#THE REST WILL ONLY BE IN ENGLISH unless requested otherwise i guess

[danieyells]

@mayoigotokurousagi LAST ONE OF YOURS here's Jin!!!

Jin is. . .he's a lot sweeter than you'd expect once his affinity gets high lol. . . . I FEEL LIKE I ENDED UP WITH A LOT OF COMMENTARY HERE. . .he just acts very different as affinity goes up, i have to point shit out haha

I've also amended this one to be all of his voicelines now!

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Where the hell do you think you're going? Quit dawdling and help me get ready." お前、どこほっつき歩いてたんだ？……さっさと��度を手伝え

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Hey, you've got mail. Don't tell me you're not going to open it. What if it was for me?" おい、手紙。放っとくつもりじゃねぇだろうな。 俺宛があったらどうすんだ？ あ？

Jin, why would your mail be in my. . .whatever

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"...Get to the point. The trash here is so long-winded." チッ……さっさと要件を言え。ゴミどもはこれだから面倒くせぇ

"A party? I don't waste air on bootlickers. Try Tohma." 社交界？　肩書き目当ての奴らに構うつもりはねぇよ。塔真をあたれ

"Don't just stand there like an idiot. Hurry up. ...What? You got a problem? Spit it out." おい、ぼさっと突っ立ってねぇでついてこい。 ……何だ、文句でもあんのか？

"Kneel! Tsk... Where's {PC}? Bring her to my room." 跪け！ 　……チッ。あの女はどこだ。今すぐ俺の部屋に連れてこい

"What? Your schedule's not my problem. Just arrange it around me." あ？　お前の都合なんて知らねぇ。黙って俺に合わせてりゃいいんだよ

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"...Huh? I don't want to see your face at the crack of dawn. Get out." ……あ？寝起きから、その面見せんな…… 下がってろ

given how vulgar his speech is sometimes i'm surprised he didn't say "asscrack of dawn"

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Tell the chef I'm not in the mood for meat today." ……シェフに伝えろ。今日は肉の気分じゃねぇってな

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm not wasting my time fooling around with those brats today. If they're really that bored, just make them go on a low-ranking mission or something." ガキの遊びに付き合う気はねぇよ。そんなに暇なら、適当に低ランク任務でも行かせておけ

he's just barely avoiding making iPad kids out of Kaito and Lucas lmao

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Put my dinner over there. I'll eat later if I feel like it." ディナーはそこに置いておけ。気が向い��ら食っておく

i am once again asking the ghouls to FUCKING EAT PROPER MEALS.

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I need more data for this case...  Go find Tohma, servant." 任務の資料が足りてねぇ…… 下僕、塔真を呼んでこい

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"A Class C anomaly? Miss me with that weak shit. Why do you think we have a Vice Captain?" あ？　Ｃ級怪異？ つまんねぇことに俺を巻き込むな。 何のために副寮長がいるんだ？

MISS ME WITH THAT WEAK SHIT I AM IN TEARS WHO TAUGHT YOU TO TALK LIKE THAT. . . .

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"What about class? Ha. What makes you think you can lecture me? Worry about yourself." ……授業の時間？　ハッ、俺に説教とはいい度胸じゃねぇか。お前は自分の心配でもしてろ

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"You don't even know that? What do they teach here?" ……そんなこともわからねぇのか？この学園の教育はどうなってんだ

I guess Jin has a good handle on the material and everything he'd need to know, as a third year. I say 'as a third year' but Alan didn't understand some of the basics so--

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Bianerus! ...I'm not feeling it today. You can go." ＜ビアネルス＞ …………チッ。調子が悪い。今日はもう下がれ

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"It's late. We're done here. Leave." ……もう遅い。話は終わりだ、下がれ

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"You're late. You've got some nerve making me wait, servant." ……遅ぇよ。下僕ごときが俺を待たせるな

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"...I'm hungry. Go order lunch. For two." ……腹が減ったな。おい、ランチの手配をしろ。２人分だ

i guarantee you the pc did not consider that he meant "i want to eat lunch with you" the first time this happened. she probably just thought "damn jin's hungry today."

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"You have plans? Take a second and really think about whether your plans are more important than me before you open that mouth again." 今日は都合が悪い？ ……俺より優先する価値があるか、よく考えてから口を開け

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"...Why are you so chatty today? Just pour my tea and get out of my face." チッ……うるせぇ。いつもの紅茶だけ淹れて失せろ

'stop trying to befriend me and go away' lmao

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"You should be grateful I'm giving you the time of day this early in the morning." 俺が朝から相手してやってんだ。ありがたく思え

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Why do you look so worn out? If you're going to serve me, learn how to take better care of yourself. Tohma, take her to the infirmary." おい下僕、なんだその顔色は。俺に仕えるなら体調管理は万全にしろ。 塔真、こいつを保健室に運んでこい

why the infirmary. . .i don't think she needs a doctor i think she needs a nap. You're overworking her didn't Tohma tell you not to break her you donut

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"It's still early... You want to practice the waltz? Bold, aren't you? You're going to be sore tomorrow." まだこんな時間か。 ワルツの練習？……生意気に催促しやがって。 覚悟しろよ。お前は明日、筋肉痛だ

are we still. . .talking about the. . .dancing. . . .

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"You want to dine with me? Ha. All right. Show me if you've learned anything." お前と俺が、ディナーを一緒に？ ハッ、面白ぇ。お手並み拝見といこうか

impromptu lesson on table manners!?

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"It's quiet tonight... Sit here, next to me. We're playing a duet. Don't give me that look. You'll know this song." 今夜は静かだな……隣に座れ。 連弾だ。そんな顔すんじゃねぇよ。 ……お前も知ってる曲だ

I previously used the expression names to describe his expression as 'pouting' and 'like a spoiled child' but he mostly just looks irritated lmaooo

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Waking me up every morning was your idea, so I'd better see you here tomorrow too. That's an order." ルーティンにしたのはお前だろ。責任取って、明日も起こしに来い。 ……これは命令だ

how quickly we go from "i don't wanna see your face first thing in the morning" to "i had better see your face every morning". . . . (it's not quickly at all. it's actually an incredibly slow process getting affinity up.)

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"...I was too active yesterday. Massage me, servant. ...What the hell was that? Put some muscle into it." チッ。昨日は体を動かしすぎたな。 下僕、次はマッサージだ。 ……足りねぇよ。もっと強く押せ

i love this one he's just like bitch what the fuck kinda weak ass massage is that put some back into it?????

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"You don't know about dining etiquette? I don't have time for this... If you want me to teach you, I better see that nose on the grindstone." テーブルマナーがわからない？ 面倒くせぇ……俺に教わるからにはそれ相応の覚悟があんだろうな？

we are reaching critical levels of "i need to make you presentable so you can meet my father" also I find it funny that this is after the "you wanna eat with me? let's see if you've learned anything" line. WHEN WERE THEY SUPPOSED TO HAVE HAD LEARNED OR DO YOU EXPECT THEM TO STUDY YOU AS YOU EAT

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"What's that? My helicopter, obviously. Quit gawking and get in." 俺のヘリだ。見たらわかんだろ。……いいから、さっさと乗れ

get in servant idk where we're going but you are going with me

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I've got plans early tomorrow. Your house is too far. Stay here tonight." 明日は早朝から用事がある。お前が寝泊まりしてる寮からじゃ間に合わねぇかもな。 今夜は、ここに泊まれ

another expression note. . .he's looking away and putting his hand on the back of his neck here. He's shy, almost. Because he's not asking you to stay over to perform some task. It's not your usual master-servant dynamic. He just wants you close to him. As close as possible. He really is rather sweet.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Never learn, do you? I don't take you being here for granted. I know it won't last forever. That's all I'm going to say." 懲りないやつだな。言っておくが、こうやってお前が隣にいること…… 俺は、永遠に続くとは思ってねぇぞ

Jin makes a kind of sad face when he says it won't last forever. well, as sad as he can manage.

He knows that once your curse is broken you'll probably go back to your ordinary life. If your curse can't be broken you'll die. And if you, for some reason, continue to stay at Darkwick even after being cured, he'll be a fourth year next year--he's gonna go off to do field work. Eventually he'll work in the highest levels of the Institute and eventually he'll take his father's place as the president. With all of this, there's no way you'll be able to be together, no matter what. This is a short lived burst of happiness and attachment for him. It means a lot more to him than you realize.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"(yawn) What's with that look? I'm not allowed to yawn?" ふぁっ…… あ？　何だその顔は。俺があくびして悪ぃか？

(between 11am and 4pm)

"The flowers you can see from the balcony? Yeah, I had them planted. ...My mother liked them." バルコニーから見える花……？ああ、俺が植えさせた。 …………お袋が好きだった花だ

the balcony bg and the front of frostheim background don't have flowers visible in them(i mean the balcony has potted plants but no flowers). . .i wonder what kind of flowers his mother liked. maybe the pc will grow them when they turn into a Kyklos.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Sunset's supposed to be nice this time of year. Come on, servant. Before I change my mind." 春茜か……おい下僕、少し外に出る。 俺の気が変わる前に付き合えよ

(between 8pm and 5am)

"You're going to see the cherry blossoms tonight with the brats? Suit yourself. I doubt any of you can appreciate them." あ？　ガキどもと夜桜を見に行く？ 勝手にしろ。お前らに、あの風情がわかるとは思えねぇけどな

'you guys are too poor to appreciate nice things'

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Those little shits are so loud this morning... They're worse than the cicadas. Tohma, go exterminate them." クソ、朝からガキどもがうるせぇ。 塔真、あのセミより鬱陶しい奴らを駆除してこい

MODS, PUT 'EM IN THE BLENDER.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"What kind of moron chooses to go out in the sun this time of year? Unless you want your brain to melt, stay here with me." わざわざこの時期、日を浴びようなんて奴は馬鹿しかいねぇ。 お前も脳みそ溶かしたくなきゃ、ここにいろ

jin. . .this is frostheim. it is PERMANENTLY WINTER here, even to the point of that the day-night timing doesn't change. It's not hot unless we leave the boundaries of frostheim. . . . THIS IS A THINLY VEILED EXCUSE TO GET YOU TO STAY WITH HIM.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"You've got tickets to a fireworks festival? The view's better from a helicopter. ...You've got guts thinking you can show me a good time, peasant." あ？　花火大会の観覧席チケット？ 花火はヘリから見るもんだろ。庶民の分際で俺を誘いやがって……

'peasant' is worse than 'servant' in my opinion. . . .

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Haven't heard the sound of waves for a while... Get the speedboat. I'll drive." しばらく波の音も聞いてねぇな…… おい、今すぐクルーザーを出せ。操縦は俺がする

jin just shoving you into various vehicles to take you places is really funny to me for some reason. you're like his purse dog. he just wants to take you everywhere even if it doesn't really benefit him to do so. also he can drive a speedboat????

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"I overworked myself. Go get Tohma. I was right having him get that PT license. I should have you get one too." 塔真を呼べ、オーバーワークした。 あいつに整体の資格を取らせたのは正解だったな。 下僕、お前も取るか

. . .doesn't that take like three years minimum in japan. . .how did you get him to get that. . .didn't he only meet you like two and a half years ago and you weren't even in the same house then. . .is that a darkwick offered course. . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"A pumpkin spice latte? I'm not drinking this saccharine garbage. Give the rest to the brats." あ？　パンプキンスパイスラテ？ こんな甘ったるい茶は飲まねぇよ。残りはガキどもにやっとけ

what do you think he is, a basic bitch like you? Not a big fan of sweets. Noted.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"My favorite family vacation? Don't have one. This conversation is over." 行楽の思い出？そんなもんねぇよ。 ……この話は終わりだ

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I don't play the piano because I like it. It's just force of habit." 別に、ピアノが好きで弾いてるわけじゃねぇよ。ただの惰性だ

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"...Don't fucking wake me up. Come back later." ……起こすんじゃねぇ。話なら後にしろ

he hates the heat he hates the cold. . .well he also hates mornings in general. . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Why is my name on this snowman? Tohma, give me your gloves. Whichever half-wit made this has shit for eyes." なんで雪だるまに、俺の名前が？ ……塔真、手袋を貸せ。これ作った奴の目は、確実に腐ってやがんな

"is that supposed to be me. . .? aw hell no i am fixing this shit"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Tell the chef and the brats we're having a roast dinner tomorrow. Kobe beef. They know how I like it." 明日はローストディナーだ、シェフとガキどもに言っとけ。 肉は神��牛でな。焼き加減��わかってるはずだ

i like that the frostheim ghouls eat dinner together like a family. . .jin looks at Kaito and Lucas and goes 'those are my idiot sons. i cannot stand them.'

(between 8pm and 5am)

"You're staying here tonight, servant. I'll show you an aurora you couldn't even dream of." 下僕、今夜は泊まれ。最上級のオーロラを見せてやる

see how this is worded differently from when he asks you to stay over because 'your house is too far away'? even when he's trying to be sweet to you, as long as he maintains your power imbalance he feels comfortable--he has something over you here--but trying to lay his feelings bare, just saying 'i want you to stay with me', that's so much more than he's used to saying.

His birthday: (August 31st)

"A birthday party? This has Tohma written all over it, that asshole's always using me to— You're planning it? ...I'll think about it." 誕生日パーティー？　塔真の奴、また俺を客寄せに使って…… 違う？お前が主催？ ……気が向いたらな

'that asshole tohma is trying to make me go outside aga--oh you're planning the party. oh. okay. maybe.'

Your birthday:

"The song I just played? It's G. F. Handel. He wrote it for the queen's birthday." さっき弾いた曲？……Ｇ．Ｆ．ヘンデルが、女王の誕生日に送った曲だ

in case you don't get the significance of what he's saying here. . .lemme fetch one of Tohma's lines for you--

"I'm no more than a servant. Frostheim is ruled by a king, you see." 私はあくまで小間使いですよ。フロストハイムには、キングがいますから

my dude I think jin just called you his queen--only for your birthday though don't get cocky, servant

New Years: (January 1st)

"Hope you're ready for another year being at beck and call, servant. First up, my New Year's courtesy calls. Go do them for me." おい、下僕。今年も俺専用の女中として必死に尽くせよ。 まずは新年の挨拶回りだ。代わりに行ってこい

'happy new year! your purpose is still serving me.'

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"What's that sad-looking box you're holding? ...Oh. No, don't throw it away. I'll take it." なんだ？　この貧相な包みは。 ……ああ、そういうことか。 捨てなくていい。受け取ってやるよ

jin is one of those characters who probably gets a mountain of chocolates given to him by admirers, all brand name and like from famous confectioners and shit. real nice fancy packages. so he sees your shitty little unprofessional homemade thing and is like 'tf is that' before he realizes it's for him and it's made with love and he just. . .ah. no, i want that, actually.

White Day: (March 14th)

"Keep your schedule open tonight. You're having a meal your peasant taste buds couldn't even dream of." おい、今夜は予定を開けとけ。庶民じゃ一生出会えねぇような美味いもん、お前に食わせてやるよ

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Hey, are you all right? ...Tsk. If that was a joke, it wasn't fucking funny. I've changed my mind. Cancel all my plans for the day." おい、お前大丈夫か？ 　……チッ。質の悪ぃ嘘だな…… 気が変わった。今日の予定はすべてキャンセルだ

i feel like Jin is about to put together the most elaborate prank and it's gonna hurt someone's feelings or get somebody hurt and no one will find it funny and he'll end up feeling super shitty. like that one spongebob episode.

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Where the hell's Tohma? Asshole sent the brats to my room to beg for candy. Next time I see him I'm going to wring his fucking neck." クソ……塔真��どこだ。俺の部屋に籠持ったガキども寄こしやがって。 あいつ……ぶっ殺すぞ……

okay but did you give them candy?

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Go tell Tohma what color dress you're wearing tonight. Why? Maybe I'll wear a matching ascot tie. If I feel like it." 今夜着るドレスの色を塔真に伝えておけ。 あ？　理由？ 気が向いたらアスコットタイの色を合わせてやる

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"...Where the hell did she go?" ……あの女、どこ行きやがった？

(13 affinity and above)

"Shit... This is throwing me off. Who does that servant think she is?" ……クソ……調子が狂う。 下僕の分際で、舐めやがって……

he feels so wrong without you next to him aw

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"...You've got guts abandoning your place at my back, servant. I'm going to have to retrain you." …………っ、おい……下僕は常に主人の後ろにいるもんだろうが。 お前は再教育だ

ONCE AGAIN IT FEELS LIKE I PUT NEARLY ALL OF THEM IN IT'S ALL OF THEM NOW! The way he treats the pc in so many different ways but it makes sense with his character and feelings. . .as far as the home screen lines go, Jin definitely loves you in some capacity. He's actually quite clingy. . .i'm a little too sleepy for more coherent thought haha

[shipmansflannels]

in the heights | natalie scatorccio x reader

hey! I'm back! I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, really. but I'm happy with the engagement and the new followers here on the blog, welcome everyone and I hope you like my stories below. I haven't made the masterlist yet, but as soon as I do, I'll pin it to organize it better. this first oneshot is super cute, I hope you like it. I'm also not going to open requests for now, but I'll leave my ask open in case you want to send me messages and interact through it too! thanks for following along! enjoy!

sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

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

in the heights | natalie scatorccio x reader

-> prompt: you and natalie at a ferris wheel. but it gets stuck. <-

warnings: non cannon, no crash, most fem!reader but it works for gender neutral readers too, natalie having a soft side, a lot of swear words, very cliché and gay.

***

"I already told you I don't want to go. That's for children."

You laugh, watching Natalie blow out the last of her cigarette and use her worn-out sneakers to crush it on the floor. The two of you are leaning against a street light, but you're more focused on the popcorn that's almost gone and the noise of the kids screaming behind you, enjoying the huge roller coaster, or the carousel, or yelling for their mom to buy more tokens to hit the clown's mouth and win a damn stuffed bear.

It's your last year before heading off to college, but you're not old enough to enjoy the rare amusement park event when the mayor is in a good mood, which is why you make a point of not only inviting Natalie, but the rest of the girls on the team.

The difference is that you're not as close to them as you are to the platinum blonde who's snorting as she's being bumped into by a four-foot-tall boy who's running after another boy whose height you haven't yet identified.

"Oh, please, it's just going to be a single ride. I really want to see the city from up there", you insist, using your best whining voice, to try to convince Natalie to join you on the ferris wheel. She rolls her eyes as you shove another handful of popcorn into your mouth. "Then we can go on the ghost train, since you want to be that frightened."

"You know I hate the ferris wheel, (Y\N), no way."

Natalie was always closed off about her feelings and desires - and unless it had to do with addictions, cigarettes and drugs, you'd never guess any of the things she was passionate about. Of course, you knew about her problems with her father, her terrible relationship with her mother and how much she wanted to buy a trailer in the park closest to her school so she wouldn't have to live with this nightmare again, but otherwise, none of Natalie's fears were obvious to you.

So it was fun to hear her complain, in her usual grumpy mood, about how she hated rides on the ferris wheel.

“It’s not that bad,” you tried once more. "One ride, I promise. I'll give you one of my cigarettes later, don't worry."

Natalie huffed again, rolling her eyes at you, and put her lighter in the pocket of her old moss green jacket before walking over to you.

"Just a ride and then it's over. It's not a question."

You nodded, shrugging and swallowing hard, before starting to walk beside her. Oh, one more thing about Natalie that you knew since you met her: she hated holding hands.

***

"I swear I'm going to kill you. It seems like a good thing to push you from the highest point, don't you think?"

Natalie proposed, whispering through clenched teeth as the ferris wheel monitor buckled you up and closed the cabin. There was a noise in the background, coming from other laughing children and families in the cabins behind, so Natalie had to get a little closer to you to whisper in your direction.

"Ah, come on, it's going to be fun!", you murmured, in your usual joy, looking to the side and enjoying the view of the park before the ride started to rise. "But if you feel unwell, I can ask the monitor to stop first and come down."

"It is not necessary."

She murmured, taking a deep breath, and you felt like there was too much air gathering in Natalie's lungs. With your free arm, you passed it over the cabin, around the platinum blonde, in an attempt to comfort her. It didn't help, but you were sure you saw her lined eyes relax a little.

And then, the ride began. The families behind you screamed loudly when the cabins started to rise a little, and then they started laughing when theirs stopped in the air and slowly descended, giving a good view of the city from up there.

You looked away again at the huge windows and the landscape, even though you weren't so high up. It felt good to reassure Natalie at that moment, her fear feeling like it was going to leave her body and hover like a cloud of dust above your heads.

"Are you okay?"

"Absolutely."

You laughed, making a mental note and finding it amusing that Natalie always used colloquial language when she was scared. Suddenly, she looked down, and her clear eyes widened again.

"Holy shit! Why are there two guys down there? And why does it look like they're arguing? Oh, God, don't tell me we-"

You looked down, just to see where she was looking, and then, suddenly, the voices of the families became clearer, as if they purposefully escaped from the windows of the cabins straight into yours. "we're stuck!" "it looks like the toy broke!" "damn, bunch of irresponsible people!" "I want my fucking money back!" "get that fucking toy down soon, buddy!"

Gritting your teeth, you looked at Natalie, and you were sure that she had heard at least half of the whispers, or, well, at best - and probably the most terrible - she had enough intelligence to figure out what had just happened on her own. to happen.

"Fuck me," she muttered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Once, twice, three times. And then, you grabbed her with your free arm by the collar of her shirt, the back collar.

"Calm down, it's just a quick stop, it's supposed to give more excitement. Soon the ferris wheel comes back, just try to breathe", you whispered, and obviously it didn't help at all.

"I'm not five anymore, (Y\N). Don't act like you're my fucking parents."

"Hey, don't freak out, it won't help…", you clicked your tongue. "Well, how about if we just try to distract ourselves while the toy doesn't come back? Make small talk? There are some things going on that you haven't told me yet, right?"

You don't know how this caught Natalie's attention, but you saw that her face had returned to its usual paleness, and that she had raised an eyebrow in your direction.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why, the most obvious. You and Travis Martinez, what else?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not what you think. He's just my friend. Just like you are too."

Ouch, that one hurt. It would have affected you more, of course, if you had even had feelings for Natalie, but obviously you had nothing more than a friendly affection for her, and in truth, her and Travis' sudden closeness wasn't bothering you in the slightest. in an unhealthy way…

Absolutely not. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Just friends? Oh, sure, like, okay then…" You took another deep breath, and then blushed when you saw her raised eyebrow again. "It's just, like, he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would hang out with our gang…"

"You mean he doesn't look like a rebellious kid?" Natalie scoffed, biting her lip and looking away from you. "Yeah, I mean, you'd be surprised by some things about him."

"And how come you know so much, huh?"

She pursed her lips. You had used an intonation that definitely wasn't as ironic as you thought it would be, and in fact, maybe that would have surprised Natalie. You were about to open your mouth to apologize, when she spoke first, her eyes fixed on you and that cheeky smile that only she knew how to give.

"Damn, I didn't know you were that possessive, (Y\N)…"

It was your turn to roll your eyes.

"And I'm not. I don't give a shit about your circle of friends, okay?"

"It's not what it looks like…"

"Okay, let's change the subject…", you pursed your lips too, looking away. "Did you buy the hair dye? Your roots are turning black again…"

She nodded, but that sleazy smile was still on her lips as she looked the other way. In fact, it only disappeared when she realized that you guys weren't coming back down, and that it would probably take hours to do so.

"This shit's never going down again, is it? What the fuck…"

You laughed, looking at her again and shaking your head. "You know, if you're so scared, you can hold my hand. I won't bite you unless you ask me to."

Natalie rolled her eyes again, looking at you with closed eyes. She hated vulnerability, especially when it was her own. Her hand slid across the space in the seat that separated the two of you in the cabin, and then, her fingers caught yours, lightly, as if they were magnets attracting each other.

"If you tell anyone tomorrow, I'll kill you," she whispered, her teeth clenched and her gaze still very serious. That made you laugh and eased the blush on your cheeks a little.

Suddenly, like an answer to her silent prayer, the cabin gave a sharp start and threatened to descend. This caused Natalie's already trembling and vulnerable body, barely secured in the seat belt, to fall until it reached your arms. You held her just in case, but she made sure to lean on your waist to straighten herself up again.

"Oh, God, I think I'm going to throw up," she murmured, returning to the fear inside her. You watched her and, in a rush, had an idea that might help. Well, it helped you with your now rare panic attacks before a decisive test in class.

Instinctively, you grabbed her cheek, pressing your faces together at a considerable distance. Her eyes were on you, but specifically at the level of your nose, and she seemed shocked by your unexpected attitude.

“What the fuck are you doing?”, she whispered, her lips barely moving.

"I'm trying to take your focus away. Pay attention to other things, don't fucking look down," you replied, your tone as neutral as possible, your eyes focused on her. But your closeness was incredibly suspicious and, even if you denied it, it took away some of the attention that should have been hers. Clearing your throat, you whispered again. "Do you feel better?"

Natalie didn't answered. She closed her clear eyes and took another deep breath, swallowing hard. And then, her pale, calloused hands touched your shoulder. At first, it seemed like an attempt to push you away, but then, suddenly, when she unexpectedly pressed your lips together, you understood everything.

Responding to the kiss as best you could, terrified that it would be clumsy, you let your mind wander to the darkest parts, and you also understood that you always wanted, deep down, for this moment to happen. And then, after minutes of the wind in your hair and your body getting hot with the blood bubbling almost to your head, Natalie finally did what she normally would do, using the grip on your shoulders to pull you away from her.

"Fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered, trying to apologize. And suddenly, she fixed it. "I mean, maybe it was, but not like this. I guess I was just a little… too vulnerable, my bad."

You laughed, blushing once more before holding her hand again, this time placing your palm on hers.

"It's okay to be vulnerable sometimes. You look cute with that soft side," you whispered, nodding. "Well, not like that…"

"Don't be stupid, of course it's like that," she murmured, raising her eyebrow. "Okay, I'm not going to punch you in the face because you kissed me and because you have feelings for me."

"For the record, you were the one who kissed me."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, fuck. Nobody cares."

Suddenly, the ferris wheel gave another start and, finally, with the screams of satisfaction from all the families who were still waiting up there, it started working normally again. Natalie sighed, still holding your hand in hers, and you smiled, relieved, looking away.

"Just promise me one thing, (Y\N)?"

"Anything, Nat."

"That you won't tell anyone that we kissed-"

"That you kissed me."

"Whatever! Don't tell anyone, do you hear me? Or I'll change my mind and punch you in the face, yes."

You laughed before pulling her closer with your free hand, by her chin, and kissing her once more. "Don't worry. It'll just be our little secret for now."

[literallymitch]

𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 || 𝐃.𝐃

requested: no

summary: the first part of the reputation series in which the reader first meets Damiano

pairing: Damiano David x famous!reader

word count: 2k

what kind of content: fluff

warnings: drinking

passages written in cursive are flashbacks

some of the lyrics were changed so they would fit the story

Please don’t steal any of my conten and release it elsewhere. Also all of this is fiction. I don’t know these people in real life nor do I know how they act

a/n I I hope you all enjoy this one, as much as I do. I’m so excited about this series jdhidcuheu. What song do you guys think is next? As always please keep in mind english is not my first language. I’m super happy about feedback!!

With a buzzing head I woke up. I shouldn’t have drank so much yesterday. Feeling the after effects of the alcohol I consumed yesterday, I looked at the sleeping figure next to me. A gorgeous man with brown hair and tattoos that fitted him perfectly. I smiled to myself, knowing he was the reason I probably drank a little too much yesterday. There was no way I would have found the courage to actually talk to him otherwise. He looked like an angel sleeping so peacefully in my queen-sized bed. As I looked at his sleeping figure, an idea popped into my head. I grabbed my notebook and went to my balcony that was connected to my bedroom. Looking at him one last time through the huge window in front of me. I opened my notebook and started writing down some lyrics in memory of last night.

You should take it as a compliment That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk You should think about the consequence Of your magnetic field being a little too strong

“We wanted to start working on our next album soon too.” , the gorgeous man in front of me said with an Italian accent.

After a few drinks I was finally talking to him. I was too busy taking in his beauty that I didn’t really listen  to what he just said to me. All of a sudden, I started giggling.

“You know, your accent is so funny, I love it. Like the way you pronounce some words? Hilarious”.

“Thanks, I guess?”

I cringed a little thinking about this specific moment. If he knew the only reason I was making a fool out of myself in front of him was his magnificent appearance, he would take it as a compliment. He probably already knew that was the reason. How could he not know? It’s not like he has never looked in a mirror. Also, there is no way, I am the first person that had to suffer from his magnetic self. By now he should know what his whole existence is doing to people.

And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us He's in the club doing, I don't know what You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much (I hate you so much)

“Shouldn’t your boyfriend be here as well?” the beautiful Italian boy asked.

“My wha- Oh you mean Andre? He isn’t my boyfriend. The media just made that up after we went out once, and I was caught at two of his games. We haven't talked in months. He’s probably at some club right now, annoying some poor girl.”

At that moment I thought I’ve seen a small smile appear on his face. He then just turned to the bar tender, ordering another beer. God, how could he just keep his cool like this the whole night. Usually it was the other way around. People would stand drunk in front of me trying to make a move, while I just stood there unimpressed. He really made me feel like an insecure fourteen-year-old girl again, and I hated him for that

Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine You've ruined my life, by not being mine

“The sunset is really beautiful today” Damiano stated sipping on his glass of Whisky. I nodded in agreement while I ate a grape from the vine that was placed on the bar counter.

The bar were at was on top of a small mountain somewhere outside Rome. From there we had a great view over the whole city of Rome and how the sun met the city's skyline. It really was beautiful, still it was nothing compared to him. I wish he would’ve been mine, so I could’ve rested my head on his shoulder right there and then, but he wasn’t.

You should take it as a compliment That I'm talking to everyone here but you (but you, but you)

“I’m glad we’re finally getting a chance to talk after you talked to, well, everyone else at this bar except me.”, the handsome man called me out while he sat down next to me.”

Feeling a bit caught, I just gave him an awkward smile. I tried to come up  with a reasonable excuse, that was less embarrassing than ‘Yeah sorry about that, I was just too scared to talk to you because you look like you’re straight out of my dreams.’

“I’m really sorry about that! It was just that every time I was done talking to someone, the next person already stood behind me wanting to talk.” I lied.

“It’s alright. I guess that's what happens when you’re a world-famous singer.”

And you should think about the consequence Of you touching my hand in the darkened room

It was now 11pm and the sky outside was completely dark. The lights in the bar were also dimmed a bit, creating a cozy atmosphere. Damiano and I were in the middle of our conversation, as he accidentally grabbed my hand, that was resting on the bar counter, instead of his drink. It felt like an electric shock. An electric shock that woke up the butterflies inside my body. My hand started to tingle, and I’m pretty I was full on blushing now.

If you've got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her But if you're single that's honestly worse 'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts

“So do you have a girlfriend?”,  at this point I was so drunk I didn’t even care how this question came across anymore.

I was pretty sure he in fact had a girlfriend, I mean how could he not looking like this?

“No I don’t.” Thank god. “It’s kinda hard building up a real relationship with someone when you're always busy, but I guess you can tell me a thing or two about it too.”

Oh, yes, I could. Still I would drop everything I was doing right now,  just to be with him.

Chocolate brown eyes looking in mine I feel like I might sink and drown and die

Just as my confidence made a small comeback, I made the mistake to directly look into Damianos beautiful brown eyes. There really wasn’t a single thing about him that wasn’t extremely beautiful. I started to feel a bit dizzy as a wave of heat rushed through my body. What is this man doing to me?

Just thinking about it again made my heart beat three times faster.

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

For like the million time this evening, he made a laugh. Great, so he wasn’t just incredibly handsome, but also extremely funny. I didn’t realize how happy I was in his presence until I remembered he wasn’t mine. Suddenly I felt kind of sad, thinking about how I maybe would never see him again after tonight. I just wanted to grab his hand and run away with him. Somewhere I could be alone with him. Somewhere he would be only mine.

Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats Alone, unless you wanna come along

I looked at the clock that was hanging on the wall behind the bar tender. I was shocked when I realized it was already midnight. There was no way we’ve been talking for like three hours now. I scanned the room for my friends, I went here with in the first place.

“Looking for someone specific?” Damiano asked, now also looking in the direction I was looking in.

“Just my friends, but it seems like they already went home. I’ll check if they texted me” I picked up my phone, checking if I had a message from my friends.

‘Hi babe, we already went home, we were kinda tired. Have fun talking to handsome stranger. You better tell us everything tomorrow ;)’

“Did they text you?”

“Yes, my friend texted me that they already went home. Guess I’ll have to go home alone then. At least my cats are waiting for me.” I stood up and tried to make my way over to the wardrobe to get my coat. Unfortunately I forgot how drunk I actually and almost tripped as I tried to walk. Alcohol and heels really are not a good combo. Thankfully Damiano grabbed my arm helping me to stabilize myself.

“You’re sure, you’ll make it home alone?”

“Yes, I am a big girl. Unless you wanna come along.” I said with a cheeky grin on my face.

Damiano left out a soft chuckle. He paid for our drinks and then accompanied me on my way back home.

“It’s already pretty late, if you want to, you can stay over.” I told him after he brought me up to my bedroom.

“That would be nice, thanks.”

After I got myself ready for bed, I basically fell into my cozy bed, cuddling myself up in my soft sheet.

“You mind telling me where your guestroom is before falling asleep?” the Italian boy asked with an amused look on his face.

“Mmh, I don’t know. Just sleep here, it's fine.” I answered him, already half asleep.

After that, I probably fell asleep, since I don’t remember anything else that happened.

You're so gorgeous I can't say anything to your face (to your face) 'Cause look at your face

“Good morning.” I heard a raspy voice say.

I looked up from my notebook and came face to face with Damiano gorgeous figure. His hair was messy, and he still looked a bit sleepy. Since he just wore a pair of boxer shorts, I could finally see all the tattoos that covered his upper body. All of a sudden I felt the same way as I did last night when I saw him for the first time. The words were stuck in my throat and I felt the anxiety build up in my body. How does he manage to make me feel this way by just existing?

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” I somehow managed to say.

“Yes I did thank you. What are you doing?” he asked me curiously as he sat down on the garden chair next to me.

“I’m just writing a song. The idea came to mind when I woke up.”

“Not gonna lie, it’s pretty impressive that you’re able to write a song now after you could barely walk yesterday.” a small laugh left his mouth. “Can I see it?”

“No, it’s kinda awful. I’m to hungover to write something good now. I just wanted to write the idea down.” I lied,  I actually really liked the stuff I wrote so far, but he would probably think I’m a freak when he found out I wrote a song about after knowing him for a day.

“Can you at least tell me what it is about?”

“So you can steal my brilliant idea? No, thanks.” we both started laughing. “I can offer you breakfast though”

“I’m fine with that too” he said flashing me his beautiful smile

And I'm so furious At you for making me feel this way But what can I say? You're gorgeous

We were now sitting on my roof garden eating breakfast. Damiano told me some things about his life and what interests he had. As he did, so I looked at him in awe. I really started crushing on him as he continued to talked about his last tour with a huge smile on his face. I hated it that I was practically on my knees for him already, but how could I not? He’s perfect.

“I could really get used to this, you know?” he said out of nowhere.

“Me too.” I responded, not really questioning what he meant.

I also didn’t care as long as it involved us spending time together. I would make him mine no matter what.

[currentfandomkick]

Miraculous Team and the Batboys

Longer update, wrote the ao3 version first this time. if you want to find me there, crazyjc.

--

Thankfully there weren’t any akuma attacks that day or that night. Marinette was glad to get some sleep for once. Her body, confused and used to a few hours a night, got her up early.

Marinette decided to help with the morning rush—quick to handle the register and make adjustments to some people’s orders (no extra charge for the exhausted high school and college students) when she managed to find someone as dead as she was after an akuma messed up her commission schedule and sleep was skipped for a week.

“Wow, you’re getting the ‘Please Don’t Let Me Die Again Yet’ special.” Marinette turned before the zombie could speak. “Maman, watch the register, someone looks worse than midterms and commissions me.”

Once Maman took the register again, Marinette worked on her disaster drink that only a few particular customers knew of from her personal menu--mainly the dead college and high school students insane enough to pull a weeks worth of all nighters like her. And baby parents that liked her parents bakery.

Gurarana beans instead for the extra caffeine with her special blend of licorice root, peppermint and green tea poured in--double the caffeine with less effort, glucose for the brain fuel, sweet and mint for wakeup and focus, and green tea for lasting energy boost.

“Here, this should keep you up and a bit more functional than usual.”

The man raised an eyebrow.

“Oh my god, what got Finals Angel up this early?” One of the regulars almost yelled, staring at her with a look that screamed the universe was going to collapse in on itself, and they were now anticipating this outcome until they got their morning fix.

Marinette shrugged, moving to the next customer as the dead man took a seat and pulled out his laptop. She continued to help until it was getting close to class.

“Maman, the rest of that brew is under the cabinet for the laptop zombie, I’m taking my morning delivery now.”

Maman took over while Marinette made her way to school, passing out the usual deliveries as she moved about.

“Adrien, your insult to caffeinated monstrosities everywhere.”

“Thanks Marinette!” The blond held his (essentially) hot chocolate with one pump expresso, and five three shots of caramel on top of whip cream.

“Chloe, why you have me grab something this sweet this early is only further proof of your crimes against humanity.”

“You’re welcome Dupain-Cheng.” The girl nabbed her (in Marinette's opinion) low caffeine sugar water--licorice root with half a bottle of honey, and lots of ice with whip cream and honesy drizzled on top. She would never understand that order, but was too afraid to ask at this point. She might be taking the Bee thing too far.

“Alya, thank you for being a sane coffee person, Nino, we are having a talk about your scheduling.”

“Thanks gurl." Because close or not, Alya was an addict with a simple and reasonable coffee that restored Marinette's sanity while making it.

Nino groaned as he took his pastries and three cream, one expresso. “Not again, I still haven’t recovered from the last time.”

Marinette shrugged. “Your mistake, not mine.”

“Oh, did you get my cookies?” Sabrina asked.

Marinette rolled her eyes with a fond smile. She likes Sabrina when she isn't in full cling mode, and giving her boxes of pre-paid cookies put together on Marinette's whims? Very calming after dealing with Adrien and Chloe's offending orders. “Yes. You paid for a different set everyday.”

“Thanks!” Sabina examined her current mix, more obscure cookies since Marinette got them before the morning rush.

“Markov, please tell me Max got some sleep last night?” Marinette asked as she handed another of her special “Max needs a nap but is to stubborn to” order--which is essentially an energy drink blend with a few slow-release teas mixed in.

“Affirmative. He got the requested minimum of three hours. I will ensure he gets more once school is out.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” He was less prone to akumatazation with more sleep, and Hawkmoth does like using Max. Marinette likes knowing she can have her teammate in the field without wondering if he'll pass out.

Marinette took her seat by Alya. They weren’t as close anymore, but it did mean Lila was alone in the back and didn’t see the group document.

“Class, we have a new student today!”

Marinette frowned. She wasn’t informed of any newcomers. She looked over at Chloe who huffed. She didn’t know either then.

“Class, this is Damian Grayson from America. His father is here on business and will be joining us for the semester!”

Chloe and her shared a look. With Chloe as the current president and Marinette as the head of the welcome committee, this was very last minute for them not to be informed. Especially as Bustier had the time to since both were here early.

Alya shot her a look.

Marinette shook her head. She really didn’t know, and it bugged her.

Alya narrowed her eyes as the new boy came in. Black hair, stood too straight and Middle Eastern. She wondered what his first language was briefly--someone in school was bound to be fairly fluent. If it was related to Arabic, Rose would be a good translator. Her and Adrien both have Mandarin now, and her English was passable to Americans--not so much for the UK. Alya has Spanish while Nino has Portuguese covered. Chloe was good for UK English and so was Adrien, but those two weren't good for new kids... especially from the America. Mylene, Ivan, Nathaniel and Juleka were bad at talking most of the time, so they were no-gos...

And she still had to finish Ali's commission… This would be a headache if they were an old Chloe-type.

“Damian, why don’t you tell us about yourself.”

“No need to. I do not plan on making friends.”

And he was worse than an Old Chloe-type. There went her free period for commissions.

The entire class shared a look, and Marinette wanted to groan. This boy would be in for a rude awakening—there was no escaping friendship in Bustier’s class. And anyone difficult? They would sent Marinette as envoy--hopefully Alya didn't make easy.

“I presume my seat is in the back?”

“Actually,” Alya stood up with a grin, “I was going to sit back with Lila to help her catch up in our next class.”

Marinette froze as she realized what Alya was doing. Keeping the new kid from Lila was good, but she also needed to keep Alya from falling for Lila’s lies again. And she has no clue on his preferred languages and uh!

“Alya,” she hissed.

“Don’t worry, I got this.” Alya moved to the back with ease before the boy could say a word.

Marinette hit her head. Why was her friend like this?

“I guess that means you’ll sit next to Marinette. Marinette, can you show Damian around during your free period?”

Marinette knew that tone. There was no refusing without a lecture on being a good role model and another reprimand for stepping down from class representative and student government when she got more commissions and needed more time.

“Of course Miss Buster.”

Damian took his seat without saying a word.

Marinette decided it was better to stay silent with this one--he didn't want friends, and would only be here briefly. She could respect that, even if she could feel the others scheming otherwise.

“What do you mean you know—“

“Oops,” Lila grinned. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

And that was what Marinette was hoping to avoid.

Damian twitched next to her. Marinette sighed, “One sec, I need to remind someone to check her sources before getting ahead of themselves… again.”

Nino shot Marinette a sympathetic look while Marinette linked three redacted articles that starred Lila as her main source.

“And done.”

Damian raised an eye brow at her. “You aren’t going to pester me, correct?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. Honestly? “You made your stance clear. I’m here as the actual head of the welcoming committee, and during free period I’ll just need to know your interests so we can avoid the parts of the school that aren’t relevant for you, and to make sure you have an idea how to handle akuma attacks since I’m going to guess they didn’t tell you about that before you applied.”

“tt,” Damian leveled her with a scowl. “Of course I know about them.”

Marinette didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “So you know where to go for shelter, the drills, the apps and news sources that are good for tracking, which hospitals are contactable during attacks and which ones go into lock down, oh and what actions are allowable and not as civilian aides to the miraculous team?”

The boy froze before her. He didn't then.

Her face slid into a more neutral one--keeping her gloating to herself.“That’s what I thought. I have a few flow charts in the committee room to grab since its an info dump and no one processes those well, and your learning style may benefit from it for all I know.” Marinette made sure not add ‘since some people can’t be bothered to tell me.’ The new boy clearly wasn’t interested in friendship, and despite what the class thinks, she is not friendship-nip.

“I…”

“Class, turn to page 67 of your textbook. Marinette, make sure to share with Damian.”

“Yes Miss Bustier,” Marinette moved the book between the two of them, ignoring Damian besides checking where his eyes were on the page before turning as they followed along.

Once their free period began, Adrien had a Chloe guarding him against the Lila octopus, with Sabrina flanking his other arm as backup.

“I take it those three are together?” Damian asked once they left.

“No, Chloe doesn’t share her friends well,” Marinette explained as they moved through the halls. “And it keeps away his fans, so no one stops it anymore.” Not unless they wanted the Mayor’s ire at least. It was very effective against Lila.

“I see…” He was watching her. She wasn’t sure if it was an American thing or just a tic of his. Possibly both.

“That’s where the teacher’s offices are for before and after school,” Marinette gestured to one wing. “All the doors are labeled, so its easy enough to find who you’re looking for as long as you have a name. You’ll find most of the school services there as well, minus the nurse who’s room is closer to the quad.”

Marinette smiled when they got to welcoming committee room. None of the other members were there at the moment, but the file cabinet was. She grabbed one of the ready-made packets and grabbed a spare Bustier Class packet too.

“Here’s the information for being new in Paris, everything from common places to eat, the good hole-in-the-wall places itemized by what you’re looking for, everything relating to akumas is on the red papers, and the yellow is the school’s map and procedures.” Marinette handed him the blue folder, then the orange. “This one is the Bustier-class specific one approved by Miss Bustier. It lists everything from class rules, what caused various akumatazations with the victim’s consent to disclose it, so not all are listed, and it has your schedule and the class outing dates plus who’s interested in what on the pink pages for possible friends, but you said you weren’t interested so we can skip that.”

Marinette watched him look over the papers for a moment, waiting until his attention was back to her. “Now, anything you have a vague interest in that you might have some random inclination to do at Dupont during your free periods, before or after school?”

Damian raised an eyebrow at her.

“Its you let me tailor the tour for you, or you have to go all over the school and talk to me the entire time, when we both know you’re really not interested.”

“Tt.”

Marinette shrugged. “Have it your way, now, on with the tour!”

--

Damian gawked at the core ciruculum including what he knew was more college level than high school level. Then there was the fact these students had access to multiple state of the art facilities tailored to current students interests on campus, with little issue getting them apparently.

“How does your school get all of this?”

The pigtail girl almost laughed at his question. “I guess they just sent you here since we have the most flexible curriculum routines then.” The girl shifted how she stood. “Dupont is an experimental school, everyone is given high expectations on entry but as long as you keep up with grades the school gets whatever any student requests—a few years ago we had one kid that was allowed to do rocket science as part of his program, he went to some German facility with a translator every other day. Alix has a blanket permit to do street art and installations on public property, as long as she gets her design approved and can give them her schedule as long as she helps other student with history classes. I get full access to any designing materials as part of my deal with the school in exchange for doing any school event costumes and tailoring jobs that I get a two week notice on.”

Damian nodded along, processing this new information. Suddenly, the high amount of akumas from graduates and current students of Dupont made sense. They were specialists, extremely skilled at their crafts and more likely to be knowledgeable than the general population on a variety of topics.

--

Marinette was glad for their hour-long lunch. “I’d ask if you wanted someone to eat with you, but you look like you need some time to process. I’ll check in before school ends.”

She ran home, noting that the man from that morning was still there but looked much less like he would keel over sometime soon. She knew that brew would help. She grabbed a croissant and ran upstairs to finish Prince Ali’s latest commission—a variant on his usual princely attire that was more maneuverable but still formal enough that no one would notice when he wore that one instead of the traditional one.

She had a feeling he was going to use it to sneak away from his guards.

She set an alarm and got to work.

She was quick to leave once the alarm sounded—she gave herself an extra five minutes this time.

“Hey, you’re the coffee angel, right?”

Marinette turned to see the man from that morning, now much more alive.

“I guess.” Marinette knew not to give out names to customers unless her parents deemed them not-stalker-y.

“Thanks, that thing actually worked. What’s in it?”

Marinette smiled at that. “Sorry, that’s a secret not even Maman and Papa get to know.”

“Huh,” the man processed her words. “Guess I’ll have to keep coming when I’m low then.”

Marinette nodded. “Guess so, good to see you’re no longer a zombie monsieur!”

She ran off at that, not sure what to think of them yet, other than if they needed that drink regularly, they might be worse than her. And she has heroing as an excuse. He doesn’t.

--

Holy shit was not expecting this response.

Thank you all so much, was not expecting this much positive response and i think my brain broke a bit, in the good way.

So, we have a new fan to Marinette's secret menu, and a Damian slowly realizing why the school is targetted who is also going with the 'I don't do friends' thing, again.

leaving this one as a poll: Damian calls out Lila by the end of the day for how Marinette and him end up as friends, or he puts together Marinette is doing a lot for the class by the end of the day and wants to figure out why, especially after reading the Ladyblog during lunch, or any other ideas.

Any ideas on how Marinette meets Dick and Jason for when she meets the next round of Batboys?

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @littleredrobinhoodlum @northernbluetongue @kceedraws @pirats-pizzacanninibles @theatreandcomicfreak @daminett4life @catthhay @weird-pale-blonde-person @amayakans @chocolatecatstheron

[golbrocklovely]

frat boy // colby brock

requested by anonymous: If you’re taking requests can we get a frat boy Colby blurb 🤤

A/N: I love anon asked for a blurb but got a whole fucking story. Idk why I can’t write short request but oh well. I also made a preference list/headcannon about college!Colby which you can see here. ALSO FUN FACT one of the reasons I started watching Sam and Colby is because there was this boy I was into at the time that kinda (but not really) looked like Colby and I started watching them to get him off my mind. But anyway, let me know what you think. I’ll see yall later :)

trigger warning: cursing, mentions of drinking and partying

word count: 1195

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Excuse me... pardon me... get the fuck out of my way!" I yelled, shuffling through the crowd of people blocking the stairs.

Why did I think coming to this party was a good idea?

Right... Stacy.

Stacy was one of the few people I had learn to tolerate at my university. I had met her in my English 101 class. We paired up with each other for a project and have been friends since. That was two years ago. We now live together in a house not too far from Kent Street, or infamously named ‘Fraternity Row’.

Every frat in our university had a house on Kent Street. This was the place to be if you wanted to party Friday-Sunday (or really during any other day too).

I wasn't much of partier, mostly because I didn't like drinking. Stacy was the opposite. And after begging me to go out, I finally caved.

I didn't realize how annoying a frat party was going to be until I showed up here, and instantly regretted coming.

Everything was too loud, too drunk, and too weirdly sticky. Plus, the music kind of sucked. I needed to get away from the party, so I thought maybe I could go hide in the bathroom. The line that formed outside of it said otherwise.

Next place to be: upstairs.

Technically I wasn't supposed to be upstairs unless I was one of the brothers or one of their guests.

Like I gave a shit.

I just needed to get away before my body exploded from my anxiety.

As I got to the top of the stairs, I glanced down the hallway. Multiple doors lined each side. Each had a poster or stickers on the outside. I guess it was to signal whose room was which. When I got to the end of the hallway, I turned a corner. The door that was in front of me was cracked open. I could see inside of it. Curiosity got the best of me as I walked towards it and entered the room.

Multi-colored post-it notes lined the walls, ceiling to floor. A blue hued lamp lighted the room. In the corner was a couch, with a tv across from it. A mirror rested against the wall next to it. Clothes laid all over the floor. A slightly messy desk sat next to an unmade bed.

"Who the fuck lives in this room?" I mumbled to myself.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open. It bounced lightly off the wall with a thud. I jetted my body around to the noise.

"Who are you?"

The guy in front of me was... really hot. He was tall and dressed in all black. His eyes were crazy blue, almost neon in the light. His hair was slightly curly and dark, with blue resting on top.

"Um... um.. I." I cleared my throat.

He rolled his eyes and yelled out down the hallway. "Brennen?! I think one of your girls is in my room!"

I stepped back. "Your girls? What is this, the Handmaiden's Tale?"

"Never mind!" He replied.

We stared at each other for a moment. He hissed, "Is there a reason you're in my room? Who are you anyway?"

"I'm sorry. I came up here to get away from the party." I defended, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Right. So, you're not drunk looking for a bathroom and just stumbled into my room?" He accused me, leaning against his doorway.

I shook my head. "Nope. I'm 100% sober. Do you want me to do the alphabet backwards? Z Y X W-"

He waved his arms. "No. Stop. Don't you know no one is allowed up here?"

"Who was gonna stop me? The guy you called, Brendan or whatever? You know, since apparently I'm one of his girls." I scoffed.

"It's Brennen, first off. And the only reason I thought you were with him is because... he has a lot of girls up here half the time. Usually any girl that comes to this house is only here for him." He shrugged, walking past me and over to his bed.

He continued once he sat down. "Wait a minute, you're sober? At a frat party? Are you a designated driver?"

"No. I just don't like drinking. And I only came up here to hide out." I stated.

"Why?" He asked.

"I get anxiety around people I don't know." I admitted.

"Huh..." He paused, looking me over. His eyes remained soft. "Well, it was lovely talking to you..."

"Y/N." I responded.

"Y/N, but you really gotta go. I have to write a full paper about a play I didn't read, plus deal with the loud ass party happening downstairs." He ranted.

I raised an eyebrow. “A play? What class is that for?”

He sighed. “American Drama. It fills out one of my English credits I have to take to graduate.”

“I didn't peg you as the play type.”

“I'm not. I've never seen or read a play. Besides Romeo and Juliet.”

“What play do you have to write about?” I inquired.

His face scrunched up. “A Streetcar Named Desire. Ever heard of it?”

“By Tennessee Williams. It's literally one of my favorite plays.” I grinned.

He chuckled. “You have a favorite play?”

“I am a theater major.” I admitted.

“Oh... you can major in that?” He questioned.

I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess... business major?”

“Management.” He smirked.

I jeered. “Still a business major. What does the paper have to be about?”

“Literally anything about the play. I need to write it tonight, and I told my brothers we couldn't have a party tonight and yet they still had it. As if for one fucking night we can’t have one.” He grunted.

“Why don’t you just go to the library?” I probed.

“It’s closed. Even though midterms are coming up and they swore they would be open for 24 hours once that started happening…” He groaned.

“You could always come to my place.” I muttered.

He snapped his head towards me. “What?”

“I live around the corner. On Gardner Ave. And… I have a lot of textbooks on theater, and A Street Car Named Desire on DVD.” A soft smile came to my lips.

His eyes widen slightly. “Wait, it’s a movie?”

I stared at him. “Have you done… like any research?”

As he was about to respond, a loud noise came from downstairs, causing everyone to start cheering and yelling.

He stared at his ceiling for a moment, annoyed. “That’s Jake… body slamming into our beer pong table… again.”

“You know that sound by heart?” I joked.

“You’d be surprised.” He smiled.

I slowly backed up towards the door. “Well, if you’re okay with staying here and trying to work on that paper by yourself… I’ll be on my wa-”

“Y/N,” He cut me off. “Can I… come over to your place? Maybe crash there even? Since God knows when this party will be over.”

“Sure. But one thing. What’s your name?” I asked as he stood up.

He bit his lip softly, sticking his hand out. “Colby.”

I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Colby.”

[sosthemortalcoil]

KoFi Request: Learning ASL with Zaria (m!Gabriel)

Anon requested a 2k fic of m!Gabriel learning ASL from Zaria after failing on his own

m!Gabriel trying to learn ASL from Zaria

Gabriel is a goof, and tends to get bored

Says he could focus if it’s her

Total word count: 2,308. Sfw floof with a guest appearance by Rolo the Komondor. If the anon who requested this would like a pdf copy, drop a note! Otherwise, hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You’d been somewhat prepared for the interior of Zaria’s house. Compared to the stainless steel and monotonous white of autopsy, her office was a refuge of color and designs in the form of artworks from around the world. No family photos, which you’d asked about once and she’d ignored. The question had been too personal, too prying at the time.

But you’ve gotten to know her better now. It wasn’t the easiest of ventures, as her brusque manner at work discourages people from lingering around her. Which was the point, you had come to realize. When she was at work, she wanted to focus on work. People were not a welcome distraction. 

Outside of work, though, she relaxed. One of your bonding nights, as Alice called them, you’d finally asked her about teaching you ASL. Despite your efforts to learn on your own, your comprehension was abysmal. You’d get through a few videos, a couple of practice sessions, and then get distracted. A few days later and you’d forgotten most of what you’d learned and confused the rest of them.

Learning from Zaria, though, you feel like it’d stick better. There is nothing remotely boring about her, and the way she signs with elegant, assured gestures always holds your attention. You’d even noticed that when she’s telling a joke, her gestures get smaller, making her audience get closer or miss the punchline. Well, you missed the punchline unless she spoke along with it or someone else explained, but judging from the laughter of your coworkers, her jokes were something.

The first time you’d asked she’d told you, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t a teacher and that she had better uses for her time.

By the fourth time, you’d gotten ahold of one of her favorite wines—an expense Sabriel need never find out about—and she’d finally agreed.

So here you are, about to have your first sign language lesson with Zaria.

If you don’t perish under the mountain of muscle and cords that comes running at you first. It looks like a giant mop on four legs led by a black nose, and it’s moving at a clip that has you bracing for impact.

Zaria whistles, and the dog stops. Using a series of clicks she has the dog sitting, a large pink tongue lolling from its muzzle. Underneath all the hair, you make out to dark eyes staring at you.

“Rolo needs to meet strangers. Let him sniff you,” she says, hanging up her coat, slipping off her heels, and depositing her purse on the table.

You hold out your hand and Rolo sniffs it. Before you can pull your hand back, he lunges forward and slathers your arm in dog slobber.

“He likes you.” Zaria’s grabbed two wine glasses from what you guess is a wine cellar judging by the panels in the door—grape vines galore—and beckons for you to follow with the bottle.

You shake your arm out before stepping after her. It’s good that Rolo likes you as you’d like to make this a repeat event, but you do wish your arm didn’t feel so uncomfortably sticky now.

The two of you sit at a massive dining room table. It’s kind of sad, you think. Zaria has a literal mansion, seating for huge groups of people, entertainment areas, and yet you get the impression that apart from the occasional cleaning or yard service this place doesn’t get to see much life. And for someone who works with death day-in and day-out, it seems near tragic. At least she has her oversized mop, who followed you into the room and curled up at his mistress’ feet.

“First,” she holds up a finger as she pours out two glasses, sliding one your way. “Fingerspelling.” No niceties, no chit-chat, straight to the point. Though, hopefully, if you become fluent enough, she’ll start talking more with you. If she doesn’t, then it’s definitely you. 

She forms a fist and from there flashes through what you realize is the rest of the alphabet for English. You recognize a few of them, but by and large it goes over your head.

“If you can fingerspell, competently, then even if you don’t know the sign you can communicate.” There’s a tightness to her lips you don’t like, a self-consciousness you’ve noticed whenever she has to speak to someone.

“I know that this is a,” you say, forming a fist.

“No,” she signs. That one you know. The sharp snap of her middle finger and forefinger against her thumb is one you’ve seen directed at you more than a few times. It’s not your fault you have a curious nature and she doesn’t like it when people poke around her work area. How else are you supposed to understand what all the fascinating tools they have for examining human bodies are? Turn on one little bone-saw by accident and you’re never allowed in autopsy without supervision again.

“That’s s. Thumb over the finger is s. Thumb next to the fingers is a.” Okay, so making a proper fist is the sign for s, not a. You’ll have to remember that. She frowns, tapping a finger against the stem of her glass.

“ASL is not a literal translation of English.” You lean forward in your chair. The Babylon matrix only works on spoken and written languages; signs are up to you to learn on your own. This is different than trying to memorize all twenty-six letters though. This is something relevant.

“Okay, what does that mean?”

Her gaze on you makes you feel warm, though you know, rationally, she’s reading your lips not admiring you.

“English: What is your name. ASL: What your name.” She moves her hand over her face in a circle. “Facial expression is important.”

“So, if I wanted to ask what’s happening here—”

“I’m teaching. You’re learning.”

You grin. “So you can teach.”

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t rise to the bait. “Let’s try something other than finger-spelling. What.” She holds her hands out, palm up, and moves them in towards each other and then bounces them away.

“What,” you repeat, and mirror her movements. Her smile affirms that you’ve done it right.

“Your,” she says, and holds out her right hand towards you. “Dominant hand does the most movement,” she adds.

You mirror her, almost touching her hand. The speed with which she pulls back her hand to show you the next sign isn’t out of excitement from showing you how to sign, judging from the faint blush on her cheeks. You can’t help a pleased smile of your own. Sometimes with her no-nonsense demeanor you’re sure your goofball personality is an annoyance to her, but it doesn’t seem like that’s such a terrible thing.

“Name.” She brings up both hands, index and middle finger out while the rest are curled. She taps the fingers of her right hand twice against the fingers of her left hand.

“What your name,” you sign, putting them all together without prompting.

Instead of responding aloud, she forms her hand into a fist, index finger out. Z, you realize, as she traces the letter in the air. Then a fist, thumb tucked on the side. A. Her name. She’s spelling her name. At first you think the next one is x, the twisted index and middle fingers looking more like an x than an r to you, but as it’s her name she’s spelling it has to be r. I is one you recall perfectly because of how it resembles the written letter, pinky up in the air while the rest of the hand remains closed. Lastly another a. With the thumb on the side of the fist, you remind yourself.

You raise your hand out towards her, then bring it back to sign name, and then, slowly and with less confidence than she had, you move your fingers through the same steps she did. It’s important to you to get this right. Normally you would turn any mistakes into a joke, but you’ve only started your session and you know Zaria values the ability to get things right the first time.

“Congratulations. You can spell my name,” she states dryly before taking a sip of her wine. The glass doesn’t hide the curve at the corner of her mouth, and you know that she’s pleased with your retention of the signs so far. Or the wine, you suppose, as her eyes close, pure delight etched on her features. Well, if your only competition is a decade old wine, there’s hope for you yet.

“See? This isn’t boring.” You wait until her eyes open, the brilliant violet of her natural eye color locking on you.

“I’m not doing anything different than what you could find on the internet.” Her shoulders draw up and it occurs to you that part of her reluctance may have been less about wanting to teach you and more about worrying that she wouldn’t make a good teacher. It should have crossed your mind earlier. Zaria is a bit of a perfectionist and any failings of yours as a student she would consider any failings to be hers.

Well, no pressure there. On the other hand, maybe you can help her loosen those expectations of her. Heaven knows you’re going to try, but it’s not easy to remember everything in this mortal shell. Something about limited memory and how humans were designed more for forgetting than remembering. Not that you’d ever been a model student, but the classes in Heaven were boring.

They were nothing like learning one-on-one with Zaria. In an attempt to impress her, you start to sign.

“Yes, you…” You pause. The little nod with your hand and the hand towards her were easy, but you don’t know if there’s a sign for are.

Abruptly her lips twitch up. “Your and you are not the same sign,” she says, amused.

Oh.

“You,” she points at you with an index finger. “Your.” Her entire hand moves towards you, flat. Well, mistake one earned you a smile so it’s alright in your book.

“What,” you sign the question, “is want?” You have to speak the latter half of the question, but it’s a start. This time she seems amenable to deviating from whatever lesson plan she had come up with.

Zaria holds both hands flat, palms up, towards you—and then curls her hands and pulls them towards her.

The gesture itself speaks to you, or maybe it’s the way she performs it, as if grasping onto an intangible need and pulling it to her.

“Flip your hands over and flick for don’t want. Or—” she raises her hands to her collarbones and acts like she’s brushing something off her shoulders. It’s a sign you’re glad has never been directed at you. It looks so dismissive, the twist of her lips and the wrinkle of her nose making the meaning clear even without the hand gesture.

You wet your lips. 

You hold up your hands, flat and palms up, then pull them towards your body, curling your fingers as you do. A grin splits your face.

“Don’t.”

“I mean, some of these signs are very—”

She lifts her glass of wine and turns her cheek to you, rendering any conversation one-sided.

“Oh, come on!”

She raises a single finger in a sign you don’t need translated.            

 So, you start flapping your hand at her to get her attention. Her violet eyes dart to the motion and then away. Not so fast, you think, and lean across the table.            

One of the few signs you learned on your own was sorry. It was a phrase you’d had to use more than a few times, though how often you were genuinely sorry for your actions versus upsetting Zaria is debatable. You form an a, thumb tucked to the side, raise it your chest and make a circle with your hand.  

“It doesn’t work with that grin on your face,” Zaria mutters, shifting to face you again.            

You repeat the gesture, sticking your lower lip out and attempting to make your eyes go big and sorrowful.            

She pinches the bridge of her nose. Then her hand moves to her forehead, her middle finger bouncing before she moves it down to point to her chest.            

“Why me?” you hazard a guess.           

In return, she gives you a polite golf clap and a smile that radiates sarcasm.

“I love you too,” you sign. That one had been easy to pick up, Alice’s trademark goodbye parting. It was also the reason you remembered the text message abbreviation. The shape of the letter y combined with the letter l, meaning your middle and ring finger are down while your index and pinkie are up and your thumb out. 

Zaria points to her chest, crosses her arms with fists closed over her chest, and points to her wineglass.

“One day,” you vow.

Zaria purses her lips and shakes her head in mock disappointment. “If you don’t sign it,” she says, her hands accompanying her words in a series of motions that you’re not yet able to comprehend, “I’m going to ignore you.”

“But you’re supposed to be teaching me!”

“One day,” she mouths, left arm parallel to the table and right arm starting perpendicular, a single finger up and moving down to lay down across her left arm.

“One day,” you repeat, rising to the challenge. It might take a while for fluency, but at least you won’t be bored while learning. And if the amount of wine left in her glass is anything to go by, Zaria isn’t nearly so annoyed as she would like you to think. That works fine for you. A bit of playful groveling is worth seeing her smile. 

[asarahworld-writes]

Merry Christmas @vicapuleti​ !  I, @asarahworld, was your Zombies Secret Santa.  You mentioned a love of Zeddison, Zoey, fluff and angst, and AUs.  Well, it’s not quite an AU, but it is future fic where they’ve gone off to college.  We’ve got Zed.  We’ve got Addison.  Zoey makes an appearance. And without further ado...

Chapter 1

It had been six months since Zed had gone off to the state university on a football scholarship, six months since Addison had been accepted at her parents’ alma mater, and four months and thirteen days since the last time they had seen each other if you didn’t count the five minutes after the game two months ago.  The daily phone calls had slowed down to weekly; text messages became a quick thing to fire off between classes.

Addison was ploughing through a slough of research for her Writing Studies essay on “Classic Literature As Viewed Through a Modern Lens” when her phone buzzed.  Automatically, she reached for it and immediately flipped it over upon seeing that it wasn’t the cheer squad’s captain, Juliette Viconte.  (Unlike Seabrook High, the university squad had only one captain.)  She stared at the screen of her laptop, thinking.  She had just finished writing a decent-sized paragraph on Romeo and Juliet, exploring how if the leads hadn’t been so quick to act that the play would not have been the tragedy and leading into a comparison between the original storyline and modern adaptations. Star-crossed lovers destined to be apart.  Ultimately, every version of the play needed to end tragically, otherwise the message Shakespeare had intended behind the story was lost in the happy ending.

She stared at the screen of her laptop, thinking.  That was definitely the line of reasoning her professor would be looking for.  And yet she couldn’t help but see herself and Zed in the characters.  Two young people from feuding families (societies) fall in love. A relationship built on stolen moments. The relative innocence of one character balancing out the harsh reality lived by the other.  Theoretically, modern technology provided ease of communication that could have saved Romeo and Juliet from tragedy.  And yet, it was clear that just because one had the ability to communicate directly, that wasn’t necessarily going to happen.

She grabbed a pen and started re-working her notes.  Maybe this essay wouldn’t follow the professor’s expectations.  But Addison had her own ideas.

Her phone buzzed again.  Addison, in the middle of frantic scribbles, fumbling, turned it off.

“Hey, this is Addison-”

“Hey, it’s me,” Zed said cheerfully.  It was so nice to finally hear her voice.

“-so leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”  The accompanying beep following the end of the recorded message startled Zed, and he realized that he had reached her voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me,” he started over.  “I know it’s getting old, but the captain’s scheduled another practice and of course it’s happening Saturday morning.  Abraza garzi’ska, ag gar-gargiza ru,” he said softly, reverting back to Zombietongue.  Zed smiled gently as the memory of when they had officially decided to only use Zombietongue for endearments.  As horrible as that fight had been (not that it could even be considered to be a fight as they had resolved their issue without any drama), they were so much stronger for it.

“This relationship is with you, too, Zed,” Addison had said angrily.  “I want you to be able to be completely yourself.  And that includes being able to speak Zombietongue around me.  Excuse me for thinking that that was a reasonable request.”

That hadn’t been it at all.  But despite his best efforts, Zed had failed to properly explain what exactly he felt about his girlfriend’s wish to become fluent in his native language.  Zed hadn’t even been certain that he himself knew why he was against the idea.

All that he knew was that Addison now sat by herself at the front of the classroom during Revised Local History, cheerleading practice was after football practice, and that the cheerleaders once again had their own table in the cafeteria.

“Zed, you’re overthinking this,” she’d told him when he’d finally confessed his fear. “History’s hard enough as it is without having you right beside me.  You realize that you have gym the period before, right?  So either you walk in and your hair’s still wet and there’s water rolling down your neck from your hair or else gym ran late and you didn’t even have time to change, let alone shower, and you,” she laughed nervously, “to be honest, you always smell amazing but especially then.  I need to pass history.  Surely you can get by without me for one extra hour,” she’d said, giggling.

“When you put it like that, how can I say no?”

“That’s what I love about you.  Always willing to listen,” Addison had said with a smile.  “As for cheer, well, during your practice, we’re up in the weight room. It takes a lot of work to be able to do this stuff.”  Addison had been counting her rebuttals off on her fingers.  “And as for lunch, some of the new kids seemed like they needed a friend.  And the cheer squad is a family.  We’ve gotta be there for each other.”

“Abraza garzi’ska… ag gar-gargiza ru,” Zed had said tenderly, threading his fingers through Addison’s.

“Gar-gargiza…,” Addison’s smile had grown softer.  “Ag gar-gargiza ru,” she’d repeated.  “I love you.”  Suddenly, her gentle smile had turned into an excited grin.  “Does this mean I get to learn more Zombietongue?”  Zed had only laughed, repeating his declaration of love softly in her ear.

Writing annotated notes for her essay had taken her far longer than she’d anticipated and when Addison finally checked her phone, she was startled to see that it was nearly two a.m.  She stumbled across the room to her bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Addison had learned during her first semester why you didn’t take an eight a.m. course unless there was no other choice.  However, being an underclassman came with certain disadvantages. Being one of the last to choose courses was one of those disadvantages and with that came fewer course options. Taking English was mandatory for all students and Addison hadn’t had any other options to fill that credit without waiting another semester.  So she begrudgingly took the Writing Studies course, wondering why she hadn’t looked for one during her first semester despite her parents’ insistence that she take it easy her first semester.

When the alarm went off at six, Addison immediately hit the snooze button.  Once. Twice.  Three times the alarm was silenced and Addison lay in bed.  The phone rang.

“Addison, where are you?  Class is starting in five minutes and you know that Professor Jackson docks points if you’re late!”  Bree’s hushed panic broke Addison’s sleepy haze.  She leapt from her bed, quickly changing into the nearest clothes that weren’t pajamas, and swept everything off her desk into her bag.  She sprinted to the classroom, from the D building up to A, and up the flight of stairs to the second floor, barely making it in the back door as the prof began class.  Luckily, she’d grabbed a notebook and pen in her rush, and was able to at least take notes.

The rest of the day passed in a similar haze.  Everything was a mess, but salvageable.  After her three-hour English lecture, Addison had another three-hour lecture (this time for Anthropology), followed by a short dinner break and cheer practice; practice ran much later than usual as the neurotic captain was more obsessed with perfection than Bucky had been at his most neurotic.  Just like that, the day was over and Addison flopped into bed, exhausted.

Sleep, shower, repeat.

Wednesdays she worked part-time in a café down the street from the main campus.  Though the pay was negligible, the hours were steady and gave her a reprieve from the stress of being a student.  Seven a.m. to three p.m., then she was back to cheer practice and homework.  Thursday was spent organizing her English notes and drafting her essay, Friday was another eight hour shift at the café and studying for her Anthropology midterm.  The weekend only provided more of the same.  When Monday came, her first draft was finished and Addison treated herself to a relaxing bubble bath.  To her surprise, it was only six o’clock.

The phone rang.

“Hey, sweetie,” it was her mother.  “How’s school?  You didn’t call us yesterday, is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” she lied.  “I mean, I guess I’m just stressed with midterms and my essay.”  I haven’t spoken to Zed in a month.  There’s only so much you can communicate in a text and I only get to see him during the games.  Missy continued to press her daughter and Addison continued to say what she wanted to hear.  When her mother ended the call, Addison sat staring at the phone.

The phone rang.  And rang. And rang.  No answer.

The phone rang.

“Zoey!”  Zed couldn’t help smiling as he answered the phone.

“Hey,” his little sister replied enthusiastically.  “Did Addison tell you she enlisted Miss Zàrate to work with the Zombeans while you guys are at college?”

Zed nodded in remembrance.  “Yeah, said that someone had to make sure you rascals kept up with practice,” he joked.

“Is she there?”  Zoey asked. An innocent enough question, but one that tugged his dead heartstrings anyway.

“Uh, no.  It’s the end of the semester, everyone’s pretty busy with final projects and exams. How’s your schooling going?”  Zed changed the subject.  He didn’t want to talk about how the past few weeks had been hard, how they hadn’t even talked on the phone, much less seen each other. Zoey happily told him about Zombeans and her experiences at her new school. She talked about their Dad and Puppy, about the changes to Zombietown (the rusty gates had finally been removed, there was a bus that took the kids into the human part of town for school and a regular city bus connecting the neighbourhoods “we get to take the regular school bus with the humans to the bus stop,” she’d explained solemnly), and everything else that was important to an eleven-year-old girl.

“When are you guys coming back to Seabrook?”

Zed sighed.  “I don’t know, Zozo.  Probably pretty quickly after the semester’s over.  Five weeks maybe.”  He could practically hear her pouting over the phone.  “I miss you and Pops and Puppy,” he said.  And Addison.

“We miss you too,” Zoey assured him.  There was a brief pause while she said something to their dad. “Dad says I should let you get back to school stuff.  And he wants to go over my homework.  I told him it’s fine, but…”

“Math?”  At his sister’s hum, Zed continued: “you just gotta keep checking.  Try to memorize the uses of each formula and always check your work.  At the end of the day, all that matters is that you pass.”

“Thanks, Zed.”

“Hey, isn’t it just about bedtime?”  He could practically hear her rolling her eyes.  Laughing gently, he told her good night and hung up the phone.

MISSED CALL. ADDI.  Read the call display.  Zed cursed, a mix of English and Zombietongue, and hit the speed dial.

The phone rang.  And rang. And rang.  He cancelled the call, not wanting to hear her voicemail again. Instead, he sent a few messages. Fifteen minutes and a response later, he texted Addison.

U R FREE SAT! PICK U UP @ DORM @ 430.  SEE U GORGEOUS.

He added a green heart emoji at the end of the message, slowly smiling.

When he woke up the next morning, there was a new message from Addison:

YOU MEAN LIKE A DATE? followed by a single pink heart.

It was Tuesday.  He had three days to plan the perfect reunion date.

 Zombietongue and translations all taken from Ly’s amazing masterposts. @unusual-ly

Zombeans belongs to Sarah @fist-it-out

Abraza garzi’ska, ag gar-gargiza ru.  |  Sorry garzi’ska, I love you.

[elfenbensord]

our last summer // remus lupin

14-20.2.-20.3.19

request: Hii, could you do something for Remus where the reader is a polyglot and is always saying something in the languages she knows ( maybe Spanish & Portuguese) and he finds it cute and she teaches him somethings ? Just a whole lot of fluff - anon

note: this took quite a turn. it’s about to be a long one, almost 4 k words. named and ish inspired by the abba song ‘our last summer’. also slightly unedited.

masterlist / make a request! / ask me (almost) anything!

---

the morning was early and remus was late. his hands clasped onto a coffee much darker than his soul, as he pressed his macbook against his torso with his arm. the sun peeked at him from below the earth’s ladened sheets. remus’ eyes weren’t used to the sharp lines of reality, and he blinked furiously to force away the tears which had formed in the corners of his sight. he urged his long legs to move faster, as his mind screaming in fear of being late. he almost laughed as he thought of how optimistic he had been when he signed up for this morning lecture. art history. what a useless course. he’d only picked it to make his diploma look more interesting. now his legs hurt from running as the sun stung his eyes.

“hey!” someone shouted. at first he didn’t react at the sound, too concentrated on the fact that the lecture building was nowhere to be seen. the shouts continued, “hey!”

remus looked around. there was no one else there, so the ‘hey’ must be meant for him. as he squinted his eyes, he could see another figure racing down the same path as him. remus brought a hand to shield his eyes, “hello?”

“good morning, bom dia!”

remus squinted. “‘morning.”

she noticed his gruffy complexion and the coffee in his hand, “alright then,maybe not so good.”

he laughed, “perhaps not.”

“but it could be”, she smiled brightly, unmistakably a morning person.

“i guess.” they fell into a slower walking pace, like there was nothing to hurry for.

“are you also heading to…”, she shuffled with multiple papers, trying to find her time table. “mierda...”, then she found it, “building g-6? professor binns’ art history?”

“in fact, i am.” remus didn’t know whether or not it was a good thing. it was far too early for him to be adequate in any social situation. so he handed her a small smile.

“great, me too! want to walk together?”

“we already are.”

she laughed a sunset in the early morning rays. a quick glance on the watch tied around her wrist, “carajo!”

“hmm, what’s that?” remus frowned at yet another unknown word.

“what?” she tried to speed up her steps, but everytime she spoke, she stopped moving. her head turned towards him, the sun reflected in her eyes.

“uuh, kar… karago, or whatever you said.”

she laughed again, this time at him. but her eyes were full of kindness, so it didn’t bother him too much.

“carajo?”

“yeah, carago.”

“no, carajo.”

however remus tried to bend his tongue around the word, he could feel how his face turned a deep red in a bouquet of scarlet colours.

she only smiled. “the second a is longer than the first. and the ‘j’ is more like an ‘h’, but in the back of your throat.”

remus gathered his courage, “carajo?”

she laughed again. there was a mischievous glint in her eye. “you just said ‘fuck’ in spanish.”

his face was once again occupied by a rose garden.

“i’m (y/n)”, she offered her hand.

“remus.”

they fell into a walking pace together once again. building g-6 was long forgotten, as the sun erased their memory of everything but each other.

“what’s your major?”

“history. yours?”

“linguistics.”

of course.

“why’re you in an art history course then?”

“what if the paintings talk and i need to translate them for you?” that gleam in her eye again. the sun was behind them, the light reflecting was her soul.

he smiled. he’d only known her for half an hour, but something in everything she did made him smile in an almost blushing manner.

“well, unless we both get kicked out from the class. we’re awfully late.”

he caught up with the sun in her eyes. a smirk was slowly being born in the corners of his lips. “race you there.”

they shared a sun and a smile, before racing off into the brand new day.

there were no seats free next to each other, so they had to split up with a single glance as goodbye. the class was spent finding each other’s eye across the lecture hall, finding smiles in every glance.

---

“you only got her name?”

“and her major.”

“and what’s that?”

“linguistics.”

sirius laughed, his barks frightening a shy squirrel which’d taken its chance to climb down one of the trees in the campus park. “alright, but what more do you need?” “i don’t know, her phone number, perhaps?”

“odds are that we live on the same campus as her, it shouldn’t be too hard to track her down-”

“i don’t want to ‘track’ anyone down, i’d just like to know more about her than her name and her major.”

“why’d you need more?”

“it’s not respectable otherwise.”

“‘respectable’? who cares about ‘respectable’?”

“i don’t know. maybe she does.”

“but you’ve got that painting class-”

“-art history-”

“yeah, well when’s your next class?”

“next week, monday morning.”

“then just ask her out at the end of the lecture. or during, some people like that.”

“i’m not gonna-”

a new voice entered their conversation. “remus, hi!”

(y/n). majors in linguistics.

sirius handed his friend a quick glance and a smile. this is your chance.

she shuffled to get something out of her bookbag. “i- i forgot this give this to you when we met-”

she handed him a pamphlet. the words ‘togetherness evening’ were written in bold letters across the top.

“me and a couple of other linguistics students, we’re arranging this sort of… umm… get-together, for, well, pretty much anyone, and i thought… it’d be nice if you came.”

she turned to sirius, “you too, of course. if you want to.”

remus held the a5 pamphlet in his hands, but couldn’t find anything to say.

sirius snatched in out of his hands. “this looks legit, who did the design?”

“alfons - he’s in latin with me - well, his boyfriend majors in graphic design, and we were running a bit out of time, so…”

“looks good.” remus piped in.

“it’s this saturday. there’ll be a bunch of foreign food, and some games, and…” her meaning disappeared in the middle of the sentence.

sirius saved his friend, “sounds fun. we’ll definitely be there.”

she smiled like the sun, “good. then i’ll see you.”

and she turned to remus, but didn’t say anything. she smiled, like a secret.

“yeah. bye.” remus did his best to answer her happiness.

his face turned red as he felt how his hands were damp with sweat.

carajo.

---

“i’m not going.” remus changed his mind for the twelfth time that night. he sat in one of the second hand armchairs he and sirius had managed to get for half of the already halved price. he plucked on a loose thread from the time-worn edge of the armrests.

“okay. don’t go then.” sirius leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed as he looked at his friend and his dilemma.

“or maybe i should…” mind changed again.

“just so you know”, sirius shuffled with the few contents of the almost empty cupboards, “i’m busy saturday night. so i won’t be there to push you into her arms.”

“her? who on earth do you mean?” remus pretended for just a moment. “but where are you going on saturday?”

“we need to buy milk.” sirius reached for a piece of paper and a pen, to write a reminder for milk. “and i’ve got a date on saturday.”

“date?”

“why so surprised?”

“i didn’t know you dated. i thought you just went to different parties and improvised.”

“well, my date is the result of a well-improvised party night.”

remus couldn’t find an answer to this. “buy some toast while you’re at it.”

“i’m not doing the shopping.”

“you said we needed milk.”

“yeah, but i’ve done the shopping the last month.”

“what? no, you haven’t.”

“yes, i have. you’ve been too busy brooding over her to notice.”

deep pink peonies bloomed on remus’ cheeks.

“gotcha.” sirius only smiled, then returned to the shopping list. “with or without grains?”

“what?” remus was too busy brooding to understand what his friend wanted.

“toast.”

“get one with whole grain.”

“okay.”

quiet held their shared flat hostage for a few seconds.

“so, what will you do?” sirius abandoned the shopping list.

“with the bread? probably french toast.”

“are you going or not?”

remus leaned back into the armchair, his mind in deep thought. “i don’t know.”

“flip a coin.”

“i’m broke.”

“what’ve you got to lose?”

“nothing. i’m broke, i told you.”

“stop it with your nonsense.”

“‘nonsense’. that’s a word you don’t hear everyday.” remus mumbled, clearly distracted.

“you’re being ridiculous. if you don’t want to go, then don’t go.”

“nonsense. i’m leaving now.”

“see you later. or not, if you’re lucky.”

“shut up.”

---

remus was stood by the snacks table. the hummus was especially tasty. he’d know, since he’d had an hour to consider it. the tzatziki was good too.

the room was smaller than anyone had expected. it was simply the common room of the dorm building where most of the language students lived. there were no more than twenty people there, counting the students who arranged it and a few teachers who showed up to supervise the party, but later joined it. it was no party in that typical dancing way - sure, a few people had moved the tables and armchairs to have more space in the middle to dance. they altered between waltz and disco as music in strange languages filled the room. the rest of the attendants stood along the walls, conversing in anything but english. a feeling had been creeping up through remus’ spine all night - something like exclusion. no one had been impolite, but he simple felt out of place. he knew english and barely a few words in french, but that was it.

(y/n) was nowhere to be seen. the night wasn’t but late yet, but he was already considering going back to the empty flat. he was sure there was half a bar of dark chocolate in the back of the kitchen cupboards - and hadn’t he hinted a bottle of red wine somewhere in the fridge? he could resign to reading a well known classic - orwell perhaps, or why not tolstoj? - again and again. seemed like quite an exciting evening, compared to this.

why did i come here?

he finally made his mind up, and tried to search for the smoothest way to the exit door. as he was about to leave, a familiar professor caught sight of him.

“lupin!”

“professor binns…” his eyes lost sight of the door.

“what’s the reason for you being late-”

the door opened.

(y/n).

as she brushed her hair out of her face, she said, “sorry, sorry, i’m late. there’s quite a wind storm outside, it’s medonho. but i brought the cider!” the room erupted in a few cheers.

remus’ heart stopped time for just a second. he turned to professor binns, who was still talking to him. “sorry, professor, but i’m afraid have to go.”

“-just don’t make it a habit-”

“i won’t, i won’t…”

he reached her. “hello.”

“hola, bonjour, hello.” she smiled him a sunset.

suddenly, he was puzzled by why he would ever want to leave early. they spent the night talking, she never left his side. she introduced him to her friends, and he didn’t feel odd or out of place at all by her side. alfons and his boyfriend, aamir, were both brilliant at waltz, but not with each other. james and lily, two art students, had found their way into the language quarters once, and after that naturally been a part of their group. they were constantly half-fighting, half-flirting throughout the evening. lucah, whose only passion was knitting and drinking, and chí, who could only say ‘hello, this is my pet crocodile’ in latin, were both stuck in a game of scrabble against each other during the entire night. other students also joined in, and suggested different words in other languages which may fit on the playing board.

remus and (y/n) found themselves cramped together on a single arm chair. the words spoken to one another were soft and not to be shared with anyone else. flowers grew constantly on his face. it was too dark for him to see if she too harboured an entire garden on her cheeks.

“where are you really from?”

she smiled at him, a little tired from the long night. “a little bit of everywhere.”

her head rested against his shoulder. “how about you?”

“well, i’m from a little place called painswick.”

(y/n) begun to close her eyes. she mumbled into his ear, “tell me more about painswick.”

remus took a chance and took her hand. “painswick has got the striking number of 3026 residents. well, 3025 now, since i don’t live there anymore. and it’s mentioned in the doomsday book back in 1086, thought not under the name of painswick.”

“you really major in history, don’t you?”

“yep.”

they listened to the game of scrabble, where teachers had now joined to increase the stakes. the evening was drawing late, people were expected to leave soon. remus didn’t want to go.

“i’m really glad you came.”

“me too.”

“i’m sorry i was late.”

“if you hadn’t been late this monday, we wouldn’t have met.”

she laughed in every language. “then i’ll be sure to be late to everything in the future.”

“yeah. me too.”

---

remus’ and (y/n)’s first year together was spent in libraries, between long breaks and in their few free days. their phone bills were far too expensive for any uni student, and their phones were filled with texts and smileys. “good morning”, “good night”, “look at this dog”, and heart-eyes. their one class together - art history - was far too short to fill their longing, their need, to spend every second together. professor binns would’ve failed them long ago, if their essays weren’t so very good. remus’ flat quickly became filled with polaroids of them, of him, of mostly her.

her flatmate, nina, had gone out somewhere. they were alone - anything could happen.

“j’ai, tu as, il a, elle a, on a…”

“on a...?” she watched him, a tricky smile playing on her lips.

he threw his hands into the dust-filled air. “i’ll never learn this. why did i sign up for french?”

“because it’s a beautiful language.” she had her answers always prepared. at the same time, she sighed. “i still haven’t finished my essay on napoleon. why did i sign up for history?”

“because”, remus leaned forward, to almost touch his nose to hers. “it’s a fascinating subject.”

they both knew the real answer to these two questions. the real answer was each other. the answer will always be each other.

after a minute or so of mindless staring into each other’s eyes, at the same time knowing but also wondering what’s on the other’s mind, remus started to blush. he drew away, missing the disappointment in her eyes.

“uuh, we should finish this.”

“d’accord, mon cher.”

“hmm, what’s that?”

she smiled at him again, this time with cheeks matching her pale red lipstick. “wouldn’t you want to know?”

“oi, don’t get clever in french. or else i won’t help you with napoleon.”

“whatever you say, my dear.”

his eyes caught hers at the last syllable. her smile only widened.

---

summer arrived far too quickly. their grades were delivered, their classes ended, as warm summer air filled their lungs. for the first time in months, the students could breathe. they gathered in james’ flat, which had the luxury of a balcony, and large glass windows. they were all there - remus and sirius, james and lily, alfons and amiir, lucah and chí, as well as a few at the moment unfamiliar faces, and (y/n). drinks were prepared and spiked, snacks were quickly eaten to calm the hunger they all carried inside. lily and james had finally decided to see their fighting and bickering as a sign of true love, and had dated for the majority of the year. lucah had found herself a girlfriend from the art blocks, helga, earning many jealous looks from chí after she’d gotten a few drinks. alfons were desperately trying to finish his final project, but was equally distracted by amiir’s skin tight shirt. sirius fit right into the odd group, and took every opportunity to flirt with whoever was single and willing to chat.

remus and (y/n) saw no one but each other. they found their way out on that balcony, too small for them both, but they pressed together to fit anyway.

the tickets sitting in the pocket of remus’ tweed jacket felt heavier than his heart, his love. he knew she would love his gift, but nervousness still raked his lungs and insides. the low-cut summer dress she wore was something he’d never seen her in, and he knew he liked it too much. too much to be respectable.

“you look… you look lovely.” was that too much? too much of his heart exposed, too much of his wish to never leave her side uncovered.

she only smiled. “merci beaucoup.”

her fingers trailed the arm of his jacket. “you don’t look too shabby yourself. i see you’ve shaved for the occasion.” her right index followed the line of his jaw, making his face grow roses once again. his breathing quickened just a little as her figure leaned closer. her eyes almost closed, and he was about to forget about everything in the universe but her. and then she pulled away, slowly. soon she was miles away, leaning on the bar of the balcony.

“this has been a really good year.”

he stood beside her, trying to admire the view of the university campus like she did. “yeah. c’était formidable, fantastique!”

her eyes were stuck on his hand, lying awfully close to hers. she considered closing that distance, but her second thoughts stopped her last minute. her hand itched to feel his skin, his love.

remus reached into his pocket, fiddling with the tickets. their edges were already bended and folded, his anxieties having poured into the two pieces of paper.

“what’ve you got there?” she eyed his bluff.

he tried to brush it off, smoother than marble. “what have i got… where?”

she leaned closer to whisper into his ear, “what have you got in your pocket?”

shivers ran down his back on this warm summer day, he lost his words.

“you’re not making this easy for me, (y/n)”, he whispered in turn. what he didn’t know was that his words made shivers run down her body as well.

in a moment of pretended courage, he pulled the tickets out. they looked old and faded, but were only brand new a week ago or so.

she turned silent for just a moment, and remus had no idea how he should interpret her rare lack of words.

two tickets, each with paris as end destination.

“i was hoping you would come with me. your french is much better than mine, anyway.”

she laughed, “of course.”

“hmh”, his arms leaned on the railing of the balcony, his eyes searched hers for any kind of reaction, big or small.

soon, her face broke into a smile.

“mierda, is this real?” she leaned closer, and he almost dared to think she was going to kiss him. “you are too good, remus.”

the sun began to set in the distance. his hair became darker in the shadows, the sun beams avoiding him until she couldn’t see him. she was afraid to lose him in the dark, so she reached out a hand to see if he was still there. he was. he always was, and she hoped he always would be.

“like i said, remus”, her lips touched his cheek. “you are too good.”

---

the paper in her hand was scribbled full of names in her incomprehensible handwriting. it was the name of every café by the camps elysée. her mind was set on visiting them all, though her wallet might interfere with her plans. her summer dress floated in the breeze, her hair was pulled free by the wind. remus had forgotten his sunglasses at the hotel, his hand was preoccupied with shielding off the sun from his sight.

“stop that”, she demanded, as she walked beside him.

“stop what?”

“place your hands by your sides.”

he did as he was told, letting his hands fall free to reach down to the middle of his thighs. “why?”

“because then i can quite naturally find my hand in yours.”

her fingers pulled at his a little, before fully intertwining. the summer air was soft and warm around them, engulfing them in light.

as they walked down the gravelled path, lined with perfectly cut trees, he felt he could talk about everything. he talked of history, philosophy and art. napoleon and waterloo; nietzsche and wilde; da vinci and van gogh. and she smiled like mona lisa, teasing his hands with each touch.

soon, they found a café which wouldn’t rob their wallets of every last franc. here, (y/n) let go of remus’ hand. he suddenly felt nervous, a fumbling boy in a foreign country.

“here comes your final test - order a coffee in french!”

he could feel the ants of anxiety crawling into his hands, making them cold and damp with sweat. but he swallowed his fears, and with a slightly wavering voice asked: “with or without milk, ma cherie?”

the smile on her face lit up the world, and she leaned in to lightly kiss his lips. “without.”

then she just smiled. “i’ll find us a table.”

remus walked up to the barista. his voice didn’t hesitate as he said: “un café noir, s'il vous plaît.”

---

the emerald grass underneath tickled their bare feet as the sun tinted their hairs a shade lighter. they took turns using his old polaroid camera, snapping pictures of each other’s laughs, and their many kisses. then the rain caught them, and they ran down the streets of paris, hands in each others, lips connected more often than not. the night passed in a blur, but it was sure one of their beds was left empty.

the morning arrived too quickly, with soft summer air and tangled sheets.

she poured a perfectly calculated amount of cream into her first coffee of the day. her eyes twinkled as they met his, and a smile quickly stretched her lips. a trail of invisible mist commenced from the croissant in front of her, the smell of melted butter and fresh bread filled the air. the dust of sleep - or rather lack thereof - hadn’t quite worn off yet, and all she cared to see was him, sitting across the table. he felt too far away. her hand reached out to touch his. he met her halfway.

“je t’aime.”

she loved him in every language. “i love you too.”

---

remus lupin: @writingwitchly / @serenefreakgeek / @spideyfan456 / @un-nouveau-soleil / @evyiione / @reggieblck / @bookworm0123

permanent: @rocking-like-a-ravenclaw / @kapolisradomthoughts / @siriusement / @classy-sith-lady / @hermione-who / @pompeiianbollocker / @theseuscmander

[golden-pickaxe]

Odal - Part 9

Fandom: Vikings

Paring: Ivar x Reader

Type: Viking Times

Word Count: 1564

Warnings: none

[All Parts Here]

A/N: Short but yea, important in the story! Enjoy! Sorry for any mistakes, I cut my finger while making jam and typing on a computer is hard rn

[Playlist] - Especially this song for this chapter: Brun- Garmarna

Summary: When you were just a child, you had been adopted by two shieldmaidens, as one of six sisters. Now, all grown up, the lot of you join king Harald to avenge the death of Ragnar in England. A journey, that is going to change the life you’ve known before.

Tags: @lightningwitcher @lovelynerdytraveler @everlasting9 @cbouvier23 @hallowed-heathen @twilight-loveer

Despite Bjorn’s apparent dissatisfaction with the outcome of the battle, he could not prevent his men from having a great feast that night. The temperatures had dropped significantly, after it had rained once more, which did not dampen the euphoric mood of the army in the slightest.

 You had just left the healer’s tent, where you had taken a nice, warm bath, and where the wound on your left upper arm had been cleaned, salved and wrapped up tightly in fresh cloth. You hoped that it was enough to keep it from getting infected.

The pain was obviously still there, although numbed, and you planned to numb it even more with a few nice cups of ale, or some of the wine the army had collected while raiding a farm on your way down from Northumbria.

You had to admit, you were not too fond on the English wine, but with the mood you were in, you were not all too picky where the intoxication you were after came from.

 The sun had barely set in the west, the sky still tinted in all kinds of colours, reflected by the many low hanging clouds above England. You were sure, it would probably rain again before the night was over, but by now you were almost used to the constant wet weather of the country. It made the grass green though, and the ground fertile, and Hallgrim had mentioned more than a few times how good this land would be for farming.

 Your tired eyes searched over the mass of celebrating warriors in front of you, hoping to find a familiar face among them. Your sisters had joined the celebration shortly after dropping you off by the healers, only Asta making sure that the wound of her favourite one was not life threatening.

Hrafna had departed from you even sooner, wanting to get herself clean, before meeting up with Halfdan once more.

 A cool breeze picked up, and blew though the campsite, sending goose bumps over your exposed arms. To not irritate the wound, or accidently pull off the bandage around your arm, you wore a sleeveless, linen tunic on your upper body, which of course was not the most warming piece of clothing you could think of.

 “I’m glad to see that your wound is not half as bad as it had looked on the battlefield, bleeding all over the place.” You suddenly heard a voice, a familiar voice behind you, causing you to quickly turn around.

 There, sitting on a short bench right next to the opening of the healer’s tent, was no one else than Ivar the Boneless, slightly bent forwards, so he could rest his arms on his useless legs. You had to swallow.

He seemed to have also cleaned up from battle, his short hair still a bit wet and swept to the back. He wore simple clothes, his legs bound together with thick belts, and a luxurious fur was around his broad shoulders to keep him warm.

 “It’s just a scratch.” You answered, shrugging, but flinching shortly thereafter, as the movement was not the smartest considering the location of your wound. You cursed under your breath, your right hand immediately moving upwards to cover your bandage.

 “I can see that.” Ivar’s soft voice was amused, as he tilted his handsome head at you. He seemed to muster you for a few seconds, before he leaned back a bit, gesturing towards the free seat on the short bench, right next to him, implying for you to sit down.

 You had heard a lot of stories about the young prince since you had arrived in Kattegat, and during your time raiding England, and you had to admit, you hesitated for a moment. After what you had heard, and after all your previous encounters with him, after the dream, you were not sure if following this invitation to sit with him was the smartest idea. On the other hand, though, it was equally stupid to just ignore or refuse a request from a prince like that.

 Making up your mind you finally walked over to him, spotting two ale filled horn cups standing next to him on the wooden bench, before you sat down. Ivar watched you like a hawk the whole time, and with a light smile, picked up one of the cups and taking a sip, his far too blue eyes never leaving yours.

 For some reason it was impossible for you to supress the smirk that formed on your lips, as you picked up the other cup, drinking from the bitter sweet liquid in it. You sighed at the taste, only noticing now how thirsty you actually were. It felt odd, you had to admit, sitting here so casually with the prince, and you were not quite sure what to think.

 “And why do I deserve such special treatment, as for prince Ivar of Kattegat, son of Ragnar, to bring me, an unimportant shieldmaiden from king Harald’s army, and from low background, a drink of celebration?” you asked, returning his gaze curiously.

 Ivar seemed to be taken aback for a moment, as he seemed to not have expected you to ask him so directly, as he simply pursed his plump lips in an amused fashion, averting his eyes and looking over the dimly lit campsite.

 In the distance you heard the music picking up, flutes and lyras joining in the drums and other instruments that your people had brought with you, as suddenly Yeva’s beautiful voice echoed over the noise of the celebration. She sang one of the many wonderful songs that she had learned from various skalds visiting Vestfold, her slight accent almost unnoticeable among the familiar lines.

 Now that the sun had completely set, the air around you was colder, the temperatures dropping even more with the coming night. Your breath formed small clouds in front of your face, but despite the thin, linen tunic you did not feel cold.

For once, your woollen trousers and leg wraps certainly did great in keeping you warm, but in general, you were used to far lower temperatures, even in summer. Only the moisture in the air, you could do without.

 “I want you to fight by my side, walk with my chariot, when we attack king Ecbert.” Ivar finally spoke up again, his blue eyes returning to you, his gaze unwavering.

 Now it was you who was taken aback, as you had not expected his words, frowning slightly.

“I am with my sisters.” You answered without thinking, unsure if you should regret speaking so quickly.

 “Well, now you are with me.” Ivar tilted his head once again, his tone of voice making it sounds as if his words were not up for debate.

 You swallowed, not sure what to say. From everything you had expected from him after you had sat down next to him, this had not been among it.

 “Why?” you had to ask.

You had talked twice to this man, if you counted your drunken encounter in Kattegat, and had, other than that, only shared a few glances across training grounds or battlefields. Also, you were no one, you were a karl, a farmer, a simple shieldmaiden in another king’s army. Why you?

 Ivar frowned for a moment, but then smirked.

“I don’t know, you are special.” He looked away again, his usually so confident demeaner suddenly faltering. From one moment to the other he seemed like nothing more but a shy boy. “You fight with no fear. You fight very well, better than most of my men.”

 “I almost died today, though.” You said, tilting your head and causing him to look at you once more, his blue eyes briefly wandering over to your bandaged arm. He seemed confused.

 “But your wound is not that deep.” Ivar frowned. You were, frankly, not quite sure how he knew that, unless he had spoken to one of the healers who had treated you himself, which was a thing you could not really imagine.

 “Not because of the wound.” You started, searching his eyes for a reaction to your words, although you were unsure what exactly you were looking for. “An English man brought me down, and almost killed me.”

 “How did you survive unharmed?” Ivar asked, confusion now written all over his pretty face. You had never seen king Ragnar or queen Aslaug in your life, but you were sure that they must have been beautiful to produce such a good looking son.

 “Your brother saved me.” You said.

 “Which one?” Ivar seemed anxious, but otherwise unreadable.

 “Prince Hvitserk.” You were not sure what difference it made which one of his brothers had saved you, or why you even told him that. You guessed you simply had to talk about it, as despite your numerous fought battles, and the many wounds you had received during them, you had never come so close to die.

 Ivar relaxed hearing your words, nodding with a light smile appearing on his face.

“Good. Good.” He murmured. Then, his eyes were fixated on yours once more, the expression in them so intense that you could not turn away. “To our victory.” He then said, raising his cup with a smirk.

 “And to many more feasts for the ravens.” You answered, causing him to smile broadly, before draining your entire cup of ale.

[jenoszne-blog]

someone like you + jaemin

Request: “I’m the one who requested the Jaemin scenario. Can you do a confession scenario then? Is it helpful?” Genre: Fluff Word count: 1.3k+ a/n: oops these are taking me so long, sorry about that. i hope you enjoy it anon!

Jaemin's eyes travelled onto your form which was sitting diagonally to him, his lips formed a smile as he saw the back of your head. Your head turned towards a friend of yours, Jeno, who sat in front of him. He saw your smile, on full display. He wished you would smile at him like that, but he guessed that was impossible due to your not talking to each other except when you were assigned as partners for a project.

Like right now.

In your English class, you were reading Macbeth, by William Shakespeare. Jaemin hated Shakespeare, and you excelled in this class. He hoped you would help bring his grade up, but it would be a lot harder to do that if he could barely utter a simple 'hello' to you when he saw you in the halls.

You frowned towards Jeno, who was working with Renjun (a transfer student from China who had come the year before), he frowned back then he turned and moved next to Renjun. Jaemin would get to talk to you, but he had no idea how to start a conversation with you without it being awkward.

You moved into the seat next to him, and awkwardly positioned the desk closer to him. Your shoulders were an inch apart. If you would move your hand, it would be right on top of Jaemin's. The thought of you holding his hand sent his cheeks aflame. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and then turned to you.

"Hi." He spoke out, his voice was shaking slightly, but other than that it was understandable. You smiled at him, "Hi! Jaemin, right?" He nodded. You knew his name, he smiled at you and you laughed. "Your smile is pretty." You told him, his eyes widened as he whispered a small, 'thank you' before turning back towards the front of the room.

"The partner you have right now will be the partner you have for the rest of the year and any future projects that will come along. This assignment is due next Friday, have a nice weekend class."

That was it, your last period before the weekend hit. The truth was, you knew who Jaemin was the whole time. You knew about his sneaked glances at the back of your head and how he smiled whenever he saw you. He was cute, but the closest you'd told him was about his smile, and he heard that all the time.

"Jaemin!" You called out to him, making him turn back towards you. You handed him a slip of paper, containing your phone number, and gave him a smile again. "Text me whenever you're free, we can work on the project and figure out the details there, yeah?" He nodded, and you walked away.

He got too excited when you handed him that slip of paper, he saw your phone number and his heart seemed to do somersaults. His mind created what seemed like millions of possibilities for failure. You could have given him a fake number, you could just not respond and ignore him completely. He told himself you wouldn't do it but he couldn't help but think, 'maybe?'

-

It was early Saturday morning, and Jaemin still had yet to text you. He was too anxious. He felt like you wouldn't respond or it would be some stranger who he never met. He couldn't help it, and he felt terrible for thinking of you that way. It was stupid for him to think you would play tricks on him, but his anxiety just kept getting to him, and it was terrible.

He would text you today. He had to, or otherwise, he would fail the project and he didn't want that to happen. He didn't want to make you fail either, he wanted you happy. He wanted to see you smile.

He did it, but he just told you who he was instead of asking you where you'd meet up. It was stupid that he couldn't seem to understand that you wouldn't do anything rude to him. You were sweet.

It was only a few minutes until you responded, and then thirty to find a place to meet up and work on the project. The decision was the coffee shop down the street from your house, close enough to walk. It was a nice day out, so you decided to walk and leave your mom to do whatever she was doing in the kitchen with your little sibling (but you did tell her where you were going).

You found Jaemin sitting in the corner of the coffee shop, Macbeth was sitting in his right hand as he had a type of coffee sitting on the table in front of him. He was really pretty. Crap, don't get a crush y/n. You can't do it again.

"Hi, Jaemin. Sorry, I'm late, my mom interrogated me before letting me leave the house." You told him, though it was a small lie. Your mom understood where you were going, the reason you were late is that this meeting with Jaemin felt like a date of some sort, and you were nervous. You even told your mom about it you were so anxious.

"It's fine, I understand! Don't worry about it." His voice trailed off as he looked into your eyes from your position across from him.

You had a conclusion now. You liked Jaemin.

-

You and Jaemin stayed friends after that project and it had now been a couple of months since then. You two had now hugged and hung out on a regular basis. He was losing his nervousness around you, but at the same time, he really wasn't. He liked you, a lot, and it was nervewracking to think you didn't like him back.

Over the past few months your crush that started off small was now growing, you could barely keep the thought of your smiley friend out of your mind, and Jeno knew this. He teased you for it every day, so much to the point of where you blocked his number for a couple of days. There wasn't a point in teasing you, you two wouldn't be together anyway.

You laid on his bed, eyes closed with a smile on your face. You were having a sleepover, and you were excited. Jaemin's bed was comfortable, and you were tempted to steal it from him that night. You guessed it had to be comfortable due to his back issues, but he was healthy again which made you happy as well.

"Jaemin, I may have to steal your bed from you tonight." You laughed as you opened your eyes. His form was sitting on the end of his bed, he extended a hand to you and pulled you up. He didn't let go.

You were holding hands. "Uhm." You coughed awkwardly, making him let go. "No no I didn't mean let go ugh, I'm sorry." You told him. You immediately regretted what you said and your cheeks flushed. He smiled, putting his hand back into yours.

"Cute."

Since when was he this bold? He was normally shy and quiet, never speaking a word unless spoken to, but now he was calling you cute?

"Uh, thank you." Your eyes met his, and you smiled. He was so pretty, but he was so insecure. He had no reason to be, he was one of the most beautiful people you'd ever seen. He made you happy.

"You're welcome... jagi."

Your eyes widened, he was being too confident now. He was supposed to be the shy one, how could he flip it around this fast?!

"If you can't tell... I like you. I've liked you ever since we were partners for the Macbeth thing in Ms Jung's class. I think you're beautiful. I really hope you know that." He told you, looking down. Here it was, the rejection.

You giggled, his head flew upwards. "I like you too, Jaemin. I like you a lot." Your lips formed a grin as you saw the flustered look on his face. "I thought you would reject me!" He told you, letting out a sigh in delight.

"I don't understand how I would reject you, you're too cute."

[memesdefinewhoiam]

Eldarya Fanfiction-Far from justice

*If anyone has any request of a scenario for me to write about eldarya, or even mcl I’d gladly write it. That’s if you like the way I write...I’m trying my best believe me and any constructive criticism is deeply appreciated. Also, I’m not a native english speaker, so excuse me for any spelling mistakes*

I don’t even know how this mini story came into my mind, but I needed to write it down because it was eating away at my soul. This is a scenario where our beloved Gardienne *Erika* comes gravely wounded from a mission and Ezarel doesn’t know what he feels more-anger, sadness or desperation. If any of you are sensitive to subjects like emotional pain and near death/death situations, I suggest you stop reading.

Ezarel hissed in annoyance for the fortieth time that day when he reached the Hall of Doors and saw that for some unknown reason, there was a loud crowd forming there, preventing him from reaching his beloved working place. He tried pushing his way through, receiving glares and not so nice words from the people he bumped into. He listened in on the conversations around him, hoping to identify the reason for this "gathering". From what he knew, no one important was supposed to visit these days and Miiko wasn't making any announcements, so what was happening?  "-so very late. What could have possibly delayed them 3 days?" A girl that he recoginsed belonged to the Obsidian Guard mumbled with a frown. 

"I've heard that there was an attack-" her partner responded in an intense voice, but Ezarel didn't manage to hear the rest of the exchange.

Curiosity built up inside of him and instead of going to his lab like he planned to, he started making his way to the front to see what was happening. His eyebrows furrowed while he walked, taking in all the curios, frightened and infuriated voices that kept bickering. 

"-definitely a mistake to send her there" "-badly injured-"

His heart beat faster and faster for some reason, a sensation close to suffocation. He elbowed an astonished couple out of the way, finally being able to find out what all the fuss was about. But the image that stood before him was far from his expectations of a surprise visitor or a last minute notice.

A few higher up's from the guard, which he immediately recognized, were rushing back and forth, helping a group of people that was sent on an innocent mission two weeks ago. It was just the resigning of a resources distribution and utilization treaty, nothing too complicated, but clearly important. Nevra, Leiftan,a representative of economics and Erika were sent on that mission in hopes of completing it easily and without any distractions. Despite the girl's relatively short stay in Eldarya, she was proving to be quite an educated, formal and well-spoken -things that the blue haired elf still had a hard time to admit out loud- young lady, so Miiko and the rest didn't see any reason not to send her on this harmless operation. But the scene in front of Ezarel clearly told him otherwise.

He spotted Nevra and the ambassador immediately, both of them were covered in bruises and small amounts of blood and were clearly tired. They were being checked up on by one of the nurses, although they didn't seem to have any critical injuries. His eyes scanned the rest of the people worriedly in a desperate search and thats when they landed on two figures. He froze, a chill running down his spine.

The blonde and tall member of the Light Guard stepped into the room without his usual grace, his once white and green clothes were mudded and covered in blood and his eyes had a regretful look to them, but that's not what drew the attention and shock of Ezarel. It was the slim figure Leiftan was carrying in his arms that took his breath away in a completely unpleasent manner. She lay there, unmoving, her face holding a pained expression and her brown hair caked in blood. A silver arrow was protruding from her chest.

The elf inhaled sharply, an unknown feeling taking over him. He couldn't describe it into proper words. It was a mixture of physical and emotional pain, sadness, regret and the most prominent-anger. He didn't even realize when he reached Leiftan and took Erika from his arms with the utmost care, like he was handling a very fragile potion that could be compromised easily. In spite of his usual unwillingness to touch, he wanted to feel her close to him, to protect her from any more dangers that might come her way.

Everything was kind of a blur, although he truly wanted to be calm in this dire situation. He heard a distant and familiar voice telling him something urgent, but his green eyes remained locked on her face, searching for a sign that she's still conscious. Her eyes barely fluttered open, only for him to catch a glimpse of her pained and terrified purple orbs.

"Ezarel! Take her inside the clinic, NOW!" The same voice that spoke earlier commanded more loudly and desperately, jolting him awake from his momentary daze.

He turned to look towards the owner of the voice that now pressed a firm hand on his shoulder. Ewelein. Her usual calm face was nowhere to be found, being replaced by a look of deep concern. She pointed with her chin in the direction of the infirmary and Ezarel looked down at the wounded girl in his arms before rushing to give her the proper medical attention along with the blue-skinned elf and her assistants.

He gently laid her down on the operation bed, swiping away the hair that threatened to cover her entire face. He then backed away with a shake of his head and a last look at Erika's shivering form, letting the medical experts do their jobs.

"I'll do anything I can to save her, Ez." The words were meant to soothe him, but they only made him feel powerless and enraged with life itself. What did the poor girl do to deserve all of this?

He made his way back down into the crowd, approaching the rest of the team that was sent on the mission, measuring all of them up with a heated glare, although the elf knew deep down that the girl's wounds weren't their fault, but he seriously needed someone to throw his nerves on. And who could have been a better subject than the great Leiftan, who lately took a deep interest for Erika, swearing to protect her and flirting with her every chance he got. Where was he when she got hurt?

Ezarel stood furiously next to a concerned Miiko, waiting for the medical assistants to finish bandaging and checking up on them. Everyone was curious to finally learn what went wrong with the mission, but of course that the Chief wanted a private meeting first before announcing anything to the rest of the crowd. So when it was concluded that none of them had suffered any real injuries except small bruises, they all went in the Crystal Room.

It was a mess to say the least. The details weren't clear, they didn't know who exactly attacked them, just that when they stayed at the inn to reestablish the terms of the agreement, a bunch of people threatened and accused Erika of being a spy for the humans that want to take over Eldarya. A very heated argument took place, Nevra and the owner of the inn being the ones to stop it. On their way back from the mission, they got ambushed by what they guessed were the same group that harassed Erika because she was the main target of their attacks.  Once they hit her with an arrow, they were quick to disperse.

"I tried my best to keep her out of harm's way, but they outnumbered us and-" Leiftan tried to explain, but was interrupted by one of Ezarel's sarcastic and rude remarks. "Yeah, great job you did there, big boy"

The Light Guard member threw him a cold look, but the elf was completely unaffected by it. His sorrow was so deeply mixed with anger that it became confusing.

"Maybe you should have been there to properly protect her-!" Leiftan retorted, being once again stopped mid sentence by the elf. "Huh, and here I thought you always go around promising on your life to protect someone and then failing." 

That seemed to hit a nerve, but Miiko quickly intervened before things could escalate any further. "Ez, I know that you are very upset, but your remarks bring no help at all, they only worsen our predicament. The boys did all they could in that fight. Unless you can hold back your sharp tongue, I suggest you wait for any updates on Erika's health outside."

The blue haired man stormed out, mumbling a few cusses on the way and throwing them all a glare. He sat down on a chair right outside the Infirmary, his face shadowed by his long hair as his thoughts consumed him.

She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, being transported in a world that she knew nothing about and finding out that returning home was hardly an option anymore. Almost everyone, including himself, had treated her badly in the beginning, even coming to the unbelievable decision of making her entire human world forget about her even though she was hardly a threat and only acted nicely towards everyone. He would never forgive himself for that, no matter how many years will pass over him. And now this happened. She got attacked only because of what a part of her race was trying to do. His heart ached because of the surprising empathy he was feeling. She was one of the best of her kind, full of compassion and love and righteousness and they tried to kill her for it. It wasn’t any justice in that. What kind of people would harm someone like her? But he also hurt her on a whole other level emotionally. He ran a hand through his now messy blue hair, in order to calm his nerves.

Ezarel sighed with such disappointment and stress, that everyone threw him sympathetic looks, knowing that his feelings for the girl ran far deeper than even he would like to admit.

He wanted to see her again so badly, to tease her and laugh with her at the stupidest things. To get lost in her purple and unusually stunning eyes and to notice that blush she gets every time she stands too close to him. Her way too nosy and friendly personality, always eager to learn. Death seemed like such an abrupt and tragic ending of a story that only just began. Then again, life was hardly fair for anyone. He laughed bitterly. He would actually miss her nasal voice calling him a moron.

The door opened next to him and he immediately jumped up from his seat in a rush to ask about her, but he stopped, his world falling apart in just a second seeing the look of sorrow on Ewelein's face and the tears threatening to spill from her blue eyes. His light didn't make it.

[nathanfryerwoods]

Lucky Stars - Blurb and Introduction - Nathan Fryer-Woods

Comically depressing… Lawrie is trapped in an undisclosed location in southeast Asia. It's undisclosed, as Lawrie is a real life boy, still stuck, still in danger. An illegal alien, through no fault of his own, and now a father for the first time. As a mysterious disease ravages the world outside, Lawrie is trapped on the edge of the jungle and civilization, in the most tribal part of the country with the feral in-laws he now calls family. While trying to teach and help his son to grow, he's constantly battling against the bad habits, tribal practices and the deeply embedded superstitions, passed down over the generations. No matter how futile his attempt would seem, all he can do is try… what could possibly go wrong??

www.gogetfunding.com/luckystars        www.paypal.me/whliteraryagent

Introduction.

I hope you like reading…

They say, it's all about the first line. So now that's over and done with, hi, my name's Nathan. Originally from the UK, but now (and I've always said this as a bit of a joke, but these days it has new meaning), happily trapped in south east Asia. My almost 9 month old Son is doing just great. My wife's family are certifiably crazy, which wasn't a problem till we started living with them. Unfortunately, it's rubbing off on me, and I'm stuck here between a rock, and a bit of a pickle. Not the place I intended to be, whilst raising my first and probably only child.

Thanks to the madness currently possessing the world, my options, just like most people's, are thin on the ground. But as a foreigner in this country, with no government bail out like I'd be getting back home, I expect I'm currently somewhere towards the top end of the world's poverty chart… I've chosen not to openly disclose where I am exactly, as publishers in this country need to exercise a very careful caution, and the laws here regarding slander and defamation of character, mixed up with my legal status, could end up making my situation much worse. I'm not trying to cast a negative light on this place, but it might sometimes seem that way, with how I write about it. I love this place, I just hate this situation and feel so helpless.

I realise I may also at times sound very unappreciative. That's because I am... my body doesn't appreciate white rice every meal of every day. And though I'm used to picking things out of my food, when bugs are a part of the recipe, it feels a bit rude. My lungs don't appreciate the smell of burning bottles every night, and I'm sick of moving the big piles of plastic that mount up outside the room where my son sleeps. I'm also not too keen on the kitchen knife under his pillow, this turned up there, not because of my wife's heavy hands waking him up in tears, but the bad dreams caused by the ghosts. And even though we all know the only way to scare a ghost away is with cutlery, I think I'd prefer a bad dream every once in a while, than one time having a kitchen knife lodged in my neck.

All this being said, I have chosen, for many reasons (and very few alternatives), to ride this out as long as possible for the sake of my Son. The book I am writing explains my situation, and by reading it you should be able to fill in the very odd, small gap. But if not, fire me a message and we'll have a chin-wag.

In a nutshell, I was robbed of the money for my renewal of a very important document by a tour operator. Due to my own naivety, and being busy working in a different city, it was almost 3 months before I realised there was a problem. At the time, my wife was pregnant, and the little money I had was to take care of the hospital bill. After taking some bad advice, I scraped together $500 and paid someone who's family are high up in government and the police, to sort the problem out (at the time, the standard practice was to lock people up waiting for someone back home to cough up). Now, I'm down an extra $500, and the document I need to pass through ports is nowhere to be seen. Which is a bit of a worry. I've been here long enough, seen it all before, and by now have learnt that there's nothing much I can do to sort this, without having the cash to pay the overstay. And going to my embassy wouldn't do any good either, they can't help me out of this, not if I don't have the funds.

The area we now live in is very rural, nothing but farmland for miles around. My skill set is absolutely useless out here. I've spent most of my time in this country working in tourism, mainly managing guesthouses, a skill I'm very thankful for being able to pick up. At the time the world began to fall apart, I was project managing the build of an eco-resort. I wasn't making much, but the potential was there. My manager made the right decision at the time, and cut his losses. A few months later my wife gave up and went back to her parents while I kept trying. But when she told me her and her family (that day there were 5 people not including children), were sharing 2 eggs between them, I decided to come back too. I know what these people are like, and can't let my son grow up like them.

When he was born, I was told it would be 6 weeks before we could get out and back to work. It had been 2 months when I was told the in-laws wanted us to go back to work, leaving my child here. Another month later and they finally got the message. There's no way I'm leaving my boy with a man who gives 3 year olds energy drinks at 8am, while the rest of the family spend their time beating and screaming at him as he's got too much energy, or is crashing from the sugar. This poor boy has all black stumps for teeth on the top row, no pants on all day as he rolls around in the dirt people have been pissing in, and takes worming tablets. This boy, does not need energy drinks. Grandma, loves giving the 22 month old, the dregs of her antihistamine medicine. It tastes nice, so it must be good. Ma can't read the back of packets, instructions or warnings. 

Now, the only real option I have is farm work on the family plot. I did this last time we were here when our son was born, usually earning somewhere between $3.75 & 7.50 every 2 days. This time of year, the farm is out of season. Once this years crop is ready, the total worth of the farm's produce will be around $5.00 every 2 days as the 1st month creeps by. This time around, as it looks like I'll be staying for the foreseeable future, I've got to come up with a real plan, I can't put up with this much longer. I used to be vegetarian, and though we're surrounded by farms, I haven't seen a vegetable in 10 days. Now I eat fish heads.. the cheeks, the brains, their faces. I give the eyes to my wife's brothers…I had to draw the line somewhere.

My only way of making a decent wage out here, is to work online. Ideally I'd like to teach English. But most of the day, we're in a black hole for data connection, and with the lack of a certain document, signing up as a teacher isn't possible anyway.

So what's the plan? Well, I guess I'll carry on clutching at straws, keep writing the book, prepare the land for this years harvest and raise the boy. Plenty to keep me busy, but I need way out of this, before my boy grows up like his feral cousins. I feel like I'm living in a George Orwell book, and I don't mean 1984, that's the outside world. We're still stuck on Animal Farm.

I always thought I'd be somewhere in my 50s/60s, when I finally thought about penning my first book. When I had something to write about, and my fingers couldn't handle playing music any longer... As it turns out, I have plenty to write about, and it's spilling out with ease. I've always written, but a novel seemed a little too daunting to even think about. I wouldn't like to guess just how many songs I've written since my first, 25 years ago (which was terrible, and I hate that I still remember it). But the 2 albums trapped in my head are pretty good, at least I recon so. Hopefully they will see the light of day, at some point in the future.

I started the novel on the night of the 21st December 2020, and as of today - 29th Dec, I'm over the 10,000 word marker (though I've been doing a daily, rough edit as I go, I've been advised to try and avoid this, but I wanted the intro to be somewhat polished for upload). I'm hoping to entice some of you in, with the first few chapters. If it's something you're into, super duper. I'm looking for 'donations', to help my family out of this situation, but all donors will receive a copy of the book when finished, and after it's final edit.

A little can go a long way out here, and anything would be much appreciated as I'm raising my little champ. The link to the funding site can be found below, or by clicking here.

If you're not able to spare anything, no worries, but do keep checking back to my blog as (and don't quote me on this), I'll probably be adding to and updating as I go, up to the point of a ghastly cliffhanger, obviously, nerr... Once I've finished writing and editing, anyone who's helped out will be sent a link to download an e-book copy, and if and when I'm lucky enough to have it published in printed form, each will receive a copy of that in time, a few things depending. All will get a mention in both copies on a dedication page as a huge thank you (unless requested otherwise). And I'd like to offer people the chance to leave an inspirational message/joke/clue to where buried treasure may be hidden, or of course, just absolute nonsense, for the outside world to read alongside their dedication. Heck, use it to promote your auntie's dog wash service, see if I care. Could be quite interesting, and sounds like fun to me.

At the rate that I'm writing, I expect to be in the final editing stage by about mid February.

The novel is written as a fiction, but at the same time, is almost completely autobiographical. Names and places have been changed to help protect our safety here, but the story, and its characters are real. I can promise that, as I'm living it.

And just before I get back to work, I must say… I know that sometimes my use of punctuation, Capitals, and commas, may be a little unorthodox,,, but just so you know, I do know most of what I'm doing wrong, I did fairly well in school (not so bad)… but, I knew better… and still think that I might. And besides, I've got some good friends back home with already published work, who are going to help with the final cut… I've not pestered them so much as of yet, and what's down currently, is me with very little coaching, but with a little help from my friends, in the end, it'll brush up alright. Any questions, comments or advice would be more than welcomed, you can find my email address below.

Oh, and no matter how important the first line of a story must be, I just couldn't help myself… A tongue-in-cheek nod to my future self, hopefully showing how far I've come. I'm sorry, you'll get over it.

Thank you for reading, you're welcome to carry on, and I hope you do.

Nathan Fryer-Woods

[The light that shines from within me, bows to the light that shines within you]

www.gogetfunding.com/luckystars

nathanfryerwoods@protonmail.com

NOTE TO POTENTIAL PUBLISHERS

I know for any publisher, having a plot outline is very important and often essential for most first time authors. Although I am a true 'pantser' in life in general and writing this whilst in the thick of it, day by day. I do have my main outline. The middle marathon (with all potential real life disasters averted), being based on one or more of the many fears I have for the future, and twists in the plot coming from actual past events which have happened to me whilst being here. But as I say, this is all providing nothing major happens as I'm writing, and with all that's happened here already, would be an unexpected, and highly unlikely surprise. I have also been writing daily outlines, more detailed and over a smaller time frame, for the following days work. I will happily provide the main plot outline, and an up-to-date manuscript upon request. Nice one.

N-F-W

[fyrapartnersearch]

Yo! The name’s Sparky– or at least, I enjoy calling myself that as a cool alias and watching all the messages come in of people saying I remind them of their old dogs– and I believe I’ve posted here a couple times in the past few years. Thing is, I never cease to get a few great jackpot responses from my ads every time I do this, but eventually, roleplays tend to slow down and people tend to disappear off the radar [which is completely fine, I get it], and I always seem to keep discovering new ideas and fandoms I wanna dive into over time. So, I rinse and repeat and post again, and that’s what I’m here to do, today.

  Just to get it over with, I’m nineteen years old, have been roleplaying for about eight years, now, and am willing to roleplay with anyone of legal age in their state, if only because I enjoy incorporating smut into my roleplays. If you’re somebody who likes to fade to black every time characters get freaky with each other at points in our story, I’m unfortunately not the gal for you. I enjoy long-term plot heavy stories for the most part, but am totally down for PWP as well, so feel free to message me for either.

  At the moment, I’m mostly looking for a buddy who wants a Fandom roleplay (Canon/OC), so please contact me if you’re interested and match pretty damn well with the rest of these guidelines:

  Care about your writing. I’m not asking you for a whole fuckin’ novel every response, you can write however much you’re comfortable with as long as It’s more than one sentence, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t have a spelling error or a typo every other word. Everyone makes mistakes, I’ve been there on many, many… many, occasions (it’s no joke, man), but like– just try, y’know? To me, lazy writing shows a disinterest in the roleplay, which is a huge turn off for me.

On the same wavelength as above, please don’t feel stressed over how much you’re writing or if it matches enough to mine. Again, all I’m asking is for my partner to be interested and care a little about what they’re typing; I tend to write a LOT for roleplays I’m excited about but I’m not expecting you to respond with the same amount at all. If your limit is three paragraphs max, stick to three paragraphs max. If you love writing novels every response, I will fuckin’ read… ALL of that novel.

I will ONLY write Double-up roleplays [unless you for some reason are just looking to play a canon character], I am making this very clear because not only do I fuckin’ love seeing all the different characters people create, but also because the more the merrier. I like it when these things are played fairly– I play a character for your OC in return for you playing a character for mine.

25 is way funnier than 24

Most of my pairings will likely be M/F or F/F (seeing as right now I only have one M/M pairing when it comes to canon/OC, and you’ll only be seeing them if you’re looking for Homestuck), but your side is totally free game. Do what you want. I’m also chill with Polyamorous ships and/or love triangles as long as you’re cool with the possibility of me going that route, as well.

It would be appreciated if you care about your side of the roleplay about just as much as you care for mine. I’ll totally do the same; I will get overly attached to everyone in our roleplay.

Please be okay with our OCs being eventual buddies sometime in the roleplay; I have a guilty pleasure for connections between all characters, even if it takes like, a roleplay-year for them to meet. Obviously, if we end up planning something wherein that’s not possible, that’s chill, too.

OOC chat is 100% welcome– throw me all your jokes and ideas and stupid scenarios and possible future Ideas for the roleplay, tell me how much you love that one subject, talk to me about your day. I’m here for it.

  Some extra info for those people who REALLY wanna know what they’re getting into:

  I have 0 limits, on like, everything. The smut we write out can be weird kinks galore for all I care, there can be suicide and torture and pedophilia and major deaths and mental illnesses in our plot; and I have a bad habit of assuming my roleplay partner can handle anything I dish out in writing so just, if you have hard limits make sure to tell me about them before they can come up in an awkward situation.

I’m totally down to share kinks before a roleplay; ESPECIALLY if we’re jumping into PWP or a smut-centric plot

I’m a very carelessly blunt and a smartass, so If I say anything that makes you uncomfortable just tell me and I’ll chill out a bit.

I’m in Mountain Time

I mentioned this before but my responses can range from like chapter-in-a-novel to a few paragraphs, and I’m not expecting you to match me in the slightest. Do what you do and we’ll be fine.

I very much love talking about character and relationship headcanons and shit, so like, hit me with all of your ideas, I could talk about this shit for hours.

I draw. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. There’s a large chance I’ll end up drawing characters from OUR roleplay, so just let me know beforehand if that’s not something you’re okay with.

I’m pretty flexible with response times, but it would be appreciated if you tell me beforehand if there’s something going on in your life that’ll make your replies more scarce than usual.

  FANDOMS: bolded names are preferred in the fandom.

  [Tokyo Ghoul]

Wanted: Juuzou Suzuya, Uta Will Play: Anyone from the fandom in general. Really. I’m completely caught up with the manga, and I’ve watched all available seasons. I’m kinda obsessed.

  [Invader Zim]

Wanted: Dib Membrane

Will Play: Anyone, I’ll play Sizz Lore for all I care, fuckin’ love this show and It’s comics.

  [Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles]

Wanted: Donatello, Raphael [2012], Casey Jones [2012]

Will Play: Any turtle, Casey Jones, Splinter, April O’neil, Karai [2012], Mona Lisa [2012], etc.

  [Homestuck]

Wanted: Dave Strider, John Egbert, Sollux Captor, Cronus Ampora, Terezi Pyrope, Gamzee Makara, Karkat Vantas

Will Play: Anyone. Again. The trolls, the kids, the midnight crew, the Cherubs, Doc Scratch, Lord English, Hussie himself I guess, they’re all available.

  [Sonic]

Wanted: Buddy the Wolf, Silver the Hedgehog, OCs

Will Play: Fuck, this fandom’s kinda ridiculous. Just request any character you want, I’m sure I can play 90% of them, or we can just build shit around OCs.

  [Creepypasta]

Wanted: Ticci Toby, Jeff the Killer, Ben Drowned

Will Play: I haven’t been around in this fandom for quite some time, but you can request anyone– If I don’t know them yet, send me their story and I’ll figure it out.

  [Undertale]

Wanted: Mettaton… Maybe Chara

Will Play: Anyone but Sans. Please, not Sans. Not again. Never Again.

  [Diabolik Lovers]

Wanted: Kanato Sakamaki, Laito Sakamaki

Will Play: Yui Komori, Ayato Sakamaki, Laito Sakamaki, Shu Sakamaki, Reiji Sakamaki, Subaru Sakamaki, Kanato Sakamaki, Cordelia

DISCLAIMER: I’m totally willing to dive into this fandom, But I warn you I’ll probably make a character that’s somehow logically capable of beating the shit out of any of the vampires, because I have this weird love-hate grudge on this fandom and want to make a strong female that can put them in their place. Otherwise, feel free to request whatever you want for your side. As of this point I’ve only seen the first season, but maybe I’ll get around to forcing myself to watch the second and I can offer more characters to play.

[Free!]

Wanted: Rin Matsuoka, Sousuke Yamazaki, Rei Ryugazaki

Will Play: Anyone from the first season, still haven’t gotten around to finishing the second, yet

  If you want to contact me for a roleplay but are currently only interested in OC/OC, I’m willing to work with you as long as you message me with some sort of plot in mind. I tend to only play dominant females if you want an M/F relationship, just as a heads up.

  CONTACT ME

Email [Preferred]: Gatorteeth333@gmail.com

Discord: Sparky#4225

Tumblr: http://thesparkyshark.tumblr.com

[stylesonator]

Kick Ass | Dean Winchester

In which you contact Dean after years of not talking to each other due to a demon problem.

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1905

She had never planned on contacting him again. Not because she didn't want to, but because he told her not to unless it was an emergency. This was definitely an emergency.

High school students had been disappearing mid-school day, the only trace left behind was always sulfur on the windows. If Dean Winchester had taught her anything is that sulfur usually meant demons.

Her father had been a hunter, quite a well known one at that, but sadly died during a hunt. Leaving her mother to take care of a four old and a baby on the way. Her mother then decided to pick her things up and leave a 14-year-old to take care of her 10-year-old sibling.

A year later was when the Winchesters stepped in, they had come to town due to a haunted auditorium. And during the process of finding what type of spirit it was and who the spirit once was, Dean and (Y/N) fell in love both John and (Y/N)'s foster mother believed it was a game of lust.

Two horny teenagers getting it on for fun, but when it was time for Dean to leave, the number of tears shed (and the amount of time that they shed) from both parties were surprising. John watched with a little of disappointment as his son, who supposedly was tough, cried his little 15-year-old heart out to the verge of sobbing.

(Y/N) on the other hand was terrified, her biological mother had told her what her fathers' job had been before she left, so she was scared for her life that one day she would get a phone call, or see in the news, that her first and only love had died by the hands of a monster.

They had kept in contact for awhile until Dean decided she was safer not contacting him in any way. Unless of course, something 'Supernatural' happened.

So when her students started going missing in her new town in Georgia, a town surrounded by hills, lakes, and woods, the only person she thought of was Dean.

She wasn't a nervous person per say, but right now her hands shook as she searched through the phone numbers in her old contact book, hoping he hadn't changed his number seeing as she really needed his help right now.

And there it was, Dean Winchester, it used to have a little heart next to his name, but when he left she couldn't bear looking at it so she removed it.

With a shaky breath, she punched the numbers into her new mobile phone. She stood there considering her options before deciding she had to do this, not for herself but for her missing students.

So with her heart hammering in her chest, she brought the phone to her ear, each beep making her heart lurch in her chest.

"Hello?" Was the first thing she heard, the voice was deep, much deeper than Dean's when she had last heard him speak. But then again more than a decade had passed.

"I-is this Dean Winchester?" Was her shaky response, she could still feel her heart hammering against her chest, and her hands shaking so hard the phone was hitting her lightly on the face.

"Who is this?" The man's voice grumbled out, it was a very Dean-like trait to answer a question with another question, you could say it was a defense mechanism.

"It's (Y/N)."

"(Y/L/N)?" He questioned further.

"I'd like to know what other (Y/N) you know," Most of the nervousness had left her, glad to hear his voice.

"It's nice to hear from you don't get me wrong, but is there a specific reason as to why you're calling me?" You could practically hear the smile on his face. On the other end of the line, Sam was looking weirdly over at his brother weirdly as a huge smile had taken over his face, he hadn't had that expression since (Y/N).

'Oh'. Sam realized who was over on the other side of the line, shaking his head lightly with a small smile remembering how happy Dean had been with her. However, a look of confusing replaced the grin that had been placed on his face as (Y/N) spoke the words he had feared.

"I think I've got a demon problem," the girl finally came out with the reason she had called him, "I really need your help, Dean."

"So then my Literature professor told my class that if he shot the paper ball into the trash can, that he would give the whole class an A on our quiz," the now  English teacher laughed along to her senior class before she got interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Hold on," she smiled at her pupils, turning to the door to see the secretary mentioning for her to come out.

"You guys get started on the 4-page long essay on whatever your favorite topic is."

As soon as she opened the door she saw Annie, the secretary, with her two favorite boys that she hadn't seen in a long time. A huge smile making her way onto her face as she closed the door behind her, taking three long steps before wrapping her arms around the elder Winchesters neck, breathing the familiar manly scent that only Dean had.

The biggest of smiles appeared on his face as he wrapped the woman in from of him in a hug, she had changed but then again so had he, they were no longer hormone filled teenagers, they were now adults that knew the risk of the situation they were in.

They separated, once they heard a manly cough interrupt their little moment of nostalgia, still looking into his eyes, the same green eyes she used to see before she fell asleep against his chest, she said.

"It's so good to see you guys!"

She had always been a cheery person, always looking into the bright side of things and never letting what people thought of her get in the way of what she wanted. However, most people were surprised at how much sarcasm was held in her, which is probably the reason that people nearly always loved her no matter where she went.

"Samuel!" She laughed at her old nickname for the younger Winchester brother pulling him into a hug as well, she had always loved to hug them, they were always big cuddly teddy bears, even if their exterior said otherwise.

"It's good to see you again (Y/N)," Sam smiled softly as he returned the hug the girl that used to babysit him was giving him.

As she pulled away to take them in properly, Sam was no longer an awkward pre-teen with a weird sense of style. The man before her was enormously tall, with longish hair and manly features, the young boy she once knew was long gone.

"Look at you Sammy getting all manly," She teased the younger boy before turning to her ex-lover, "And you Dean, you're just like fine wine getting finer with age I see."

The smirk that appeared on his face was basically indestructible, "Have you looked in the mirror recently?"

"Shut up."

Annie had left as soon as the hugs had started seeing as it was more of a personal thing. The door to her classroom opened up to reveal a brunette, probably around the age of 18.

"Hey (Y/N), could my essay be on sex seeing as that's my favorite topic and it could count for your Sex Ed class as well?" The girl asked hopefully eyeing both the Winchesters with a look of hunger in her eyes.

"Sure thing, just make sure it's not too explicit or I might be forced to explain things to the principal," The teacher smiled at her pupil before remembering something, " let the rest of the class know that I'm letting you guys leave early today okay?"

"I'll make sure of that ."

With a bright smile, she turned back her boys, "Let's continue with the tour shall we?"

(Y/N) had the boys follow her to her house in Deans' Impala, as she wanted a place more private to investigate this, talking about why sulfur had been found on the school windows and that it was to do with the fact that demons most likely took them probably wasn't the smartest thing to do.

She invited the boys in and had them sit down, talking over a cup of coffee about why and who would want to hurt a couple of high school students when they heard a voice behind them.

"Maybe it's due to the fact that they weren't innocent high schoolers."

In a flash, Dean and Sam had jumped off the couch and pushed (Y/N) in an attempt at protecting her. What they didn't know was that she was quite familiar with the figure that stood in front of them.

"Crowley what the hell are you doing here?!" Was what angrily escaped Deans' mouth as he tried to make sense off of how Crowley knew that they were there and that they were with (Y/N) of all people.

"Well, I had to make sure my dear friend Sydney was okay with all the demon activity going on in this town didn't I?" Crowley stated a smirk appearing on his face as he winked at the Winchesters.

"King Of Hell! How are you?" Sydney questioned as she pushed Sam and Dean away from her to make her way over to the friend that had helped her out of really sticky situations.

"Great now that I can finally tell you what's been going on behind the scenes."

"Wait how do you know each other?" Sam confusedly asked.

"Well mister Crowley here saved my ass from a few demons a while back and he was nice enough to me so I befriended him!" The light brunette said cheerily before adding, "Oh! I also met your angel friend, Castiel is his name right?"

The Winchesters answer was a nod of their heads.

"Real charmer that one is," Sydney said sarcastically, "Got all protective asking how I knew so much stuff about you, nearly bit my darn head off!"

"Damn it Cas!" Dean spoke softly to himself.

"But it's fine though I totally understand with all the shit you've been through," (Y/N) said a soft smile falling onto her lips before she remembered the situation that they had at hand, "now I'm guessing that you know where the demons are along with the kids and that that's why you're here?"

"Then you would be correct," Was all Crowley had to say on the matter.

The quartet had separated into pairs Dean and (Y/N) were after a couple of demons, while Crowley and Sam went to free the kids since (Y/N) didn't want her students to know that she was involved with the supernatural world.

As they (Dean and (Y/N)) stood in front of the house that was located near the biggest road in the town she lived in she turned to Dean before saying.

"Are you ready to kick some demon ass?"

"Only if you are," Was all Dean had to answer with.

"Then let's do this crap."

But before she could even take a step away from the car Dean had his hand around her lower arm and pulled her towards him only to pull her into a powerful kiss. One that neither had experienced since they had broken up.

She pulled away for air a sheepish smile on her face as she said, "Now I'm definitely ready."

[abandoned----blog]

because i love her | | [ cisco ]

a/n: This was requested from my other writing blog ( @geek-imagines ) but felt like I should introduce my writing on here as well. Nevertheless I hope you don’t mind but I do sincerely apologize the reader doesn’t make a major appearance as this is between Julian and Cisco with word prompt given. I also hope Julian isn’t too out of character, I’m still warming up to his character and writing for him. Gif © polybarry, not mine. Word prompt is taken from here ( x ) . Requests are open unless stated otherwise by me !

@fuckkoffcourtney requested: 20 where the reader is julians sister and shes with cisco and cisco says this to julian?

20. “I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I’m going to marry her/him.” 

Relationship(s):

         Cisco Ramon/Reader (dating), Julian Albert & Reader (siblings)

 Cisco and Julian’s relationship would be considered not the strongest out of Team Flash relationships, especially since well, they came from very contrasting backgrounds. Julian and Y/N was from a very high class family with old money that could be from traced back to their ancestors, there was no doubt that the Albert family would never have to worry about anything. While Cisco came from a not so friendly family where his older brother was always doted and he, being left out had to start from the ground and up. But you do remember the old saying of how opposites attract one another right? That was what happened between you and Cisco when you came from England to find your brother after he’d left. The British male wasn’t the fondest of Cisco and neither did Cisco like him any better but when it came to you, you were perfect.

You were Y/N Desmond Albert, the quirky middle child of Mr. and Mrs. Desmond Albert with Julian being older than you and Emma being younger. Unfortunately tragedy struck when you were eighteen when your little sister died from her illness which is why your brother left, it was heartbreaking since it caused your parents to stop talking and you felt alone. Until that is you could no longer take it before fleeing to find Julian regardless of the threats of your parents before finally finding your brother in Central City whom told you to leave before giving in after your pleads and tears. After moving in with your brother in the new city, you began working at CCPN and meeting Iris West whom you quickly became close friends with. How you became into Team Flash was complete accident as you were curious as to why Julian was lying to you at some nights before he came clean about working with The Flash and getting Barry to agree to let you join. And that is how you became acquainted with Cisco, Barry, Joe, Wally, and Iris. You couldn’t believe that your friend Iris was apart of the team but yet again Barry was her fiancé.

Today you were out with Iris and Barry to help plan some things with their wedding that was still very slowly progressing as you had always wanted to help with such an important event. You had always dreamed of getting married yourself and would’ve totally became a wedding planner if you could but enough with that as you went back in reality to help pick a theme.

Meanwhile Cisco and Julian bickering at one another, sometimes they worked well together but today was just not the day. Even H.R couldn’t lighten up the atmosphere as he was only met with glares from both colleagues so he left the two at it. Julian wasn’t really against your relationship with the engineer but he wasn’t completely for it either, but that was how he was with any guy whom tried to date you. Perhaps it was him just simply trying to be a protective brother since he was older and you both already lost Emma, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you as well.

“I don’t understand why Y/N would even go with someone like you. My sister deserves someone much better than that.” Julian spat out with a slight glare at the other as he crosses his arms, “I know how much you make her happy but Y/N deserves someone far better.”

The dark haired male raises his eyebrows before the other as he blinks a few times, biting his bottom lip along with it as his hands rested on the desk surface. “What’s that supposed to mean? Oh now I’m sudden not good for her, huh Julian? I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I’m going to marry her. You know why? Because you know, I thought she was going to be another person who was going to walk out that door. But no, she didn’t. She could’ve so many times but she always came back and you know how incredible that must feel for me? Damn great and I can sit down while listing all the things I love about sister. Y/N means the whole world to me as well Julian.” Cisco manages to speak out without taking a second breath as he pulled his chair over to sit down while waiting for your brother’s response.

The English man didn’t say anything as he listened to the words Cisco spoke, not cutting him off this time and realized how right he was. You could’ve just left whenever you wanted, you were a very independent person even though you would get anxious at times but you seem to know your place around. Then thinking of the times from Cisco hugged you tightly after being kidnapped by a meta and slept by your side because you were so scared to the way he looked at you while you went off rambling about something with Barry or Iris. Julian realized how much Cisco loved you and you loving him back, before straightening himself up to fix his royal purple silk tie. “I seem to have underestimated you Mr. Ramon. I- I just guess I’m afraid to lose Y/N because I simply can’t bear the thought of losing her like Emma. We were close when we younger and had so much pressure from our parents to keep the family tradition alive, our parents wanted to pick our suitors so I guess that’s why I thought you weren’t good enough. You and I come very different places in this world so I apologize for my behavior. All I ask Mr. Ramon is please take good care of her, Y/N has had heartbroken one too many times. Her happiness means everything to me.”

Cisco smiles at Julian during the whole entire time as he offered his hand toward the scientist, “I guess that would understable considering I probably be the same way if I had younger sister who was dating you. Do you think maybe, we could call it a truce? For now anyway? And Cisco is fine, you don’t need to be all proper here you know.” He says as Julian looked down at Cisco’s outstretched hand and him before shaking on it.

“Truce Mr. Ram-Cisco. Cisco. And thank you. But speaking of which, when are you exactly going to propose to her?”

[reverse-simon]

(Here’s a thing I’d been coincidentally thinking about over the past few days)

Item #: SCP-3421

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3421 is to be kept in a standard humanoid containment cell within Site 17. It may be given a new book every two (2) days, with other non vital requests denied until it develops a more cooperative attitude. A computerized lock must be used on its cell door, regardless of budget cuts. SCP-3421 is adept at hand-to-hand fighting, and should not be treated carelessly.

SCP-3421 is not to be dosed with narcotics for more than 24 hours at a time, to prevent tolerance or negative side effects.

Description: SCP-3421 appears to be a male human of mixed descent between the age of 1█ and 2█. DNA testing has revealed unique genetic markers of unknown origin and function, however, its genetic make-up is not significantly different that of from standard humans. SCP-3421 has given its name as “Simon”, but is unwilling or unable to provide a surname. It usually speaks General American English, with unattested slang but no hint of a regional accent, unless upset or angry. In these cases, it will begin to significantly centralize its vowels, but this is not sufficient to identify its place of birth. Its body is moderately scarred, but otherwise in excellent physical condition. It appears to have exercised regularly prior to containment.

SCP-3421’s most anomalous feature is the slim, three-chambered heart, similar to a lizard heart, located in its chest cavity. Subject has referred to it as a “dragon heart”. Upon being informed that dragons did not exist, SCP-3421 quickly agreed.

The heart, hereafter referred to as SCP-3421-1, is approximately 13cm in length, 4cm wide, and 5cm thick, and is entirely blue in colour. The skin directly in front of SCP-3421-1 is scarred in an intricate pattern resembling a stylized dragon. SCP-3421 is capable of pulling open the skin on its chest, as well as any clothes in front of it, to expose SCP-3421-1 to the air. This appears to be completely painless, however SCP-3421 has expressed an aversion to doing this while its torso is clothed, citing fears of contamination and damage to the fabric. Conversation with SCP-3421 has indicated that both the heart and the chest opening ability were acquired later in life. It occasionally refers to it as a “curse”.

SCP-3421-1 appears to function as a normal human heart, providing SCP-3421 with well-oxygenated blood despite the lack of a second ventricle. Testing has revealed that its DNA is identical to that of the rest of SCP-3421.

It is believed that SCP-3421’s “curse” has at least extra one component in addition to the presence of SCP-3421-1. The nature of this component is unknown, as SCP-3421 refuses to respond to questioning of this line. Research is ongoing.

The membranes of many of SCP-3421’s cells, particularly skin cells, are intermittedly speckled with an unknown ultra-dense substance, possibly related to █████████████. This functions as a partial radiation shield, giving SCP-3421 enhanced ability to withstand low levels of gamma radiation. Personnel are reminded that all tests of this nature should be performed on samples from SCP-3421, not SCP-3421 itself.

SCP-3421 was the sole anomaly recovered in Incident 5750-B. Its ultimate origin remains unknown, but given its strange genetic features and lack of resemblance to any known missing persons, is believed to originate from a parallel universe, similar to SCP-7771. SCP-3421’s speculated origin will hereafter be referred to as SCP-3421-2.

Upon being shown a picture of SCP-7771-B, SCP-3421 expressed familiarity with the child, but claimed no knowledge of its current whereabouts, speculating that it had returned to its home universe. SCP-3421 was then shown a picture of SCP-5750, who it described as a “wad”, and again stated that it had no knowledge of its whereabouts.

When asked if it was from the same universe as SCP-7771, SCP-3421 seemed to become offended, and stated that it was not. Thus far it appears that SCP-3421-2 corresponds to no parallel universe known by the Foundation. Notably, upon being shown an image of the torso-creatures encountered in the world accessed with SCP-093, SCP-3421 responded “Isn’t that [DATA EXPUNGED]”, a name only found in materials under Class 4 classification. SCP-3421 was sedated at the time. It was, however, deemed unlikely that E-093 is SCP-3421-2, due to the cessation of human activity in that world in the year 19██, and as SCP-3421 reacted with interest to the image of the torso-creatures, rather than fear.

It is suspected that SCP-3421’s original world has suffered one or multiple severe nuclear events, possible K-class in nature. Factors pointing to this conclusion include SCP-3421’s unusual resistance to radiation, and its somewhat higher than usual pulse rate while viewing footage of the 1945 Trinity nuclear detonation. SCP-3421 has not confirmed or denied this theory, but maintains a negative view of nuclear power, especially while sedated.

SCP-3421 is polite and pleasant to converse with, and is willing to discuss many topics, including but not limited to current events, ancient history, popular movies, books, ███████████████, ethics, the Foundation’s treatment of SCP-7771-B, and the necessity of the Foundation’s existence. When questioned about subjects that SCP-3421 does not wish to talk about, such as SCP-3421-2, its appearance in this universe, or the nature of its association with SCP-7771-B it attempts to steer the conversation to safer topics. If this fails, it will claim it doesn’t know, or state that it cannot answer. It will occasionally let pertinent information slip while talking about other topics, justifying repeated conversations about irrelevant things. Frequent human contact also appears to have a positive effect on its mental health. While sedated with narcotics or alcohol, it may be more forthcoming than usual. While helpful, this technique cannot be used regularly for health reasons.

Addendum 3421-1: SCP-3421 is longer contained at Site 17. Its current whereabouts are unknown.

The day before its escape, SCP-3421 had alluded to protective properties stemming from SCP-3421-1 that occurred when SCP-3421 was in danger. The following day, SCP-3421 was sedated and restrained, and a class-D personnel, D-3750, was instructed to remove its little finger with a cleaver. D-3750’s account follows:

“They didn’t tell me what I was going to do beforehand. They never do. So they sent me to this cell where they had some kid locked up in… I don’t know. He was [DATA EXPUNGED]. He started yelling when we came in, saying it wouldn’t work. The researcher, Dr whatshername, she told him not to worry, and that whatever he thought we were going to do, we weren’t. He glared at her. He glared at me, too. One of the guards said the kid should have been drugged first, and Dr Whoever said they’d done that already to get him in that thing, and he needed to be alert for the experiment to work.

Then Dr Someone gave me a meat cleaver. The kid really freaked out when he saw that. And okay, I didn’t have any illusions about how they wanted me to use it. I guess I felt bad for the kid, but what else was I supposed to do? I could have turned it on them, but then they’d shoot me, and I’d be dead, and they’d find someone else to cut off the kid’s finger. I’m not an idiot.

So yeah, they wanted me to cut off his finger. His littlest finger, to be exact. I’ve cut up people before, sure, that’s how I wound up here, but at least I never pretended it was for science or the good of the world or whatever they say around here. By now the kid was muttering to himself. He sounded angry. At me, or the doctor, or himself, I don’t know. So I took a second to psych myself up, and then I swung the cleaver at his finger.

The next thing I know, [DATA EXPUNGED]”

[DATA EXPUNGED]

----

((YOUR TIMING IS IMPECCABLE! :D

I like to think that halfway through his escape, Simon found a can of energy drink and went full War Boy on the guards on his way out.))