#I’ve also got an asl recording due

[bookwyrminspiration]

lord jesus babe give me the strength to write this paper, the inspiration to write this paper, and the will to write this fucking paper christ alive

[arrow-guy]

Talk to Me

Original request from @scrawlingwithstyle: Here's a request I've been sitting on for a bit. ClintxReader; Clint is deaf and most people rely on his lipreading skills, but Reader knows some ASL from when her family thought her autistic younger sibling would never speak (they became vocal close to seven years old). They have secret conversations across the room, thinking no one else on the team understands. . . . They're wrong. Adjust however you like!

A/N: Okay, it’s taken probably close to a year to actually get around to this, but i kind of breezed through writing it? And it was a whole bunch of fun to finally put down in a document. I didn’t change much about your request, but I definitely added to it, and made it a little romantic? Idk if it’ll come off as romance, it’s kind of goofy (it’s Clint, there needs to be a goof somewhere.) I really hope you like it, though!!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: ClintxReader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: None

“Are you sure about this, Bruce?” I ask. “Ross let me go as soon as you went AWOL. I haven’t worked with people like this in years.”

“Of course I’m sure! You were the best back in the day.”

“Back in the day,” I laugh. “You make it sound like we’re ancient.”

“We’re not as young as we used to be,” he says. “But that’s the point. You’ll bring some much needed experience to the table.”

“But I’m not a spy and I definitely don’t have any powers.”

“Trust me, (Y/N), superpowers are not all they’re cracked up to be, and both spies have long since ceased their spying activities.” I cock one eyebrow and he laughs. “For the most part.”

“Saying a spy stopped being a spy is like saying you misplaced the hulk.”

“Ah, very true.”

“I’ll do it, though.”

“You will?”

“Well I can’t very well leave you to fend for yourself, now can I? As it stands, I’m already a shitty friend, working together can’t hurt things.”

Bruce grins and grips my shoulder. “I’ll see you Monday, then.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t fight back my smile. “Do I need to pack a bag, or will I be allowed to go home at the end of the day?”

“Not sure yet. Might as well bring a change of clothes and a toothbrush just in case.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you Monday.”

“I can’t believe you actually pulled it off, Banner,” Stark says. “You wrangled a counselor for the team?”

“What,” I say. “Like it was supposed to be hard?”

Bruce laughs and reaches out to place his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve known (Y/N) for just about as long as I can remember. I’m sure she’ll be a good fit.”

“As long as you can remember, huh?” I look past Captain Rogers and find a sandy haired man. He grins when I meet his eyes. “Just how long?”

I bob my head from side to side. “Somewhere between twenty years and most of our lives.”

He whistles. “Pretty long time, then.”

“Mhm.”

Bruce clears his throat. “I’m sure (Y/N) wants to see where she’ll be working, so I’ll just show her to her office.”

Everyone in the boardroom waves and Bruce leads me out of the room. As soon as we’re out in the hall I sigh and bow my head, finally able to let my shoulders relax.

“That was a lot.”

Bruce chuckles. “Trust me, it’ll either get worse or stay exactly the same as time goes on, depending on who you’re talking to.”

“The blond guy who spoke up, that’s Hawkeye, right?”

“Clint Barton, yeah.”

“Will I be seeing much of him?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t really know much about the guy. He seems pretty happy-go-lucky and stable most of the time, though.”

“Huh.” I shrug and hitch my bag a little higher on my shoulder. “You never know with some people.”

“True. I’m sure you’ll deal with him at least once more after this. He’s the curious type.”

“I guess I’ll have to look forward to that, then.”

Bruce hummed in agreement and leads me to the elevator bank and takes me down to what will eventually be my office. He gives me a basic rundown of the facilities and shows me which restroom is closest to my office. I ask for a baseline reading on everyone on the team and Bruce rattles off what he’s noticed about the main five.

“Steve will most likely drop by to make small talk, but it may take some time for him to open up in any way that counts. Tony will joke about therapy, but once he warms up to you it’ll be impossible to get him to leave.”

“Oof, that bad?”

“He’s long-winded.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to enforce appointments with him when he starts to take interest.”

“Probably wise.”

“And Natasha?”

“I doubt you’ll see much of her. She has her ways of working through her issues on her own.”

“Do they involve murder?”

“Don’t know, and I don’t care to.”

“Got it. None of our business. I’ll let her come to me if she needs anything.” I plop down behind my new desk. “What about Thor?”

“Who knows. He shows up when he wants and tends to be a pretty jovial guy.”

“Ah. Is there anyone else outside of the tower I can expect?”

“Wanda, Sam, and Rhodey will be around from time to time. If Steve has his way, Bucky will move in at some point, and Wanda is currently in the process of moving into the tower, so you may see her more after that. I’m not sure how often she’ll drop by. She’s fairly private due to her powers.”

“Energy manipulation, right?”

He nods. “That, and other mind tricks.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But that just leaves Clint, and we’ve already gone over what you can expect from him.”

“It doesn’t just leave Clint, Bruce.” I fold my hands on the desktop. “I expect to see you in here at least once a week. Ideally twice.”

Bruce scowls. “(Y/N), you know how I feel about that.”

“Yeah, well, I listen to your opinions on that stuff when I’m just your friend. Now I’m your therapist, and you’re going to listen to me because I know what works for you. So I expect you to get your pasty ass in here when you’re scheduled.”

“You’re making appointments for me now?”

“Until I’m sure you’ll come to me on your own, yes.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Send me the schedule. I’ll see you at my appointed time.”

“Wonderful.” I relax my shoulders, letting my professional mask slip. “Thanks for this, Bruce. I mean it.”

“I know you do.” He cracks a smile. “You’re the only person I trust to get to the root of our issues.”

“I appreciate that. I’ll try not to let you down.”

“Believe me, (Y/N), if anyone’s gonna let me down, it’ll be the team.” I laugh and he heads for the door. “I’ll see you later. Good luck with your first day.”

“Thanks, Bruce. I’ll see you later!”

“So, (Y/N),” Tony says, spreading out on the couch across from my chair. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah, what makes you tick? What motivates you to try and heal the fragile minds of the Avengers?”

“I’d say a decent paycheck is a pretty good motivator, Mr. Stark.”

He seems disappointed with my answer. “Is that it?”

“Well, that, and I want to make sure Bruce is doing alright. He’s struggled with therapy in the past, and I want to make sure he’s getting the kind of help that he needs.”

“I see.” He presses his lips together and folds his arms. “You’re not even curious about the rest of the team?”

“Of course I’m curious, but nothing discussed in this tower will be shared with anyone outside. I take my patients privacy very seriously.”

“You sure you don’t just fear for your life?”

“Living in New York, I fear for my life constantly. That doesn’t mean that I’m worried about getting merced if I get a little loose lipped outside of work.” I sigh and lean back in my chair. “That being said, I won’t be sharing your confidential information with anyone you haven’t specifically given authorized access to your records.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. It’s almost like I’m a professional, right?”

He smiles. “I’m really starting to like you, (Y/N).”

“Then I guess I have a lot more of this to look forward to, then, don’t I?”

I laughs and hauls himself up from the couch. “We’ll see.”

I make a note of his response in my open document. “Sounds like a tentative yes to me, Mr. Stark, and I’ll be here so long as you deem my services necessary.”

He nods and exits my office. He leaves the door open.

“How are you liking it here so far, (Y/N)?”

“It’s been quiet, Captain Rogers. It’s a bit like pulling teeth trying to get anyone to make use of their resources.”

“I guess it would be. We’re a relatively private bunch.” He pauses a moment. “And, please, call me Steve.”

“Right, Steve. Is there anything that I can do for you today?” I ask. “It’s entirely alright if you just want to make small talk.”

“Oh, well, uh…” He awkwardly clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “I guess I just wanted to get a lay of the land.”

“I understand.” I glance around my office. “I should probably bring in some art and plants. Make it a little less sterile in here.”

Steve laughs. “That might help.”

I smile. “Maybe an area rug?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you think would be best.”

“I appreciate the creative freedom.” I close my laptop, set it to the side, and settle back in my chair. “Is there something on your mind, Steve?”

“No,” he says quickly. He immediately looks conflicted. “I… well, kind of.”

“Feel free to speak. Nothing you say will leave this office.”

“You hardly know me.”

I shrug. “I know how stressful this environment can be. And, while your team is very good at what they do, they’re also the ones who are causing your stress.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” I watch him chew the inside of his cheek. “I guess I’m just concerned that things might not get better, even when Bucky’s moved in.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I’m worried that it might not be a good fit for him, or that the team won’t accept him, or that he might not even want to be around me.”

“Those are all valid concerns. Have you mentioned any of this to him?”

“God no. I don’t want to stress him out more than I already have with all of this moving business.”

“I might suggest bringing it up. He might be having similar worries himself, and, as helpful as it is to work towards what’s troubling you with me, I won’t be able to settle your nerves.”

“Maybe you’re right…”

“If nothing else, it might open up a new line of communication between the two of you, which couldn’t hurt.”

Steve stays for another hour, just talking. When he leaves, he asks if I want the door open or closed. I don’t give him a definite answer and he leaves it open, just a crack. I laugh and start on his profile.

Someone knocks on my door and I glance up from my paperwork to see Clint standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Barton,” I say. “I was wondering when I might see you.”

He shrugs. “Here I am.”

“After two weeks, I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

“If I was?”

“Then it’s none of my business.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “I like that answer.”

I rise from my desk and gesture to the couch. He raises his eyebrows, but takes a seat anyway. I sit across from him and watch as he tries to decide just how he should sit. In the end, he leans heavily on his knees. Nothing about him is relaxed.

“I’m starting to think Bruce was wrong about you.”

“What’d the green bean tell you about me?”

“Nothing concrete,” I answer. “He just mentioned that you seem to have a positive outlook on things most of the time.”

He snorts. “Great.”

“Mmm, I see. It’s a facade, then?”

He frowns and presses a finger to his right ear. “Could you say that again?”

“I said, it’s a facade, then?”

“Sometimes.”

I nod. “Interesting.”

He barks out a laugh. “Yeah, interesting.”

I watch him look around the room, examining the art on the walls and the stacks of paper on my desk. When he turns his head to the left, I notice his purple earpiece and something suddenly clicks. He tilts his head to the side when he sees me staring.

“What?”

“Would it be easier if we signed?” I ask, signing along as I speak.

He looks surprised. “You sign?”

I laugh. “Yes. My little brother is on the Autism spectrum. When he was a kid, he was almost entirely nonverbal. Mom taught him sign, and the rest of the family learned along with him.”

“That must’ve been really nice for him.”

“It was nice to be able to communicate with him when he couldn’t vocalize what he wanted to say. He eventually started speaking when he was about seven, though.”

“And you still held onto the signing skills?”

“Of course! It’s not like he just, bam, started talking. It was a long process, and he still has nonverbal days sometimes.” Clint starts to actually smile and it warms my heart. “It’s come in handy in my particular line of work too. Deaf and hard of hearing folks need counsellors and therapists too.”

“Which brings the topic of conversation back to me.” He shakes his head and leans back against the couch and signs, “You’re a tricky one, (Y/N).”

“I’m not tricky!”

“Then what?”

“I’m accommodating.” I speak again, but continue to sign along. “You don’t have to tell me everything, or anything, really. But I’m here to help, if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Clint. Any time.”

“Seems like you and Clint are getting close,” Bruce says.

“I don’t know what you mean, man.”

“He’s in here all the time, (Y/N). There’s no way Barton needs therapy five times a week.”

“It’s not always about therapy, Bruce. I strive to make my office a safe space where everyone knows that they can speak freely. He knows that he can come here and chill out without worrying about the rest of the team.”

“Barton doesn’t really worry about anything, though.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

Bruce stares at me, eyes narrowed, and snaps his fingers. "You like him."

I roll my eyes. "I do not like him, Bruce. And you're not even here to talk about Clint, you're here to work on yourself and managing your stress levels."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm sure there's something we could talk about aside from me."

I sigh and hold my head in my hands. "I've been here for two months. I haven't been around long enough to form anything more than tentative relationships with the rest of the team. I'm more concerned about whether or not they can open up to me than I am with my love life."

“Right,” Bruce clears his throat.

“Thank you.” He looks thoroughly ashamed and I have to laugh. “I appreciate the interest, but it’s just not something that you need to worry about.”

“No, I understand.” He smiles and shrugs. “I guess I just miss having that easy rapport with you.”

“I mean, we still have that, Bruce. It’s just not something that I want to talk about in the workplace. It’s one thing to shoot the shit over lunch on a Saturday, it’s another to discuss my patients with another patient, all of whom are my coworkers.”

“I didn’t think about it like that.”

I smile. “It’s fine. Did you want to pick up where we left off on Tuesday?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“(Y/N)?”

I’m startled by the woman in the doorway. “Ms. Romanoff?”

She shakes her head and steps into my office. “As long as you’re not a government official, it’s just Natasha.”

“Ah, right.” I sit a little straighter in my chair. “What can I do for you, Natasha?”

“Clint’s said you’ve helped him a lot.”

“I don’t know about that. We just talk. He does all the helping.”

“I figured you’d say that.” She moves quickly across the room and takes a seat on the couch. “I’d like to talk to you, if you have the time.”

“Oh.” I scramble up from my desk to sit across from her. “What about?”

“I need help working through a recent case.”

“Are you sure I’m qualified for that?”

“Well, you said Clint does all the helping. Maybe what I need is a sounding board.”

“Fair enough. Where are you caught up?”

Natasha rattles off the details of a recent mission. I do my best to follow her, but she loses me when she starts explaining the intricacies of a piece of Hydra technology they discovered. Eventually, she perks up, almost looking like she wants to jump up from her seat and run from the room.

“I think I’ve got it.”

“That’s great!”

She calmly gets to her feet and walks to the door. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

I shake my head. “It was my pleasure.”

“Even so, you helped me.” She flashes me an unexpected smile. “I appreciate that.”

“It’s not a problem, Natasha. I hope that we can speak again at some point.”

She nods and heads for the door. “I’ll see you around.”

In the hall I hear, “Oh, hey, Nat.” and Clint pokes his head in soon after.

I smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He leans in the doorway and folds his arms. “What’d Nat dump on you?”

“Doctor patient confidentiality, Barton,” I say. “I can’t tell you.”

His arms fall to his side and he dramatically slumps into the room. “I thought you trusted me!”

I laugh. “I do trust you, Clint. But it’s not my information to give.” He drapes himself across the couch and grins at the sight of me fighting back my smile. “If it were, Bruce would have full access to what we talk about in our sessions.”

“That’s private information, (Y/N)!” He laughs. “I see your point.”

“Good.”

“Did you want to grab lunch later? That weird little cafe down the street started serving some kind of coffee burger.”

“Ugh, and you want to eat that?”

“(Y/N), it’s a coffee burger.”

“With all the heinous shit you put in your body, it’s a wonder you’re still alive.”

“If you think I’m bad, you should meet my dog.”

“Is that an offer?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Guess you’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s been four months, Clint. If I haven’t run for the hills yet, I’m pretty sure it’s not gonna happen for a while yet.”

Something twinkles in his eyes. “That’s good to hear. I was worried I might scare you off.”

“If anyone were to scare me off, it’d be Tony.” I shake my head. “That man is a handful.”

“What happened to patient confidentiality?”

“Since when is Tony being a handful a secret?” He laughs and I relax in my seat. “But, yeah, I’ll get lunch with you.”

“Really?”

“Someone has to make sure you don’t keel over from physically eating coffee.”

“Oh come on! It’s not like they solidified the coffee and stuck it on a bun!”

“How do you know they didn’t? Maybe they turned the coffee into jello, passed it through a meat grinder, and threw it on a griddle.”

His face scrunches up in disgust. “Ugh, that’d just be burnt coffee.”

“I’ve watched you drink an entire pot of burnt coffee.”

“Desperate times, (Y/N). They call for desperate measures.”

I sigh and shake my head. ”I guess it’s fine, so long as you’re not addicted to caffeine pills.”

“Those don’t do anything for me.”

“That’s terrifying.”

He laughs, hauls himself up from the couch, and offers me a hand. “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?”

“Head out for lunch.”

“Now? I thought you said later.”

“It’s been like five minutes. It’s later now.”

I laugh. “I can’t just go now. I have an appointment with Steve in twenty minutes. We can leave after that.”

He pouts. “Fine.”

“Don’t give me that look, Clint!”

He sighs and trudges towards the door. “I guess I’ll just have to make a reservation for one thirty.”

“That’d be great.”

He flashes a brilliant smile before disappearing out into the hall. I shake my head and move back to my desk.

“That man is gonna get me in trouble.”

“I thought you said you weren’t involved with Clint?”

“I’m not, Bruce.”

“Then what’s this?” He places his phone on my keyboard.

I pick up the phone and find an article titled “Hawkeye’s New Flame, or Just a Fling?” pulled up. A picture of Clint and I at lunch the other day sits just below a paragraph speculating who I could be. I snort and hand him his phone.

“Clint and I went to lunch. That’s all.” I sit back and fold my arms. “What’s the problem, Bruce?”

“I don’t want you getting dragged into some kind of media storm because you work with us.”

“It’s one article!”

“There’s at least four more like it that I’ve seen.”

“I’m not worried about it, Bruce. Clint just went out for lunch and some pap caught us talking. That’s it. There’s nothing more to it, but I can’t stop people from talking.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“No one should have to deal with anyone plastering their personal life all over the internet, but you know what? I’d rather get caught out in public with Clint than Tony.” I laugh. “Can you imagine the shitstorm that’d kick up if that happened?”

Bruce tries not to laugh. “I guess you’re right.”

“It was bound to get out that the Avengers brought in a counsellor at some point. It’s better that it’s like this instead of some media outlet picking up a rumor and deciding that you’re all unstable.”

“Well…”

“I’m not saying you’re the most sane bunch, but that’s no one’s business but yours. Regardless, don’t worry about this. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” He pockets his phone. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Of course I would, Bruce. If something comes up, I’ll let you know.”

I sit on the floor of the gym and lift the collar of my shirt to wipe the sweat from my face.

Clint plops down on the floor beside me and tips his head to the side.

“Definitely didn’t expect to find you in here,” he says.

“What, I can’t work out?” I groan and lay back. “Ugh.”

“You okay?”

“No. I knew I should’ve just stuck to the treadmill.”

“What’d you do to yourself?”

“Weights.”

He laughs. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know. Is wanting to be able to lift a very large dog a good reason?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a bad reason.” He lays beside me and props himself up on his elbow. “I could help you, if you want.”

“I don’t know how I feel about being all sweaty gross around you.”

He pokes my stomach and I laugh and shift away. “I don’t know, (Y/N), sweaty’s the new sexy.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.” I laugh and scrunch my nose. “Also kind of gross.”

“Sweet and kind of gross, I think you’ve pretty much summed me up perfectly.” I laugh so hard that I snort and he grins. “So, do you want help working out?”

I press my fist to my mouth to quiet my giggling. “If you’re willing to, I really would appreciate it.”

“Then it’s a done deal.” I thank him and his smile softens. “Sorry about those articles last week, by the way.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“I should’ve warned you, at least. I’m used to it, but you didn’t sign up for pap shots and gossip columns when you took this job.”

I scowl. “Honestly, Clint. If you’re not gonna read my lips, read my hands. It’s totally fine. I don’t care. I had a nice time at lunch. A few dumb articles won’t change that.”

“You mean that?”

“Well, yeah. I like spending time with you outside of all of this,” I say, gesturing to the tower in general. “With, y’know, no expectations of maintaining all of the professional bullshit.”

“Pretty sure you’re the most professional one here.”

“Thanks, I’m glad that comes across in the day to day, but do you understand what I’m saying? Like I genuinely do not care about what a shitty news outlet says. At the end of the day, the only opinions that matter are ours.” I sigh and settle on the floor. “Sorry.”

“Sounds like we’re not the only ones who need therapy.”

I hum. “Maybe I do.”

“No shame in it.”

I smile at him. “I know.” I sit up and get to my feet. “It’s getting late, I should head out.”

“You’re in tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be around till noon. I’ve got a wedding later in the day.”

“Not yours, right?”

I laugh. “No, definitely not mine.”

“Cool,” He smiles up at me. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Since when do we have staff meetings?” Clint asks.

“Since we brought on a counselor,” Tony says.

I frown. “I’ve been here six months and I’ve never been to any kind of meeting.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you brought that up and just keep moving with the meeting.”

I snort and shoot Clint a look. He laughs and signs for me to stop. I wave him off and turn my attention back to the head of the table.

Tony rambles on for about half an hour before Steve cuts in and the two of them start going back and forth. They bicker for twenty minutes before Thor swans in, greeting everyone with his bright, booming voice. I was stuck in my office the last time he was on Earth, so our paths never had a chance to cross. Steve takes a moment to introduce the two of us and Thor vigorously shakes my hand, unintentionally jostling me around the whole time. He takes his seat on the other side of Bruce and the conversation picks up again.

I catch Clint’s eye twitching in my peripheral when Thor speaks a little too loudly. I gesture to get his attention and he raises his eyebrows when he meets my eyes.

“You good?” I sign.

He nods. “Can’t pay attention to save my life in these meetings.”

“I’ve never known anyone to compliment your attention span.”

He mouths, “Oh, ha ha,” and I laugh.

“You’re mean, (Y/N).”

“And here I thought you liked me.”

“Never said I didn’t.” He grins. “The way things are going, I’d say you’re probably just my type.”

I shake my head and hide my smile behind my hand. “Stop.”

“Aw, you're cute when you're embarrassed." I flip him off and he laughs. “That's a compliment!"

I snort. “Pay attention, Clint.”

We manage to make it through another hour and, by that time, someone has turned off the lights and started giving a presentation. I fold my arms on the table and rest my chin on top and beg myself to stay awake through this meeting. I’m sure it’ll only be a little while longer.

Clint’s hand creeps into my line of sight and he taps the table to get my attention. I shoot him a quizzical look and he lifts his eyebrows.

“You still with us?” he signs.

“No.”

“It’s going longer than I thought it would.”

“I’m honestly about to fall asleep.”

“Aw, (Y/N), no.”

“This is how I go out. Avenge me, Clint.”

“No!”

“It’s your job. You have to.”

“But who will help me through the trauma?”

I cover my mouth to muffle my laughter. “I’d be dead, that’s none of my concern.”

He shakes his head. “And you call yourself my friend.”

Natasha clears her throat, startling me away from the conversation. I try to pay attention to the presentation, but I just can't wrap my head around what they're talking about and Clint easily distracts me again.

"Quick question."

Surprised, I sign, "Shoot."

"Would you want to go out with me?"

My brain stops working for a second. "Wait, what?"

"I said, will you go out with me?"

My heart hammers in my chest. "Like as friends, or on a date?"

He sighs. "We've been hanging out as friends for months now. I'm asking you on a date, stupid."

My face heats and I sit back in my seat. “Oh.”

He laughs. “Did I break you?”

“A little.” I frown.

“Just say yes!”

Startled, I glance up the table, only to find Natasha glaring at Clint and I. Everyone is looking at us and I suddenly want to disappear.

“What’s the problem?” Steve asks.

“I’m sick of watching the two of them flirt with each other,” Natasha says. “You’ve been mooning over each other for months. Just say yes and be done with it.”

“Nat, they haven’t said a single thing since the beginning of the meeting.”

“They’ve been signing at each other the entire meeting.” She looks directly at me and signs, “I see everything.”

“Sorry.”

“Just say yes.” She looks very pointedly between Clint and I. “You’d be good together.”

“I thought you said you didn’t like him!” Bruce says.

“That was months ago, Bruce. Things change.”

“Don’t be hard on her,” Natasha says. “Clint’s an acquired taste.”

“I’m just gonna, um…” I gesture to the door. “I’m just gonna go.”

I see Tony and Steve nod and I shove my chair back from the table and make my escape. The door shuts behind me, and I’m free. I sigh, relieved to be free of the weight of everyone’s eyes on me, only for the embarrassment of having my crush exposed to my coworkers to settle deep in my stomach.

I press my fingertips to my temples and walk down the hallway. “I knew he was gonna get me in trouble.”

I make the decision to just go back to my office. Maybe I can at least get some work done or, at the very least calm down. I turn as the elevator doors close and catch a glimpse of the conference door opening at the end of the hall. I shift slightly so that it’s not in my line of sight.

The elevator ride feels like it’s too long and I immediately flop down on my couch as soon as I’m in my office. I can't get comfortable and shift around until I'm upside down with my legs over the back of the conch, staring at the ceiling. I press the heels of my hands over my eyes and groan out of frustration.

“I left without even answering him,” I mutter.

The door suddenly opens and I freeze, pulling my hands away from my face, waiting for whoever it is to announce themselves.

"(Y/N)?"

"Clint?" I try to sit up and smack my head on the edge of the coffee table. "Shit."

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I rub my forehead and sit up a little more carefully. "I'll live."

He takes a seat on the coffee table and watches intently as I sit upright on the couch and face him. He reaches out and gently touches my forehead, only to jerk his hand back when I wince.

"Sorry."

"Don't, it's fine."

"Okay." He sighs softly and shuffles awkwardly on the table. He stills when I touch his knee and takes my hand in his. "I'm sorry about the meeting. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

"Honestly, Clint, you don't need to apologize," I murmur. "I got flustered and then embarrassed when everyone else got involved."

"I know. I probably like pushing your buttons a little too much."

"That's not it."

"But I do push your buttons."

"Yeah, but only 'cause I let you." He smiles and I squeeze his hand. "But I'm a deeply private person. To have Natasha butt in like that, no matter the good she meant by it, really set me on edge."

"I had no idea."

"I don't feel like I have to keep everything close to my chest when I’m with you. You tease me, but it’s never from a place of malice and you know me well enough that you never take it too far.”

“I mean, you give as good as you get.” He doesn’t meet my eyes as he runs his thumb over my knuckles. “But still. I should’ve just asked in private, but you know me.”

“Yeah. You’re sweet, but kind of stupid sometimes. More than a little impulsive. And way too fond of coffee.”

“Aw, I thought that was endearing!” He smiles when I laugh. “The invitation still stands, but you don’t have to say yes.”

“What’re you talking about?” He meets my eyes and I shake my head. “I’m not about to turn you down. You haven’t introduced me to your dog yet.”

“Oh, I get it, you only want me for Lucky.”

“Mhm.”

He shakes his head and kneels on the floor in front of me. “Shoulda known.”

“I know, I’m pure evil.” He grins and takes my face in his hands. “I should be fired, right?”

“Without a doubt.”

I hum softly and lean forward to bump my nose against his. After a moment’s hesitation, Clint closes the distance between us and gently kisses me. I place one hand on his forearm and tilt my head to the side to kiss him back. He smiles against my lips and pulls away, his eyes flitting over my face.

“So… about that dog.”

I have no idea what would happen to them after that, but I’d like to think they’re having a great time, petting dogs and continuing to mess with each other, all whilst falling in love.

I’d love to know what you guys thought of this little one shot. Did you love it, did you hate it? Did you breathe out through your nose a little bc you kind of laughed but also didn’t? Be sure to like, reblog, comment, or shoot me an ask and tell me all about it!

If you’d like to be tagged in future fics, please let me know!

Tag list:

@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @creaturefeatures101, @buckysendoftheline, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23, @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhitewolfbarnes, @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux, @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @breezy1415, @feelmyroarrrr, @darling-loki​, @lemonadeorange73​, @princess-unicorn124​, @hermionie-is-my-queen​, @tofeartheunknown​, @queenoftheunderdark​, @avengerscompound​

[weirdo-with-a-nametag]

Brain is tv static with random frames interspersed

Think I'm like. Really stressed and jumping between topics to try and find something that helps / feels good

Topics:

Anyone know a good health tracking app for adhd people? I want one that like pops up when you open your phone, maybe? But is unobtrusive. Like maybe you just rate your mood or whatever when you open your phone, and it closes, and you go about your business. I just hate every app and paper method I've tried but really want to track some stuff

Pigeon. ? Pigeon as pet?

Service animals re: cats, pigeons, my cat specifically, and then also ESAs and also what to use as treats while training my cat (he's pretty happy to learn behaviors with praise and pets as reinforcement, but treats would make everything move much faster, but I haven't found something I want to give him so we've just been y'know. Chillin)

Service animals re: what tasks can my pet potentially do that would help me? I don't really know a lot about service animals and there is a Huge range. If anyone has suggestions, or places to read about it, I'd appreciate it! Mostly thinking they may help with anxiety, sensory, and mobility/fatigue related stuff. Not much of a need for medical alerts.

Bioactive enclosures for my snakes, need to research their biomes and make progress on designs and equipment specifications

Also. Hit a seriously hard patch and haven't been handling them much at all this month so that's not great

Casting stuff. Saw jewelry today made of metal casts of claws, skulls, etc, and they were really well done and made me want to do that

Some taxidermy / vulture culture stuff I won't get into right now

Puzzles????

How to organize my room

Need a shower

Need to organize bathroom

So Much Schoolwork

Uhhhhh trying, but not making much headway, to figure out how I want to do my music collection. Also really need to clean my records..

Make?

Food??? Ew.

Dental hygiene ://

Plampts. So many. Houseplants need maintenance, many need repotting. Keep taking in people's problem plants and like, they're doing better, largely, after being trimmed and watered and whatnot, but need repotting. Also need to trim some aquarium plants.

Also need to put water in tanks. And spray nepenthes.

Laundry.

Gotta pick up trash in my room. There's so much. Everywhere. Why.

Schoolwork. I'm so behind. So, so stuck. Kind of feel like I'm dying.

Going on a picnic tomorrow. Have to figure out what still needs doing for that, probably need to go to the store.

Leo needs water. I'm so....ugh, I'm trying so hard, but it feels impossible. I do my best to take good care of my pets, and I think they live pretty good lives most of the time, but sometimes I get like This and completely drop off the face of the earth and then like, wake up or whatever and two weeks have passed by and I have not cleaned a water bowl! That's a serious problem!!!! I do not know how to combat that, really, besides more reminders. Having someone around who is willing to like, help, when things are especially hard, would be great, but I don't live with my partner right now and do not feel like I can ask anyone here for that. But I can't put my animals at risk. I check on them every day, and if their bowls are dirty I do take them out and clean them, but sometimes (like now) i cannot get myself to do it without a pressure like a dirty bowl, or a feeding day. And like, it's really important that they have clean water. I'm talking to myself here but like, if anyone has advice. Please. With the tank redesigns and upgrades, the bowls will be more accessible, which will help because one of them is very heavy at the angle I have to pick it up, and another requires moving a lot of branches and is best to take out while the snake is out (this is Leo) which is fine because I love my boy, but adds time to the process, and makes it harder to start, you know? Maybe if I just got more bowls - I could take the bowl out and immediately replace it, fill the new one, and replace the decor and snake, and then clean the bowl as a separate task? That would be easier for my brain. Currently I have a Specific bowl I prefer to use for each tank, and then everything else is Just In Case, but I mean. Acquiring extras is something I want to do anyway, and it may help with several problems, so. Yeah. I'll try that. But also, any other ideas, guys?

Anxiety: can't stop picking at my face, skin, nails, cuticles, scalp, pretty much everywhere with callouses, also scratched a mole off my face, which is something I've been trying Not to do for a while, so that's...not great. Can't find my earmuffs, and also all of my headphones are painful? Ears are really sensitive lately.

Been playing a lot of Moth Game (flutter: starlight if you wanna be friends say hey I don't know how to do it but would enjoy talking about moths if nothing else. The game is just like, an idle ish collecting game with cutesy versions of different species, and very little actual information, but it's still fun, and if anyone else is on there and also Into Moths like I am, hiiiii) and like it's fun and cute but also greatly impacting my productivity, and raises my stress levels during events, which is most days, so the game has. Not been helping. But I can't stop because then I'll miss Exclusive Moths.

Anyway. Had baklava and two mugs of Thai tea today and the sugar has made me nauseous.

Trying to journal. Hurts to write. Also takes too long. Also my handwriting is very bad. But typing is..not as good

Want to draw. Thinking about drawing cats

Plants again! Want to make seed bombs, have seeds, have most of the other ingredients, just need to put em together, basically.

Really sad :(

Or am I?

Weird noise coming from dining room?

Birds. Spent half an hour at least on the deck tonight listening to a hundred different bird calls (literally) to identify one I was hearing, it was a pine siskin, which I checked early on but the recording was bad and I didn't realize which call was identified. Anyway, cool to put a name to a face, so to speak.

Need to practice for ASL

So much.....to do...

Only had like >3 hours of work this week which was not great because money, but also like I'm really feeling those 3 hours....

My cat is basically refusing to come into my room? Which is very strange and I'm worried something is Off but cannot figure out what. Also means less cuddles which means I'm sad.

It feels strange whenever people follow me, the attention is nice but I have no idea what content y'all are here for. So to everyone: hi, enjoy, hope my random personal posts aren't a surprise to anyone who followed for like. News reblogs and informational stuff.

Do I even have it in me to..be successful in school? Should I drop out of college? I'm struggling really hard and do not feel like I'm building on the skills I need to continue, so like. Uh.

My dad is being. Abrasive.

Mom and grandma are very angry lately

Housemate is also angry, about things i thought we were on good terms about, so I am stressed because like,, are we okay?

Can't find my eye mask :(

Yoga? Like...restorative yoga? Need to track down my PT stuff. And. Do it.

Need to put the stickers on my license plates....oops...

Still haven't found my antidepressants! Yay!

Do I want to store my stuff in open bins, or with lids? Which stuff needs spill protection and stacking capability and which stuff needs easy access?

How to earn money without..chaos

Gotta go to the pet store tomorrow. Have to compile my list of pet store items i need. Uhhhhhhhhhh

Also I have an essay due tomorrow that I've barely started. So. Wooooooo

Kt tape for supporting arches / inner ankles? I keep messing up my ankles, and part of it is walking wrong because I don't have the energy to engage the muscles in my feet/legs right to like, avoid injury, and part of it is I just need new shoes inserts. But i wear slippers a lot and they do not have arch support and it hurts. PT to help with this also but Where Is It

Family can't seem to get dish soap I can use, so I've just been having to avoid washing anything by hand, or being in the general kitchen area while anyone uses the stuff, which has led to more of my dishes sitting out, and more conflict over dishes. Lovely.

How hard is it for parents to learn they have to respect boundaries? Very hard, apparently. And you're supposed to just sort of remind people, and explain, over and over and over but like at this point my self worth is actually pretty good and the lifetime of proof that they do not want to listen? That's making me want to stop trying. Like, if you're not going to respect my boundaries I'm just not going to involve you in my life. I'm not talking to my dad right now because of this. Maybe I'll decide to lay things out to him, again and again and again again, maybe not. And I'm comfortable saying that's on him.

How to drink water

Am I dehydrated or are my hands just completely callous now. My fingertips have such hard skin. Why? It's uncomfortable. This is part of why I've been biting them.

Also testosterone. Been having a lot of trouble doing my shots, because anxiety and physical freakouts, but also not feeling super urgent about it. Which I'm realizing may be a sign i need to look at the effects so far and the possible effects of continuing, and see what they make me feel. It's possible I'm where I want to be as far as T, and don't really want to stay on it. A big thing for me is a deeper voice, so it seems time to take a look at whether I like my voice where it is or want to see if it'll drop any more. Etc etc

Miss my lil sisters

Saw a lot of cool rocks today. Huge (like hand sized) ammonite for $28. May go back and buy one because. Wow.

Want to plant food plants

Also my natives. Whole garden plot standing empty with a bunch of stuff waiting in nursery pots, needing to go in the ground. Because I can't get out of bed. Love that. Stuff is dying out there, I'm dying in here, there's a poetry to it and I do not want to romanticize suffering so I will say this: I brought a Bucket full of moss home a month ago and planted it and now go outside sometimes to drench my moss and it is very rewarding because the stuff is just so green. Incredible. When the rest of my plants are finally in the ground, that feeling will only intensify. But, for now, the moss is very nice.

Made a glow in the dark bead lizard from memory during therapy yesterday, and I love him. Also, still struggling with bringing up autism and psychosis topics with my therapist. Still very worried about. Things. Would like to get a new person? But sometimes she is helpful? And we have a routine. It's very hard to break the routine. Maybe I can set some time aside during the summer, to figure out what to do there.

Term ends in a couple weeks. The task of catching up, of passing, seems impossible. I really need to pass my courses. I'm on academic warning, because my GPA is lower than it should be, and if I can pass all of my classes this term I can get off academic warning but otherwise I'm not sure what will happen to my financial aid.

My phone is playing the same 50-100 songs on shuffle and I don't even particularly like most of them and it is very strange

Got my face wipes! Hooray, i can wash my face again

Been eating too much sugar in general. It's making my joints hurt more, and the nausea

Pet a dog the other day. I miss that. It would be really nice to have a dog in the house again. The exuberance, the cuddles, the tail wagging, the walks... I'd really like that. Maybe once I'm out in my room, tanks and catio built and everyone is situated, I'll look into getting a dog instead of a cat next. Was planning on holding off in case I'm not physically able to take them out on walks and such, but I've been pretty successful at doing this job, and I think that my main hurdle for walking really is motivation. Dog walking is a strong motivator for me. Best to start by fostering, or just do Wag, for a while though. I'm feeling overwhelmed with my current responsibilities, and here I am talking about getting a dog. Good job, me

How do you get wax off of somewhat water soluble rocks? My housemate broke my lava lamp on some of my rock collection and I am not sure how to get some of them clean without damage.

I am...pretty sure there are collared doves nesting over my room but it seems they're less common around here than I thought? But they are..pretty distinctive. Like if I'm wrong, what are those birds. Some very distinctly colored feral pigeons? Who are nesting here, in a tree, without their flock, and who happen to have pretty much the exact same pattern?

Probably should go to the dollar store and get some bins for organizing

Been wanting to keep a bin by the door and stock it with stim/fidget stuff people can just .have ..like extras of some of my favorites and other things i can get ahold of, to offer to my friends who haven't really had the chance to explore the world of stim toys

Hands are really just not doing great the last several weeks. Arthritis type pain cropping up more and more in all the little joints, making it hurt more to write, type, or just use them for whatever. Coordination isn't great because of that distraction, and because my hands/arms are slow to respond and kinda weak. Most people would say I'm not using them enough but I've been doing 15ish hours of manual labor per week, so maybe it's the other direction? More water would help. If only it wasn't so heavy.

I haven't taken a single shower since I started my job. Which was March 29th. That's not great.

Practiced parallel parking today. 10/10 still very bad at it.

Having anxiety that my friends think I'm lying about things, faking, and are watching me to see if I'll slip up. So that sucks. Can either talk about that directly or indirectly, or just shut up about those things until I can get my brain under control again. I'm not sure right now if the reassurance would work as a reality check or make me believe it more, right now, so might hold off on the talking bit for a little while.

Saw, smelled, picked a couple pretty roses. Good times

At this point I'm just trying to list all my thoughts so that maybe I'll be able to sleep and not worry I'll forget

My mom has put her spider plant on the deck, and it has maybe five living leaves. I have no idea how she killed such a well established spider plant, the last time I saw it it was so happy. Did she stick it in a corner and forget to water it? Whatever happened, it is now in the Plant ER, so hopefully I'll be able to...help get it on the up and up again

Leo is such a pretty noodle. He's so pretty. He's posing. Hi, baby boy.

Oh, he saw me moving around and decided to come say hi. Sorry little man, i did not mean to disturb you. Please resume lounging. I can't bring you out right now, I'm trying to sleep.

Also, terrariums. Water features. Need to ask. Someone. The one who was making that super cool garter snake enclosure and blogging the progress? With the lazy river and pool? About maintenance on that kind of setup. My milk snake really enjoys water, and I'd love to put a water feature in his tank. But I'm unclear on how to keep it clean, or honestly where to start. Don't want any huge falls or anything, though it actually may not make the humidity too high if I did maybe a small drip wall into the pool? That seems like something he would enjoy, and a good way to support different types of plants. But like, that's the thing, it's bioactive and I haven't done that before and no amount of research is ever enough.

Oh, Shogun has a dirt hat. How cute. I love when they do that

See, this is the thing. My snakes make me so happy. All three of them are actually hanging out where I can see them from my bed right now, and it's really nice. I want their lives to be the best possible, and I think I have the resources to do that. Which is so exciting. Now if only my brain and body would cooperate. It would hurt quite a lot to have to re-home any of them, but the most important thing is their health and quality of life, you know? If I can't get my act together somewhat, it may be that one or all of them would be better off with another keeper. I don't know. It's just, i talk about all these tank ideas and all this husbandry standards stuff but how much of it actually gets applied to my own animals whose lives are in my hands? How well am I caring for them, really?

Oh!!! My red thread! I thought that was gone forever.

Anyway, please do not worry. My snakes are healthy. I pay attention, and watch for signs of illness, and they're okay. There will always be places to improve, and the water is a big one, but most of the time i change their water out frequently, I'm just worried because of bad depression and fatigue times, you know? I'm working on making the most self sustaining systems i can, in part so that I am sure they'll be okay if I mess up sometimes. Just saying this because I hope you guys don't feel like you need to worry about the welfare of my pets. They're okay, i just always want better for them, is all.

Anyway, the sun is coming up and I should probably go to sleep. So uh, thanks for reading, if you read all of this randomness, and if anyone has thoughts or advice on anything in this post, i would welcome it! Good night!

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 5) John Deacon x Reader Series

GIF: @johndeac​

Apologies for the delay! Work has been an absolute shit fest. The big show I’m on got canceled, but we still have to finish the season at some point so oof. Also, my boss is moving to Italy? Pray for my sanity, folks.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety. Angst (oooo!)

Chapter Notes: I've rewritten this chapter so many times that I don't even know what it is anymore. Angst is hard, my dudes! Why can't it all be flirty glances and quick banter?!

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady @theresalexis @uglipotata72829

- - - - - - -

September 1982 - The Music Inn, New York City

“Bri, get a load of all these fucking maracas!”

Brian makes his way over to where Roger is gazing at a massive wall adorned with shaker-filled shelves, dipping his head low to avoid the sea of guitars hanging from the ceiling above his long frame. 

Queen was back in New York for their first-ever appearance on Saturday Night Live. Finding time in between the intensive rehearsals during the week had been hard, but Freddie insisted they would make the time for his favorite New Yorkers. When the time was finally found, he, of course, was unavailable, off antiquing at some of Manhattan’s luxury spots but promised to meet up with the group later on. 

The Limbs managed to snag the other three men for a trip to the historic Music Inn. Nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, the dingy treasure trove was located a stone’s throw away from the city’s most prominent folk clubs that boasted discovering the talents of Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel. 

You were quite confident that your newfound English friends would love it. Every visible space was stuffed or covered with an abundance of musical paraphernalia. So much so that you had been in the store dozens of times without ever finding out what color the walls were. Its layout was always changing to fit the ever-growing amount of items displayed, the familiar specks of dust that sparkled in the sunlight being the only constants.

“Hey, Jeff!” Steve calls out to the eccentric owner. “Where are these from?” 

The aging hippie shuffles over. “Mostly South America,” he explains in his usual gravelly drawl. “A customer brought back some new shekeres from West Africa last week that have a nice sound to them.” Jeff motions up the sprawling wall. Roger immediately grabs a few, testing the sounds out against the ones Steve is already playing with - the two of them like kids in a candy store.

Jeff had been a good friend to The Limbs since their early teen years, having let the group spend hours on end attempting to learn every exotic instrument they could get their hands on. Anyone who entered the shop could count on him as a spirit guide of sorts to a wealth of worldly music. And while The Limbs had kept their first album fairly plain in context, they were already itching, particularly Steve, to experiment on the next album. Whenever that would be.

Now that a few more of their singles were moderately successful hits, Columbia Records was focused on milking it for all that it was worth. The execs were currently setting up an extensive American tour of the Mid - West Coast part of the country, all the major cities they hadn’t hit on their first tour. 

“Y/N,” Jeff gestures for you to follow him, probably excited to show you a new find seeing as you were always eager and willing to give them a test run. You make your way down the staircase lined with large balalaikas to the musty lower level filled with various sound equipment and electronic instruments. 

“What on god’s green earth would you use that for?” you hear Rich’s deep voice implore. He rolls his eyes as Eddie moons over an ornately engraved mandolin.

“It worked for Rod Stewart, didn’t it? That mandolin solo in Maggie May shredded,” he retorts. “Plus, look how pretty she is!”

You watch your feet as you carefully maneuver around the amps and pedals haphazardly strewn around the floor, following Jeff to the back of the room - taking special care to step around John, who is crouched low looking over the wiring of a particularly grody-looking amp.

Upon entering the store, he had taken off on his own right away, immediately entranced by the sprawling selection all about him. But you had caught the worn, far-off look in his eyes when he greeted you with a short wave earlier. You try not to let the lack of attention bother you as you pass him without so much as a glance up. The heartfelt conversation you had the last time they were in town had rooted itself in your memory. Spilling your guts like you did that night wasn't a common occurrence for you- figuring you were already easy enough to read due to the panicked expression often etched onto your face. 

Why him? Even your bandmates weren’t privy to the babblings of your intimate thoughts. It couldn’t just be his boyish tooth-gap or the pleasing line of his straight nose. Maybe it was the confusing mix of nerves and comfort you felt whenever in his presence. It was unlike the persistent butterflies you were used to when around attractive humans. Feeling instead like a gentle humming that you somehow sensed everywhere at once.

You’re brought out of your swimming thoughts as Jeff clears his throat loudly to get your attention. You must’ve been staring blankly at the floor for quite a while. He gestures to a bulky item draped in a tarp, as you give him a small apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” you smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes as he attempts to sweep the tarp off in a dramatic reveal, but in reality, it gets stuck. The man scrambles to uncover it, and as soon as it peeks out, you gasp.

“A theremin!”

You gaze at the ordinary-looking wooden cabinet in awe. It must be old, seeing as they were mostly compact now.

“You haven’t had one in ages,” you marvel, locking eyes with Jeff.

“Which means it’s been a while since I’ve heard your ambient screeches plaguing these walls.”

Your finger points to him in protest. “Hey, I was getting better until you sold the last one on me!”

“Well, I didn’t see you making a bid for it,” he playfully shrugs.

“Let’s hear those screeches!” Eddie yells out. Rich claps his hands excitedly beside him. You poke your tongue out at them, but your eyes catch John’s, and you quickly close your mouth. Still crouched, he looks on with mild curiosity wrinkled on his brow. He lightly raises them at you in silent encouragement.

You slowly make your way behind the instrument as Jeff plugs it into the wall. Turning one of the knobs, it hums to life as you check the metal attachments protruding from the wood frame. It really is old. You have no idea how to even begin to calibrate it. Taking a deep breath, you timidly bring your hands up in position.

It lets out a high pitched wail that burns your ears from being so close, and you yank your hands away from the field of current. Eddie and Rich erupt into cheers while John slowly stands, moving a bit closer to see the mechanism properly.

Jeff lightly pushes you back towards it in a gentle coax. This time you slowly bring your curled hand a reasonable distance away from the pitch antenna, keeping your other low on the one for volume. Squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the tone, you slowly move until you find your starting note. It was all about sense memory and your ears to fill the gaps with nothing to physically touch. 

Uncurling your fingers, you begin the opening notes of Moonlight in Vermont - the one song you had somewhat taught yourself through hours of painstaking practice. You fumble a bit, eliciting a squeak or two while trying to remember the hand placements that produce the proper notes. While you might “play” many instruments, you were middling at many, master of none. You make it through the first verse before your head starts to pound from your jaw-clenched concentration.

“Fuck the mandolin, let’s get that for the next album!” you hear Rich tell Eddie.

“Ah, yes, you’ve heard Pet Sounds. Now prepare your ears for The Limb’s sophomore attempt, Ghost Sounds,” 

Their banter is drowned out as John chimes in. “How on earth did you learn that?” You meet his struck expression and shrug lightly.

“Don’t downplay it, Bun. It’s pretty fucking cool,” Rich assures you. “And her knowing ASL also helps,” he explains to John.

“Sign language?”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s mom is deaf,” Eddie reveals bluntly. You shoot him a look.

“Sorry, hard of hearing,” he holds his hands out in defense.

John is silent for a moment as he mulls the information over, causing a speck of tension in the room.

“Your mother’s never heard you sing?” he asks incredulously as if he can’t possibly imagine it.

You give a small smile. “No, I guess she hasn’t. But I was in the car with her the first time I heard us on the radio. I turned the treble down and the bass all the way up and she bopped along to the beat pretty well.”

Rich chuckles lightly at the story. “She’s always been hoot, hasn’t she?”

You nod gently. “Aptly put. That’s how she describes herself as a matter of fact.”

John shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he takes a look around the room, his cheeks a light pink. You're unsure of why.

“I’m gonna head out for a quick smoke,” you decide, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I know how you hate it.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze before you make your way upstairs, hoping to catch John’s eyes, but he avoids yours yet again. 

A pleasing blend of harmonies can be heard as you hit the landing. You peek your head around a large assortment of bongos to find Brian strumming a small acoustic on the other side of the store. Roger, Steve, and Lawrence all crammed around, the four of them singing a rendition of Blues Run the Game. 

Your heart warms at the sight, remembering the times when you and the boys would sit around a campfire and croon out the same sad tune. Eddie and Rich will be pissed they missed this. Steve notices your presence and silently ticks his head for you to come join. You hold up your pack of Marlborough’s in response to him before finally slipping out the front, trying your best to not jingle the adorned bells too much.

A cool breeze promptly passes through the knit of your sweater. It’s late September, and New York has begun to really cool off. You pull down the sleeves to cover your hands as you light your cigarette, wincing a bit on the first inhale. It was a leftover habit from your college days- scarcely used, only in social situations, or to get out of awkward ones.

Taking in the familiar street, you can’t help but giggle at the day you were having. To be showing Queen around your old hangout still felt absurd. No matter how genuinely they seemed to like the company of your band, you couldn’t fathom them wanting to spend the day with you all. Weren’t there bigger and better musicians in this city to be hanging out with? 

The sound of a lighter flicking to life comes from your left, and you turn. John leans against the faded wall as he takes a drag, his eyes trained on the dirty sidewalk. 

“I’m sorry, i- if I offended you with my comment about your mother,” he professes quietly. 

Your brows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“We have a friend whose father is deaf. A lovely man. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” He sighs, finally turning to face you. “It’s just that the memory of hearing your voice for the first time isn’t something one can easily shake. I mean that in a way that- it’s just a shame really. For her to not be able to share in it when it’s something so...” he looks as if he’s racking his brain for an appropriate word. “Well, singular.”

You suck in a breath at his words. In all your years, you had never gotten that as a response to your mother’s disability. It was mostly a polite, “Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that.” His honesty and consideration for your feelings knock the present hum of your body up to 100. 

You flinch as gentle burning hits your fingers, and you look down at your forgotten cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground before crushing it under your heel. John shifts his weight from side to side, never taking his eyes off of you while he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I write out my lyrics for her so she can read them as poems,” you state simply, smiling up at him. “Sometimes she makes up her own melodies and sings them around the house. It’s not the easiest on the ears, but she’s pretty inventive.” His eyes crinkle as he returns your grin - his first genuine one of the day.

“So she’s heard music before?”

“Oh yeah. She has nerve deafness, which didn’t start till her late twenties. She actually spent a lot of time around here when she was younger. Bitter End and The Gaslight are just a few blocks away.”

He hums lightly as he stares at you- like you’re a puzzle whose pieces are just beginning to fit together.

“Can you teach me something in sign language?”

Once again, your brows shoot up, shocked by his response. You blink a few times, trying to think of what to say. Going with the only thing that pops to mind, you sign out a phrase as he watches your hands intently.

“And what does that mean?”

You smirk, “You are a cheesy cow.”

“I’m sorry?” he laughs out.

You repeat it back slowly while signing along. “You. Are. A. Cheesy. Cow. It’s the first thing my mother taught me how to sign.”

He runs his hand over his jaw as he chuckles. “Rich was right. A hoot she must be.”

“I’m pretty shit, to be honest, and she read lips, so it’s mostly used for snide comments during extended family gatherings.”

You watch as he puts out his cigarette and carefully takes a step closer to you. “I’m assuming your colourful vocabulary extends to those instances as well.”

“Right you are.”

“Freddie will love that,” he snickers. “He always seems to collect vulgarities in other languages wherever we go.”

Your attention is torn away as a sleek black car rolls up to a stop at the curb. It’s out of place in the middle of the street filled with old and worn buildings, which can similarly describe the people who mill about.

“Speak of the Queen herself,” you laugh as a sunglass-clad Freddie steps onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, isn’t this quaint!” he exclaims, peering into the shop window. He straightens as he turns to you, hands-on-hips.

“Deacy. Thumper. Are we fans of freezing our tits off, or shall we go inside?”

You give John a small smile and push yourself off the wall, making your way over to Freddie, who immediately pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The bells against the door ring out as you all enter the shop.

“Ah, Deacy,” Brian pokes his head out from one of the narrow aisles, still in a constant crouch to avoid the instruments above his head. “I was looking for you. Found these adorable teeny guitars I thought might be good to bring back for the kids. What do you think?”

“Kids?” you mumble to yourself as John makes his way over to inspect them.

“Brian has two, and John’s already up to 3. Maybe we should’ve nicknamed him Bunny.” Freddie laughs, nudging your arm. “You know… fucking like rabbits,” he expands due to your lack of chuckling.

He leans into your field of vision as he studies your statue-like expression, eyebrows knit in confusion. His eyes take in your ashen face and your lifeless expression. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. When you lock your eyes with his, you know he understands from the sheer size of how big they become. He straightens up, glancing around quickly as if looking for something to put out a fire.

“Freddie!” Steven dances over, clicking a pair of castanets in his hands. “I wanted to show you thi-”

“So sorry, love, we can’t. Y/N promised to come to a fitting with me, and we’re already late," he announces loudly, pulling you by the arm and out the door before anyone can react.

- - - - - - -

You blankly stare at your reflection in the long mirror. Freddie had instructed his stylist to pull some outfits for you to parade around in as he tried on a bevy of metallic coats.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell the girl staring back at you.

Freddie sashays over, a shag jacket swaying with him as he places his hands on your shoulders, surveying the strappy dress you were currently squeezed into.

“Oh yes, this will do for the after-party,” he instructs.

“I’m not going.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Darling, you already refused the ticket I got you for the show. You’re coming to the party,” he declares, turning away to look at more options.

“This isn’t really me…” you mumble, gesturing to the dress.

He regards you with a small smile. “Exactly. I say this with love, but you need a look, Y/N. Something that makes you feel unstoppable,” he gestures to his body as he twirls towards you. “Don’t you want to shock them?”

You chew your lip as you ponder that sentiment. Dawn usually just shoved you into whatever ensemble she had picked for you - leather jackets, monochromatic sets, tight jumpsuits. She kept hoping you’d find a style you fancied, but you had yet to find anything remotely likable under the lights of the stage.

“To be honest, I just want to be able to feel comfortable out there," you sigh. "But I can’t strut around in flashy outfits or conduct a whole crowd like you do." Huffing as you collapse onto one of the white couches around you. He perches beside you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa.

“Then don’t,” he says simply.

You snort a response as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but have you tried showing them a bit more of yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

He turns to you now, grabbing your attention with his eyes.

“And why not?” he questions.

You gaze down at your hands, which you’re now wringing together in your lap. “What if it’s nothing spectacular?” you whisper out the criticism that you'd drilled into your mind for the past year.

Freddie laughs lightly as he stands. “Let’s not start lying to ourselves, shall we?” He moves in front of you and kneels, now at eye level, making so you can’t look away.

“Sometimes people go to a concert for an escape. A big bloody show with dazzling lights and petite men galavanting around a stage in spandex tights,” he smiles. 

“But most of the time they just want to find a piece of themselves in it, don’t they? Commonality. They want to hear you, see you, and feel just a little less alone than we all know we are. I saw just a slice of it at your concert, and it was indeed something spectacular. So take that as you will.”

You’re not one to cry much, but your eyes soften as you take in the icon of a man in front of you. A man loved by millions, who was currently filling in as your personal rock n’ roll fairy godmother.

“You’re a fantastic person, you know that?” you tell him genuinely.

“Yes,” he quips as he gets to his feet. “Now, are we done scurrying around the real problem at hand?”

You sigh as you look away, firmly willing yourself not to break the dam of bottled emotions threatening to spill out. Why couldn't you just feel numb? It would be better than the wave of childish self-pity you found yourself in.

Freddie huffs at your reaction. “Oh, you brat. Sorry to tell you, but you’re an open book, my dear. And not one of those big pompous things Brian reads. A bloody children’s book. One filled with pictures.”

You're sure you’ve now bitten through the entire top layer of your lip as you contemplate how to even begin.

“I’m an idiot,” you shrug to yourself yet again.

“No,” he points a finger at you. “You’re decidedly not. Though I am curious as to how someone who’s as big of a fan as your friends say you are, missed out on that detail.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, I listen to your albums and go to your show, but I guess I didn’t pour over the tabloids or press interviews or anything like that.”

Freddie nods along as he sifts through another rack of jackets, choosing an incredibly tight white leather number.

“I assumed you knew,” he answers while glancing at his reflection. “And I would say Deacy should know better, but he’s not quite himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” you press, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

He turns to you, palms up in explanation. “It’s not that he wouldn’t normally be charmed by your shy presence and occasionally crass mouth… But I’m a bit worried he’s finding comfort in your smiles for the wrong reasons.”

“Huh?”

Sighing heavily as if debating if he should keep skirting around his words, he holds your gaze. “An impending divorce is crippling lonely, even if it is somewhat amicable.”

His mouth is brought into a pout as you suck in a sharp breath. 

Divorce. All your previous interactions play through your head from a different angle. Pity sneaks up on you as you remember John’s advice he’d given you. The concept of home is a funny thing. You scoff out loud at how your childlike crush had skewed your interpretation of your relationship with the man.

“I’m usually the one singing his praises,” Freddie muses, breaking you out of your inner monologue of resentment towards yourself. “But he seems more lost than usual at the moment.” 

He gently lifts your chin. “I don’t normally meddle in- well, actually I do. Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bunny. Not when the world is soon to be at your feet.”

"I'm fine," you lie, gently brush away his gesture. "I barely even know the guy. I was just shocked to have my silly fascination with him interrupted. Stupid, really."

"Don't do that," he exhales. "Don't put it on yourself. You'd have to be blind to ignore the fact that he's quite taken with you."

"I'm fine," you repeat, making your way into the back to change out of the ridiculous dress that suddenly felt even tighter now.

Shutting the door slowly, you let out a deep breath. It's all good, you tell yourself. Of course you got caught up in the attention of a world-renown musician. Who wouldn't? It's nothing special. As Freddie said, he's not even acting like himself. Although you were indeed in true form- getting caught up by the slightest of interactions. Unconsciously playing them as a loop in your head. You can't help but cringe at your own escalation of the situation.

Squaring your shoulders, you take in the image of yourself in the dress again. Perhaps it was time for you to shock them all.

- - - - - - -

“And so my grandfather goes out to the alley and sees her just wailing on this scrawny man. I mean, really going to town. So he pulls her off him, and the dude’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. And he’s like, “Thanks mate, thought she was gonna kill me there.”

Roger ruffles your hair in response to your poor attempt at a British accent. The group of cast and crew around you chuckle at the gesture. 

You had decided that if you were going to be forcibly dragged to this after-party by your bandmates, you would at least aim to make it worthwhile. A debut of your new mentality.  One where you weren't just acting the part of a rising rock star, but living it. 

Which is why at the moment, you found yourself the center of attention, surrounded by the cast and crew of SNL laughing along to your amusing story. But this was all hinged on you carefully, avoiding the presence of John Deacon at all costs. Which, in reality, wasn't very hard to do- you had yet to see him since arriving an hour ago.

“Oh my god, who was it?!” the young cast member beside you presses. You think her name is Julia, but the sheer amount of people you'd been introduced to was dizzying.

"That's exactly what we asked him when he told us. All he said was that it was some man with big lips who was in a fur coat and looked like he hadn't eaten in a month..."

The cam op across from you gasps, "It was MICK JAGGER? God bless your grandfather, I would've wept if she murdered him."

"So would my mom AND grandmother," you laugh. "Give us each a glass of wine, and it's basically a Mick fan club."

"Who else?" Brian taps your leg, surprisingly urging you to divulge more gossip.

You can't help but smirk as the group leans forward intently.

"Robin Williams?" you tease as their eyebrows all raise.

"Horrible tipper, but he makes up for it by performing dirty puppet shows with the napkins."

"Sounds about right," funnyman Brad Hall confirms, offering you another drink.

You politely decline, determined to keep your wits about you this evening. "I'm gonna go grab some water. Anyone want anything?"

The group shakes their heads, but Lawrence jumps up to join you on your trek to the crowded bar.

"Wouldn't it be insane if this was us one day?" he exclaims as you weave your way through the mass of bodies littering the Capitol Grill. 

You smile up at him, "Dream big, buddy."

"Oh, I intend to," he confirms you as you spot Eddie and Rich waving you over from a spot at the bar. 

Rich promptly wraps his arm around your shoulders as you join them. He always had a stoic way of letting you know he saw through the cracks in your poorly constructed armor. Taking the role of a caring older brother, more so than your own.

"Have we lost Steve again?" Lawrence asks the group.

Eddie nods across the room. "He's exactly where you think he'd be," he scoffs as you catch a glimpse of Steve, trailing Freddie like a lost puppy.

"Um, excuse me?" a short girl mumbles from behind Eddies' denim-clad shoulder. He turns, glancing down.

"Hiya," he regards her casually, causing her a deep blush to creep across her cheeks. She shoves a napkin and pen at him.

"C-could I get an autograph? Please?"

Eddie smirks at her flustered appearance, making sure to brush her fingers as he grabs the items out of her trembling hand.

"And what beautiful name should I be making this out to?"

She lets out a jarring high pitched giggle as she stumbles over her words. "Oh, uh, Shelley."

"Well, here ya go, Shelley," he hands the napkin back to her, now adorned with his messy scrawl. "Maybe I'll see you later."

She squeaks as she hurries back to her shrieking friends who are huddled conspicuously off to the side.

"Gross," you state. "She's a child. Probably one of the executive's kids." 

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Gotta keep em' interested, Bun. As the heartthrob of the group, it's my sworn duty."

"Slow your roll there, Rob Lowe," Rich interjects. "I think Y/N's giving you a run for your money in this dress."

You glance down at the Freddie approved ensemble. It was eye-catching for sure, precisely what you were going for. It's black suede straps crisscrossed strategically against your body, giving peaks of the skin underneath.

"It looks good, Bun," Rich assures you.

“Guys,” you all turn your attention to Steve, who has just joined the circle clumsily. His pupils are blown wide from his current blood alcohol content, and he sways slightly on his heels.

"I- I have something to say," he announces to the group, getting your attention. You all wait patiently as he hesitates, clearing his throat twice before lowering his voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”

You glance around to the other boys whose expressions mirror your own warm smile. You’d all known Steve was gay since high school, not that any of you had talked about it. You had just assumed it was something unspoken. That he’d tell you whenever he was ready or met someone good enough to introduce to you all.

Steve gapes at your expressions. "Where is the shock? I was expecting shock and awe, people!"

"Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m assuming we’ve all known for a while," Rich says gently. You all nod lightly in agreement.

"How?"

"Do you remember the types of girls who used to throw themselves at you? Like Becky Whale? Man, I would’ve killed for Becky Whale to throw something at me. But you never took them up on it," Lawrence elaborates.

Steve smiles around at all of you, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I had a crush on Eddie in high school,” he confesses.

Eddie pumps his fist lightly. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lawrence exclaims. “You just had to boost that ego, didn’t ya? I know pretty boys are great and all, but I’m the one with the big soft cuddles. People love big soft cuddles!”

Rich expands his arms as he brings you all in for a hug. 

You kiss Steve gently on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, bud,” you whisper.

"Thank you guys, I just felt like it was time. And now that that's out of the way," Steve grunts as you all untangle yourselves. “I’m gonna go find Freddie. He said he’s taking me out to a club after this!”

He skips away with a grin, back towards Freddie, who catches your eye with a knowing smile and winks. It seems you weren’t the only band member who had found a fairy godmother in Mr. Mercury.

You all lightly laugh affectionately at your friend until Eddie and Lawrence wander off to scope out the food situation. You lean against the bar next to Rich, glancing around at the loud laughter erupting from the outgoing crowd. One person noticeably sticks out. A sullen John Deacon sits at the end of the bar, hunched over what looks like a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like he's in need of a friend," Rich surmises.

You tear your eyes away from the sorry sight to look at him. "They're around here somewhere," you shrug.

He rubs your arms up and down lightly before slinking into the crowd, knowingly leaving you alone. 

You sneak a peek over at John. He runs one hand through his curls as the other absentmindedly stirs the straw of his sweating drink. You watch him sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the spirit without so much as a wince. 

Hesitantly making your way over to him, you rub your clammy hands over the expensive material of your dress. This is the opposite of avoidance, you scold yourself, silently willing your feet to change direction. But your willpower has seemingly left the building.

You carefully perch yourself on the stool next to his, as not to disturb his brooding. He glances over quickly, doing a double-take when he realizes who it is.

"Oh, hello there," he greets you with a small smile. "I didn't know you had arrived."

You nod your head lightly. "How could you? It seems you set up camp over here."

"Ah, yes," he breathes, straightening his posture. "Wasn't our best tonight, I'm afraid. Not much to celebrate."

You take a sip of your water as you continue to nod silently.

"Actually," he begins, angling his body towards yours, almost slipping off his stool as you notice his apparent intoxication. "I was thinking about that conversation we had. When I met your spritely grandfather."

"Oh?" you question. Keeping your face neutral even though your heart was already buzzing at the fact.

"Yes. Mostly about how naive I was—all that bloody nonsense about finding a home. Do me a favor and never take my advice, will you? You'll end up completely wrecking yours."

This was a bad idea.

"It's just- you draw these lines for yourself in the sand," he drawls, waving his hands about in front of him. "A stupid phrase, really. Where did it even come from?"

"The Bible," you tell him quietly.

He lets out a big sigh, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well, it's gotten it wrong before, hasn't it?"

You simply hum an acknowledgment, too scared to probe for fear of where this was going.

"Anyway, you draw these lines. Moral, physical, promises you make to yourself, things you swear you’d never do, dreams to accomplish," he lists out. "But sand moves about, dunnit? It blows all over the place. Makes a mess. Gets in your sandwich. And those lines blur. Or fade away. And all of a sudden, you've crossed them without even knowing! Broken those promises. Skipped right over those dreams."

He's too far gone in his rant to register the growing panic sweeping across your features.

"You were right. Sometimes you look in the mirror, and it's just a complete stranger staring back at you, isn't it?"

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you stare at the crumbling man before you. He runs his large hands along his face before ducking back into his former position, signaling for the bartender to bring him another drink.

This is precisely why you should've stuck to your original plan. What were you supposed to say to the man who was so obviously hurting from his failed marriage? So much so that it was pouring out of him. You know that if it weren't for the alcohol, he wouldn't be confiding any of this to you.

But there was a reason the boys called you the mom of the group, and it wasn't because you were the only female. You feel a pang of need to comfort him. You gaze at him, not with pity, but an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man and make up your mind.

You clear your throat to answer, brushing away your own warnings about how it would only sink you deeper into your fascination with him.

"I was wrong, actually," you start as he brings his head up to look at you. "And you know what phrase I hate? That people don't change."

He furrows his brow but remains silent as you continue.

"Maybe we're not made up of lines in the sand. Maybe we're the wind?" You try not to cringe at yourself and your poor use of metaphor. "And winds sometimes blow in different directions... but that's okay because it's where life is supposed to take them." Falling silent, you decide to quit while you’re ahead. 

You're not ahead. You're not even out of the gate. What the fuck was that?

A slow smile inches onto his face as he holds your stare. "How did you get so wise for someone your age," he teases.

"And what age would that be?"

His mouth opens and closes as he studies your face. "Twenty?"

"Mm, close. Twenty-four."

"Really?" he ponders. "Freddie mentioned you dropped out of university."

"Ah, yes. The university I could only go to after working to afford it," you explain. 

He continues to stare, the look in his eyes shifting slightly as he takes you in. A look that matches the color and intensity of uncharted, open water. You need to get out of here.

"Well, that explains your extraordinary use of analogy then."

Dragging your eyes off of his, you glance around at the party you were missing. Gladly missing, unfortunately. 

"I should go check on Steve. He's having a bit of a night," you tell him as you stand. "Try not to drown yourself in those," gesturing to the new glass of whiskey in front of him.

"How can I drown myself? I thought I was the wind," he points out with a grin.

Before any more banter can ensue, you simply smile and make your way back to your friends. Thinking to yourself that maybe lines in the sand weren't so bad. And that perhaps it was time for you to start drawing some of your own.

[callsigndreadfrost]

🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊

Y'think thats enough pens? Either way I don't expect you to do somethin for aaaaaaaaaall of em lol

Gsudkblbzysuv hun, this is so beautifully chaotic!

🖋 Ginger's a vampire but both of her dads (Lee Grimm and Glenn Grimm) are werewolves (Mist Walkers). Both are trans men.

🖋 Jelani uses male, neutral or female pronouns. Has no preference to which ones someone should use.

🖋 Trevor knows ASL. His little brother was deaf and in his memory he learned ASL.

🖋 Angelus sorta, kinda had a daughter. Ok tl;dr back in the late 1800s he ran into this little girl that was living in the street and tried to steal some money off him but she got caught. He gave her everything he had on him and then she ran off and he lost track of her. Much later he found her again but this time she was a bit older, like 11 years old. They recognized each other and they both went to get a bite to eat and she told him she ran away from home because her parents were abusive. Obviously coming from a similar background he heavily sympathized but he didn't know the first thing about kids but he still took her in. She grew up, married and had kids of her own and those kids grew up and eventually his adopted daughter (her name was Alice) grew old and died of old age. He kept in contact with his sort of grandkids obviously but as his great grandkids grew older and had families and kids of their own Angelus distanced himself. How the fuck are ya gonna explain your sort of adoptivr great grandfather looks like a 20 year old twink? He's kept an eye out on them as a "friend of the family".

🖋 AJ introduced Angelus, Mahmud, Tre and Madison to his favorite hobby: parkour. The five of them regularly get together to free run in places they think would be both challenging and fun.

🖋 Madison introduced Mahmud, AJ, Tre and Xiomara to spelunking and scuba diving as a hobby.

🖋 Sanaa loves and collects windchimes. So Ingvarr modified an alarm clock to make any chime she puts on it chime whenever she sets the alarm. So instead of some jarring alarm she wakes up to a windchime.

🖋 Angelus has an abnormally high tolerance for pain to the point where he won't react to most injuries. This was due to years of having to learn to control his cries of pain because the more he cried out the harder he'd get beaten.

🖋 Trevor holds the world record for longest confirmed sniper kill. Can't be found in any public record but it's in Oracle records and that's good enough for him.

🖋 Jelani (Loke and Jela's grandad, not J lol) and Subira made a spell called "Bright Light". Basically a faint little orb of light that when cast makes anyone near it calm down. It works for regular nervousness, anxiety, panic attacks, anger and so on. It's one of those beginner type spells that barely requires any energy and it can either hover over the caster's palm or it can be "attached" to an object.

🖋 Sunniva (she was Ingvarr's first wife and the woman who gave birth to Loke) is still alive. After she became pregnant she heavily regretted it so that's why as soon as Loke was born she ran away without telling anyone anything. Loke was always told that she disappeared but honestly speaking he never knew her so he has no attachment to her. To him Sanaa is HIS mother and only her.

🖋 Latoya was what you would consider a sickly kid. Someone in another country sneezed and she got sick. Her colds and flus lasted longer than usual and she was a super skinny little girl. When puberty hit she took up sports and when she was 18 she started lifting weights, blew up in terms of muscle tone and got laser eye surgery. Now she's like Rambo in his prime but pretty.

🖋 Abigail is constantly coloring her hair different colors but her favorite is any hue of green since that's her favorite color. She'll also help and color anyone else's if they ask her for help.

🖋 Ginger and Abigail got married on October 13th. Yes, the wedding had a Victorian goth theme to it. Even though they couldn't eat it the cake was red velvet with black frosting and everything. It almost looked like a funeral 'cause everyone was wearing black. I hope to doodle Ginger and Abby in their wedding dresses someday.

🖋 Haakon had a habit of collecting leaves from different countries he visited and kept them safe. Ingvarr and Jørgen both keep journals with leaves of different countries they've visited. They write down the tree the leaf came from, country where they got it from and date.

🖋 Anette can't drive until she's 21. When she was 14 she took Jelani's car, drove her and a bunch of her friends super late at night in winter (from what I've read driving in Norway during winter is horrible), crashed into another car after she lost control, totalled both Jelani's car and the other car and severely injured some of her friends and the other driver. The funny/not funny part is Jela was planning on giving her that car when she got her license but she totalled it. It was BMW by the way. Fuckin' teenager driving around in a 2 year old Beemer lol.

🖋 Speaking of cars. Grete (Anette's mother and Loke and Jelani's aunt) is horribly afraid of driving. She can't get behind the wheel of a car without freaking out. Anette crashing made the fear 10x worse. She can be in a car as long as she isn't driving and the car isn't going too fast.

🖋 During a visit Anette convinced both her parents and Jelani to let her stay with him during the summer. She also convinced both Leah and Xolani to stay over as well. So for a whole ass summer Jelani had three teenagers staying over as a kind of sleep over vacation. It actually turned out fun in the end, the kids had fun and Anette and her rebellious attitude kinda softened.

🖋 Anette, Xolani and Leah have one defining thing in common. None of them know what to do with the rest of their lives. Thing is Leah is very nervous about it, Xolani is kind of aloof about it and Anette is kinda of frustrated about it. Anette is frustrated which leads her to act out and cause trouble. Xolani just looks like they don't care but they do. Leah is super nervous about it. Another thing they got in common is the three of them tend to look up to Loke and Jelani 'cause they feel both understand them better than their parents do.

🖋 Ginger is kinda very obsessed with portals. She's fascinated by them but also respects them as they are incredibly dangerous and unpredictable. She is basically the only person in the world that managed to control portals even if it's for a short amount of time.

🖋 Shaine got really into explosives when she was just a kid. After an accident with a dozen cherry bombs she was left partially deaf, now has to wear a hearing aid and is the explosives expert.

🖋 Before joining Oracle Katya financed her transition by making fake IDs and passports. She also doxxed corrupt government officials and ransomed vital information she got off them.

🖋 Loke is allergic to bird dandruff but would love to have a pet pigeon. At least he can have dogs which is his other favorite animal. His favorite dog is the pitbull.

🖋 Until he got together with Jelani all of Angelus's previous relationships were short and ended in kind of disaster because he constantly compared them all to Jelani and to him they didn't measure up. He ultimately said no to relationships around the 1930s and just fucked around. Obviously until he got shit faced once and confessed to Jelani he was in love with him and the rest is history.

🖋 Tre is one of the super rare seers that can see and feel visions. He's so sensitive that merely standing in an area with a lot of energy could affect him.

🖋 In Oracle there is a head of the organization and two leaders. Current head is Aleksey with Jelani and Angelus as leaders. There's always three as kind of a callback let's call it to when Oracle was started. Aleksey and two close friends started it so from then on there's always 3 leads. When Aleksey steps down Jelani will be head, Ginger will be the second lead and Angelus is the third lead, however he plans on making Trevor the third lead. The reason is because Angelus is fully aware of what he can and can't do and he knows damn well that he isn't lead of an organization material. When he steps down he'd be the Trickster team leader, that he can handle, and since Trevor left a vacant spot Loke would take that spot.

🖋 There is a place called Kironia. It's theorized to be a sort of epicenter for portal activities. Angelus and Ginger have been tasked with keeping an eye on it but it's shrouded in so much mystery most people don't think it's real.

🖋 Despite the fact that Trevor personally knows a Maker and a goddess (Jade, Latoya's girlfriend) he's still an athiest.

🖋 Trevor didn't have a name growing up, he chose the name Trevor because it sounded pleasant. He took his surname, Ravencroft, from a woman he'd heard of from other Oracle agents. He eventually got to meet Morgana Ravencroft, she thought it was flattering he took her name.

🖋 Speaking of Morgana Ravencroft, Angelus was first introduced to the concept of magic because of her. He went with Trevor to help him with some supplies and after being completely hypnotized by some illusions she gave him a book on the basics and helped him get started.

🖋 Loke stopped aging and it's something of a weird occurrence that is brought up every so often. When he was 28 years old he and Jelani (who was 15 at the time) were delivering some supplies to another village. They ran into bandits and as usual Loke was trying to protect Jelani and in doing so he was fatally wounded. Of course Jelani freaked the fuck out and his "fail safe" kicked in. Jela doesn't remember but Loke does, he saw Jelani change form and after dealing with the bandits he turned his attention to Loke and stopped him from dying. He was rusty as fuck so he put a little more oomph behind it and a tiny portion of his energy slipped into Loke. Neither of them know but Loke is basically kinda frozen in time when it comes to aging. So because of this Loke can't die unless Jelani dies.

🖋 Loke has a black feather that's warm to the touch and small embers can be seen floating out of it. He's never mentioned it to anyone and keeps it close to him. The feather came from Jelani when he changed form to fight off the bandits. After he blacked out and changed back Loke found the feather on the ground. He knew where it came from that's why he kept it. He's never told Jelani about that day because he doesn't know what it means and he thinks telling him would only serve to confuse him further.

🖋 Continuing with Loke, he's your average run of the mill berserker. That means he cannot use magic while in berserker mode or even with his weapons. The only ones that can do that are arcanist berserkers (the Nyota tribe). Sanaa is an arcanist berserker, she can use magic while in berserker mode. However, through years of practice Sanaa managed to teach Loke one spell that her people are really fond of. Falling Stars is a spell that has the user charge a single arrow. The arrow is shot upwards and as soon as it reaches high enough it splits into hundreds of arrows that rain down on the target. Loke started practicing when he was 8 years old and by the age of 30 he managed to pull it off making him the first berserker to use magic.

🖋 Jelani and Leah are two of the extremely rare and fortunate people that have gone through a portal and have returned. Whether their return was sheer luck or the fact that he's a Maker is something I'll elaborate on later.

🖋 Haakon knew Jelani wasn't a berserker. Haakon himself had a feeling that his grandson was something far more, if that makes sense. The day Jela was born Haakon had a dream but instead of fear he just felt an insurmountable amount of wonder. He's only ever told his wife, Eli, who in turn believed him. Both always made sure Jela didn't feel out of place and Haakon frequently encouraged him.

[latestageyouth]

When you walk away (nothing more to say)

Chapter 1 - The new kid

Trigger warnings: uhhh selective mutism?, swearing, sympathetic Deceit and Remus

word count: somewhere around 3,000

Author's note: do not hold me responsible for any cringiness, I've written this a long time ago

As soon as the bell rang Roman put his books in the bag and was out the door.

"Remember to submit your essay on Thursday!" Mrs. Harrison said just in time for Roman to hear before he headed to his locker. There, he already saw Patton.

"Hey, Pat! Long time no see!" he waved to his friend and began to unlock his locker.

Patton looked at him with a confused smile, "We talked to each other an hour ago," he put his math textbook into his locker before closing it and hugging Roman.

"An hour too long," the other laughed. Roman opened his eyes to see Logan approaching them, "Hey, specs, finally decided to join us?"

At the mention of Logan, Patton spun around and hugged the other too, "Hey Lo!" Roman could practically see Logan tense under the touch, but he didn't pull back.

"Nice to see you too, Patton," after the said boy freed his from his embrace, Logan adjusted his glasses on his face, "So, shall we go eat? I haven't eaten anything all day, so I would appreciate if we could go to the cafeteria now," the other two nodded and headed down the hallway, Patton scolding Logan about how skipping meals isn't healthy.

The cafeteria food was awful, like always, but Logan didn't seem to mind. Well, not as much as the other two. Roman and Patton didn't get any food, Logan and Patton bickering about hypocrisy and food habits, Roman didn't pay attention, too busy scrolling Instagram to care. What pulled him to reality was an exaggerated cough. The cough also happened to stop Logan and Patton, all of them looking up to the source of the sound.

Patton smiled at the tall stranger in front of them holding a lunch tray, "Can I help you?" the stranger gestured at himself and then at a chair at their table. Patton furrowed his eyebrows, but the smile didn't leave his face, "I'm sorry, I don't understand? Maybe use your words?" the stranger's eyebrows shot up as if he was saying something passive-aggressive, then pointed at himself and then at the chair, but this time more firmly. Patton looked between Roman and Logan, "I am really sorry, I-"

"He's asking if he can sit with you, dumbass," a voice came a few tables from their own. All four of them looked in the direction of the speaker, which the three recognized as Damon, the gossip of the school, "And before you say anything, you can sit with us, people who actually understand that maybe you can't speak," he turned to look at Patton with a plastic smile, which Roman knew he was doing on purpose.

Roman rolled his eyes, "Wow, so thoughtful. Last time I checked, you were the one making bets on which one of the choir will lose their voice first due to the intense training."

"Actually, that was me," said the other man sitting at the table with Damon, smiling like he was proud of himself.

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose, "That's even worse."

The stranger looked between the two tables, before walking over to the one where Damon and the other man sat. Roman scoffed, Logan squinted his eyes at the action, as if questioning the other's sanity, and Patton pouted about losing a potential friend, but soon the three got talking about biology homework that was due today, Roman begging Logan to let him copy it.

While that was happening, the stranger sat down next to the unnamed man, who was now smiling at him, "So why can't you speak?"

"Goddamnit Remus, you can't just ask people why they don't speak. Excuse him, I'm Damon," Damon laid a hand on his chest, "So, you're mute?"

The stranger shook his head.

Damon paused, "So you just don't speak?" the stranger shook his head again and pulled out a pen. He pointed at the notebook that Damon had on the table next to his textbook. Damon slid it to him. The stranger turned to the last page and tore it out as neatly as possible, then began writing on it. After he was done he turned it so the other two could see 'I have selective mutism, do you know what that is?'

"Oh, yeah," Remus exclaimed said, "Isn't that how people have an extreme phobia of speaking in public so much they, like, can't? I think I heard about that."

The unnamed man nodded, then began writing again: 'I can only speak to my uncle. He's a counsellor at this school, do you know him? Also, my name's Virgil'

Damon smirked, "Nice to meet you, Virgil. Yeah, we were both sent to Picani a few times obligatorily, like after Remus got into a fight with a teacher, or after I pierced my tongue in the school bathroom..." and Virgil just wondered what he had got himself into, "Do you call him Picani or Emile?" Virgil raised up two of his fingers, "Emile?" Damon concluded. Virgil nodded.

Remus chuckled, "That's so weird. You two look nothing alike. You don't even have the same eye colour."

Virgil shrugged, writing on the paper once more: 'lmao, yeah, a lot of people tell me that :D'

"I never saw you at the school, did you transfer here?" Damon tilted his head. This sentence took a little longer to write: 'I moved here after my mom lost custody of me (haha finally...) This is actually my first day here. Before, I went to a school in Jacksonville.'

"Oh my god, I've never been there! Is it true that they eat raccoons in there?" Virgil looked at Remus and slowly shook his head. At that, Remus let out a sad sound.

"What about your father?"

Virgil scrunched his shoulders and looked away.

"It's okay," Damon dismissively waved his arm, "I don't know who my dad is, so I understand if you don't wanna talk about him."

Virgil gave him a warm smile and moved his hand to his lips and down and away, and if Damon didn't know any better, he would've thought he was blowing him a kiss. The problem was, Damon didn't know any better. Virgil must've seen the confusion on his and Remus' face, as he wrote down something again: 'That means thank you in asl. Do u know sign language?"

Damon and Remus shook their heads.

'Do you wanna teach it?'

"Hell yeah!" Remus shouted loud enough so that the few tables, including the one with his brother, turned to look at them.

Damon scoffed, "Of course not, why would I wanna add to my list of skills and make it easier for more people to communicate with me? Such a waste of time.."

Virgil smiled at him and let out a chuckle. Damon reached over and took the piece of paper and pen, then began writing on it. Virgil furrowed his eyebrows, which shot up his forehead when he was handed the paper and pen back.

"That's my number," Damon pointed at it.

Virgil flinched when his arm was pulled away, his sleeve being pushed up, only to have a pen pressed to it, "Aaand this is my number" Remus added a heart to it. He also tried to draw a dick on his arm but Virgil yanked his arm away and smudged the drawing out of existence.

Virgil signed 'thanks' again, only this time the couple actually smiled at him.

"We're having a movie night tonight, you wanna come?" Remus supported his head by putting his hand on his cheek, pushing it up slightly, "You gotta walk with us to my house though, gotta get there before they do," Remus looked at the table where Patton was pinching Logan's cheeks while Roman was recording the whole thing with his phone. Virgil contemplated it for a second. On one side, he met these people like 15 minutes ago. On the other side, he really needed to make some friends. Larger groups mean fewer bullies. Virgil nodded, "Great! I can't wait to piss them off!" it didn't sound sarcastic at all.

"What do you have next? Like as a period," Virgil took out his lesson plan, handing it to Damon, "Oh, we have the same class. Ms. Watson is the best teacher ever."

"She's a pain in the ass. A total drag. Everyone on this planet hates her," Remus exaggerated every insult with stabbing the table with the plastic fork, ultimately breaking it.

Damon nodded, "Yeah, basically."

The bell ripped through the cafeteria, some of the students, including Remus, flinching at the sound.

Remus began to walk away, "Well, girls, I'll see you later," he winked at them. Or at least they thought it was a wink, it looked more like a spasm. The two of them walked to the biology classroom together, Damon explaining how Virgil should just lay low and not cause trouble when it comes to Ms. Watson, or she'll blame you for third-degree murder. Virgil wasn't really sure if that was an exaggeration.

The classroom was a mess. Not in a literal sense, the class itself was pretty clean, but people were sitting and laying on tables, some we carving something into the chairs, other's sticking gum to the tables. Only one of the students waited by the door. Oliver, he was told. He watches for when the teacher comes. Speaking of the teacher, Oliver had turned away from the hallway and to his classmates, "She's coming! The fury is coming!"

Immediately, all the pupils were in their seats, no gum being chewed, no chairs being carved. They were all quiet when the teacher came in. She didn't say a word, closing the door after her and going straight to the attendance book. She furrowed her eyebrows after scanning down the page for a while.

"Virgil Blake?"

Virgil stood up, all of the eyes burning into him.

"You're new?" she raised an eyebrow.

Virgil nodded.

She closed the book, nodding slowly, "Do you have all the textbooks?"

Virgil nodded again.

She turned to the blackboard, "So, last week we talked about the cell structure of fungi. Today's lesson we will be..."

Virgil had sat down by that point, trying to focus on the lecture. That plan fell short as something hit the back of his neck, ending up in the hood of his hoodie. He reached behind, looking at the folded paper. He quietly tried to unwrap it, Damon already gaping at it before he even unwrapped it.

It was a drawing, a bad one at that. There was a cow with a plaid skirt and a black denim vest with a popped collar, similar to what Damon wore. There were also yellow circles scribbled over each other, which Virgil assumed was his hair. On the side was written 'COW' in capital letters. Virgil looked at Damon, who had pulled back to his chair and crossed his arms, looking at the floor next to him. Virgil quickly crunched up the paper and put it in his binder, the first thing he could think of to get it out of sight. Then he took a pen in his hand and began to write on his hand, eventually tapping Damon's shoulder and showing him the arm: 'I think you look really cool :)'

Damon chuckled sadly, looking up at Virgil, who smiled back. Damon put a hand to his lips and then away, mimicking the sign Virgil had taught him.

The heartfelt moment was interrupted by the deafening school bell, announcing the lesson was over, "Alright ya' little punks, the lesson is over, get ya' asses outta my classroom."

"Don't have to say that twice," Damon mumbled so quietly that even Virgil had to strain his ears to hear it. He had to resist the urge to burst into a fit of giggles. The rest of the day went as normal as it could, the three of them meeting in the hallway in-between lessons. Finally, the last bell rang and most of the class scrambled for the exit, including Patton and Virgil, who crashed into each other.

"Oh, sorry, didn't see ya there," Patton smiled up at Virgil, who had put his hands into a defensive manner and smiled tensely. Before Patton could say anything, Virgil was already being dragged away by Remus, who rembled about how they're gonna be there second and what not.

"Seriously, Roman is a fucking fast walker, we better hurry the fuck up," Damon had now joined the club, being dagged by Remus out of the building before any of them could protest.

"Oh, Virgil, here you are!" the three looked at the cheery voice, Remus not bothering to stop, so Virgil had to forcefully grab Remus by the back of his leather jacket, ultimately stopping him. His uncle, Emile, looked tensely between the three, "Already making friends I see?" Virgil nodded. He let go of Remus in favour of signing something that was beyond Damon's and Remus' knowledge, but Mr. Picani seemed to understand perfectly, "Why of course, just let me know if you need me to pick you up."

Virgil rolled his eyes and signed something shorter but still complicated. Mr. Picani seemed to tense up, "Are you sure?" he glanced between the two of them, then turned back to Virgil and spoke back, this time using sigh language. Virgil scoffed, signing back in a snappy manner, but then his expression relaxed. Mr. Picani nodded, "Alright then, I trust you. Just be sure to call me if you decide to stay the night," he hugged Virgil, who tried to scramble back and away from his uncle. Finally, Picani pulled back and Virgil stumbled a few steps back. Remus couldn't hold back a giggle. Virgil glared at him in exchange, signing something to Mr. Picani before he went to his car.

The three continued walking to Remus' house, which was not far from the school. Virgil noticed the chimney had smoke in it, smelling sweet. Remus reached under the welcome mat and pulled out a key, unlocking the door, "Ma, I'm home!"

"Hey, Remus, could you be an absolute sweetheart and go to the basement for more flour?" a short plum woman peeked out from the kitchen, "Hey Damon!"

"Hey, Ms. Addington."

Ms. Addington looked over at the other boy, "And who are you?" she smiled in a sweet way that makes teeth rot.

"That's Virgil," Damon gestured to him.

"Nice to meet you, are you new here?"

"He can't speak."

"Oh, my apologies then," she still smiled at him. She reminded him of uncle Emile in a way. She had this calm, cheerful atmosphere around her, he was sure they would get along well.

"Bad news, no flour to be found," Remus came out of the basement.

"Ah, fucking shit, what did I make all this shit for then?" she gestured at something on the counter that Virgil couldn't see. Wow, they would definitely not get along. For fuck's sake, uncle Emile had a swear jar.

"The hell do I know, you always try to be innovative," Remus answered, clearly unphased. He moved over to the living room, opening the tv stand where a bunch of DVDs were stacked on each other, "Alrighty, ladies, the selection for this movie night is: Nightmare on the elm street, The Black Cauldron, The Purge 2 ooooor," he reached into the back, "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre."

Damon plopped down onto the couch, "Purge 2, a classic."

Virgil was sitting on the other side, nodding his head in agreement.

Remus opened the DVD player, "Chainsaw massacre it is then,"

"Hell no! We watched that last time and I fucking threw up! I am not doing that again!" Damon seemed livid, and Virgil kicked Remus in the back to state his disagreement.

"Fine, fine, Purge 2, but first, popcorn," Remus got up and went to the kitchen, then Damon walked upstairs to get blankets. So Vigil waited, looking over the DVD collection they had. There were all kinds of movies, from Sleeping Beauty to The Godfather, it really was quite a lot. Virgil heard the door open, looking at the figures stepping in.

"And then I was like, 'You really are', and then she-Hey, what the hell are you doing here?!" Roman looked panicked for a brief second before Remus ran into the living room loudly announcing that the popcorn is done, and Damon went down with 3 tons worth of blankets on his back. They had all settled down on the couch, Remus laying across both of their laps with his face in his hands.

"We're watching The Puuuurge tonight!" he said in a sing-songy voice.

Roman scoffed, "No, we're not! We're watching Lion King!"

"Mom! Roman is trying to establish dominance over the DVDs again!"

A quiet sigh could be heard from the kitchen, "For the last time, Remus, I don't even know what that means. Roman, Remus was here first, and you already had a movie night yesterday, let him have it."

Virgil never thought he would see someone look so betrayed, "But-" Ms. Addington walked into the living room, tsk-ing Roman.

"You forced us to watch Bambi three movie nights in a row, we're going to watch The Purge. You and your friends can go upstairs like Remus did if you don't like it," she waved stirring spoon in front of his face like a knife.

Finally, Roman gave in, as he sat down onto the floor and crossed his arms and legs. Logan did too, but Patton said he'd rather not watch it and went home.

It was about halfway through the movie that Roman went to his room because he was tired. Then, Ms. Addington, Natalie, as Virgil had learned, fell asleep in her chair. Next was Logan to go, who got too tired from analyzing all the inconsistencies and bickering with Remus. Now, it was only the three that remained, Remus usually shouting words of encouragement for the killers or telling the other two better and more effective methods of killing someone. He was splayed over Damons and Virgil's legs, lying on his stomach. He eventually went out too, snoring slightly and drooling on Virgil's pants, which he found both disgusting and incredibly funny. Damon and Virgil sat in silence, eating what was left of the popcorn. Damon didn't last until the credits. He didn't get to see that the main character didn't actually kill the guy he was after, which Virgil thought was a shame. So there he was, surrounded by a pile of sleeping bodies and it was getting close to midnight. He tried to reach for his phone, but as it was in his back pocket, it was no use. He finally fell asleep at 1 am, shortly after Damon shifted in his sleep and collapsed against him, leaving Virgil with no chance to move.

[chaoticonsciousarch]

**NOTE: I WROTE THIS INFORMATION BASED UPON CHRISTOPHER AS HE IS IN THE THREAD WITH EXE!! ( SINCE I’VE MOST MUSE FOR HIM RIGHT NOW ). THIS INFORMATION WOULD BE DIFFERENT WERE IT WRITTEN FOR IVO ROBOTNIK!! ( I MAY FILL IT OUT FOR HIM AT A LATER POINT, WHO KNOWS? )

name :  Christopher Ivo Robotnik. alias ( nicknames ) : Chris, Master Christopher, Robotnik, formerly Ivo. gender : Male. age : Chronologically should be 40s or 50s; perpetually appears 34. date of birth :  November 1st. origin of birth:  Mobius. race / species : Unknown ; formerly, human. spoken languages : Japanese, Russian, English, Mobian, ASL. romantic/sexual preference :  Demiromantic demisexual.   occupation : Villain....? hobbies :  research of chaos energy & emeralds, building robots, advancing sciences & astrology, reading, listening to piano & instrumental music, fighting. criminal record : Yes ; vast & lengthy. Has many outstanding warrants for his arrest depending on the universe & zone. Some charges were dropped due to ‘improved behaviour’. disorders :  A whole shit ton ; Christopher has a lot of things he needs to work through. eye colour : Blue ; formerly crimson red. height : 6′7″. scars:  He has scars that litter his palms and hands from battles & various mechanical, ah, malfunctions. One of the reasons he usually wears gloves. He also has scars along his backside and a few along his legs & chest. overweight : No. underweight : No. favourite colours : Silver & Grey ; Red ; Blue. favourite foods : He prefers Italian cuisine or Japanese. A few Russian dishes. had sex : No. had sex in public : No low / average / high sex drive : Low ; pretty much nonexistent. He has more pressing things to think of. boobs or butts : Butts. wants to get married / is married : No. gotten pregnant / had a child : N/A wants a child : No. likes children : No comment. can sing : Yes. can play an instrument : He was forced to learn the violin as a child ; he hasn’t touched one in years but still remembers his lessons. can dance : Yes, he’s very nimble and coordinated. gotten tattoos : No. gotten piercings : No. smoked / drank / done drugs :  He drank, once. Didn’t like it, never touched it again. had a broken heart : Yes. been in love : Yes. a virgin : Yes. a cuddler : Find out. a kisser : Yes. scared easily : Depends ; generally his answer is ‘no’. jealous easily : Yes. hot/cool tempered : Eerily calm, but can snap if pushed. trustworthy : Tries to be. single : Yes. extroverted / introverted: A little of both, but learning towards introversion. in a relationship : No. considered mean : By most? Yes. fears : Failure ; not changing ; losing control ; Exe or Sonic dying. siblings :  Only child. parents : He killed his biological parents ; one of his first acts as Ivo Robotnik. children : None. pet(s) :  None.

tagged by: @godlyhedgehog ( <3 ) tagging: @dreamofabsxlutixn ( & @dreggmxn for when you’ve got the time ) / @pluviatempestas / @psychokineticsunshine / @prrrower

[rubberduckyrye]

Sorry that it took me a while to get to these; I’ve been very low energy and am still low energy so apologies for that!

As for Marie, her real name is Olivia (her stage name is Marie Annette) and yes, it’s a pun, because she is the Ultimate Marionettist. You can ask more about her @aroseandapen since she is L’s muse.

However, Marie’s plot wasn’t created so she could run away from the consequences of her actions--in actuality, they’re much more sinister. You see, the basic idea we have right now is that a certain someone knew about the chapter 3 blackened before they murdered the second victim, but was being blackmailed into silence--because they had a secret they would rather die for than let get loose. However, this lead to Marie’s friend/lover/family/whatever idk we haven’t decided that part yet, get killed as the second victim. After learning about that person’s involvement, Marie gets furious and blames them, but everyone pretty much forgives them once they understand. All but Jaden, who while he does understand their motives, also understands that Marie is still hurt by them and it did cause the death of someone else, and at least had mixed feelings about it and made the mistake of expressing this to Marie.

That was a huge mistake, because Marie then decided that everyone but Jaden should live, and then she was presented with the opportunity to force Jaden into a blackened role. She then makes sure he couldn’t communicate the fact that he was he blackened (as he tried to leave evidence in the form of his glasses at the crime scene, but Marie figured him out quickly and ordered him not to be sneaky about it and not let anyone know) and yeah. Marie basically made Jaden into a blackened not to escape from punishment, but to punish everyone (including herself) and let Jaden go free.

This, of course, backfires, but that’s probably why Marie had Jaden kill that specific classmate. Because at least that person would be dead if her plan failed.

The worst part is that Marie is a pretty good person before this, too, which makes the betrayal so much more impactful.

I can give you a little backstory on Adrian, Jaden, and Irene if you like! I have those written out, so;

Adrian Blanc, the Ultimate Dilettante;

Adrian’s life was pretty mundane and average. They grew up in the middle class, had a normal life with their normal family and normal friends. There was nothing extra ordinary about them, nothing to report. The only thing that caught anyone’s attention, in fact, was how intelligent and sharp Adrian was.

Adrian has the Ultimate Analysis ability, and with their ADHD, tend to hyperfixate on different subjects of all kinds (I.E. Art, music, writing, math, science, mechanics, you name it)  but before they could master any skill, Adrian would always give up, claiming that they had grown too bored of the trade to continue. Adrian became known in their little town as “the renaissance child” or “the jack of all trades,” and would often take on small jobs and favors from neighbors to complete a mundane task. However, they were never talented enough to get a stable job from professionals of the craft, being told that their mediocre skills weren’t enough to qualify for anything.

One day, Adrian’s popularity in their hometown got out to the bigger name cities, and they were asked to star on a talk show and display their many mediocre talents.

Impressed by their wide array of skills, the American Ultimate Initiative contacted Adrian to ask them if they wanted to attend the American Hope’s Peak Academy as “The Ultimate Dilettante.” Hesitantly, Adrian agreed, though is uncomfortable with their title.

Adrian is insecure over their lack of mastering any single talent, and feels as if their “Ultimate Title” can feel like someone was mocking them for it. After all, in the modern professional world, a “Jack of all trades” was pretty useless.

Jaden Holland, the Ultimate Digital Artist;

The Holland family is a black, progressive family that consists of Jaden’s mother (Agatha), Jaden’s elder sister (Jayleen), Jaden’s elder brother (Glenn) and Jaden himself, and a small dog named Juniper. (You can ask L more about Jayleen and Glenn)

Jaden’s father left their family when Jaden was just born, so his mother and his elder sister were the ones who mostly raised Glenn and Jaden. With Agatha working in the police force and their overall family ideals being liberal, Jaden grew up more socially aware and expressive early on. However, when he was a young child, Jaden was attacked by a large mixed breed stray dog, which left grotesque scars on his neck and unable to use his vocal chords. Ever since, he has been wearing high-collared shirts and turtle necks to hide them, embarrassed and ashamed of the scars. He also found that whispering could be painful at times, so he and his family learned sign language.

Aside from that traumatic event, Jaden lived a relatively calm life, and he took interest in digital art soon after the attack. He begged his mother for a pen tablet, and kick started his talent in the digital arts. Jaden has posted over one-thousand pieces of art under the user “Silenced-Arts.” He became quite a popular artist over time, and soon, he was written about in newspapers and online articles as “the boy who can paint a photo,” which was a reference to Jaden’s typical art style being hyper-realistic paintings of surreal scenes that people often would often mistake as photos or edited photos. This caused a bit of controversy until Jaden learned how to use Hypercam and other screen-recording software, and posted various drawing videos that immediately made him an even more popular artist on youtube and all over the web.

Jaden expanded his skills to different forms of digital art, such as 3D modeling and 2D/3D animation. However, he is most comfortable and skilled with painting and drawing.

His skills and talent grew until finally, just before his second year of high school, Jaden was scouted by the American Hopes Peak Academy as the Ultimate Digital Artist for a student film that was all animated but was 100% painted and hyper realistic.

Jaden has a special pair of gloves made by “A friend of a friend” (hint: It Miu) that has special sensors that can translate his signing to American English, and has a speaker that projects a voice resting in his breast pocket. This idea is loosely based off of this amazing keyboard “glove” where each unique hand gesture represents a unique letter. It relies on the same principle, except using ASL gestures and a blue tooth “text to speech” speaker. The speaker sounds as fluid and human as K1-B0’s voice, and the gloves have sensors to change the “tone” of his voice and mimic the emotion he wants to convey. (Jaden has the bonus of being able to manually select an emotion with gestures that are unique but do not mean anything in ASL, such as double tapping your thumb and index finger together... well unless that is a thing in sign language, I’m not sure.)

Jaden’s older brother, Glenn, is a member of D.I.C.E. as a fire dancer.

Irene Foster, the Ultimate Street Fighter;

Irene was a runaway orphan, originally born into a wealthy family. Her parents were always busy with work, so Irene was typically left to her own devices or kept busy with random lessons that varied from piano lessons to fencing. However, her parents were assassinated due to her father’s business company making enemies in the wrong places. The assassin didn’t kill Irene, only because of the guilt that he pretty much just made this girl into an orphan. (He wasn’t very good at being an assassin.)

Irene then ran away from Britain to New York City by stowing away on an airplane, and ran away from foster homes that took her in until she started getting into fights. Eventually, underground criminal rings for street fighting took an interest in her, and this earned her access to an underground street fighting ring. She was a natural fighter (though often feeling like she was fighting for her very life) and quickly earned a living off of her matches.

Eventually, she came across a house just outside of the city that had caught on fire. Among the flames was a little girl named Erin Rider, holding a teddy bear in one hand and a lighter in the other. After a little prying, Irene learned that Erin was a victim of constant abuse from her parents, and she thought she could burn the house down and run away. Erin is unaware that she killed her parents in the house fire and assumes they thought she died and never looked for her. Irene never had the heart to tell Erin that she killed her own parents, and instead, decided to take care of the little girl as her own sister. She decided it would be a secret she took with her to her grave.

With another mouth to feed, however, Irene had to take on more challenges to earn money enough for both her and Erin to eat, and eventually, Irene became known in the underground ring as “The Girl of Iron.” This caught the attention of the American Ultimate Initiative, and Irene earned her title as the “Ultimate Street Fighter.”

Now just for you, I’ll go ahead and type out Leah’s back story to the best of my ability because why not:

Leah Welsh, the Ultimate Hunter/Huntress;

Leah was disowned by her parents at the age of 13, once she finally confessed to them that their son, Orlando, didn’t exist anymore and wanted to be a girl named Leah. The transphobic backlash from her parents came as a genuine, horrifying shock to Leah, and she immediately ran away to her grandfather Orrin’s house to explain what happened. Being a far more open minded man and far more liberal, he disowned his own child and took Leah in as his own, and decided to move from Ireland to the United States to further distance them from the horrible people that were Leah’s parents.

Orrin was a skilled hunter, and not being able to leave a young Leah by herself, he decided to take her with him. Leah took an interest in hunting, and Orrin started teaching her--and much to his surprise, Leah took the lessons extremely well, and within just a few years, was a master hunter that surpassed even his own skills. They even traveled to Australia and Africa for some legal hunting.

However, Orrin was old, and he eventually passed away from old age when Leah was sixteen. Saddened but not discouraged, Leah started hunting game to make a profit as a survival tactic.

Eventually, Leah was called by a secret service of the government and taken into custody to be given an offer. A huge sum of money for using her hunting skills for an assassination--a very corrupt man who dealt with human trafficking, terrorism, and other criminal activities that made him too dangerous. However, every previous assassination attempt lead to failure due to the men and woman being official government figures and there being a rat in the government. They needed someone who could pull off the assassination who was unsuspecting and didn’t have a face int he underground criminal ring. Leah hesitantly accepted the offer.

She was sent to Australia for her target, since he was on a vacation there with his family. It was a very simple job, in actuality, and she used a sniper rifle in the wilderness to kill her target when he was having a picnic break with his family after stalking him for several nights. Unfortunately, Leah may have mentally prepared for his death and telling herself he deserved it for being such a monster, but she didn’t mentally prepare herself for the family’s reaction to his assassination. Leah went home that very same night with the screams still ringing in her ears.

A few months later, Leah learned that the wife of the corrupted man had killed her two children and then herself. As much as Leah tried, she couldn’t get the incident out of her head, and she decided to hunt some deer to distract herself from it, only to shoot a deer and it’s cry immediately triggering her. Immediately after the incident with the deer, Leah realized all at once that she was ending lives, killing creatures with families and futures that she stole away, and in her grief and trauma, Leah became completely vegan and vouched to never hunt again, nor kill any living, breathing creature.

A month later, Leah received an invitation from the American Hope’s Peak to be “The Ultimate Hunter”. With no job or any way to make money, Leah had no choice but to accept, but the title was more like a huge slap in the face than an honor to have.

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

9 Years.

9 years ago today, the greatest band of my generation came to be. My boys; Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne, Zayn Malik, Niall Hiram and Harry Styles, were placed in a band together. I was 10 at the time and hadn’t heard of them yet as I am from the US. It took my cousin, Felicity, mentioning them for me to realize they’re a thing.

I was 11 when I became a Directioner. I fell in love instantly and, to this day, I haven’t stopped loving them. Their words spoke to me on a level nobody had ever done before. Through the ship wars, the paparazzi moments, the “battles” between us and other bands, and even through the break itself, my love for them hasn’t faltered.

It didn’t exactly take long for my parents to realize that I was in far too deep for it to be normal. By the time I was 13, my parents decided to sneak behind my back and find out when the boys would have a concert near us. For my 14th birthday (April 5), my Mom and Dad gave me an envelope wrapped in some very beautiful orange wrapping paper. Inside had been floor tickets to their Foxboro concert in August. They had been able to save up just enough money for three, on-sale, near the stage tickets. One for myself, one for my Mom and one for Dad.

Little did I know that this very day, July 23, the anniversary of the band forming, would also be the day my Dad would die. It was the year I decided to go all out for the anniversary excitement; I went and got a couple of balloons and wrote out notes to each of the boys. My Dad had been excited for me, even letting me use his desk to write out the letters. That night, however, he passed away.

However, the following month, we followed my Dad’s wishes for his princess (me) to go to her favorite band’s concert. I knew he was there with us in spirit, enjoying every moment with us. Instead of just leaving a seat empty for where my Dad would’ve sat, I invited my cousin, Felicity, to join us. Without her, I’d never have fallen in love with them; I’d never have a family of people I’ve never met that I could relate to on more than one level. Whether she knows it or not, I owe a lot to her.

Felicity and I had the best night of our lives! I was two seats away from their walkway and my Mother had recorded a lot of it on her phone for me so I could enjoy being there in the moment. I nearly passed out a few times during the night.

For instance, at one point, I had Niall right in front of me, so I yelled to him and, when he looked over, I held up my hand like this 🤟 which means “I love you” in ASL (I was only slightly educated in ASL at the time, but I learned more when my Aunt lost her ability to talk due to ALS). To my excitement, he smiled and returned the sign (my Mom caught it on her camera, but idk how to transfer it to my computer as it’s a freaking old camera). He seemed to wander around our area throughout the night as well, which was perfect for me!

I’m still a Directioner, all these years later.

I still have the merch, posters, shirts and magazines from my time as a Directioner. I still listen to their songs. I still watch the movie. I still have my ticket for the concert. I still have the streamers I caught that night. I love those men with all my heart. That will never change.

They will forever be my boys; my men. They might have moved on from those boys on the stairs, but they will always have a place in my heart.

They are One Direction.

Thank you, gentlemen, for helping to shape the best 9 year long rollercoaster I could’ve asked to ride. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[peony-pearl]

Gettin some Bequest bios written, getting the feel back for writing; this layout is hardcore old school bc I’ve been on the internet too long lol

Thaddeus ‘Tad’ Graham Irving: 

birthdate: July 9th, 1956

hair color: reddish-chestnut brown; wavy, almost curly, kept slicked back

eye color: bright blue

occupation: actor, screenwriter

heritage: unknown on mother’s side (grandfather, Kallistos, had an accent many said sounded ‘Greek’, never knew maternal grandmother) father was 1/2 Scottish, 1/4 Spanish, 1/4 Italian

After years of trying for children, Tad was born to his parents, mother Filippa and father Gabriel. He was raised in a lower-middle class family, but his young parents were stalwart and optimistic, despite their starting hand and over the years their lot improved. When Tad was six, he learned something about himself that no one could understand; he discovered he had been dealt unnatural strength, which he used to fend off armed muggers when they attacked him and his grandfather at the park. His grandfather seemingly held the clues of why this had happened, and promised Tad answers when he was older, but never relented. This caused a rift in their relationship, which wasn’t new as his grandfather had already despised Gabriel for ‘stealing’ Filippa from the family. Tad, however, was on good terms with his step-grandmother, Abigail, and his mother’s half-siblings and their children. He was close with his cousins, who would eventually encourage his dreams of acting after he realized he could no longer play football with his strength after sending a childhood friend to the hospital. He often fears making relationships due to this reason, and to focus on his acting, but upon meeting his future wife, Eileen, and creating a friendship that reminded him of his parents’ interactions, he realized how much he wanted to have that feeling in his life, to have someone who could ground him, and someone he felt gravitated to lift and love. Tad is good at working towards goals, but can forget important things around him; his tunnel-vision causes his distant, flakey demeanor, but underneath he’s patient, supportive and tender. His laughter is infectious, which he uses to his advantage to keep those around him happy. 

Eileen Ingrid Irving (nee Walsh)

birthdate: December 17th (adoption date; unknown year of birth, presumed to be around 1957) (deceased July 8th, 2011)

hair color: deep brown, thick, slightly wavy

eye color: hazel

Occupation: Professional violinist, violin teacher

heritage: Irish, uncertain geneology

Eileen was adopted as a young child, and her life before that was a blur. Neglected and left on her own, she was fostered (and later adopted) by Wallace and Ernestine Walsh, who already had two sons. Eileen didn’t remember much of her life before finding her family, and she had no medical records in existence, which lead to doctors having to guesstimate her age, and her birthday was simply celebrated on the anniversary of her adoption. Eileen was raised in a warm, and loving environment, surrounded by music. She clung to it after her parents noticed she had a bit of an obsessive tendency, but to what they weren’t sure; she repeated words, and paced the same hallways. With treatment and music, she became a budding violin prodigy, and finally started opening up to her family. Her personality started shining through as a warm, adventurous, loyal young woman, and she found a love in traveling that rivaled her violin. Something was out there for her; and she became convinced she’d found it when she met her husband, Tad, an American actor, whom she became acquainted with twice; once on a movie set, and again by chance a year later when she wanted to become a musician in the US; she felt drawn to him, and when love blossomed, she felt at home. With Tad, their children, and her violin, Eileen finally had the life she’d yearned for; but her sudden death years later caused a fissure in her family that no one expected.

Isaac Calvin Irving

birthdate: February 1st, 1986

hair color: deep brown, curly

eye color: deep green

occupation: Teacher at school for blind and deaf

heritage: known Scottish, Italian, and Spanish heritage from father, Irish from mother

Isaac is the first child of Tad and Eileen Irving. Often seen as stoic and rigid, Isaac is good at feigning his true emotions as, when prompted, he can be the loudest and rowdiest of any group, he simply enjoys the surprise in people when they learn his true nature. When he was three years old, Isaac discovered he has slight manipulations over electronics (he was holding a lightbulb and got spooked by something loud and the bulb in his hand shorted out and shattered, to this day he has tiny speckled scars on his lower chin and lip; he can also turn on small game systems or music players without hooking them up or needing batteries with a touch but he has to keep his hand on them at all times for them to continue working). Isaac is also fiercely dedicated and compassionate; when his best friend lost his hearing at the age of 10, Isaac studied ASL for hours on end, becoming proficient by the time he entered high school. He and his family knew he wouldn’t follow in his parents’ footsteps to be on the screen or stage, and instead he took his sign language knowledge to heart and became a certified instructor for special needs children. Isaac is close with his younger sister, Moira, and even after a car crash causes her to relearn everything, he is often right by her side. With their connection, and Isaac’s knowledge and patience, he’s often able to decipher her needs even when she can’t talk. However, the loss of his mother causes a noticeable rift between him and his father.

Moira Nell Irving

Birthday: April 28th 1989

hair color: rich chestnut brown, thick, wavy

eye color: Bright blue

Occupation: Theater actress, singer

Heritage:  known Scottish, Italian, and Spanish heritage from father, Irish from mother

Moira was born around the height of Tad’s acting career, and many joke that’s what caused her very forward, theatric nature. By four she was regularly attending singing lessons (she would sing almost non stop and her parents simply wanted her to have an outlet) and kept a spot in choir through her school career; in middle school she decided to begin dabbling in theater, following her father’s footsteps. She found her niche in plays and musicals, and the event that solidified her love for theater was when she and her father shared the stage in a play at the theater he had grown up performing in. Moira is bubbly and curious, but quick to dismiss something that doesn’t go in her favor. She’s often the source of both her brother’s ire and laughter, and she’s often seen with her best friend, Camille, the daughter of Tad’s manager. She likes to see people in good spirits, and will do whatever she can to lighten atmospheres using her talents. The day before her father’s birthday in 2011, she was driving her parents to meet with her brother and Camille when their car is T-boned and forced against a semi driving next to them. The force of the crash and the semi’s inability to stop in time takes Eileen’s life; Moira lives long enough for paramedics to predict she won’t make it, and she dies in Tad’s arms; but, after twenty minutes, she begins to breathe again, and she’s whisked away to a hospital. Several surgeries later, she wakes from a coma within 3 weeks, but must now start her life over from scratch.

[scattered-books-n-notes-blog]

TO ALL THE PEOPLE OUT THERE: HELP

So, it’s summer and all, I really want to get habits formed and broken, activities to try and, long story short, I want this summer break to be as productive as possible (before my productive meter gets burned out and all). If you’re still reading this, then thank you 😂😂 Anyways…. I really need some book recs and maybe activities and advices (?) I might need to be productive during this time of the year. I haven’t build my TBR list and I really wished that for the next two months, all of my summer bucket list would be (at the very least) accomplished. For those who would want to know what I’ll be doing for the next two months, this is le list: - study French and ASL (been doing this for 6 months, but too busy to be really committed and all that jazz)* - Learn how to use InDesign, Photoshop, Excel and Canva* - read literature, history, and mythology-related books and references* - exercise (I am a bit overweight due to stress-eating and sleeping 😂😂 need to lose at least 15 lbs (7 or 8 kgs) or so?) - basically take care of my self while keeping record - keep dem blogs alive (I’ve got 1 main blog (@pleasantlyvirtualnight) and 3 side blogs, including this one) - calligraphy self-study (and also writing practice coz my handwriting sucks)* Those things with asterisks (*) are the reasons why I need book and ref recs so much 😂😂 Anyways, if you’ve reached this and wanted to help this poor lonely soul, thank you so much!! You’ve rescued one ignorant being from the damned circle of summer procrastination and helped her reach the other side filled with happiness and determination. She hopes that the ones who helped her now would be blessed with gifts and someday be getting immediate help if they are also in need. Thanks in advance and I await your reply in any way you want to reply. ~Z