top, both the shirt and the overcoat, with darker decoration, white formal pants, and golden-brown boots. 

Truth be told, he prefers black or blue colors, but the suit he just found is a fine piece of art and he can’t stop staring.

He won’t try it on no matter how much Iris, Talcott and the rest insist: “what if they belonged to a king or a prince?”

“Nah man. The prince is too tiny to fit in there”

“What do you mean is?” Ignis is questioning, but Prompto’s too busy containing his laughter and Noctis is busy glaring at him and staring away as if embarrassed at some inside joke Ignis doesn’t get again. Iris has to save the day with some “He meant he imagines the prince must have been small” sort of excuse. Ignis still has no idea he’s treating with royalty, poor guy, bless him.

To clarify, Noctis is still prince: the reason he’s a furniture piece and Gladio became the beast is because when that evil red haired wizard dressed in second-hand coats attacked, Gladio, sworn shield of the prince, stood in between to stop the spell: it broke through his shield, but it didn’t get past Gladio, who receives Noctis’ spell while Noctis received the one that affected the rest of the people in there (along Prompto, his non royalty friend who had been there by Noct’s own invitation to the party that was being held).

It’s Iris who gives Ignis the idea of asking Gladio for a dance.

Iris hasn’t told Ignis she’s Gladio’s sister, and has taken the role of adviser for poor Ignis; has heard him ramble about Gladio and his behavior since “I’m actually terrified; I act like I’m not and chide him, but I feel like I’m about to pass out everytime he gets close” to “He’s the biggest jerk I have ever known, ohmygod, how do you stand him?” and all the way towards “He read to me today without stuttering. Iris, I think it’s not that he forgot to read; I think he was nervous. Why  do you think he could be nervous? Why would he lie? He’s actually a bit shy, isn’t he? He seems to be sort of scared at times. I shouldn’t be as rude as I sometimes am, should I?”

She insisted on Ignis to wear the suit, and lead the conversation to telling him that he could wear it if there was a proper dance. Ignis recalled on how there wasn’t another human for a “proper dance”, and Iris reminded him that while there was not a human, there was at least one creature more with a proper two legs.

It took Ignis three days of not knowing what kind of reaction he could get, until he just asked at dinner with Gladio once, immediately after both laughed at the awkward of Gladio accidentally pouring a little soup on himself.

They were not even done laughing when Ignis was already staring down, smiling and a bit flustered, and just hurried it; “Gladio, would you dance with me?”

Ignis had to repeat it; Gladio heard but he was sure his brain was tricking him, so he asked for Ignis to repeat. Ignis didn’t dare look at him at all and his fingers fidgeted a bit with his spoon as he spoke again, “I would like to dance with you. I mean...you don’t have to if you don’t want. I just...the other day I...well, it was something silly, but it reminded me of dancing, and I found out I miss it a little. What do you say we...dance, sometime? It’s a dumb request, I know, but...”

Gladio’s mentally screeching loudly because 1. his crush is asking him to dance 2. Ignis is not being rude or sassy and is actually acting shy whatdoesthatmean omg does he like me back, and 3. OF COURSE I WANNA DANCE WITH YOU IGGY BUT I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO.

So there’s a heavy awkward silence before Gladio tells him he would love it, but he has honestly no idea how to dance; he danced when... (he silenced himself for a moment) “years ago” he corrected, but now he most surely had no idea how to.

Gladio had no route of escape when Ignis told him he didn’t have to know; they weren’t dancing for anybody, and nobody was watching, and nobody judged, it would be just for fun. 

Omg how do I say no, he’s so adorable agh fuck you Iggy you’re too cute (of course, he just thinks this).

So all the furniture pieces go all excited that night (they ship Gladnis so badly) and help them both get dressed and prepared.

They enjoy some book reading, dinner, and then the dancing. Everyone tried to give them privacy, but tbh they all were getting sneak peeks from different spots.

Gladio was already feeling very nervous; he used to dance when he was a human, but it’s been to long, and besides he has never tried with the beast paws instead, and he cares too deeply about Ignis’ sight of him and fears to leave a bad impression.

Things only got worse when he saw Ignis in the golden and white attire.

Gladio knew Ignis made him weak, but he didn’t imagine he could make him this weak. Seeing Ignis, his muscular beast legs suddenly feel like they belong to a baby deer learning to walk.

Ignis smiles at him and, when they’re in front of each other, he adjustes Gladio’s tie (he has some mania for perfection).

“I hope you don’t mind, but...I found this suit and...”

“Keep it. Keep it. You look...” Gladio has to stop here and look away; he’s not sure if it’s noticeable what with his face covered in furr, but he feels he’s blushing so much he could light up a whole castle. “...you look...”

Ignis laughs when Gladio can’t find or manage to spit out the word. “I’m flattered. So do you.”

Gladio can only smile at him and offer his hand so they can go downstairs to the hall.

Once there, they reverence to each other, and the living music instruments start playing a soft, quiet and pretty waltz. Ignis sighs and smiles: damn he loves waltzes. 

Gladio seems like he’s going to have a heart attack out of panic, so Ignis softly takes one of his paws. 

“Worry not, and just follow. I’ll lead.”

Gladio relaxes a bit at the way Ignis’ being so soft with him. He’s also thankful that Ignis, despite being shorter, smaller and more slender, decides to take the lead: anyone else would have had Gladio take it as if it was obvious and his duty, but Ignis knows Gladio doesn’t know how to dance and is scared of messing up, so he doesn’t mind leading.

Ignis guides Gladio’s paw to his waist: for a moment Gladio’s hand twitches as if, in a reflex rather than a literal thought, he found it wrong to touch Ignis with no previous verbal permission, but Ignis softly presses that paw to his waist; Gladio’s hand is so big he can round it.

Ignis doesn’t notice himself, but he didn’t feel a single itch of fear when the paw, claws included, laid on him.

Ignis softly places his hand on Gladio’s shoulder, and asks for the other hand to take his own. Gladio, still a bit scared, moves the other paw up and Ignis gives him his hand on his free will.

Gladio gets more scared again when only then does he notice (or re-notices) just how small Ignis feels in comparison; that hand is so tiny, omg, what if I accidentally break it.

He, however, calms a bit again when he looks down and Ignis is looking straight into his eyes with a softness Gladio didn’t know possible in the man that’s gone months sassing him around. 

Then he gets scared again when Ignis quietly counts two times three as a warning to start dancing.

It’s not the romantic Disney dancing: Gladio really can’t dance in this state.

He’s too tough and big, and he’s standing too close to Ignis.

Gladio steps on Ignis more than 30 times all over the while.

Ignis, curiously, does not mind.

There’s no romantic gazing into each other’s eyes: both are awkwardly staring down at their feet to see how they’re doing.

Ignis teaches him slowly: now I’m moving my right foot, so you move your left one back...yes, precisely, and then you come back and- hmph! No, no, it’s okay. Like that. And then we repeat. Slow. One...two...three. One...tw-ow. It’s okay, it’s okay. Two...three. Yes, you’re improving. See?

They don’t notice as time goes, but they spend 2 hours learning and figuring out how not to step on each other.

They don’t notice because they really don’t see the awkward, they are too into it, having so much fun without noticing, that they really don’t see they look stupid.

After those two hours, Luna goes wake Iris, Prompto and Talcott up; “I think they’re dancing now, as in, for real”.

I don’t play the game in english, but I see you all love his voice actor and that he’s actually good at singing so:

How about Prompto singing to their waltz?

Ignis asks Gladio if he’s prepared and if he wants to try now. Motivated and calm after spending so much of a long while with the most patient man of the world in his arms, Gladio, confident, happily nods.

They do dance this time. There’s a bit of stumbling every now and then, and only a few steps on each other, but it’s mostly a proper dance.

“Tale as old as time...” Robbie Daymond’s voice.

By the end of the waltz, Gladio loses the tempo and both awkwardly move out of it. A few seconds into the mess, however, Gladio goes ‘Ugh’ and picks Ignis up the ground bridal-style without warning him.

For the first time since he’s there, Ignis yelps out and he’s suddenly laughing a lot being picked up, and his instinct is to hug Gladio by the neck not to fall, and Gladio, not caring about formalities, starts spinning him around.

Ignis is laughing so much, he’s never laughed like that even before arriving to the castle.

Gladio eventually stops, but doesn’t put him down. Ignis, hair messed and glasses barely hanging from ears and resting under the tip of his nose, is still hugging him and laughing, just quieter now, eyes closed.

Gladio liked the sight of him when he was formally dressed in immaculate clothing and the hair perfectly done...but he loves the sight of him like this better, because the messed hair, clothes and glasses are not there, there’s just his smile, which Gladio hadn’t seen as wide before, and he’s in the realization that he just loves it so much.

Eventually he puts Ignis down, and Gladio can’t take his eyes off him, despite Ignis apologizing for “I’ve messed up my clothes and hair”. And Gladio just thinks that if only Ignis knew that just like that, messed up, he looks so good...

Against all odds, Ignis actually reaches close to hug him, smiling, eyes closed and the side of his head resting on Gladio’s chest.

“Thank you, Gladio. I’ve never had this much fun before.”

Gladio is unable to answer: this that he feels in his chest,  this that he feels all over his head, tummy and chest, this is not “a crush” on Ignis. This thing that he feels is way beyond that. But he doesn’t dare say it.

“Did you enjoy, Gladio?”

Gladio still needs of some moments to snap out of the shock, and he’s asked again before he can reply.

“Far more than I thought, Iggy. Thank you. If it wasn’t for you, it would have never crossed my mind to do this kind of things.”

Ignis smiles at him, and once his excitement and adrenaline (things that let him into the previous laughing and hugging; without them he most  surely would not have done it) cool down, he takes a step back, clears his throat, and reverences again.

He doesn’t Disney-ruin it immediately afterwards that night: he still stays there, no major troubles interrupt.

Both leave to and stay in their respective rooms; Gladio, usually ripping his clothes off in anger when he can’t take them off like a person, undresses himself calmly that night without the furniture help.

It’s a quiet night, in which Ignis sleeps 100% peacefully for the first time since his arrival, and in which Gladio can’t sleep at all.

Gladio’s in the realization that he’s not just crushing on the guy.

I’m in love with him.

Dear, my head went all blank, so this is all I’m coming up with for now, haha.

Enjoy your Gladnis fluff, aissdfj, I love this AU.

[astarisms]

Chemistry

Pairing: Natan

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 3200

A/N: Skype SS rival teacher au for @skelegiel​! Merry Christmas babe ilu <3

Lucifer Morgenstern was the teacher everyone dreaded. From students’ first days as freshmen, they heard the horror stories of the strict, tough-grader who taught chemistry. While girls swooned over him in the halls, they balked in his classroom.

It wasn’t that he was a bad teacher, necessarily. It was more than possible to get a good grade in his class, as long as you really wanted one and as long as you followed instructions to the ‘t’. But, as many of the students joked, he also had a degree in being a professional asshole. Their favorite story to tell was about the time a kid brought in a chocolate bar to lab, and Lucifer had confiscated it and eaten the whole thing in front of him.

He knew all of this, and cared for none of it.

He cared even less for all the whisperings about the new art teacher. It was all that anyone could talk about the past few days, and especially that morning — it had been a bit of a slow news week, he supposed.

While he was aware of her, he hadn’t seen her yet, and he didn’t plan on going out of his way like many of his coworkers had done. It didn’t look like he could escape the talk of her no matter where he went, however, and it followed him even when he walked into the printer room to get his handouts.

“She’s a sweetheart.”

“A real looker, too.”

“It’s a little weird, though, how much she smiles, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Hey, Lucy, have you met her yet?”

Lucifer ground his teeth at the nickname, grabbed his handouts, and left without comment.

He sincerely hoped she’d be old news, fast — and that old Humphrey would stop fucking calling him “Lucy”.

The following Monday, Lucifer found himself at the school far earlier than usual. He was demonstrating an experiment today, and needed to get things set up before his first period class.

There were only a handful of other cars in the staff parking lot, some he recognized as the janitors’, one he knew was the secretary’s, and then one he had never seen before.

He didn’t pay much attention to it, already not in the best mood at having to be up this early and already wishing it was 4 o’clock so he could go home.

He gathered his things from his car and crossed the short distance from the parking lot to the front doors of the school, pushing the door open with his side since he didn’t have much in the way of free hands.

He got halfway to his classroom before he stopped, hearing something coming from down the opposite hallway. He tilted his head, before he recognized the noise as singing.

“What the hell,” he muttered under his breath, but continued his trek to his classroom, deciding it wasn’t worth his time. So much for his hopes of a quiet morning, though.

Nudging the door open with full hands, he entered his classroom and began setting up for the demonstration. He preferred to work in silence, but it seemed like that was impossible that morning.

Since he finished a bit earlier than expected, he cracked his door and glared in the direction the singing was still coming from with no sign of letting up anytime soon. Who was cheery enough this early to be singing?

Determined to get to the bottom of things and stop the noise this early, he ventured out of his classroom and towards the voice, finding himself in the hallway dedicated to the art classes and chorus and other silly extracurriculars.

He was standing outside the art room before he realized that the voice must belong to the new teacher, and felt a bit silly for the delayed comprehension. He attributed it to the fact that it wasn’t even 7:30 in the morning and he was still in the process of waking up, a full 2 hours after his alarm had gone off.

The door was open, and he stood there for a moment, just staring in at the scene before him.

The first thing he noticed was that the room was in the process of being bedecked with flowers and greenery. There were potted plants, fresh flowers stuck in old paint-stained cups, and a lot of lights threaded between. The far wall was left completely blank, but other than that, not an inch of space was left undecorated.

The second thing he noticed was the redhead teetering precariously on the top step of a stepladder in an attempt to string a few lights above the old lockers that had been converted into an open sort of supply area filled with different kinds of paints, brushes, markers, pencils, and other art shit he didn’t care to examine further.

She was still singing to herself, though it was a bit strained with her efforts now, and the words were choppy with her concentration.

“If I do that will you stop with the singing?”

His crass intrusion startled her, and she gasped, dropping the lights and catching the edge of the lockers to steady herself.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she said, once she’d caught her balance. She promptly abandoned the lights and clambered down the stepladder, coming to stand before him and holding her hand out with a bright smile. “Hi! I’m Natalie McAllister, the new teacher. Nice to meet you!”

He stared at her just long enough to make her hand hanging in the air awkward, then took it and shook once. He dropped it unceremoniously and moved around her.

“Yes, I gathered that much on my own.”

He climbed the stepladder and had much less trouble stringing the lights along the back of the lockers. He wasn’t sure how she wanted it but he really didn’t care to make it pretty at this point.

“I — oh, thank you.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, as he flicked the lights on and got down. “Just – no more singing.”

Her cheeks colored in embarrassment, but she never stopped smiling. She was way too perky and it was way too early for him to deal with her.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here this early.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He skirted around her to go back to his own classroom, but she stopped him.

“Wait! I didn’t catch your name.”

“...Lucifer.”

She laughed, and he turned to look at her, eyebrow raised. She covered her mouth with her hand.

“No, seriously?”

“I am serious. Lucifer Morgenstern. I teach a real subject across the hall and I’d appreciate if you kept the singing to a minimum.”

Even though he’d meant it to be offensive, it didn’t look like she had taken it that way. Instead, she looked vaguely amused and intrigued.

“Sorry, and what would a ‘real’ subject be?” she asked, complete with finger quotes and a cock of her hips.

He arched a dark brow at her.

“A real subject is chemistry. Biology. Physics. Math. Something students can use in their real lives and get them decent jobs. Not something useless like art, for example.”

At that, Natalie’s smiled widened conspiratorially.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. A subject is never useless if it means something to even one person. You’d be surprised at how many people art touches, Mr. Morgenstern.”

He opened his mouth to retaliate, but it was at that moment that the first bell rung. He hadn’t even noticed that it had gotten so late.

“Time for class! Hopefully I’ll see you around,” she said pleasantly, and turned away from him to finish getting ready for the day. He was left with his mouth hanging open for several beats before he turned and walked back to his own classroom.

The next few weeks that followed were… interesting, to say the least. What Lucifer never expected from his encounter with the new, too-nice art teacher was her retaliation.

He found miniature printed artworks in every corner of his classroom. He recognized some of them, but for the most part all were completely different from one another. He shoved all of the small slips of paper into the bottom drawer of his desk.

He discovered some of the more harmless chemicals replaced with paint. The chemicals were never hard to find, usually just pushed behind their replacement, but it was exceedingly annoying, especially when he realized too late that the ionized water was now an identical bottle of clear glitter paint.

He arrived every Monday and Friday, without fail, to his whiteboard intricately decorated with dry erase marker recreations of Van Gogh and Monet and Picasso, and other pieces he assumed were original, and would spend at least 10 minutes of his morning cleaning it off.

And everytime he passed Miss McAllister in the hall, she would smile at him so innocently and wish him a good day.

It was infuriating. Even moreso, the fact that he couldn’t help but admire her efforts in whatever game she was playing. He was impressed by her, and he was irritated at himself for his own amusement at her antics.

One day, after a demonstration during which he discovered his worksheets with careful lab instructions were misplaced in favor of a stack of paint by number worksheets, he decided this needed to come to an end.

When the final bell rang, he waited until the last student had rushed out before crossing the hall to the art room.

He hadn’t been in there since his first encounter with her, but standing in the doorway now, he understood what the previously blank wall had been for. It was decorated with student artworks, filled from top to bottom with oil and watercolor and colored pencil assignments. Some were cringey, while others looked like they had potential.

Natalie was cleaning up, wiping off the tables and straightening up stations as she went. She looked up when he came in, and her greeting smile made him suspicious despite the fact that it seemed completely genuine. Her hair was coming out of the loose bun she’d thrown it up in, and when she reached up to tuck it behind her ear, he noticed a streak of paint on her cheek.

“Lucy! What brings you to this side of the hallway?” she asked brightly, and his eyes narrowed at her.

“I see you’ve been talking to Humphrey.”  She giggled, leaving her rag on the table and instead pushing the stools beneath it.

“He’s just the funniest man. He’s been very welcoming, too.”

“Fantastic,” he said, and while Natalie didn’t miss the sarcastic edge to his tone, she didn’t let it bother her either. “Don’t call me that.”

“You got it, Lucy.”

He ground his teeth, but decided against arguing with her more about it. Besides, that wasn’t the bone he’d come to pick with her that day.

He opened up his hand and all the slips he’d found over the course of the month scattered all over the floor.

“What the hell are these?”

She kept a surprisingly convincing poker face, if it weren’t for the twinkle in her eyes.

“Looks like a collection of art. Why, Mr. Morgenstern, I would have never pegged you for the type.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Ms. McAllister.”

“Really? I figured my games to be fun and maybe a little silly. Dangerous was the last thing that occurred to me while filling up your fancy water with glitter paint.”

She wasn’t taking him seriously, he could tell. She was far too amused. For a moment, he wondered what it was about him that made this woman think he was so easily prankable.

“Two can play at this game, and if I were you, I’d drop it now.”

“Having a second player would make things way more interesting, don’t you think?”

He glared, seeing no point in talking to her further, and turned to walk out.

“Do let me know when you’ve found the rest of the prints!” she called out behind him, and he heard the laughter in her voice.

For a moment, he paused. What did she mean, the rest? He didn’t leave himself room to ponder though, immediately resuming his stride to gather his things and leave.

He smirked to himself. She hadn’t won. He’d get her back.

He found it incredibly limiting and annoying, to have to reduce his pranks to be innocuous enough for a public school setting, but he did so anyways.

While he was still walking in to art on his whiteboard and having to dig around for the correct chemicals and finding mini art prints falling out of every crevice (those of which he was beginning to wonder if she hadn’t hid all of them at once and he was just continuously finding their various hiding places), the frequency had lessened a bit since he’d confronted her.

But now it was his turn. He replaced their art smocks with cheap lab coats. He took all the jewelry and beads from the cabinets and replaced them with model kits. He covered up Natalie’s whiteboard, full of definitions like “perspective” and “chroma” with chemical formulas. He replaced every paintbrush he could get his hands on with the brushes they used to clean the flasks in lab.

They weren’t as grand as he wanted, but given his limited resources and the setting, they were satisfying enough.

He reveled in the sounds of confusion and dismay from the art students when he passed the classroom on the way to his own that morning, and when he met Natalie’s eyes, she gave him a conceding tilt of her head.

For the rest of the week, there was little response from her side. Her door had been shut all week and the Friday morning piece wasn’t on his whiteboard when he walked in that morning. On the tail end of his victory high, he accepted this as surrender, ignoring the little twinge of disappointment he felt at the absence of the bright colors he’d come to accept as the norm.

He’d won, and that was all that mattered.

On Monday morning, however, he was surprised to find Natalie waiting for him in his classroom, sitting on his desk and flipping through the stack of mini artworks he’d still been accumulating.

She looked up when he walked in, and smiled (he couldn’t possibly fathom how someone smiled as much as her, but he found himself grateful for it that rainy Monday — he was unwilling to admit how much he’d missed it).

“Good morning.”

“...Morning,” he said, with no small amount of suspicion.

“Oh, c’mon. I’m not here to prank you. You won, didn’t you? I just came to ask if you’d like to have lunch with me today. My room, my treat.” She sounded sincere, but he was still at a loss.

“Why?” She laughed at the question, tilting her head at him.

“Gosh, Lucy, who hurt you? I don’t know. As a truce or something. Can’t a girl just invite a guy to lunch without all the third degree?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes playfully at him, and leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

“Well?”

“...Fine.” Grinning again, she hopped off her desk.

“Great! I’ll see you then.”

She was out his room before he could respond, and he glanced over his shoulder as she disappeared into her own classroom in confusion. He shook it off, and walked around to the desk she had just been sitting on as the first bell rung.

It was time for class, anyways.

He did a decent job of keeping lunch off his mind, until, of course, the bell rung. He surprised himself with how much he was actually looking forward to it.

He followed his students out into the hallway, but continued straight ahead instead of to the left towards the lunch room. Her door was closed, which he found a bit weird, but he didn’t look into it further as he opened it himself and walked inside.

Immediately, he stopped. Her entire class was still there, staring at him. It took him a second to understand what he was looking at, until he noticed they were all in the lab coats he’d hung on the racks instead of their smocks. The only thing was that they weren’t white anymore — they were painted. Some of them had intricate patterns and swirls, some had big, looping letters, others had been tiedyed.

“Thank you for the new smocks, Mr. Morgenstern,” they chorused.

“And for the model kits!” one kid off to the side said, and when Lucifer looked, his eyes widened at the structures on the table behind him. They had definitely been made with the pieces in the kit, but they hardly looked like what had been pictured on the boxes. Instead, it looked vaguely like a recreation of some ancient Greek or Roman statue, from what he could tell.

Before he could examine it too closely, another kid was thanking him for the new cool brushes, and when he swiveled to look in their direction, he saw the back wall, previously covered with artwork of every imaginable medium, decorated solely in paintings that had clearly been done with wide brushes with stiff bristles.

“I — um…”

He heard Natalie’s too loud laugh, and she whispered something to the kids before ushering them all off to lunch. They hung up their coats on the way out, waving to Natalie before disappearing one by one out the door.

“I believe I promised you lunch?”

“What the hell was that?” he asked, finally having regained his voice. She smiled at him, and it was that same conspiratorial little grin she’d had when he’d first met her.

“That,” she said, “was a demonstration.”

“Of?”

“There’s art everywhere. In everything. You just have to see it, or rather, you have to be willing to see it. These kids have a purpose. They have something they love and that’s creating. What does it matter what they’re creating? Why do they have to use formulas to make what they do mean something?”

“I… That’s what this was all about?”

Natalie nodded, coming around to stand in front of him and looking up at him.

“Yeah. That’s what it was all about. Art is not useless if it means something to someone. Do you get it?”

He stared down at her, for a moment too long. If art was in everything, then he supposed he could see what she meant, when he was looking at the defiant light in her eyes, the arch of her brow. He could see the art in her.

“Yeah. I think I do.”

She grinned and his heart skipped a beat.

“Fantastic. Now, lunch?”

“I can’t believe you fooled me like that.”

“Can’t you?” she said, laughing. “You’re surprisingly easy to fool.” Before he could get another word in, she took his hand and pulled him over to the meal she’d ordered for them. “Truce? For real this time?” she asked, a smile teasing the corners of her lips.

“Yeah. Sure. Truce,” he said, and found it hard to keep the smile off his own face.