#and then wraps her up and just sorta soothe her anxiety

[emilykaldwen]

SHARE 10 FACTS ABOUT YOUR MUSES

So I got two asks asking me about Sweetest Abrogail/Abby SO HERE YA GO! thanks @acrossthesestars and @nikolaislanstovs/@dragonsbone

She has a properly giant maine coone cat whose black and grey, and his name is Theraxis because everyone else has dragons and she doesn't.

The 'I can fix him' energy plus 'Excuse me they asked for no pickles' but all done in the sweetest, nicest way possible.

Officially, she follows the Seven, however the Strong family still follow the Old Gods. You could call the mashup 'Faith of the Weirwood', which in my headcanon, a lot of Riverland families follow. An amalgamation of the Old Ways and the ways of the Seven (and if you're a GoT mod player on CK3, you know what i'm talking about).

Abby is a Pisces! (she was almost a Taurus but a lot of my OCs in the recent past were Taurus and I needed a change)

Abby is about three months younger than Helaena, and seven months older than Aemond.

She enjoys the opportunity to go horseback riding, and wants to get more comfortable with it (there just hasn't been the opportunity). She's learned archery and enjoys it.

Aemond taught her how to wield a dagger after Harwin died. She is pretty good at it but doesn't like to/want to have to use it. But the idea was that she would be able to defend herself and Helaena

Helaena Targaryen was her first kiss. Sorry boys.

At night, Abby will wake up and pace around, checking the locks on the doors and the fire and the windows to make sure that a fire doesn't happen in the middle of the night and she can't escape. It gets harder when she can't check on her loved ones.

Abby is called The Marchpane Maiden, but her favorite dessert is strawberry and cherry tarts

[adracat]

G-Witch episode 11 thoughts

This was an amazing episode!! The ball is rolling for Dawn of Fold and for our favorite girls. Ahhh I wasn't expecting a gundam Christmas miracle. Thank you G-Witch 🎁

Right off the bat, we're treated to another opening change with our eponymous witches from earth making their debut as antagonists. But let's delay the anxiety-inducing stuff for later. I wanna talk about how Suletta's doing...

And she's doing awful as expected. She's internalized her misconception of Mio's words in the last episode. She's thrown by Mio's assertion that she 'isn't needed' not understanding the compassion behind her actions and interpreting this as confirmation that Mio+others see her as a useless accessory. So she goes overboard trying to establish her worth, taking on extra chores and desperate to be useful. It's a relatable insecurity and so heart-wrenching.

Her words in this scene in particular say so much about Suletta's dim self-worth. Instead of asserting her meal was missing, she thinks it must be her fault. No one else is to blame ;-; We see if she had just spoken up, this little misunderstanding would be corrected. Just like with Mio.

Btw, Idk if I'm reading into this but as a child of a mother who was emotionally distant and exacting this feels painfully familiar-- and an indication of Prospera's true dynamic with Suletta. We get another hint towards this with Prospera's bland and ominous response to Bel later in the episode.

I love Belmeria though, and she remains the only adult I trust in this cutthroat corpo nightmare. Keep side-eyeing her, Queen.

Also, I find her conversation with Suletta a bit suspect. She offers a listening ear, but it just reeks of 'you don't need outside attachments beside me'. Again possibly reading into it and she could just be acting like a concerned mom... maybe.

But back to Suletta's gay misadventures, Miorine interrupts this mother-daughter chat and we're treated to the best sequence in the episode in search of her wayward groom. No lie, that chase animation was so smooth. I especially love how their hair behaves and the zeroG traversal.

Plus we're treated to Miorine being a flailing mess as she pursues Suletta like a screaming (and gay) Ghostface

Laughs aside, this was adorable. Miorine scolds her for fleeing and how it contradicts her moving forward philosophy. But Suletta is afraid and in her fear falls back on bad habits, which we can assume was returning to Prospera and allowing her mother to dictate how to act/think. Yet Miorine doesn't allow her, breaking her silence. She tells Suletta how much of an inspiring and positive influence she's been, dashing her pride once more to soothe Suletta's insecurity.

Miorine is so starkly vulnerable in this scene, declaring everything Suletta has become to her without any chance of miscommunication. For Mio, her prideful front was all she had before she met Suletta. Now, Miorine has so much more because of her and she won't allow Suletta to dismiss herself as nothing. It's so sweet, I'm gonna have a heart attack 😭

Shout out to Miorine acquiring the ugly blue keychain with a dopey smile. They're both so gone for each other; I don't wanna hear any slander about these precious babies. I'm so relieved the miscommunication was solved within an episode. It's a big pet peeve when some shows/books take an absurdly long time to resolve things.

Oh and terrorism is happening, but we kinda expected this. I do wonder if the leader is a remnant of Ochs Earth since both 'witches' are piloting Lriths, Ur and Thorn respectively. Poor Guel is certainly wrapped in a pickle. Jeturk is not having a good time either, as he's double-crossed by Shaddiq. But it's honestly his fault for expecting otherwise so, no pity.

Speaking of Shaddiq, he's being very cold-blooded here. I wonder if he's partly acting out of salt. If I can't have her, no one will sorta thing? Either way, I have to respect his ambition ngl.

Oh, and one of the witches, Sophie, seems to have an interest in Suletta's piloting so that's intriguing. Rivalry possibly?

I'm looking forward to how the attack concludes, but it's safe to say none of our main cast is going to have a good time. Suletta/Miorine are separated for now, but we shall see how long that lasts. Plz don't take until the next cour, I'm begging you :(

Have a bonus sulemio, Merry Christmas everyone~

[wickjump]

killers got separation anxiety with his cats, like he gets antsy when he has to leave them for an extended period of time, because a pet shouldn’t be left unattended (it’s why nightmare hardly kept him off the leash). he takes them on walks with a little kitty harness and has a cat backpack and a cat carrier (one of those baby carriers for cats). and he obviously doesn’t take them everywhere but he takes them a lot more places than normal people take their cats.

the only times he doesn’t bring them is when he thinks it could be dangerous. pets don’t know what’s good for them in the end, and he doesn’t want them hurt. he would also sooner eat a dagger than take any of them to an underswap timeline. the idea of his cats interacting with a chara in any form would make him lose it i feel (projection, i hate the idea of people who hurt me touching my cats)

not that he goes to them willingly i’d think.

one of his cats is really fat so whenever she lays down on his chest it’s very soothing, given his soul isn’t getting dug into (can he move it? would she just lay on his lap instead? who knows! not me!). another of his cats is very light and pointy and wraps around his neck like a scarf and he’ll just walk around doing his daily chores or something with this judgy ass cat perched up on his shoulders purring like a broken motor.

he projects onto them a lot. the cat is taken care of very well because he sorta wishes he was but he doesn’t fully grasp that. he also lets the cat on the counters (same) because wtf it’s their place too!!!!!!!! he doesn’t want to make them feel like they’re lesser than, like they don’t deserve things.

a lot of this is more later down the line than not in a lot of ways depending on a few things but uhh. kitty….. i trauma bonded with my cats so i like. fully know what being emotionally dependent on them is like. like if my cats got hurt id lose it and not in a fun way and i think he’d be similar

i also wanna add though like. people talk a lot about how much killer loves his cats. but those cats love him too. one of his cats hates getting her belly rubbed and being picked up by anyone but killer. when killer does it, she purrs and rubs her head on his face. they look at him with a lot of affection and they slow blink and him and he’s learned that means affection so he slow blinks back. they bunt their heads against his.

every single time he goes to sleep, without fail, he wakes up to every single cat napping on/near him. like when he goes to sleep all of the cats know it’s bedtime. and it helps him get better sleep i think because the kitties need a healthy sleep schedule dammit!!!!!!

they cuddle a lot. one of them will plead to be picked up by him and carried around. color once tried but she immediately squirmed around to get down. like those cats love him a lot and it’s so clear with the way they look at him. when he leaves a room they scream at the door for him to come back. it’s just,, idk i like cats. and i love my cats a lot and im not going to be able to kiss them for like 4 days?!??! maybe MORE?!?!?! which is cruel. so cats are on my mind whoops. probably not what you were looking for

that also isn’t about how the cats hate everyone but love him. that’s basic. we all have that trope. it is probably the case for one/two of his cats though,,, my cat’s an affection seeking fatty but she is also clingiest to me and doesn’t do half the stuff she does with me to anyone else. i mean things like that yk? she loves cuddles from anyone but she follows me around wherever i go and sleeps next to me and yells at me to go to bed because she needs her nighttime snuggles. stuff like that,,,,

anyone got any headcanons about life after Killer’s Good Ending?

[hiddles-and-skittles]

How about a Bucky x reader,(with a personal twist): She had not been able to go near a water-slide since she was 5, after a near drowning incident! Even in her adult years, she was fully capable to swim- but could not indulge in certain water park activities.(I am 40, and still not able to go near slides without a racing heart, high pulse, legs shaking-and if being forced screaming my lungs out) So when Tony arranged a day off at the local water theme park, reader was so anxious to come along...

Water-Slide Dare

Pairing: Bucky x female!reader

Word Count: 1,032

Summary: You’re terrified of water-slides and you’re afraid the team will make fun of you for it, so when you’re dared to go on the biggest one, how could you refuse?  

Warnings: anxiety mentions, self-doubt, fluff!

Notes: First off I’m super bad at titles😅

I received two asks so I sorta combined them, I hope that’s okay! The other was about proving yourself worthy to the team because you don’t think they like you, but Bucky assures you they do.  

With the sizzling summer heat, you were certain you could fry an egg on the sidewalk, which meant it was finally vacation time for everyone in the compound. You'd hoped to see that theme park in California where they had a mock Avengers Campus or even a trip out of country, but of course, a unanimous decision lead to a trip to the waterpark. Hooray. It's not that you were disappointed, you just...had a history with them.

It was every kid's dream to tackle the tallest water-slide at the park, but it was a dream turned nightmare when you almost drowned. You were five years old when you swore to yourself you'd never go near another water-slide again. The only one on the team who knew what happened was your boyfriend, Bucky, so when you stood at the waterpark's entrance a few steps behind everyone else, he was surprised you even came along. And you were surprised they invited you.

The team only teased you because you were still new, but it made you feel as though you didn’t quite fit in with them. They didn’t know how you felt because you hid it from them, so if they hurt you, you’d play along. You volunteered to do things you didn’t want to in hopes of gaining their full acceptance, and no matter what you always said yes. It was the default mode for you; you didn’t think you were enough until you proved it time and again, and you were adamant to do so even though it was unnecessary.    

"You ready?" He asked you, kissing your temple.

"It's okay,” he soothed, “we don’t have to.” He reached to wipe away your tears, smiling down at you softly. Your mind raced with the thoughts of the team making fun of you because you couldn’t face a fear you’d had for years.

With a nod and a shaky breath, you responded a quiet "Yeah." And with his hand in yours, you both met up with the rest of the team.

"Alright, kids, time to literally blow off some steam," joked Tony.

"I call dibs on the wave pool!" Peter yelled, already taking off.

"Man, I just want to kick back and relax. I'm hitting the lazy river," Sam told Steve.

Clint tapped Natasha on the arm and pointed to the tallest waterslide you'd ever seen. "See that big guy right there? He's mine."

"Oh sure," she scoffed. "But I bet they'll want to race you to it."

You didn't realize you and Bucky were the ones in question until the silence went on for too long, forcing you to look at the team in front of you.

"Wh-me? Us?" You gulped, the anxiety immediately kicking in.

"Yeah! Unless you're...chicken," Nat taunted playfully.

The team let out a collective "ooooh."

"Come on, Nat, don't tease her," Steve chided, shaking his head. Bucky noticed your widened eyes and wrapped an arm around you.

"Leave her alone," he warned. Nat cocked an eyebrow.

"It's just a joke, Barnes. Unless she’s scared...?"

You shoved his arm off your shoulder. "I can handle it just fine!" You crossed your arms over your chest, challenging them with your eyes narrowed.

"If you say so," she smiled. "It's not like you've got something to prove." Her words cut through you and you huffed indignantly as you stomped away from the group and towards your impending doom.

"You don't have to do this," Bucky assured you, following in your footsteps.

"Yes I do!"

You reached the top in time to see the last two people jump in, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you realized you were next. The guard motioned for you to hop up towards the entrance and you hesitantly took a baby step forward, your legs already trembling as you gripped onto Bucky for dear life. The splashing of water below did nothing to drown out the sound of the blood rushing through your ears. Your eyes screwed shut and you froze, hyperventilating as you recalled the traumatic event that instilled fear in you from an early age. Your heart rate accelerated and you lost track of time until you heard your name gently being called by your boyfriend.

"Hey, it's alright." Comforting arms draped around your body and you heard a steadier heartbeat against your ear. "Come back to me." When you regained your senses you saw the concern etched in his pretty face, his steel eyes searching yours to make sure you were okay. Suddenly you felt tears trailing down your face.

"I don't want to do this," you rushed out.

“But what are they gonna think of me when we get back?”

Before he could respond, the life guard loudly popped his bubble gum and your heads jerked towards him. "Are you getting on or not? Cuz there's like, a line." You turned to look back at the kids who impatiently stood behind you and stepped out of the way.

“We’re not,” he answered. He took your hand and started to lead you back down the steps.  

You almost walked past the team’s spot when you realized you were the only two there. “Worried for nothing, see?” he told you. “They’re not even here.” You laughed and wiped your face, sighing in relief. “You wanna go find Sam and Steve at the lazy river?”  

You cleared your throat when you got to the bottom. "I'm sorry I dragged you up there." He chuckled, pulling you into his side.  

“It’s alright, I got my steps in.” You smiled for the first time that day, nuzzling closer to him as you walked back to the rendezvous point. “You know they only tease you because they like you, right?” You shrug. “And even if they didn’t, who cares? That’s not your problem. But I promise, they won’t judge you for this at all, they really do care about you and they’ll understand.” Your whole body relaxed at his words. Even if you couldn’t trust the voice in your anxious mind, you knew you could trust his. And for now that was enough.  

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling and linking your arm in his. “I’d like that.”  

[sugrbugz]

their reaction to you coming out as trans!! : BOKUTO, KENMA, AKAASHI, OIKAWA, TSUKKI, & ASAHI ♥︎

CW: this covers topics such as gender dysphoria, transphobia, and ignorant parents. please be safe my loves!!

transphobes get the fuck outta here right now

also i’m ftm myself so i’m writing from my own experience! if you want a non binary one or even mtf let me know! ♥︎

BOKUTO

would be so very excited to go clothing shopping with you but also giving you all of his hoodies in the mean time-

would love to show you off as his official boyfriend, would fight transphobic people for you

“hey bo, can we talk?” you asked softly, only causing him to open his arms wide from where he was sitting on your bed. you crawled into his lap like you always did, your hands shaking a bit when your wrapped your arms around his neck. “what’s up little owl!” he smiled wide, flashing you that beautiful smile of his. “it’s sorta serious love..” you mumbled making his smile fall only a bit, it falling completely when you started crying. “lovebug? what’s wrong..you can talk to me baby” he soothed making you nod. “i know we’ve talked about your preferences before and i don’t know where i fall but-“ you hiccuped, trying to figure out how to say it. “i’m transgender..i want to be a boy” you sobbed out, ultimately terrified he’d leave even though you knew he wouldn’t. “no..” he started making you cry only harder, not even three seconds later were calloused fingers there to wipe them, “you are a boy..not want, right baby?” he smiled softly, kissing your nose.

KENMA

his emotions would hurt him first only because he wouldn’t fully understand why you’re so upset

best hair stylist in the game!! he’d do your hair so you don’t have to deal with judgemental old ladies and weird barbers.

would 100000000/10 drop anything hes doing to snuggle you since he knows how much of a bitch dysphoria can be

it actually happened by accident. currently you were in the bathroom, shaky hands on a pair of scissors you’d found in the kitchen. it was one of those moments. you weren’t officially out to anybody, not even your boyfriend just simply out of fear of being disliked. however when kenma came to use the bathroom after doing a five hour livestream her heart almost shattered right then and there. you were too into your head to even notice his presence, snapping back to reality when he took the scissors from you. that’s when the tears started. he was quickly to pull you close, kissing your head. “i think i understand..but if i don’t, please explain..” he whispered softly into your ear. “i-i..” you stuttered, you didn’t even know how to say it. “i’ve been dealing with my gender for awhile and came to the conclusion that im a boy..” you sniff, snuggling into his chest since the comfort felt good. “okay baby, you’re still mine okay?” he spoke so soft it was reassuring. “but come to me instead of butchering your hair, you know damn well i could cut it better. dork.” he winked sitting you down to actually cut your hair properly.

AKAASHI

wasn’t totally surprised even though he is oblivious to most things

he would be so sweet about it??????? he wouldn’t even question you???? just accepting right away

after you were ready to come out? god he would be so overbearing with how supportive he was. “hey have you seen my BOYFRIEND?” or “are you doing okay, pretty boy?” he would do it all the time

he already knew. you’d asked him to pack your laptop in your book bag since you guys were going to study at the library. he usually didn’t snoop and honestly minded his business, but when he saw what he thought was a dildo his curiosity was peaked. you had millions of tabs open, all pertaining to the concept of gender identity. his heart softened sadly, upset by the fact you did this all alone. you came up to check what was taking him so long, face dropping when you saw what was open, “i-i promise i can explain-!” you rush forward but he quickly wraps two arms around you, kissing you softly. “shush. you don’t need to explain.” he smiled, “your preferred name and pronouns my darling?” he hummed in addition, grinning from the blush on your cheeks. “uhm..y/n..and he/him..please..” you whisper making him nod, “i’ve got the cutest boyfriend every yanno that?”

OIKAWA

would make fun of you for a bit until he realized this was actually serious

he would also apologize profusely for doing so.

would go out and buy you 67963334 slacks just to see you in them i know it

“tooru i’m serious!” you’d whimper, genuine tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. that’s when he knew he took it too far. “hey..i was just joking around…does me calling you girlie actually make you uncomfortable? why?” he was confused but then again you couldn’t blame them. you’d told iwa you were trans, hoping to get someway to tell oikawa but there wasn’t much acknowledgment of him at all. “yes..it does” you nodded wiping your eyes. “is it because you’re trans?” all the air in your lungs was knocked out of you at this. “how did you..” you’d ask softly, “i dunno! i’m just really good at this!” he giggled before kissing your head and getting off the couch you two were on. “one minute!” he ran upstairs and about five minutes later came back with all his old clothes he outgrew. “here! ‘ma saved them for donating to relatives but your more important” he hummed making you blush, “tooru you don’t-“ “and what’s your pants size?” “uh-i-“ “it’s okay doesn’t matter we’ll get all of them.” “ALL OF WHAT.” and that’s honestly how the rest of your night went.

TSUKKI

he wasn’t totally surprised but then again he knew how your parents were and would understand your hesitation for coming out

it didn’t really phase him at all. have you seen his gender nonconforming best friend? tsukki wouldn’t care unless you were authentically yourself.

would always give you reassurance, no matter how much you needed.

you’d come to your boyfriends house for the third night this week, his mom more than happy to let you stay. “he’s upstairs!” she’d smile from where she was making dinner. you already knew where to find his room, so coming inside and throwing your bags down casually wasn’t an issue at all. “y/n how many times do i have to tell your messy ass that you don’t put bags in the middle of the-“ he spun in his desk chair to look at you, his face falling the second he saw your face go red and tears streaming down your face. tsukki fucking SUCKED with emotions but he wouldn’t be pathetic and not try. “cmere moonie, what’s wrong” he frowned getting up and sitting on the bed, pulling you down with him. “i told them” you stated simply, his own anxiety kicked in. “and?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “they kicked me out.” you nodded towards the fourish bags you had dropped. “well..fuck them. here you’ll be loved and respected. they don’t deserve you. no one does. now, ill ask mom if we can move in the old dresser from akiterus room..you make yourself comfy. change, take of makeup, whatever it is. here? you’re allowed to be who you are.” and with that he was gone. tsukki may look like an asshole but he tries his best not to be for you.

ASAHI

wouldn’t initially get it, but it would take some explaining and he’d be absolutely on board

would probably smoother you in love and affection for being brave enough to tell him how you’ve been feeling

similar to akaashi he’d be quick to correct those who use incorrect pronouns (unless you tell him not too) while expressing love for his boyfriend

dating asahi had plenty of benefits, most importantly his ability to scare those off who were rude to you. you had come out to him a week ago, he needed some help understanding the process but soon he was very on board and understanding. now you two were eating lunch with noya and tanaka, watching a group of girls who ever now and then looked back at you to laugh and point. you’d just gotten your gender affirming hair cut the night before. you began to feel very self conscious about everything, just slowly tucking yourself into asahi who immediately realized something was wrong. “what’s up babe?” he asked watching you nod towards the group. with that he gently passed you over to noya who was very excited for the hugs he was allowed to give his close friend. needless to say asahi scared the living hell out of those girls. when all was said and done, he took you to the boys bathroom and locked the door. he simply hugged you, rubbing your back while you almost immediately cried. “it’s okay bunny..i’m sorry people can’t mind their own business-not that it’s my fault-i dunno why i apologized-sorry-i-“ he took a deep breath but his nervous rambling had made you giggle. “thank you, you giant teddy bear” you smiled leaning up to give him a nice soft kiss.

[spxllcxstxr]

Bridge Over Troubled Water • R.L

(Gif not mine)

Requests: can you do a blurb with Remus where the reader is nervous and anxious, maybe has a tough week and he gives her a massage and helps her relax? — anon and Hi! can you write an imagine where the reader is dating Remus and is disappointed in her school grades / results and is overall doubting herself and is disappointed with herself? — @emmaev

Summary: Things are getting really tough. Remus is here for you.

Warnings: mention of food, not eating/skipping a meal, hunger, depression, anxiety, a bit of a panic attack, homework, school, self deprecating thoughts, kinda take how we’re feeling in this pandemic and that’s kinda what this fic is, Snape being an ass for like two sentences, crying

Word Count: 1.7k

A.N: I hope it’s alright that I combined your two requests. But, I decided to make it longer with a lot more comfort. I really hope it’s ok with you guys ❤️ Kinda a vent fic? So that’s why it’s lowkey all over the place and the ending is sorta..abrupt? I hope you like it, though. I wanna say that I’m always here for you guys. This whole thing has been kicking my ass and school has been extremely tough for me, so know that you’re not alone. Know that you’ve got this. I believe wholeheartedly in you. Love you all. ❤️

Title: Simon and Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water

****

You trudge up the stone steps to the boys dorms, your bag dragging heavily behind you. With your robes slipping from your shoulders and your tie dangling loosely around your neck, you almost consider letting your bag go. Watching the heavy sack of books tumble recklessly down the spiral staircase seems like a great idea to you. However, you make it to the sixth year dorms before you’re able to loosen your grip.

The oak door was closed but not locked. What use was a lock when the door was charmed to singe off the eyebrows of any unwelcome visitor? Thankfully, the boys granted you complete access to their room in third year, so the door couldn’t harm you.

Turning the brass doorknob and stepping through the threshold, you’re greeted by somewhat organized chaos.

Sirius and Peter’s side of the room was a complete disaster while James and Remus’ side was at least nicer to look at. Sure a few books were scattered on the floor and James’ red and yellow underwear was hanging from his bedpost visible to anyone who walked in, but that’s nothing compared to whatever the other two have going on. You don’t even want to look at it, knowing full well that just one tiny glance would make your already terrible day worse.

The room is empty and completely quiet, the boys, just like every other person in the castle, were down in the Great Hall for dinner. At the thought of dinner just downstairs, your stomach grumbles before quickly churning in agony.

Quickly, you dump your bag next to the door and go through Remus’ drawers, searching for that one specific jumper.

It’s the deep blue cable knit one that always smells like him. The jumper is soft and warm and the perfect piece of clothing to cuddle into when you needed a good cry. And Godric, you needed a good, long, ugly cry.

After finding it and throwing it on, you barely lift up your feet walking to your boyfriend’s bed to get swallowed up by his blankets.

The weight of the day hits you full force the moment your head collides with his pillow, and your lips wobbles, the day replaying in your mind.

Your morning started with a Transfiguration exam that definitely was not on what you studied all night for.

Then, your potion bubbled out of your cauldron and started disintegrating the stone flooring, making Slughorn shoot you very disappointed look that made you want to disappear into the Forbidden Forest forever.

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned into a complete disaster as well when Professor Bluebell handed back your essays on inferi, and yours ended up with a spikey red D scrawled angrily on the top. D, which stands for Dreadful, as Snape snidely reminded you from over your shoulder. He flashed you smug little smirk along with the delicate O that adorned his own essay.

And to top it all off, you had to meet up with Flitwick right after classes to go over the vinegar to wine charm that for some reason wouldn’t work for you no matter how hard you tried. And you still weren’t successful.

This was becoming a common occurrence.

You always knew that your N.E.W.T. year was going to be tough, but Merlin, you never expected it to be this awful.

Classes were longer and harder and your professors were relentless and unforgiving with the amount of homework and exams they started handing out.

Sure you had more free periods, but those were filled with research and essays and studying, you had no free time at all—it was all a lie.

You couldn’t escape it. Sleep was just more time to be plagued by anxiety to the point you barely even slept at all. Most of the time you stared blankly up at the ceiling thinking about all the assignments you could be doing instead.

It’s this torturous and vicious cycle that you just can’t get out of.

And your motivation was quickly disappearing.

It was getting tougher and tougher each time to even do your homework. Lifting up your quill and taking out a stack of parchment was just difficult. It took too much energy out of you.

Smothering your face in Remus’ pillow, you groan out your frustration, balling your fists around the frayed sleeves of the jumper.

You’re so wrapped up in your despair and panic that you don’t hear the door creak open and four sets of footfalls and laughter bounce around the room.

“Damn, what’s up with you?” Sirius chuckles. You hear him flop onto his own bed.

You bury your nose in the fabric of the jumper, inhaling the sweet and comforting scent of chocolate and old parchment that always accompanies Remus Lupin.

“Don’t be a git, Pads.” Remus scoffs, making his way towards you.

He crouches down by your head, placing a delicate thumb on your cheekbone.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” His tone turns soft, drenched with concern.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, tears trickling down the bridge of your nose and dripping down to the white sheets.

“Alright, darling, hold on.” Remus whispers, placing a dainty kiss on your forehead.

He straightens up, knees creaking the way no sixteen year old’s should.

“Alright, lads, clear out.” Remus declares to his friends.

“You can’t kick me out of my room, Moony. No way.” You hear James whine.

“Yes, I can, Prongs, c’mon. Go play chess with Peter or something.”

“But he always beats me.”

“C’mon, Prongsie, we can scam the first years by making them place bets on you winning.” Sirius suggests. His boots click against the floorboards, trailing towards the door.

Peter’s light footsteps follow after them.

“Fine.” James huffs dramatically. “But I’m not sleeping on the couch again, so no funny business.”

The door slams shut and once again you’re met with silence, though you do hear Remus changing out of his uniform and into more comfortable attire.

The bed dips underneath Remus’ weight and his hand gently starts to stroke through your hair.

“Tell me what’s wrong, my love.” Remus mumbles just loud enough for you to hear.

You try to swallow down the lump in the back of your throat.

“Just a very shitty day, Rem.” You manage to croak out, the words choppy and wavering.

Tears begin to flow freely, warm salty streaks making their way down your face in rapid succession.

“Oh darling.” Remus coos, practically pulling you into his arms and between his legs. You bury your face into his neck, tears dampening his scarred flesh. “It’s alright, let it out.” He continues to run your hair between his fingers. “Let it all out...”

“I-I’m just so stupid!” You sob, choking on spit. “Everything’s just getting too much and I can’t fucking take it anymore!”

He squeezes you closer to his chest, opting to stay silent so you can vent everything off of your chest. His cheek is pressed to the top of your head and you’re vaguely aware that you’re being rocked gently back and forth.

“It’s so hard!” You continue to wail, lungs constricting rapidly. It’s a struggle to keep breathing and your words barely come out fully, instead broken fragments are the only things spewing out.

“I’m a failure!” You spit out, face wet with tears.

“You’re not a failure, my love. I promise.” Remus tried to soothe, his voice adopting a small but noticeable waver. His hand rubs your back.

“I am! I’m a disappointment!” You sniff, taking in deep gulps of air.

“Shh...” Remus pulls you back a bit so he can see your entire face.

You already know you look disgusting. Eyes blotchy and red, tears streaming down your face. Snotty, spitty, wobbling, and watery features taking up his entire vision.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm? Let me help.” He consoles you softly.

You gaze into his warm honey brown eyes, glistening with his own tears.

You sniff, rubbing the sleeves of Remus’ stolen jumper across your face in an attempt to dry yourself off.

“Everything’s slipping, Rem. My grades, my mental health, everything. And I’m so lost I don’t know what to do anymore.” You confess. “What am I supposed to do?” You bring your hands up to you hair, tugging at your scalp enough for you to feel sparks of pain.

Quickly, his own trembling hands take yours. He stops you from tugging, instead bringing them to rest on his jumper clad chest.

You swallow harshly.

“I’m going to help you, (Y/n)—“

“You can’t help me, Remus! I’m beyond help—“

“No, you’re not.” He retorts lightly. “I’ll help you with homework and help you ask for a few extensions...we can get you back on track.”

“Remus...” Your voice trembles at his kindness.

“I’m sorry.” He rasps out, a tear or two slipping from his waterline. “I’m so so sorry that I didn’t see you suffering like this. Merlin, (Y/n).”

Shaking his head at himself, he brings his forehead down to your own.

“I’ll be better. I’ll be better, I swear.” Remus keeps repeating in a pained mutter.

“It’s not your fault, Rem. I got good at acting like everything was fine.” Your voice cracks.

“Still! I should’ve realized!” He mutters angrily.

“I love you, Remus. I love you so much, please don’t beat yourself up over this.” You plead.

He bites his lip, deciding to drop it, instead focusing on you.

“Why don’t we try to relax, hm? Just take a nice night off?” Remus suggests, pulling away to brush strands of hair away from your sticky face.

“But what about homework—?”

“Tomorrow, love. I think we deserve a break, don’t you?”

You shlyly nod, and he presses his lips to your forehead.

“You’re beautiful, darling.” Remus whispers.

“I just bawled my eyes out, Rem, I’m sure I look like a swamp hag.” You snort.

He brings his hands to your shoulders, rubbing deep circles into your back muscles. The knots start to dissipate.

“Never seen a swamp hag as angelic as you.” Remus flirts. But his voice is so sincere and honest, you have no choice but to somewhat believe him.

“Thank you, Remus.” You smile. “It means so much to me.”

“Anything for the love of my life.” He confesses, trailing his pink lips down your neck. “Now let me hold you close.”

He lays down, resting his head on his pillow, your head resting on his chest.

Things are going to get better.

Probably not tomorrow.

Probably not this week.

But things will.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20

[f0rever15elf]

A First Time for Everything

Pairing: Marcus Pike x gn!reader Word count: 1,565 Rating: G Ratings: None, just some super soft and awkward Marcus Summary: A visit to Marcus’ parents reveals an interesting fact about Marcus. 

A/N: This little oneshot/drabble is inspired by this post from @mrpascals​. I would like to thank my lovely beta reader @yespolkadotkitty​ for reviewing this for me. Go check her out if you have time, her work is amazing. First attempt at a gender neutral reader! 

Masterlist  |  Ao3

"Babe! C'mon, we're going to be late for our flight!" You flip through the papers in your hands, making sure that all tickets were accounted for. "Your mom will never let us hear the end of it if we're late!" You loved Mrs. Pike, you really did, but that woman could put the fear of every god in existence into you. 

"Coming, coming!" Marcus stumbles his way down the stairs, hair a mess, drawing a giggle from your lips. 

"How you make it anywhere on time is still a mystery to me." 

Marcus just grins, leaning in to peck your cheek before grabbing the keys and one of the carry-ons. "It's all organized chaos, I promise. Everything has a plan." His wink makes your heart flutter the same as it did the day you first laid eyes on him. 

"Well, Mr. Organized Chaos, we're gonna be late if you don't get your happy butt out in that taxi." You pat his backside and a gentle blush rises in his cheeks as he makes his way out the door, waiting for you before locking up. 

The flight to your in-law's house was uneventful, for which you were thankful. Flights never sat well with you, and even with Marcus there, rubbing soothing circles across your knuckles, you couldn't help the anxiety that bubbled up as soon as the wheels lifted off the runway. 

The sight of Marcus' parents waiting for you at the exit to the security checkpoint helps to soothe that last bit of anxiety that Marcus' comforting words weren't able to fully quell. 

"Hello, you lovebirds!" Mama Pike cries as she grabs you both, pulling you into one of her trademark hugs, something that Marcus definitely inherited from her. You return the lovely woman's hug before turning to your father-in-law, embracing him gently. 

As you pull away, he rests a strong hand on your shoulder. "We've been so excited, just waiting for you to get here! I've hardly slept the past few days!" Mama Pike laughs, wrapping her arms around one of Marcus'. "We couldn't wait for you to arrive. How was your flight? Was everything good? What have you two been up to lately?" 

"Now Mother, these two kids just got off the plane, give them a moment to collect themselves." Mr. Pike smiles endearingly at his wife, who sputters out an apology as she blushes. "We got a room all set up for you two kids. Marcus' old room." Marcus' eyes go wide as he stares at his dad. 

"M-My room? N-not the g-guest room?" His nervous stutter is always so endearing. 

"We’ve turned the guest room into a quilting room," Mama Pike pipes up. 

"Looks like a craft store exploded in there," her husband quips back, grinning as his wife smacks his arm. 

"Thank you both so much for setting everything up for us. It's very kind of you both." You smile up at Mr. Pike as he affectionately squeezes your shoulder before you look at Mama Pike with the same affectionate gaze. 

"My dear, it was no problem at all! We're so happy to have you both home!" She reaches over to pat your cheek affectionately. 

"Mama Pike, you're the sweetest woman alive." 

And so the pleasant conversation continues as the four of you make your way home, Marcus blushing at the suggestive comments from your mother-in-law that had you bursting at the seams.  "And that reminds me of that time we were visiting his Uncle Eddie at the lake when he was four!" 

"Oooookay mom that's enough! We're both really tired from the flight, so we're going to go and rest, okay?" Marcus squeezes your hand as he tries desperately to end story time with his mom.  The higher than normal pitch in his voice causes you to giggle softly. Embarrassed chocolate eyes look your way before he looks to his dad, pleading silently.  

"We should let the love birds rest, Mother." Mr. Pike drapes his arm over his wife's shoulder and she looks up at him, confused as he starts to lead her away, Marcus doing the same to you. 

"Don't forget to ask me about when he was four!" Mama Pike calls back over her shoulder and you laugh, nodding as Marcus pulls you into his room, shutting the door behind you both. Once the two of you are safely behind the closed door, granting you a little bit of privacy, Marcus pulls you up against him and drops his head to the juncture connecting your neck and shoulder with a groan. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close to you as your fingers rub soothing lines over his back. 

"I absolutely adore your parents, Marcus. Your mother is the funniest woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting." 

He chuckles against your neck before leaving a gentle kiss, raising his head to smile down at you with those gentle brown eyes that you love so much. “She's crazy. Absolutely crazy." 

"Well, yes, but that's why I love her!" You grin, tilting your head up to kiss him gently before pulling back. You cup his cheek with a smile, letting your fingers linger on his skin as you move past to go put your clothes away. The bed squeaks behind you and you turn to see Marcus taking a seat on his bed, leaning back against the wall as he watches you. 

"You know..." he starts off, and you can hear the hesitation in his voice. "I've never had anyone in my room like this before..." 

You close the dresser and turn around, resting your hands on your hips. "What, like, someone you were dating? Really?" He shakes his head and you scoff, making your way over to the bed. "I find that incredibly hard to believe, babe." He reaches out, grabbing your hips to pull you on to the bed with him, and you straddle him, sitting in his lap with your legs around his waist. Your hands rest on his chest and you relish in the feeling of his heartbeat under your palm. 

"I'm serious. I wasn't really popular in highschool. Not many friends, and definitely no significant others." His thumbs rub along your hips, a pout growing on his lips. You purse your lips in thought, head tilted as he watches you with that rich, loving gaze. 

"I think I would have liked to know high school Marcus. I'm sure you were the most adorable high schooler." The tips of his ears turn pink and he shakes his head vehemently. 

"You wouldn't have given me even a passing glance if you had known me then. I was one of those kids who just sorta faded into the wall." 

You feel your heart clench at how...downtrodden he sounds. This certainly wouldn't do. A thought crosses your mind, and a devious smile splits your lips. "Well...then I guess you've never had a secret makeout session in your bedroom before, hm?" 

Marcus' eyebrows shoot up and his cheeks flush as he tries to stammer out an answer.  "N-No I can't s-say that I h-have." He stutters whenever he gets really flustered and it never ceases to make your heart flutter. It’s always the most adorable thing you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing and it only works to widen your smile. 

"I can fix that." Cupping his cheeks gently, you bring your lips to his in a gentle kiss. His hands still on your hips as his eyes slip closed, leaning into the kiss. It starts off gentle, nervous as you let Marcus lead the kiss. You drop your hands from his face, electing to drape your arms around his neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss as your lips move languidly against his. It never ceased to amaze you just how soft his lips were, and you continuously found yourself getting lost in his kisses. Cautiously, he nibbles at your bottom lip and you sigh, opening your lips to him, a delicate moan bubbling in your throat as he licks into your mouth. His hands move to your back as he holds you closer to him, pressing your body against his own as he tries to get as close to you as humanly possible. Your hands thread themselves into his hair, tugging gently and he groans against you before pulling back, shoulders rising and falling with deep breaths. The flush that paints his cheeks brings a heat to your own as you let go of his hair to trace your fingers lightly over his jaw. 

"There's a first time for everything, I guess," he murmurs breathlessly, looking up at you with shining eyes and that gentle smile that is so uniquely Marcus. You can't help yourself as you lean back in, pressing your lips back to his in a hungry kiss, relishing in the moan you succeed in drawing from him. 

"I love you so damn much," you whisper between kisses and his grip tightens around you as he shifts, laying you down on the bed. 

He smiles down at you, bringing his own hand to cup your face as he stares down at you adoringly.  "I love you too." And so the talking ends as the two of you drink each other in, making ample use of your 'time to rest.' 

You would need to remember to thank Mr. Pike.

~~~ My tag list is open! Requests are open!

[brooklynislandgirl]

📝 for the answering of applicable questions, please!

~Quietly, in the Lower Garden District~

~Colour~

The man behind the counter is ready to reach over and strangle her. She can see it in his expression, so put upon by each time she shakes her head and asks if she can have another sample made. She almost wishes he would try, he'd lose more than the hour that she's been at this. That might be uncharitable of her but the man reminds her of the kind of person who, when not wearing his little vest, is exactly the kind of person who sees Beth and Anakin walking down the street together and curls a lip, makes passing commentary to other middle-age white guys. Too poor, too weird, too questionably ethnic to suit them. The kind of person who would walk faster when it got dark, or would lock up before they could make it to a door. There's more of those than either one of them care to acknowledge, and the irony is almost delicious. Except that sometimes Anakin cannot help but to be very aware of that kind of prejudice and it really takes another chunk out of his self-confidence.

"Allow me to explain again," she says softly, in crisp and enunciated haole. "I said I want a very specific shade of blue. A hint of royal with a tinge of cadet number five. Then mix at the edges a touch of Prussian and just enough Turkish Steel to give that depth soft edges. Then overly sky atop it all. Or better yet, please find me a customer service specialist who can, in fact, understand what I am looking for because clearly? You're not it." That might be her fault, she does want to paint the living room the exact shade of Anakin's eyes.

~Song~

She doesn't play as well as Andy could, and she would never be a singer though she enjoyed it maybe because it was more about intent than execution, one of the few things that held true in absolute. And sometimes neither one really mattered when he folded himself up like an envelope just so he could rest his head against her chest and instead of plucking strings, she only ran fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and she focuses hers across the back yard. Beyond the pool and past the grass. Colours blur and fade and there's a ripple of dissonance within the Tapestry to make a boundary between what is solid and inflexible and what is hidden in a space outside of the Tellurian. Words they don't use in every day conversation. She isn't quite singing now instead humming a tune that would reveal more than maybe they're ready to dive into. Other words they don't use, either. Her palm comes to rest on his brow as tender as she knows how. The other reaches around him to tuck one of the knitted blankets around him. He doesn't seem to mind the combination of warmth between herself and the acrylic, is maybe the only other person who could be cold in anything else less than 80 degrees and 90% humidity. It takes an infinite amount of patience, skill, and mana to redirect the rain to a different part of the city. He'll forgive her weariness even if he doesn't understand why she will go to bed early, sleep in late. And that's okay. He doesn't need to know. It's better if he doesn't, it would spoil the gift. 'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home.

~Scent~ The balcony door is open letting muggy air move sluggishly in through the French doors. Beneath her the bed is a little too stiff for comfort. Her laptop almost too warm as it rests on her thighs and only serves to remind her that she should probably get out of the charcoal grey suit she's wearing. She closes the screen and pulls her glasses off, raising them so they rest in her hair. Takes a sip of the wine she'd bought at...some store she won't remember the name of... but that came recommended by the bellhop.

She didn't have the forethought before leaving for Baton Rouge to steal borrow something to bring along. For reasons that she didn't want to explain because there's no very polite way to explain she's grown used to having him sleep beside her. That there's something soothing that comes wafting up from his skin the closer he gets, arm wrapped around her, leg half thrown over. At the end of a day there's his natural chemistry that mixes with clean laundry and cigarette smoke, something sweet and spicy from his preferred night cap. Sometimes there's blood. Sometimes the distinct smell of wood or metal from something he's working on for himself, the kind of tinkering that seems to bring him peace like nothing else can. There isn't an exact name for it but she can recognise it at a thousand paces. It makes her want to burrow furtively into his chest cavity and find some way to live inside of that newly hollowed out space. Maybe just thinking about it was all she needed. Maybe it's some new kind of magick trick. Regardless, she'd managed to doze off just long enough to be startled when the door of her hotel room clicks shut and he's there. Pulled out of her day dreams and turned into flesh. With exactly the kind of apologetic grin she's become as familiar with as she is the smell of him. "Guess, I jus' couldn't sleep." And she knows there's more going on behind the sheepish look, and the way he stands at a polite distance away, maybe waiting for permission. She doesn't say a word. Only turns down the previously pristine other side of the bed before slipping from hers. The white silk blouse hits the floor seconds before she disappears into the bathroom.

~Meme~ She eyes Anakin. Looks at her phone. Back and forth for five solid minutes before she just starts giggling. Which turns into a laugh.

~Sound~ It's those little sub-vocalisations that get her. Every near guttural groan, every single one of those breathless whimpers that cling to the edges of her senses soft as cobwebs or hard as thunder. There are so many layers between them, so much context to be drawn from even a half of a sigh. They are a siren song even if she doesn't know what rocks he wants her to dash herself on.

~Setting~

She cringes. "I don' wanna tell ya." He's helping her work on a psychological profiling assessment that's required of her continuing education class, which is all part of her professional development. But she's worried because it's going to sound incredibly racist, coming as it is not from a white-passing woman of colour but one of incredible privilege who absolutely knows what it's going to sound like. But she cannot resist the look of self-accusation and anxiety that creeps into his micro-expressions and doing anything else would feel incredibly dishonest. Something she doesn't want to foster in him. "Somewhere 'round sunset. Da bayou waddah look like it on fire. Dere's some soft Zydeco music goin' on in da backdrop. Air's hot an' heavy like steam 'tween lovers an' if ya real quiet, can hear da bayou jus' come alive wi' oddah souls. Dere's pirogues bobbin' along, an' you can smell some ono grindz cookin' somewhere. Spanish moss all hangin' down from cypress an' willow trees. A mixture of old spirituals an' dat beautiful, melodic pidgin dat get spoke down dere...I know is nevah really li'dat.... also make me t'ink of witch blood an' Mokole dat pass as gators... all dem ghosts an' da kine ya nevah can put ya finger on but dat give ya chicken skin jus' t'inkin' 'bout..." ~Fashion Style~

Clothes litter her floor. Flung without a care to their resting places. Some on the edge of her bed or the arm of a chair. Suits and jeans and tee-shirts. Undergarments and socks. Like some small hurricane exploded out of the closet, just with less water. There's sarongs too. Luau shirts that just aren't him. Shoes too. Finally, she steps back and examines her handiwork. A frame work of satin boxers that will caress the most delicate parts of him without bunching or pinching. An accent of which are picked up in the suit lapels and bow tie. White shirt, black buttons. Silver cuff-links. Socks that are thin as a Friday night prayer, and absolutely voluptuous Paolo Scafora oxfords in a blue so dark they look black at first glance, polished to a mirror gloss. Dior and Stefano Ricci. Famous labels from famous houses of style.

If the gala wasn't required...Anakin wouldn't be seeing the light of day and there'd be very different reasons the clothes would be laying scattered about.

But she kind of also misses that scruffy plain, slightly tattered tee-shirt and skinny jeans even she would have a hard time getting up past her own hips, and questionably aged converse. Aesthetically speakin, Anakin is ever clothing designer's wet dream and she has never wanted to be a circular scarf more in her life. "Wow. Jus'....wow." ~Feeling~

"Belonging."

It's all she says before she kisses him. Softly and sweetly, a little wet from a stray tear that slips down between their lips. Admitting this is admitting that maybe, just maybe, she loves him, too. Which puts a countdown on everything. Which means that he's going to find the wherewithal to leave her and to take with him every that makes her feel even the littlest bit real. She doesn't know if she'll survive the loss, so it's best that she make the most of it before he goes. ~Animal~ "If you were one dem changing breeds? You'd be a were-fossa. Dey are dese medium sized ....well. Dey kinda look like cats, but also...dey don't. Related to da civet but also like...mongooses. Mongeese? Wha'evah. Dey from Madagascar. Da Malagasy got kapu of a kind an' actually are sorta afraid of dem, an' wi' good reason...dey carnivorous ay-eff." She glances over. "Don' laugh! Dey beautiful an' rare an' I really like dem a lot. An' I'm not gonna tell ya any more about dem. Gonna make a new animal, an' call it a' Anakin." There is every possibility that she will do this. Some day.

~Holiday~ Christmas. It will always be Christmas. Not the lights and snow and carollers, though there's plenty of that to go around. Not the chill and dank air, not the interminably long night, not even because of gifts. It's not a childhood of Santa surfing or canoeing, and it isn't sandcastles and malasadas left by the lanai doors from Hawai'i, either. Maybe it's a touch of the peace and goodwill often associated with the season, and how he came to find her when he needed her the most. But if she had to give just one reason, it's that he brought her back a sense of wonder that she'd thought was lost when her world had shattered. He took something terrible and turned it into something beautiful. That isn't an ordinary, every day kind of magick and she doesn't know how she will ever be able to express her love and gratitude for him.

"Wha'ya t'ink about mebbe da Bahamas dis year? Get out of da city for a lil while, I promise I won' make ya go for da beach."

~Season~

When Beth thinks of seasons, she thinks of it being a mainland phenomenon. Her own islands only really have two: Kau from May to October, where everything is beautiful and averages about 85 degrees give or take, and Ho'oilo from November to April when the best tides bring in the biggest waves. It's only cooler by about ten degrees. Which is maybe why she always feels so cold so far away from home. And why she likes it here so much. She knows other places have as many as six seasons, broken up into more agricultural and solar tied patterns of weather and climate and sometimes even just spiritual nature. But taking all of Anakin into account, she would have to say... "Monsoon. It's da time of life-giving rains. But also it can be dangerous for the same reason. Cool but lingers along your skin. An' it's somet'ing I keep wi' me always, waitin' for it."

[joy1579]

the RFA bois react to empath MC

so in this context im gonna say MC is an empath in that she can feel other peoples emotions. they feel separate from hers though as she’s had a lot of time to learn to compartmentalize her emotions separate from others. she can also promote emotions to other people but not force them. think of it like the difference between being near a small campfire and wrapped up in a blanket in you house. if your feeling sad she can help you feel a little better help you not slip too far into depression but she cant solve the problem. if your surrounds by cold sadness she can be a small campfire to warm up next to until you have enough strength to make it home. some people can tell the difference between her promoted feelings and their genuine ones but its difficult and often takes a lot of practice.

I might add jaehee and Saeran a bit later. if you guys want me to leave a comment. otherwise i’ll probably move on to my next project.

oh and master list

Jumin

Curious, defensive, once he accepts it he’s thankful that you can understand his feelings so easily

-        He doesn’t believe you at first. At least he says he doesn’t but you can feel his curiosity

-        You tell him to ask any questions he has and he does

-        “Can you make people feel something?” Sorta but not really, I can promote or encourage feelings but not force them

-        “Can you tell when people lie to you?” it depends on why their lying. I can fell maliciousness and that can tell me if their lying.

-        “Have you ever used this power on me?” You can feel the anxiety behind that question. He doesn’t want his love for you to be something you created. You don’t have to be an empath or a mind reader to see that concern.

-        I can’t turn off feeling other people’s emotions that’s how I knew how much you were hurting. “you know that’s not what I’m asking MC”

-        You sigh defeated yes, but it isn’t what you think. I didn’t make you love me; I could never do that. there isn’t a point if those feeling aren’t genuine. I tried to calm you down, make you feel more safe and secure. You were so anxious I couldn’t stand to see you so hurting like that so I tried to encourage peace

-        You could feel him processing that, you watched as his grim and serious face slowly melted into the gentle smile you loved you could feel his warm and soothing love

-        can I show you something? I, I’ve never done this but I want to try to make you feel how I feel about you.so you can understand “you may”

-        you instructed him to breathe deeply. The way he did when he meditated (a hobby he had begun after reading about it in a book about Romanian vampires)

-        it’s easier if your empty and open. A blank slate to receive what I’m projecting are you ready?

-        He nods and you start. You pour every ounce of energy you have into showing him how much you love him the warmth in your face when you catch his eye, the tingles in your fingertips when he kisses you, the giddy bubbliness in your heart when he makes those silly dry jokes of his and last the hunger in your blood when he smirks at you.

-        When you stop sending him your feelings you can feel them mirrored back at you with their signature Jumin charm.

-        His face may not burn but he’s never found it difficult to fight a smile before he met you, his fingers may not tingle but they twitch with the need to hold you, and he feels that same giddy bubbliness when you laugh at his jokes, last but certainly not least you feel the aching need for you when you glance at him slyly

-        You laugh at the cosmic ridiculousness of it all, you two felt so similar yet so different two sides of the same coin.

-        You wouldn’t have it any other way

 Yoosung

Embarrassed, thinks you can mind read, tries to not think anything naughty thinks EVERYTHING naughty

-        When you tell him he turns bright red and you almost choke on the embarrassment he’s feeling

-        Why is he so embarrassed though? you don’t get it feelings aren’t embarrassing

-        “so you um you know all my thoughts?” oh okay now you get it he doesn’t understand

-        No I can’t read your thoughts I just feel your emotions, like if your happy I can feel your happiness or if your sad I can feel that sadness

-        “so um can you feel if I feel um like nope never mind no its nothing I’m going to go study”

-        Now you’re curious so while he’s studying your focused on him searching for something anything beyond the pure embarrassment he’s feeling

-        Slowly you can feel a small piece of his emotion a wavering flickering determination to hide something

-        You don’t approve of spying. But he was acting so strange you were worried. So you watched him for the rest of the evening as you scampered around doing everything in his power to stay busy and avoid you

-        You can’t keep avoiding me forever Yoosung what are you so afraid ill feel that I haven’t felt already

-        That’s when he locks eyes with you and you can feel his need ;) at the same time that his face flushes a near impossible shade of red

-        “MC can you feel when I have naughty thoughts?” He blurts clearly a little panicked

-        You can’t help but giggle because you can feel his nervousness under laden by the obvious thoughts he’s been trying not to think

-        Only when you think about them really hard *you wiggle your eyebrows at him*

-        And now you’ve broken him he’s a puddle of embarrassment on the floor you should probably stop teasing him now

-        Yoosung listen if you’re worried about me thinking your weird, or not feeling the same way myself. You don’t need to. Honestly most of the time I feel how sincerely you love me, how much you enjoy being with me, how much you cherish me. Every now and then I feel you get a little needy and to be honest, I feel the exact same way. I love you of course I feel that way sometimes.

-        Then his lips are on yours and your drowning in the intensity of his emotion

-        How can such a cute and innocent looking boy feel so, hungry. You have to admit its intoxicating

-        you hold him tight against you and try to make him feel your love the way you feel his love right now

-        you don’t know if it comes through but you figure you probably have the rest of your life to keep trying.

-        At least if the devotion and love you feel from him is really as strong as it feels

-        You know better than anyone that feelings can change in the blink of an eye

-        But you have no intention of letting this go

Saeyoung

skeptical at first, he jokes about conspiracies and magic because they seem so far fetched to me so you’ll have to prove yourself.

-        when she tells him he doesn’t believe you

-        “prove it what am feeling right now” he said teasingly

-        Skeptical? You replied blandly it didn’t take an empath to figure that one out

-        Saeyoung laughed at that and you couldn’t help the bloom off love in your heart

-        “okay that wasn’t a good example” he joked “how about this what’s Saeran feeling”

-        “emotionally exhausted, a little depressed, but mostly apathetically curious

-        ... it’s the best he’s felt in a while to be honest but it’s getting better” you said solemnly

-        You felt his heart sink the all too familiar weight of guilt he carried quickly pushed aside to focus on more pleasant things

-        “that would have been a better example if I could fact check it but it seems right” he said with a glance to his brother lost at the computer in the corner of the room

-        I can try to affect your mood would that prove it? You offered

-        He brightened instantly at that “oh yeah! that’s a good idea bet you can’t scare me”

-        “I can’t force emotions but I can promote them so let’s try it out. First it’s easier if you clear your mind and start with a blank slate” you instructed

-        “my minds always a blank slate” he quipped giving you his signature goofy grin

-        you couldn’t help but laugh for a moment and you felt his pride swell at your giggling

-        after a moment you calm yourself down and begin to focus on proving your point

-        suddenly he’s stiff and trembling in front of you

-        “I don’t like that” he whispered stopping you immediately

-        “I’m sorry did I push too hard” you fretted

-        “I, don’t, I believe you just don’t do that again”

-        “of course I’m sorry” you promised worriedly

-        “I haven’t felt like that since, never mind I just don’t like it”

-        “here let me try something else something better”

-        This time you sent warmth, comfort and love. the feeling of stepping inside your warm home on a cold winter day. you can feel him beginning to relax into it and you hope this makes up for your earlier faux pas

-        “I recognize that feeling you’ve done this for me before”

-        you caught me I did this a lot when you were with me at Rikas place I didn’t like you feeling bad so I tried to help usually the calls helped with they didn’t I did this

-        he pulls you into his arms and hugs you tight you can feel his adoration and gratefulness

-        “you’ve been helping me since the beginning. thank you”

 zen

instant belief (because he has psychic dreams after all) probably falls more in love with you because you can completely understand his feelings

-        now he knows why you believed him about his psychic dreams so wholeheartedly with no hesitation

-        no one had ever believed him so quickly and honestly it meant so much that you had trusted him

-        then his eye’s glint and he asks if you can feel what characters are supposed to be feeling

-        you almost laugh at that but he’s serious

-        he thinks about how helpful that would be for his career, how easy it would make character analysis

-        you almost wish you could when you see how passionate and ambitious he is

-        but you shake your head and explain

-        “I have to be with the person”

-        He nods at that but you can feel his confusion grow mixed with curiosity so you continue

-        “and if there’s multiple people I have to work harder to focus on just the person I want to read.”

-        it’s in this moment that clarity dawns on Zen’s face you were so good at isolating people’s problems focusing on exactly who you needed to. the reason you were always so focused on him and his feelings was because you worked at it. You had practice.

-        You could feel his admiration though you weren’t sure what thoughts a brought it you had started talking and now it felt like you couldn’t stop you had never told anyone about how your power felt and now it was pouring out of you

-        “It’s like being in a crowded room and trying to isolate one person’s voice from all the others. it can be overwhelming because people don’t have inside emotions like they have inside voices. when something exciting happens in a movie, sometimes it feels like the whole theater is screaming.

-        “that’s why you hadn’t heard of me before we met. You avoided the theater because it was to emotional?”

-        “I couldn’t get into the story because the actors never felt genuine and I got a headache from all the people in the crowd it was easier to watch things at home where I couldn’t read people so easily”

-        “but you come see my plays now?”

-        You blushed at that averting your eyes “your acting is different. You actually feel the part. You make it easy for even me to believe you. if it’s you, I think it’s worth the headache from the crowd. If it’s you I think I understand how the crowd can get so worked up.”

-        He lunged at you and in a flash your back was against the couch as he loomed over you hungry and full of adoration he leaned down to whisper in your ear

-        “can you tell how I feel right now?”

-        You shut your eyes tight and nodded face red with embarrassment.

-        “then you must have some idea of how much I love you. still I’d like to prove it, if you’ll let me Jagi”

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 29

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 29: Mosley thinks he gets the last laugh, but Alfie Solomons isn’t easily beat. 

          It was late when the doors of the bakery were stormed. Three men, three assassins broke in. Alfie was the only one on the first floor. Ollie was in the basement working on inventory. His assistant startled when he heard gunshots from upstairs.

           He rushed up the steps, his gun drawn. But the men had already fled once Alfie started returning fire.

           The Jewish gangster was now on the floor, bleeding out from the gun wound on his face. In an instant, everything changed. Ollie panicked and dragged Alfie into his office, just in case the armed men returned.

~~~~~~~~~

           It was the phone call that made Ella seize up in anxiety. She could imagine it was the exact same helpless feeling Alfie felt when she was shot by the Italians. Her husband shot in the face. There was no telling if he would survive or not.

           “He’s going into surgery now. I don’t know-” Ella dropped the phone and grabbed her coat to leave the flat. There were too many thoughts running through her mind to process at once. But on her way to the hospital, all she could do was pray for God to keep him alive.

           Ollie met her at the hospital. He explained to her as she shook in panic and anger what was going on. The only thing they could do was wait until Alfie got out of surgery. Then they would find out what sort of fate Alfie faced.

           Ella paced in the waiting room for a moment but stopped. “Ollie.” She turned to the young man.

           “Yes?”

           “The minute Alfie gets out of surgery, call my brother. Tell him Alfie’s dead. Tell him that Mosley’s men killed him.”

           Ollie looked bewildered. “Ella, they’re giving him a good chance of survival-”

           “I don’t care. You tell my family that my husband’s been gunned down by Oswald Mosley’s men.” She insisted.

           He nodded and went to find a telephone to break the news that wasn’t quite true.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Tommy rushed to the hospital after Ollie called. Heart in his throat. He met his sister in the waiting room. “El…” He reached out to her but she lashed out in response.

           Hitting his hands away she yelled at him. “You bastard! I told you! How could you let this happen?” She sobbed.

           “I-”

           “My husband is dead because of you!” She pushed him away from her. “Dead!”

           It was almost unbelievable that a man with such a reputation like Alfie could be killed. Luckily, Ella pulled off a convincing enough reaction. She was angry that Alfie had gotten hurt. But she’d also learned from the best liars in the game.

           As Tommy calmed his sister down in the waiting room, wrapping his arms around her and trying to soothe her, Alfie was being brought out the back of the hospital. Still knocked out from the drugs, he was driven out of the city.

~~~~~~~~

           “Oh fuckin’ hell.” Alfie tried to reach for his head. He wanted to clutch his head to try and quell the awful headache he had. “Jesus Christ…”

           “Alfie, sh, put your hands down, you can't touch your face.”

           He could hear his wife’s voice but it began to dawn on him that his eyes were open but he couldn’t see anything. “El? Ella? Ella, why can’t I fucking see anything?” He tried to sit up but found her arms holding him down.

           “Just try to relax for a moment…”

           “Ella, why can’t I fucking see?” He demanded. Anxiety overcame him as he had no memory of what had happened.

           “You were shot. Right in the face.” She gathered his hands in hers, kissing his knuckles. “The bullet didn’t get stuck but you bled a lot.” Her voice was shaking as she tried to recount the details. “They said the vision in your right eye might return but not your left one.”

           Ella was brought to her knees when she saw Alfie upon arriving at the small hospital west of London. He had lines of ghastly stitches that held the majority of the left part of his face together. When he opened his eyes, she cried.

           The doctors had warned her. There was no chance for his left eye. They said it was lucky he didn’t lose the eye entirely. But with the amount of nerve damage, he wouldn’t be able to see. They hypothesized that his right eye would be temporarily blind simply from the trauma to his head.

           When she saw for herself, it was too much. One eye was left as she knew it. The blue that came straight from the ocean. The very blue-green that touched the sky on the horizon. However, his left eye had been completely clouded over. A gray that was exclusive to the coldest of winter months. The light haze of fog that hung over the moors. The same fog that concealed the foals in her old dreams.

           “Mosley?” He muttered.

           “Yes.” She replied quietly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t there…”

           “How’s it look, then?” Alfie felt like he’d put his foot in his mouth. Maybe they should’ve taken Tommy’s advice when they had the chance. He was prideful, yes, and would’ve had a difficult time relinquishing even the smallest bit of control over the bakery to someone else. But what if they had targeted Ella first? His business wouldn’t have mattered then.

           Ella was quiet. “It looks painful.” She whispered in response.

           “Can’t feel it.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall back into the pillows. He figured the doctors had him on a cocktail of drugs. A shot to the face would be painful but he was numb. “Ugly then?”

           “No.” She insisted and squeezed his hands. “You could never be ugly to me.”

           A faint smile crossed his face. “I don’t get you sometimes, El.” He mumbled wearily.

           “I know.”

           “Think he’ll come to finish me off?”

           “No. We’re not in London anymore. And Tommy thinks you’re dead.” She reported the goings-on of when he was out cold.

           That amused Alfie. “That right?” He laughed. “Oh, fucking hell, can’t wait to jump out at him like a ghost. Scare the shit outta him.”

           “You need to stay quiet until this is over,” Ella replied, not really finding much humor in the situation. “I can’t have that monster finding out that you’re still alive. Tommy’ll tell him you’re dead and that’s that. He’ll stop coming after us.”

           “What about you?”

           “I told Tommy I was going to America. Told him I didn’t want anything to do with the family anymore.” She bit her lip. “I don’t think I really do. I’m so tired, Alfie, of everything.”

           “I know, love.” He replied quietly, his eyes still closed. The drugs were starting to take their course again and the rest of his body felt like it was floating. Utter numb bliss. “You’ve said that ‘fore though.” He pointed out.

           “I know.” She swallowed and rested her cheek on his chest. “Get some rest. I won’t leave.” She didn’t need to tell him twice. He was out cold again within moments. Ella rested against him, listening to his heartbeat and every breath he took. Just an assurance that he was still with her.

~~~~~~~~~

           “Nurse?”

           The older woman passing by stopped into the room. “Yes, Mr. Solomons?”

           “Will you please mail this letter out?” He held out an enveloped sloppily addressed to London.

           “Yes, of course.” She took the letter and took her leave.

           Only five minutes after Alfie handed off the letter, Ella arrived. She’d gone back to the inn she was staying at to tend after the dogs and wash up.

           It was two weeks after the shooting and Alfie had regained his sight in his right eye. It was a relief to everyone, especially Alfie who told his wife that it would be ‘a fucking shame if I never got to see those beautiful eyes of yours again’.

           But there were still adjustments that would need to be made. Being partially blind would take some getting used to. However, Alfie was so drugged up that he didn’t make much note of it.

           He’d requested early on to be tapered off the drugs, he wasn’t fond of the idea of being on pain medication. Not after what Ella went through. But only an hour after a lower dose, Alfie was begging to be numbed up again. The pain was too much to bear, even for a tough man like himself. He’d known pain before, but this was something else entirely.

           Ella did her best to keep him comfortable while in the hospital. She brought Anthea and Cyril to visit often, despite the disapproval of the hospital staff. She spent nearly all her time with him even as he slept. Sometimes she read to him to soothe his mind and keep his thoughts occupied away from the pain. She wanted to return the patience he had granted her while she was healing from her miscarriage. Although the experience seemed a little unfairly matched.

           Ella was aware of her standoffish and frankly explosive temperament while on the pain medication. Alfie, however, acted like he was on the most relaxing vacation when he was suitably doped up. He dozed off here and there. When he was awake, he joked with his wife and rambled about inane things. Nonsense, really, although it was amusing, to say the least. Sometimes, he talked about her like she wasn’t there. Either he assumed he was alone or was talking to a stranger. He informed her about how they met and how taken he was by her from the onset. He bemoaned the awful times they were apart and how it soured his mood a great deal. Ella especially loved when he recounted their unplanned and very brief wedding.

           A dreamy smile on his face as he spoke in a slightly slurred voice, his accent deeper than usual. “Fuckin’ knew ‘er brothers would be out to get me, right, once they found out. But I didn’t fuckin’ care. Loved ‘er too much, ya know? Wore this blue dress, always loved blue on ‘er. It were erm-sorta-whatchacallit-fuck-turquoise? Yeah. Bluish-green. Simple but fuckin’ ‘ell it looked stunnin’ on ‘er. Glowed. ‘Er smile. Fuckin’ ‘ell, gorgeous. Told me she ain’t never loved someone like she loved me. And I thought, right, me? Really, love? Me? Fuckin’ person that I am. Yeah. She married me. She did.”

           Ella would smile and kiss his hand as he predictably nodded off. She married him, alright. And she would protect him until the ends of the Earth just as he would protect her. If that meant lying to everyone, then so be it. She would lie through her teeth for as long as she needed to.

           Then, Alfie's letter arrived at Tommy's office in Parliament. Dated and signed by a dead man.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​ @enrapturedbythemoon​ @vampgirl1997​

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye​ @octaviareina​ @mylovelykelsifer​ @doubletriplepowerbomb​ @ramblingbaby​ @fuseburner​ @kaetastic​ 

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Disarming Voice

[Tour!verse]

One of, like, three gifts for @the10amongstthese3s because I love them so much and they mean a lot to me and I just 💚💘💙💖💚💖💚💘💙💘💚 I was supposed to wait for their birthday in June but they were sad earlier today and so I gathered the remains of the Adderall in my system and wrote this bad boy

I love you, Duckie!!!!!

also: i couldnt think of a title so i frantically searched up Pokemon moves and now this will be the second fanfic with a title that is a move from Pokemon (the first is Quiver Dance)

Word count: 3175

TW: Blood

———————

Haus of Holbein concluded with kaleidoscope of strobe lights and cacophony of giggles from the eager audience. They watched as the queens pranced over the risers and staircase for the next bit, unbeknownst to a small pop in the back that was deaf to even the Tudor ladies themselves. They just went on with their performance like they always did.

“It’s time for you to choose your bride, your highness!” Aragon declared in her high pitched, Welsh-tinged voice, and that was enough to pop a metaphorical balloon that cut Howard off from saying her next line.

Okay, well, it wasn’t really the metaphorical balloon popping that halted the show, but the sharp cry of pain that came from the upper right.

Joan was hunched over her keyboard, rocking back and forth slight and clutching at one side of her head. The sound of her soft whimpers and keens resonated in the earpieces each of the queen’s wore.

“Joan, what are you doing?” Anne hissed softly. She can hear the audience starting to murmur in confusion behind her.

“Stop the show,” Joan croaked weakly.

“What? We can’t-”

“Please!” Joan cried, her voice cracking. Her head snapped up and the spotlights caught on some kind of fluid running down the side of her face. Anne makes a sickened look and backed away, thinking that it may be blood. Aragon gave her an exasperated expression—how could a woman be afraid of the sight of blood? Or did Anne just pass out every time she had her period?

The golden queen’s internal nitpicking came to an abrupt halt when the director suddenly came on the speakers and announced a momentary intermission. A few people in the audience grumble in annoyance, while others groan, and the majority whispered even louder. A couple of stagehands are leering at Joan from the wings.

“What is going on?” The director suddenly stormed onstage, looking frazzled and aloof at the interruption. He was probably already imagining all the negative reviews and the money they’ll lose from people not wanting to come anymore, which definitely would not happen with how popular the show was. “Why did we stop? Joan, what did you do?”

“My-my ear—” Joan choked out. She’s rocking herself more prominently, as if she thought the movement would comfort her, but it clearly wasn’t working the magic she thought it would.

“You made us stop the show for an EARACHE?” The director barked.

“Hey, get off her ass.” Aragon growled, puffing out her chest to the obnoxious man and gathering herself up to her full size—which was easier taller than the director. And if she didn’t beat him in height, then her muscles and abs surely did, and she made sure to make that known to him.

“N-no, it’s—” Joan winced. “I-it’s—” She was stuttering too much for anyone to understand what she was saying, although nobody was really surprised. It was a habit of hers.

“Woah,” Maggie suddenly piped up. “What’s that on your face?”

Someone called for the main lights to be turned on, and the white-yellow fluid coating one side of Joan’s head is revealed. It was mixing with trails of red—blood. Anne stepped back dizzily and Aragon shot her a ‘get over it’ look over her shoulder before returning her full attention to the injured music director.

She could see that the fluids seemed to be coming from her ear and were dripping all the way down her jawline and onto her chest and shoulders. The droplets disappear against the dark material of her band uniform.

“Ew,” Jane wrinkled her nose and Joan looked dismayed at her reaction, then embarrassment. Pink did not go well with whatever color that liquid was supposed to be.

“What happened?” Cleves asked, incredibly curious. She was looking at the residue as if it were liquid gemstones.

“I-I had an—ear infection.” Joan explained, and each of her words are punctuated with a wince or whimper. “I took—pain killers, but—” She made a miserable, pained sound and clenched tighter.

“Your eardrum might have burst.” Cathy said bluntly.

Joan went very pale, and the fluids suddenly look a lot darker. Or maybe that was just because of the increased sputtering of blood that’s coming out.

Slowly, so slowly, she pulled her hand back, and they all saw the drooling maw that was her left ear. The interior was completely coated in a thick amalgam of water, blood, and something that looked like pus, and the hole seemed to be clogged by the same concoction, although that looked a lot more /red/. It was weeping the foul-smelling liquid; Anne gagged loudly, but Aragon didn’t know if it was because of the sight, the smell, or both.

“Yikes,” Maggie winced. “That looks painful.” At her side, Howard tentatively touched her ear, as if she thought that her eardrum may randomly burst and put her through the same pain the music director was very obviously feeling.

“What do we do?” Aragon asked, waving her head around to everyone.

“Well, if I remember correctly,” Cathy said in her infamous know-it-all voice, “burst eardrums usually heal on their own.”

There was a collective sigh of relief—and then Cathy started talking again.

“However, sometimes surgery is needed. I’ve heard of cauterizing being used as a form of treatment, too.”

Miraculously, Joan’s face managed to get even whiter. If Cathy noticed, she doesn’t relent with her fact-stating.

“And hearing loss is sometimes possible. Which, when working in show biz, doesn’t seem to be a very good th-”

“Thank you, Cathy!” Aragon said loudly, batting her goddaughter away. She set a hand on Joan’s shoulder and her heart broke a little when she felt the girl trembling. Ice blue eyes stare up at her in fear.

“I-I don’t want t-to get my ear cauterized.” Joan stammered. “O-or go deaf!”

“You won’t, honey,” Aragon assured her. I hope. “I’ll take you to the doctor’s.”

“What?” The director squawked. “You can’t leave!” He wheeled around to Joan, bug-eyed and desperate. “You can still perform, can’t you?”

“My EAR is LEAKING!” Joan cried, holding out her pus-soaked hand to the man, who reared away in disgust. Anne gagged again from somewhere further away and Howard begrudgingly leaves the commotion to go comfort her soon-to-be-ill cousin.

Aragon raised her eyebrows with a pleased smile. She didn’t often hear Joan snap at people, but she was always very impressed when she was around for it. It just proved there were thorns under that shell she’s always hiding in.

“Can you walk?” Aragon said softly, then wanted to slap her. She was on the side with the injured ear—Joan probably could barely hear from that side.

“Yeah.” Joan still said, making out the queen’s words. She wobbled to her feet, and although it was her ear that was the part that hurt, her legs were still hindered by the waves of pain and discomfort washing over her.

“Ow,” She whispered, wincing.

“Come on, darling.” Aragon said to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I won’t let you fall.”

“What about the show?” The director warbled woefully.

“The swings are here, aren’t they?” Aragon said dismissively. “Get one of them to do it!”

There’s a reply, but Aragon was already leading Joan off of the stage, through the wings, and out the back door to the staff parking lot.

“What did it feel like?” Aragon asked as she was driving to the hospital. She glanced at the shuddering form of Joan in the passenger seat. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Um,” Joan looked a little uncomfortable. “Sorta like a water balloon popping? I kinda heard, like, umm—this pop, I guess? And then splitting pain and, ahh—there was stuff—coming out of my ear.”

At least, Aragon thinks that’s what she said. She liked to think she was good at discerning Joan Stutters, but the girl was just stammering so badly that even she was having a hard time understanding what exactly she was saying. She reached one hand off the steering wheel and touched Joan’s shoulder, hoping it may help comfort her.

“It’ll be okay, darling.” She told her.

“P-please focus on the road,” Joan said, glancing anxiously at the hand on her shoulder.

“Right.” Aragon pulled her hand away. She should have known—Joan hated when she didn’t drive with both hands on the wheel.

How was it possible to hold so much anxiety in such a scrawny little body?

They soon arrived at the hospital in a whirl of rhinestones and sparkles, seeing as they were both still in their show costumes. The people in the waiting room were dazzled at the shimmering gold outfit Aragon was stuck in, and one person even recognized her and got up to possibly ask for a picture, but then immediately sat back down when they noticed her determined, ‘do not fuck with me’ expression. If her leotard was breaking some kind of hospital dress code, nobody decided to say something.

Aragon explained to the woman at the reception desk about what they were there for, gesturing vaguely to the coagulated mess on the side of Joan’s head in the process a few times. After getting checked in, they took a seat in the waiting room, much to Aragon’s displeasure. Sure, Joan’s injury was no broken bone or heart attack, but the girl was clearly in a severe amount of pain. If the way she wouldn’t stop shaking didn’t give that away.

“Snowflake?” Aragon gently touched her hand. “Are you alright, baby?”

Joan merely replied with a soft “mmm” and kept her eyes shut. Aragon frowned. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a boy with his parents staring at the mess on Joan’s head and shot him a look that nearly made him keel over dead.

“You’re going to be okay.” Aragon told her girl, keeping her voice warm and soothing. “I promise.”

Joan just nodded this time.

It took almost twenty minutes and an extra squirting of ear water and pus, but Joan was eventually called for examination. Aragon followed her, sliding past the several gazes she got as she went along.

As Cathy predicted, there wasn’t much the doctors could do for something inside of Joan’s head, and they were sure she didn’t want a sudden surgery to repair some pieces of frayed tissue. However, they did clean up her head and ear (which was a painful process when a q-tip was used), and prescribed her some stronger antibiotics since it was clear she was in some discomfort.

On the drive to her apartment, Joan looked terribly guilty.

“What’s wrong, snowball?” Aragon asked, glancing at the sulking girl.

Joan mumbled something. Aragon leaked over slightly.

“A little louder, baby. I can’t hear you.”

“I made you miss the show for nothing.” Joan said. “And then you paid for a pointless doctor visit.” She hunched over in the passenger seat and put her head in her hands. “You wasted so much for me.”

It took all of Aragon’s willpower to not veer the car off the road and start laying into Joan about how she’d give up everything for her, but she kept her cool and continued driving so she wouldn’t freak the girl out even more. Her added car anxiety wouldn’t make anything better.

“Honey, I chose to take you to the doctor’s.” Aragon said. “It was my idea. You didn’t force me. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Joan pulled her head back and nodded slowly. Aragon wished she would smile, or at least stop frowning guiltily like she was. The girl was always too hard on herself, always blaming herself for things she didn’t cause and always losing her mind over the most minor inconveniences. She thought she was to prove herself or live up to the queen’s greatness, Aragon realized awhile ago.

They parked in Joan’s apartment complex and Joan didn’t even try to convince Aragon that she didn’t have to stay like she usually did. She just trudged up the two flights of stairs to her flat- Argaon always wondered how she got all her furniture up there, as she was sure the girl was too shy to ask a moving company for help. The image of her darling snow fox trying to haul an entire wardrobe up the steps was quite funny, albeit a bit pitiful.

Stepping into Joan’s apartment, however, was even more pitiful.

Aragon never got over how barren Joan’s home was. She stumbled through a dark corridor, kicking off her shoes as she does so. She saw Joan turn on a lamp instead of the main lights (they hurt her eyes, she had said before), and the glow it gave off was dim, as though the bulb was about to go out. It was enough to illuminate the bare and cold living room, dining room, and kitchen, which were all empty of decorations. Joan was terrible with money, fearing that buying a simple potted plant would leave her bankrupt. She did have a small cactus in her kitchen, though—its name was Prickle.

Joan grabbed a light blue cup from the sink, the only dish in the basin, and filled it up with some water before swallowing one of the painkillers, despite already having taken one while at the hospital.

“Joan, baby?” Aragon called out gently. “Does it hurt that much?”

She worried about the pain being that severe and the chance that Joan was just taking more pills because she liked how they made her numb. She once said she liked not feeling—it made her forget about her worthlessness and stress.

Joan sorta just shrugged in response, staring ruefully down into the cup. Aragon came over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“How about we watch a movie?” She suggested. “Or do you want to rest?”

“It’s only lunchtime.” Joan pointed out. “I can’t rest already.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of catnaps?” Aragon poked her in the stomach, which made her giggle and squirm away. It was music to her ears. “Let’s make lunch, then. And THEN watch a movie.”

She detangled herself from Joan and walked over to the fridge. Her eyes widened when she saw what was inside.

“You went grocery shopping!” She spun around to Joan, clasping her hands in her own. “I’m so proud of you!”

She had been so worried to see the fridge empty like so many times before, but this time there was /food/! Sure, it wasn’t much, but it was something! Joan had bought fruit and milk and cheese and eggs and that weird LaCroix drinks she insists are really good but Aragon just thinks they taste like static and a single cherry skittle that’s been dissolved in water for three hours. There was food in the pantry, too—bread and crackers, biscuits and cereal, canned soup and packets of macaroni. Joan had even bought herself ice cream!

Joan blushed shyly, looking away.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” She murmured.

“It is to me!” Aragon whisked her up in her arms, causing Joan to squeak and cling to the ruffs on her shoulders.

“That’s itchy,” Joan said after she was set down, wrinkling her nose at Aragon’s costume.

“Tell me about it,” Aragon laughed. “Do you think any of your clothes will fit me? I’d watch the movie naked like I usually do, but I feel like that wouldn’t be proper guest etiquette.”

“Oh, I actually have—”

Aragon burst into laughter at the double take Joan does.

“Wait. What?!” Joan blinked at her, probably picturing that image in her head and then immediately being horrified when it actually materializes in her brain. “Don’t you— Doesn’t Anna share a room with you?”

“Then I guess I’m the award-winning film she’s watching.” Aragon smirked.

“Ahhh!!” Joan slapped Aragon's arms frantically. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

“What? You don’t like hearing about my-“

“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!!!” Joan covered her ears, although softly with her injured one. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!! MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB, LITTLE LAMB, LITTLE LAMB!!!”

Aragon laughed until her chest hurt. She wiped one of her eyes and set a hand on Joan’s head.

“Okay, snowfall, I’m done.”

Joan carefully removed her hands, peering up at Aragon suspiciously.

“You’re gross.” She poked her.

“Not gross. H-”

Joan slapped her hands back over her ears.

Which was a big mistake.

“You dummy.” Aragon said when Joan keened sharply in pain. “Shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s your fault!” Joan said miserably. She carefully rubbed the space next to her injured ear, but stopped when Aragon started to do it for her, leaning blissfully into her touch. “You’re the reason Maggie likes to tease me about having mommy issues.”

Aragon snorted. “I’m not surprised.” She said. “Now. What were you saying before?”

A blush dusts Joan’s cheeks. “Oh. Right.” She fidgets with a rhinestone on her costume. “I, umm— Well, seeing as you come over a lot— I— I got you some spare clothes.”

Aragon perked up, smiling. “Aww. That’s so sweet of you to do, Joan!”

Joan blushed harder and then scurried off to go change while Aragon started to make their lunch. She changed soon after, and then they sat down on the couch with their grilled cheeses.

“How’s your ear feeling?” Aragon asked as Joan was flipping through Netflix (technically, it was Aragon’s account. Of course Joan wouldn’t by her own—financial anxiety and all. And of course Aragon had to share with the girl!)

“Better,” Joan said, then touched it tentatively. “But it’s kinda, like...ringing.” She curled into Aragon’s side. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” Aragon wrapped her arms around Joan and she marveled at how perfectly she fit, as if that spot had been shaped by the universe just for the girl. She didn’t think even Mary had fit that well.

It was a sign, she realized: This is where this girl should stay. In your arms. Forever.

Aragon smiled. She liked the sound of that, even if she knew it would definitely be questioned by other people. They wouldn’t be able to wrap their heads around her loving some anxious mess of a music director more than her birth daughter she had fought tooth and nail to be with all those centuries ago. But it was hard to feel a sliver of love towards Mary after hearing about the horrors she’s done—she was just ashamed. Ashamed to be her mother, so she disconnected herself from the bloody ties of her child and went searching for someone who needed her more.

And that’s how she found Joan. Her perfect, weird little moon. Every inch nervous and shy, with so much room to be loved, and everything Mary would never ever be.

Sorry, Mary, Aragon thought with a chuckle, imagining her daughter throwing a fit in her place in hell.

She snuggled Joan closer and set her chin on her head. She felt Joan lean in closer and she smiled lovingly.

“So, what are we watching?”

[willofcausality-a]

Reconnect

@mediioxumate sent:  Trick or Treat! 🎃 :3

I told you I’d do it. Eventually. Let’s just pretend it’s still Halloween. Anyway this got way longer than I meant it to and I made myself sad with it, but I hope you like it!! And as always I hope I did your boy justice!!

Hajime only notices him at first because the hot pink of his hair is bright in the dimly lit, late night cafe. He only pays closer attention because of the bruises on his face. And he approaches because, finally, recognition strikes home.

‘Kazuichi?’

Kazuichi gives him only a cursory glance before returning to staring into the bottom of his cup. ‘I’m really not in the mood to be made fun of right now, so don’t even bother,’ he mumbles.

Kazuichi doesn’t recognise him. Hajime supposes this isn’t surprising. He’s changed a lot since they were children. So has Kazuichi, judging by the hair and coloured contacts. But, despite Hajime’s often hazy memory, he’s good with people. He often thinks it may be because of his bad memory, rather than in spite of it, so used to having to search through some kind of distortion to get to the real thing. And he can see it in Kazuichi. The way he worries at his lower lip with his teeth. The way one leg bounces anxiously. The way his eyes flit around the room and his shoulders hunch, anticipating some kind of threat.

Hajime sits down opposite him.

‘I said—’ Kazuichi begins, finally looking Hajime in the eye, and then he pauses.

Hajime can see Kazuichi’s mind working. It’s his eyes, he knows. Even if everything else about him is different, he still has very distinctive eyes, and they’re stirring something in Kazuichi’s memory even if he can’t quite place it.

‘It’s Hajime,’ Hajime says. ‘Hajime Hinata. We... We were friends when we were kids.’

‘Wait... Hajime?’ Kazuichi almost stammers in his disbelief as realisation finally dawns. His gaze sweeps over Hajime again, and Hajime fights the urge to wrap his arms around himself. To shield himself. Kazuichi is just in disbelief, trying to reconcile memories of his childhood friend with this stranger sitting opposite him.

Instead, Hajime flashes a small smile and gives a small wave. ‘Hello.’

‘Hey!’ All trace of anxiety or distress has temporarily left Kazuichi, and his face lights up in a smile. If Hajime had seen that smile before anything else, he would have recongised him instantly. ‘God, Hajime, you’re so—I can’t believe you—’

He doesn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence, for which Hajime is grateful. Even if Kazuichi is reaching for a compliment, he knows it’s not something he’s going to be comfortable hearing. So he intervenes before Kazuichi can finally pull out a complete sentence.

‘I like your hair.’

Kazuichi’s hand goes to his hair, twisting a lock of it around his finger. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. It suits you.’

Kazuichi smiles for a moment, and then his expression drops again and he sighs. ‘My dad didn’t think so.’

Hajime hesitates, eyes lingering on the purple bruise ringing Kazuichi’s eye, on his swollen lip and the dried blood crusted in the corner of his mouth. He’d always feared Kazuichi’s father would go too far one day and lash out at his son with his fists instead of his words. It looks like that day finally came.

‘That’s... sorta why I’m here.’ Kazuichi looks down into his cup again. ‘Mom’s kickin’ him out finally and she said I should probably... y’know. Stay outta the way until he’s gone.’

Hajime wonders if the advice was to protect Kazuichi from getting hurt again, or to protect him from seeing her getting hurt.

Possibly both.

His heart breaks for both of them. Kazuichi’s mother was always good to him, better to him even than his own. He remembers wishing she was his real mother and then feeling an almost crippling guilt for daring to think something so ungrateful.

And Kazuichi... Well. He’s never had a friend like Kazuichi since they drifted apart after starting different highschools. Someone he could tell anything to. Someone who did not look at him like he was some delicate flower that had to be preserved under glass, or throw him leering, lecherous glances when he looked at him at all.

He thought about Kazuichi less as he grew up, his childhood friend slowly being buried along with everything else from those more innocent times, but it wouldn’t be true to say he forgot him altogether. He still thought about him fondly, almost wistfully, from time to time as was normal with distant friendships. Especially when he found himself in situations where he felt he had no one to turn to for help or comfort.

‘Are you planning on just staying here until it’s safe to go home?’ Hajime asks.

Kazuichi shrugs. ‘Guess so. Ain’t got anywhere else to go.’

‘Come home with me.’ Hajime makes the offer almost before he’s aware he’s going to, but he persists with it anyway. ‘You might as well wait somewhere more—somewhere warmer.’

He was about to say somewhere more comfortable, but his home is anything but comfortable. If Kazuichi remembers anything about him from their youth, he’d know that too.

After a moment, Kazuichi nods. ‘Yeah, okay. Thanks.’ He downs the rest of the contents of his cup and makes a face; it’s probably cold by now.

Hajime gets to his feet, automatically straightening out the creases in his skirt. He catches Kazuichi giving him an amused look, and blushes. He remembers all the fights he had with his parents as a child, insisting he was not going to wear a skirt or a dress, he was not. All the times he purposely put ladders in his tights to spite them, or played around in the mud in his best clothes with Kazuichi. And now here he is, clothes smart and immaculate, hair teased into loose, elegant curls and pulled into a neat ponytail.

He feels a sensation of doubling, like stepping outside of his body and looking back at himself. A wave of dizziness washes over him as his surroundings seem to blur, and he closes his eyes, holding onto the table to keep himself upright.

‘Hey, you okay, dude?’ Concern in Kazuichi’s voice.

Hajime takes a deep, slow breath, and opens his eyes again. There’s a distorted shimmer over everything, like heat, but the dizziness is gone.

He forces a smile. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Come on.’

He leaves the cafe without waiting for a response, and Kazuichi falls into step beside him. He tries to focus on the sound of Kazuichi’s boots as he walks, rather than the clicking of his own sensible low heels.

****

The house is dark and the driveway is empty, as Hajime knew it would be. His parents won’t be back for another few hours yet. He lets himself and Kazuichi into the large entryway, closing the door behind them with a dull thud. It’s a claustrophobic sound to Hajime.

‘Never thought I’d be here again,’ Kazuichi says. He looks uncomfortable as he glances around the room. He looks very out of place here, and Hajime envies him that. Kazuichi’s father may not have reacted well, but Kazuichi is still grasping at his own individuality, becoming the kind of person he wants everyone to see him as, while Hajime has just retreated further and further and into his parents’ ideal image of a daughter, sacrificing everything that makes him feel like him.

He leads Kazuichi through the house and to his room, feeling at least a small sliver of relief when he closes the door behind him. While he’ll never be completely comfortable anywhere inside his parents’ house, his bedroom is the closest he’ll get. It’s his sanctuary.

Kazuichi stares around, no doubt pulling up what he remembers of this room from childhood and overlaying it with what he’s seeing now. Hajime leaves him to it, kicking off his shoes and going into the en suite bathroom. He changes out of his stifling skirt and blouse and into a plain t-shirt three sizes too big and pyjama shorts. Pulls out the ponytail and reties his hair into a loose, messy bun. Scrubs the makeup off his face.

When he reemerges, Kazuichi has sat down on the edge of the bed, and he grins when he sees him. ‘Now you look a lot more like you.’

'Shut up,’ Hajime says, making a face. But Kazuichi’s words cause a spark of warmth inside him.

He sits on the bed beside Kazuichi. He brought a dish of warm water and a washcloth from the bathroom with him, and he hesitates for a moment before reaching out to gently touch Kazuichi’s cheek, tilting his head a little to get a better look at his injuries. Kazuichi does not meet his eye as he does it, choosing to look down and fidget instead.

Hajime soaks the washcloth in water and then gently dabs it over the corner of Kazuichi’s mouth, removing the blood. Kazuichi gives a small hiss of pain despite the lightness of Hajime’s touch, but allows Hajime to clean him up.

When he’s finished, Hajime returns to the en suite, dumps out the water, now tinged a faint pink with blood. He refills the dish with cold water and grabs a clean washcloth, bringing both back to Kazuichi to put over his bruised eye.

‘You can stay here tonight if you don’t wanna go home yet,’ Hajime says. ‘My parents won’t know you’re here, but you’ll have to go out the window in the morning.’

The matter of fact way he says this causes Kazuichi to quirk an eyebrow at him. ‘You sound like you’ve done this before.’

‘Yeah, I like to bring injured boys home with me and soothe them back to health,’ Hajime jokes, artfully dodging an actual answer.

‘Awww, and here I thought I was special.’

Hajime snorts. ‘You’re the only one who’s been here before, if that helps.’ The words stir up a memory in him, and he gets to his feet.

He stands before his dresser for a moment, before gripping one end of it and shoving. It scrapes across the polished wood floor, but doesn’t go far. He tries again, arms straining.

‘What are you doing?’ Kazuichi asks. He approaches nevertheless and Hajime moves aside as Kazuichi shoves the dresser aside with much less effort. Then he turns to Hajime, expression questioning, and Hajime simply smiles and inclines his head towards the now exposed wall.

It’s the same spotless shade of cream as the rest of the room, except for one small patch at the very bottom. This is a faded pink colour, old paint that was skirted around instead of being painted over in the intervening years of redecorating between then and now.

On this small patch of old paintwork is a clumsy drawing of a car, done in marker pen. Beside it are two stick figures. One with black hair, one with brown. One wears glasses, and one has two different coloured eyes. Neither of them are wearing a dress.

Kazuichi lets out a snort of surprised mirth. ‘I remember that! Man, you freaked out so much when you realised how pissed your mom was gonna be.’ He turns shining eyes on Hajime. ‘Why is it still here?’

Hajime shrugs. He doesn’t really know why he refused to paint over the childish drawings put there by himself and Kazuichi when they were no older than ten. His mother never saw it, because he made sure to always keep it covered. After a while, it sort of became his own little secret. Something that was all his and that she knew nothing about. He didn’t want her to take it away from him, to impose her will on this tiny section of wall the same way she did on every other aspect of his life.

This was his.

Kazuichi keeps looking at the drawing for a while, smiling. At last, he returns to sit on the bed, soaks the washcloth in the cold water and places it back over his eye.

Hajime sits beside him. His eyes are on the drawing, but his mind is in the past.

He would never say his childhood was happy, but it was certainly freer. Back when there were less expectations on him. When he was allowed to run around climb trees and play in garages and only received scoldings for causing a mess and not for being unladylike or causing embarrassment. Back when no one cared that the child of a wealthy and powerful family was best friends with the child of a simple mechanic with a habit of drinking too much and raising his voice.

The Hajime of his childhood was a much truer version of the Hajime that exists now, and he can trace all of his growing unhappiness right down to the moment his parents enrolled him in private school while Kazuichi went to a public school, and it was no longer viewed as acceptable for them to be friends.

‘I missed you,’ Hajime says at last.

‘Yeah.’ Kazuichi’s voice is almost a whisper, the sound of tears lurking beneath it. ‘I missed you too.’

Hajime turns to face him, concerned. There are tears swimming in Kazuichi’s eyes and he’s wringing the washcloth out in his lap, not seeming to care that drops of cold water are running down his arms and splattering onto his legs.

‘Kaz? What’s wrong?’

‘I have this—’ He stops. Swallows. Continues. ‘Had. I had this friend. In school. He was my best friend. Only he didn’t... He didn’t really care about me. He was just using me. He was the only real friend I had and he did that to me and now I’ve got no one.’

Fury rises up in Hajime’s chest. He’s had his fair share of mistreatment in school, but how anyone could take advantage of someone like Kazuichi, someone so kind and sweet, so willing to sacrifice anything for someone he cares about. He can’t understand it.

Hajime shakes his head. ‘That’s not true.’ He reaches between them to wipe tears from Kazuichi’s cheek with his thumb, and then pulls Kazuichi into a hug. He wraps his arms tight around him, feels the way Kazuichi’s chest hitches with his sobs, muffled now against Hajime’s shoulder.

Hajime rubs Kazuichi’s back. His eyes are on the drawing, one moment of friendship preserved in time, unable to let go of it. He’s not letting go of Kazuichi this time, no matter what. ‘ You’ve got me. You’ll always have me.’

[iwritefanficion]

Sanders Sides Dating Headcannons!

Prompt/Summary: Fantasy Au (because I can), (fem)reader is a witch, meeting the sides. Medieval-ish setting, if you want a more in-depth explanation, just ask.

Characters: Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, Remus and Deceit

Warnings: Remus, sexual innuendos, some swearing, inappropriate language, non-graphic violence, mentions of wounds. 

~

Roman

-Prince Roman had set out to kill the supposed ‘wicked’ witch that lived in the enchanted forest. 

-When he actually got there, he was surprised to find not an ugly old wench but a lovely woman who opened up her home to him and offered him tea.

-You told him that sure, you were a witch, but you didn’t harm anyone. You mostly just made herbal remedies and potions to help others. 

-You traded plants, food and money for these concoctions and that's how you stayed alive. 

-Sure you could cast spells, but you rarely used them. There were wards around the cottage, and you did use your magic on your garden but you didn’t actually like hurting people.

-So, Roman apologized profusely. You accepted the apology gracefully and told him you were used to it. People often made assumptions about witches because of the bad rep they get from fables and actual wicked witches.

-You two spent the day together, just talking and laughing. Each asking questions about your respective lives. 

-”Is the castle as large as they say?” 

-”What kinds of things do you put in potions?”

-Roman had a fantastic time with you! Honestly, he knew he fell head over heels in love with you the first time he heard you laugh. You were so incredibly sweet and thoughtful he thought he would melt. 

-When the sun was beginning to set, he knew he had to go back. His subjects awaited his return. But, he did ask if he could come to see you again. 

-”Of course, my home is always open to a friend,”

Patton

-Patton was a healer. One sought out far and wide because of his amazing abilities. He did live with his friend, the Prince, at the castle because of the abilities but also had a store in town. 

-Though his magic could heal wounds, he couldn’t treat pain with his abilities. But, he worked with plants and herbs that had medicinal and pain-relieving purposes. Some even had magical properties but he couldn’t make potions. 

-But, when he was working on a certain herbal remedy, he realized he needed a rare plant that didn’t grow in the kingdom. 

-He asked around but all that anyone can tell him is it grows in the darker part of Enchanted Forest. 

-No one really goes there but he was never one to let someone suffer, so he decided to go there. 

-He quickly finds himself lost. 

-Like, he spends HOURS trying to either get out or find the plant, neither which succeeds. By the time the sun is setting, he’s so close to crying. 

-That is until a soft voice speaks through the darkness and fog of the mystical forest. 

-”Are you alright? You seem lost,”

-Patton cries in relief when he realizes someone is there. The figure steps out, shrouded in a long robe, a basket at their side. 

-He, through snot and tears, tells the stranger that he is lost and can’t find his way out. He begs them to help them. 

-The stranger reveals themself as you, a lovely woman, and you smile so sweetly at him. You tell him that you can help him get out. 

-He grasps your free hand as the two of you exit the dangerous forest, being extra careful to stay close to you. 

-For some reason, he feels safe with you, as if you could shield him from all the darkness of the forest. As if you were a bright beacon, banishing all the evil creatures that lurked. 

-You can sense his uneasiness and talk with him. Distracting him is easy, you ask who he is, what he does. Basically, you learn his life story by the time you’re both out of the forest. He actually starts making dumb little jokes that make both of you laugh.

-Patton takes a liking to you, not just because you saved him. You’re just so sweet and kind that he wants to get to know you more. So, he does feel a bit disappointed when the two of you are at the edge of the forest.

-Then he realizes he never got any of that plant he was looking for and he heaves a heavy sigh. That just ruined all the pleasantness of being around you. 

-You ask him what’s wrong and he tells you about the plant. He mentions he doesn’t want to go back in there but he really needs the plant. 

-You smile at him, like an angel from above he could swear. You pull out some plants from your basket and hand them to him.

-”I have too many, will you take some off my hands?”

Logan

-Logan was a wizard, one who worked with and under Prince Roman, someone he could call a friend, even if the prince exasperated him most days. 

-Books and knowledge were his specialties, and how he gained his many magical abilities and spells. He considered himself quite powerful, and so did many others. He was trusted by the Prince, even to join parties on quests or go alone on these journies. 

-On one of these quests, he was sent, alone, to take out some rogues in a village who were stealing valuables and money of the poor people who lived there.

-But, as he was travelling, it soon got dark- just not from the night sky rolling in but by grey clouds crowding the stary skies. Rain poured down heavily, soaking him in a matter of minutes. 

-The road he travelled was absent of any shelter, he picked it so no one would know he was coming. Since there was no cover from the rain, he kept walking, knowing he would get sick from being in the cold. 

-He was shivering, his steps slowing. The chilly air nipped at his skin, and the water soaked him to the bone. With bleary eyes, he saw a light only a short distance away. 

-Hoping it was some shelter, he ran to it, finding it to be a small cottage. 

-Relief washed over him as he knocked on the door, his hands trembling. 

-The door was open by none other than you, who took one look at the shivering traveller and ushered him in without another word. You set him on the couch, peeling off his drenched robes and wrapping a warm blanket around him. 

-You set a fire with a few words and a flick of your wrist. This man, who was saturated with water, felt like death, blue in the lips, and paler than a corpse, had to be warmed before he joined the dead. 

-Logan could feel the energy of magic flowing through the air, sparking him with familiar comfort. The house was filled with the aroma of herbs, especially sage, and the smoke of the fire. It wasn’t hard to figure out the woman was a witch.

-You made him some tea and hung his wet clothes by the fire. 

-You asked him his name, giving yours as well, and smiled when he told you. He also mentioned what he was there to do, and thanked you for letting him in.

-The rain doesn’t let up, so you tell him to stay the night, and he weighs the options before agreeing. 

-The two of you spend hours talking about different subjects, astronomy, magic, books. Everything and anything. Time just flies by until you yawn, then you both realize how late it is. 

-You allow Logan to take the bed and you take the couch. He tried to argue with you but you use logic against him, saying he needs a good night sleep to continue his quest. He can’t argue with sound logic.

-By morning, the rain has stopped and you give Logan back his now dried clothes. 

-”Come back at any time. I want to hear more about the stars,”

Virgil

-Virgil is an angel who fell because he wasn’t angelic enough but wasn’t accepted into Hell because he wasn’t demonic enough. This lead to him just falling to earth, his wings burning as he plummeted to the ground. 

-Still (sorta) a celestial being, he could survive without food or water. But, he spent a few days unable to move or speak, his physical body weak and none of his abilities working. 

-He thought he was going to die from his injuries, some were severe and, because of the limitations of his body, were prone to infections. The days he spent on the ground was filled with agony, and his mind was still reeling in all that happened to make this occur.

-But, a stranger had come around, and as soon as they saw the fallen angel, a small shriek of horror left their lips. 

-Virgil, being anxiety-ridden, thought they were scared of him because of the burnt, black wings protruding from his back that would usually be an indication of a demonic presence. 

-However, he was not expecting to be picked up and carried bridal style. He would have done something to stop them but he couldn’t move or speak. So, he could only watch as they carried him off. But, they were mindful of his wings, so that was a good sign.

-Being held only added to his suffering, physically speaking. This caused him to pass out from the pain. 

-When he woke up, he was in a comfortable bed, in a warm house, that smelled of candles and sage. Coming from angelic past, he was able to sense the magic that stuck to the air. It was something peaceful and soothing, so he knew he wasn’t dealing with something malevolent. 

-The creaking of the door alerted him to someone coming in, and you did, in all your witchy glory. In your hands were a basket of ointments, herbal remedies, bandages and something to drink. 

-You told him who you were, and that you found him when out in the forest. He was badly hurt, so you brought him back to patch up. 

-He asked if you were frightened of him. He was a fallen angel, and angels who fell became demons, usually. 

-You told him you weren’t, you were a witch, you could feel the aura’s all beings give off. His was not evil nor wicked, and you had no reason to believe he would harm you. 

-You gave him the hot tea and asked if you could patch up his wings. You examined them when he was asleep and they were broken, badly scarred, and burnt. If he didn’t want to get an infection or if he ever wanted to fly again, she would need to fix them.

-Virgil was skeptical. Why were you being nice? Why would you help him? Was there something you wanted from him? However, he could get his answers later. The pain was unbearable and he did need them fixed. 

-So, you did. You used healing spells for the major wounds, healing the broken bones and fixing the majority of the burns. You used ointments and herbs on the minor cuts and bandaged any open wounds. 

-Virgil was in misery the entire time, his screams echoed through the house. He bit into your pillow to try and silence himself but it was useless. Even with the trembling and yelling, you managed to finish. 

-You apologized profusely when it was over, putting a wet cloth to his forehead. You told him the tea would help soothe him, ease the pain and make it easier to rest. He would need it.

-Before he did, he demanded to know why you were helping him. Everyone had an agenda, everyone wanted something to gain. So why help him? What were you after?

-You told him you wanted nothing from him except for him to feel better. 

-He didn’t believe you but decided that you would have to mention something sooner or later. So he drank the tea and immediately felt better. 

-Before he went to sleep, he asked you if you were going to take any feathers from his wings. He knew that angel feathers- or fallen angel feathers in this case- can be used for spells.

-You laughed softly and shook your head. 

-”Of course not. If I wanted angel feathers, all I’d have to do is pluck a swan and soak the feathers in holy water.”

Deceit

-Deceit was a naga. A serpentine-like creature with scales and a yellow tail, long enough to wrap around humans and constrict them. Though, being a naga, he could turn himself human or transform into a snake. 

-He often tricked rich people and stole their belongings for his personal stash. Unlike his brethren, he didn’t like to kill all that much. He was more into deceiving people and tried to make people do the worst they’re capable of.

-It was uncommon for people to venture into the dark part of the Enchanted Forest, where he resided in. It was nearly unheard of one to come into his cave. 

-Yet, there you were, coming in. You looked so naive, so curious. You had no weapons, no sword or armour, only a bag by your side. A smile lit up on your face as you wandered the cave, lightened by the pools of water that made everything glow. 

-He watched from the shadows, waiting to strike, to deceive and trick you. He watched as you took an empty glass vial, round in shape, and filled it with the glowing water before placing it in your bag. 

-Then you began searching for something. Deceit believed you were looking for his treasures, why else would you come here? Why else would you come into a dark cave in the most treacherous parts of the Enchanted Forest? 

-Slithering out, he turned into a human. Black and gold clothes adorned his body, looking much like some kind of nobility or royalty. 

-”Looking for something, little rabbit?”

-You spun around, hand clutching your chest. When you saw that it was nothing more than a man, you let out a sigh. You told him not to sneak up on people, you could have hurt him!

-He chuckled at your ignorance. Then he apologized in a way that was charming but it wasn’t sincere. However, you didn’t seem to notice. 

-You said it was fine, and that you were looking for something. Then you asked him what he was doing in the cave. 

-He told you that he was looking for the naga’s treasure since he lived in these parts. He asked if you were looking for it too. 

-You shook your head, saying you weren’t. Treasure meant little to you, you were searching for a particular plant. You also told him if he was going to steal from a naga, he was writing his death sentence. And that you wouldn’t blame the creature. 

-He was a little bit stunned by your words. He thought you were lying to him, or that you knew he was a naga and were trying to fool him. But, he watched as you were looking near the water, trained solely on the ground. 

-The two of you chatted for a bit, talking about your lives and such. You gave him your name and told him how you lived near the forest. He told you his name was ‘Dee’ since he didn’t tell anyone his real name.

-You let out a little ‘aha’ when you found a bundle of a certain flower, plucking them and placing them in a box then in your bag. 

-You told him you found what you were looking for and would be taking your leave. You also said you would love to see him again if he didn’t get killed, that is.

-He didn’t know why but he almost wished you would stay. You had this warmth to you that a serpent much like him adored. But, your last words to him were anything but warm, and that made him all the more interested.

-”I’d wish you luck, but you’re stealing from someone, so I give you a warning instead: don’t do it.”

Remus

-This was so not your day. 

-First, you were forced out of your home by a fire started by royal soldiers. Then, said soldiers tried to kill you because you escaped. So, you had to wipe out the miserable little bastards. Then, there’s a bounty on your head, so you had to stay away from all towns and villages. 

-Oh, then there was the matter of all your stuff being burnt to a crisp. You managed to salvage some things, some books and vials of potions. Anything you could grab, basically. You could make new stuff and many of your most valued items were safe, but still!

-You had to hide, so the darkest corners of the Enchanted Forest was a good place. Sure everything there wanted to kill you but they were mostly just creatures and plants. Those you can deal with because sooner or later, they’ll get the hint. 

-You’re not to be trifled with. 

-However, as you’re searching for a cave to hide out in, you spot a dark tower in the distance. As you get closer, you can see how worn down it is. 

-The windows are cracked or shattered, the stones are crumbling, vines are invading the walls from below, the doors look like they’d turn to ash by being touched. 

-Despite being a powerful witch, a certain uneasiness grows in you. Something sinister lived in there. Was it more powerful than you? You didn’t know but you were dying to see what lied beyond those walls. 

-So, you started walking towards it, making sure to keep your magic at high alert. 

-That did not do much because the second you were close to it, slimy tentacles popped from under the ground and wrapped around your arms, legs and neck. 

-You grimaced at the wetness of the tentacles but otherwise, weren’t bothered by it, besides the fact that you couldn’t move. Sure, you could wipe these suckers out, by why do it now?

-The person living there would come out and not be on guard. If you did it now, they would know you had abilities. But, you could surprise them with your powers if they posed a threat. 

-So you waited for a few minutes before a cackling laugh echoed through the forest, coming from all around you. You rolled your eyes at such a cliche. 

-A man showed up, looking very similar to the goody-two-shoes prince of the land, besides for the fact that this guy had a mustache and a silver streak in his hair. 

-”Well, looky what we got here! What should I do with you? Maybe replace your fingers with your toes and your toes with your fingers?!”

-This guy threatened you with a few more very weird ideas but you weren’t scared. You were actually kind of amused. Sure, he had a wacky brain, but those are the best.

-So, you cut off his rambling by asking who he was. 

-He stopped talking, looked you up and down in more of a quizzical manner, before grinning. He did a bow, over the top and very dramatic, introducing himself as the Duke, but he said you had a face worth his tentacles, so you could call him Remus. 

-That’s when it clicked. Ah, the Prince’s evil (and demented) brother! He was mostly forgotten about after he escaped execution and all attempts to find him were unsuccessful. 

-Smirking, you told him it was nice to meet him, before saying your name. He was taken aback by your politeness to him, even after everything he’s said and done. 

-He whined that you shouldn’t be nice to him. He had you as his prisoner! You were supposed to be begging and pleading to be let go, as well as disgusted by his presence. 

-You shrugged at his words. Honestly, you’ve imagined worse than some of his ideas and after everything you’ve done, nothing really grosses you out anymore. You’ve stuck your hand up a dragon's ass. It doesn’t get much weirder than that.

-That’s when a mace just randomly appeared in his hands. It was just there. But you sensed no magic. Huh. Wait, was that a dead mouse on the mace? 

-”Well, if you’re not going to be any fun, no point in keeping you around. At least I can cut you up and start making a meat dragon out of you,”

-At that point, you let your magic flow through you, generating a skin of flames around your body that burnt the tentacles to a crisp and made calamari. With a wave of your hand, you melted the mace in his hands and stepped closer to him. 

-Next, you made stone hands rise from the earth and grip onto him, everywhere. They wrapped around him and held him in place. 

-”You were saying?”

-”Well, now I just want you to fuck me until I’m covered in sweat and come, so I can lick it off my body,” 

-You laughed at his words, again, finding him amusing. He had zero filters! You loved it, it was refreshing. 

-With a wave of your hand, the hands all crumbled to the ground. 

-You hooked arms with him, deciding you’re going to stick around with him for a while. Not like you had anywhere else to go. Then you ventured to his tower, saying a few words as your life changed. 

-” We’re going to be great friends, I can tell,”

That’s it for now! If you want another scenario with this au, just let me know! I’m going to be definitely writing some more! If you have any other ships, ideas not related to this au, or imagines you want me to write, don’t be afraid to ask! My inbox is always open!

[justauthoring]

The Chance To Breathe [S.H.]

Request: Hey! I saw your requests were open and it's been a really rubbish fine for me lately, so I was wondering if you could do a Steve Harrington X reader who has depression and anxiety, sleeps a lot and barely eats, but feels like a failure for not being able to do anything productive so has anxiety attacks. I like the caring nature of steve, so can you make it angst/fluffy? I'm really sorry it's a heavy subject, so feel free to disregard this request if it isn't a pleasant one xx

A/N: This is sorta, kinda based off the scene in season two of Skam France where Charles helps Manon get out of her room for the night. Also, this sort of hits home because life’s been really difficult lately, so please be warned that this does touch some sensitive topics like depression, anxiety, etc.

Requested by: @unleashthebeees

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Word Count: 1,023

The sound of knocking causes you to open your eyes, staring at the blank wall before you as you remain silent.

You hear the person on the other side of the door, your roommate, sigh in response. The slight jingle of their hand falling on the doorknob causing your shoulders to tense slightly. Soon after, their voice echoes about; “Y/N?” Your roommate calls, voice soft and unsure. “Please don’t kill me, but...” Brows furrowing, you gain the energy to push yourself upwards, sitting upright as your eyes fall on your bedroom door. “Just, don’t kill me. I know you’re gonna want to, but...”

Watching as the doorknob starts turning, your eyes widen. “Julia,” you hiss, “what are you--”

Before you can finish your sentence, the door opens and in steps Steve, not Julia like you would’ve expected. Your eyes widen at the sight of your boyfriend, swallowing thickly as Julia nervously pokes her head in past him, sending you a sheepish smile. 

Pushing yourself up to your feet, you hiss out Julia’s name, moving towards her but before you can reach her, she promptly shuts your door, leaving you alone with Steve. Silence floods the room as you glance nervously up at him, before quickly averting your gaze. Steve only continues to stare down at you with a frown, the worry evident in his gaze.

“Y/N...--”

“You can’t be here,” you interrupt with a shake of your head. Briefly, you glance around the room, looking for a distraction before your eyes land on your laptop. Hastily, you walk towards it, pulling the screen up and turning to Steve. “I have a lot of homework to do and i’m just really not feeling well, so--”

“Stop, stop,” Steve sighs, shaking his head as he closes the distance between you. His hand falls on your own, slowly shutting your laptop and guiding you to sit in your desk chair. You do so with a frown, lips still left parted as if to say something but all words caught in the back of your throat. 

The moment you’re settled, Steve crouched down in front of you, setting his hands on your knees as he frowns up at you. “What’s going on?” He asks with a tired voice, biting his bottom lip in worry. “You barely come to school anymore to school and when you do, you avoid me. You refuse to leave your bedroom and your roommate says that all you do is sleep. You don’t answer my calls or texts.” Pausing for just a moment, Steve shakes his head; “what’s going on with you?”

You lick your lips slowly, feeling your eyes water but refusing to let any tears actually fall. Instead, you turn your head to the left, shrugging your shoulders. “Nothing’s going on,” you lie, unable to miss the way Steve scoffs in disbelief, leaning back. “I’m fine.”

“I know that you’re not.”

“I am,” you nod, desperate for him to believe you. Meeting his eyes once again, you continue to nod. “I just... I have a lot of homework and i’m really not feeling well. My head really hurts and my stomach... and there’s just so much that has to be done,” as you start to ramble, it becomes a little too hard for you to hold back your tears.

You start to choke on your words, Steve’s eyes widening in concern as tears begin to pour down your cheeks and your breath quickens. 

“And I don’t have any motivation to get it done, but I want to do it. I wanna do well, hang out with friends and it just feels like nothing is working out and I don’t know what to do about--.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve soothes, his voice soft as his hands fall on your cheeks. He cups them, his thumbs wiping your tears away as she gently shushes you, nodding at you in encouragement to take a minute and breathe. “It’s okay. Come on, it’s okay.”

Shaking your head in his grip, you sniffle. “No,” you sob, voice pitching. “No, it’s not.”

Steve only pauses a moment before standing up. Before you know it, his hands are around your waist, pulling you up to your feet and then he’s leaning back, once again cupping your cheeks and pulling you close. He leans his forehead against your own and runs a hand through your hair soothingly. “Come on,” he guides, moving to step back. “I’m taking you out on a date. Getting you away from everything.”

“No,” you moan, shaking your head. “I told you, I have homework--”

“No,” Steve interrupts, “i’m not taking a no for an answer. You need to get out of this room. You need fresh air. You need to breathe, so come on.”

“Steve--”

You don’t even get to finish arguing before you’re suddenly up and over Steve’s shoulder, a gasp of surprising leaving your lips as he does so. You grip the back of his jacket tightly, his name leaving your lips in a shrill plea. “Put me down,” you order, watching as your room grows further and further away from you. “Steve, put me down.”

“I’m taking you out on a date and that’s final.”

“Steve!”

-

“There you go...”

Blinking slowly, you feel your head fall back into your pillows, Steve crouched over you. You watch him with tired eyes, noting how it’s much darker then you remembered it being. Your eyes follow Steve’s movements carefully as he pulls your sheets over you, tucking you in and then leaving your side, pulling off his jacket and soon following you on the other side of the bed.

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. You turn to him as he does, tucking your head into the crook of his next with a content sigh.

And then, just as your eyes fall shut, you let out a whisper of; “thank you...”

Steve pauses for a moment in surprise, a small smile falling on his lips at your words. Then, he presses a kiss against your forehead, sighing wistfully.

-

Let me know what you thought? Remember, reblogging always helps!

Requests are closed!

[losersclubimagines]

pretty much dead already — [losers club x reader]

title: pretty much dead already

pairing: the losers club x reader [ platonic ]

summary: you get ‘taken’ by It instead of Beverly, and your friends do all they can you bring you back. In the end, of course it would be something so simple.

warnings: one curse maybe? angst sorta. but mainly fluffy!

The Losers found you hovering several feet above the rocky floor in a dark underground cavern, mouth parted in a silent scream and ghosts clouding the colour of your eyes.

At first, they froze, pausing somewhere between cold, flooring shock like they’d just had ice water tipped over them, and a total, paralysing horror, because God, none of the illusions or monsters It had stitched together for their own personal anxiety could compare to this.

You looked pretty much dead already.

After that beat of paralysis, that one second that flashed like the muzzle of a shotgun, they clamoured to rush over, footfalls going a mile a minute as they stampeded over to your floating frame with a desperation so scarcely seen in kids so young.

Eddie was the first to yell. “Y/n! Can you hear us?” His squeaky, terrified, throaty little voice couldn’t break through to you.

The other followed, jolted into action, shouting your name like a mantra with growing desperation as Stan and Mike, the tallest of the lot, reached up to grab onto your calves and attempt to pull you down.

You weren’t yanked, as they were probably all expecting - you drifted, like you weighed nothing, a helium balloon covered in a child’s sticky fingers held down fast by a weight at the end of the string.

As they successfully pinned you down so your feet were flat on the ground, they almost wished they hadn’t. Your face was perfectly expressionless - not one line in the skin, not one muscle holding tension - lips gently parted, eyes wide and unblinking, hair seemingly weightless as it ghosted over the cage of your head, brushing your skin like feathers. But worst of all were your eyes - pallid and clouded, staring straight ahead, your usually bright irises packed with cold ghosts and cold tears as you stared straight through them all, like they were just seven more wailing kids to the ones already in your head.

“Y/n!” Mike tried this time, his strong voice ricocheting off the cavern walls, but to no avail - Beverly, on the brink of tears, reached out, grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you roughly, hysterically, until Bill murmured for her to stop.

Richie blinked at you, eyes wide because Christ, he hadn’t planned for this. He’d just assumed - well. That everything would work out. Because it did, didn’t it? Things worked out in these types of stories. Only it wasn’t a story. You were here, looking like a goddamn corpse in this freakish cavern with dead children floating in a frenzied spiral, up and up and up until the mysterious white light swallowed their little figures. Just another in the graveyard.

Their pleading voices rose into a cacophony of choking, hoarse, broken pleas and sobs, hand grabbing your arms, face, trying to wring some feeling back into your light puppet body.

Eddie was the first one to cry.

“Y/n!” he cried, hoarse and squeaky, tears cutting tracks down the grime and dust on his face. “Wake up!”

This seemed to set off a chain reaction - in a few seconds, Richie had turned and stumbled a couple feet away from the commotion to scrub at his eyes with the edge of his flannel, Bill’s and Mike’s eyes grew brighter in the dim light, Stan’s closed his eyes and pressed his mouth into a stoic line, Ben’s lower lip began to tremble in earnest and Beverly began sobbing into her hands, staggering backward and crashing to the floor.

“Y-Y-Y/n,” Bill called desperately over the din, too panicky to be embarrassed that his voice was breaking. “C-c-come on, you - you can’t l-l-leave us now, we n-need you! We can’t - we can’t - we can’t do this w-without you, Y/n.”

Nothing. Your pale, stoic gaze kiltered on straight through him, and finally, the noise ceased save for Bev, Richie and Eddie’s stifled cries, and Bill dropped his head onto your shoulder in despair, drawing comfort from the crook of your neck like he did when Georgie - when Georgie...

A moment later, Eddie dropped to his knees and grabbed your wrist, pressing his face to your hand deliriously, reminding himself of the times you’d gently stroked his cheek to coax him to sleep, fingers running through his hair till he shivered.

Mike sniffed, and his arm draped itself round your left shoulder, reminiscent of the time you’d half-dragged him to the emergency room after Bowers had aimed a baseball at his left knee and effectively crushed it under the wood.

Riche drew in a stammering breath as he wrapped his skinny arms round your stomach from behind and pressed his damp face into your shoulder, feeling the warm comfort of you like he did on cold, lonely sleepover nights when his brain wouldn’t shut off for long enough for him to drift off.

Now surrounded by trembling bodies, Stan made do with draping an arm round Richie’s shaking shoulders and grabbing your hand through the gap between the trashmouth and Mike.

Beverly and Ben followed suit, the former clinging to Bill’s hand with one arm and the other skating through your hair that she so loved to ruffle, and the latter content to put a supportive hand on Eddie’s shoulder and, with shaking fingers, reach out to touch your arm - the only part of your body visible to him through the gasping, shaking coffin of people packed around you.

As soon as all seven of your friends were touching you, however, something changed.

Beverly, hovering over Bill’s shoulder, saw it first, albeit through a vision blurred with tears. You blinked.

She inhaled a stuttering gasp, mouth parting to explain, bit she didn’t have to - next second, you seem to jolt like someone had plugged you into a live electric current, your body spasming in a second, head thrown back as you inhaled a rush of warm, damp hair for what felt like the first time in years. You blinked the cold out of your eyes as you panted, filling your empty, aching lungs, and as soon as the cloudy white fled your vision, you were met with the sight of your best friends peering at you in a dark, cavernous room with wet eyes and faces simultaneously startled and so, so sad.

“Guys?” you manage to dredge up, and your voice is quiet and throaty but there, and there’s a moment before all seven of them let out joyously disbelieving exhales and barrel into you, arms squeezing you in a hug so tight you can’t breathe. You have a face full of Richie’s curls that smell of passion fruit shampoo and Ben has inadvertently punched you in the jaw in his haste to embrace you. Beverly is crying into your shoulder and Bill is rubbing soothing circles onto her shoulder with one arm and grabbing you tight with the other, looking dazed and deliriously happy all at once. Mike coughs and ruffles your hair, Stan lets out an oddly hysterical, breathy laugh and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

You are a pile of limbs and laughs and tears, and even if you don’t know exactly what had happened, you could get a pretty clear picture from the way your friends looked at you - like they were assuring themselves you were really there.

Eventually, your huge group hug cracks and drifts apart, Eddie hanging back to give you one last hug so fierce it squeezes the air from your lungs, and you look round all your friends with a smile that you hope doesn’t look too overwhelmed.

“Hope you guys didn’t kill the clown already,” is what you manage to choke up, and a collective laughs bubbles from the group even though it wasn’t that funny.

“We waited for you,” Mike offers weakly.

“Figured you’d want the honours,” Beverly reiterates, cheeks flushed with joy and tears.

“Well, then.” You force the tremble out of your hands and look around your assembled best friends.

“Let’s go kill this fucking clown.”

———

tag list: @bi-bi-homophobes @maggie-duvall @strangerschnapp @thepitybear @tapetayloe @speakfandom @wolfhardstozier @socially-awkward-nerd @the-chase @princess-ravenclaw @derrysdenbrough @gay-ships-and-tea-sips @praise-the-walls @oh-no-stenbrough @lettucewayne @crazycaleigh101

[broken-clover]

ACC Day 25- Freebie (Scents)

I cannot blame anyone but myself for my own lateness. Still, this was fun!

This one’s kinda weird because I just wanted to do an AU where everything was sorta okay. Ragna, Noel, and Jin are trying to reconcile, nobody’s dying, and Jin’s getting the mental help he needs. It’s self indulgent as hell and I am not even going to try and justify it.

Using Noel today! Which might be odd, since I realize I forgot to put her on my headcanons list in the first place? Which was very silly of me.

Graduation day had finally come to a close, and Noel gladly retreated to her dorms to escape the hustle and bustle. Of course it was a special day, for her and for all of her friends, but after a full day of talking and socializing, Noel was long passed being burned out, and she needed time to let herself cool down and just be by herself.

The dorm was half-dismantled when she returned. She, Tsubaki, and Makoto all had a lot of packing to do before they moved out, and the ship to Kagutsuchi was heading out first thing in the morning, so none of them had very much time left to put away everything.

It was going to be strange to be stationed out somewhere else. Torifune had been her home for such a long time now, and Noel wasn’t really sure if she was ready for so many changes all at once. At least both of her partners had been stationed in the same place. It was relieving to think that she’d still have that bit of familiarity, and since they’d all decided to share an apartment together, Noel would always be able to see them at the end of the day.

She could still feel Bolverk’s pull on her thoughts, keeping her emotions in line and helping her stay relatively composed. She left her guns on the desk and sprawled out on her bed, pressing her face into the pillows and letting out a deep sigh.

Noel was exhausted.

When she found the energy to move, she rolled onto her side and grabbed a teddy bear that was slumped against her sheets. The soft fur was comforting to the touch, and as she wrapped her arms around the toy, the smell of mint and lavender filled her nose. It was a gift from Tsubaki, in an attempt to help her girlfriend with her anxiety. In addition to the soothing smells, it was also weighted, which helped Noel ground herself and have something to focus on when she was nearing a panic attack.

Scents were nice. Noel liked using them to remind her of places. The smells that soothed her now always made her think of Tsubaki. Every time she was upset and clung onto her bear, it reminded her of one of her favorite people in the world.

”Whenever you feel upset, just focus on that, alright? Just take deep breaths. You’re going to be just fine. I’ll help you the best I can.”

Maybe that would be a good place to start on packing. She grabbed a small box off of the floor and gently placed the stuffed animal in it. After taking one last whiff of mint and lavender, Noel moved over to grab another toy that tended to stay on her bed.

It was a stuffed squirrel, another gift, handmade by Makoto. The seams were a little wonky, and it tended to flop over from the lack of stuffing to support it, but the material was nice to the touch, and the sachet sewn inside of it released the smell of walnuts. After hearing about how worried Noel tended to get when she was away for long periods of time, Makoto had made the plushie as something to keep her company while she was away. Now the scent of walnuts always made her think of her girlfriend’s bright smile, boundless confidence, and kindness.

“So you’ll always have someone looking after you, okay, Noellie?”

She tucked the squirrel away beside her teddy bear.

Recalling a sudden memory, Noel pulled open the drawer on her nightstand. A little red backpack clip was nestled in between forgotten hair-ties and other little accessories. It looked and smelled like watermelon, though the scent was just slightly faded. She’d won it at a festival game alongside the rest of Team Remix Heart. It was little more than a consolation prize, but she kept it for the sentiment of spending time with her friends.

”C’mon, Noellie, you’ve got this!”

“You’re going to stress her out, Makoto, calm down.”

“Don’t be such a buzzkill, Kajun, it’s a festival!”

“Not you too, Mai! Honestly…”

She wasn’t sure how often she was going to see any of them now. Kajun had gone back to Sector Seven, and Mai had left the academy early, without any sort of mention of where she was headed or why.

Before her emotions could well up, Noel put it away and moved on.

The one she pulled off of the dresser was the most recent, only unwrapped yesterday. It was a special present from her beloved big brother, a big chubby bunny doll that smelled like vanilla. Ranga had traveled out so he could see her graduate, and he’d passed over a shiny wrapped package that he’d claimed was supposed to be a housewarming gift for their new quarters once all three of them moved out. They weren’t sure how often they’d be able to see each other, but Ragna promised to keep in touch even if they were both busy. He’d given her a rare genuine smile, and a tight hug.

”I’m really proud of you, kiddo. You know that, right?”

Noel gave it a hug of her own, felt the smile come back to her face, and put the rabbit in the box.

With the memory of Ragna still vivid, she pushed aside her slaved-over study papers until she found a little pink blob lying on her desk. She hadn’t ever actually played a Kirby game before, but she could still admire how absolutely adorable the creature was, especially in the form of a strawberry-scented squishy.

She was pretty sure Jin hadn’t, either, but that hadn’t been the important part. It was meant to be an object of reconciliation, a small token given alongside one of the first conversations Noel had found herself in with him in over two years.

They’d always been estranged, but aside from knowing that the impressive major Kisaragi had let his position, he might as well have vanished off of the face of the planet. Noel wasn’t sure if she was worried or secretly relieved, but after being sent a sent an odd letter from Yamatsumi in his handwriting, she’d arrived to find that he’d checked himself into a psychological facility almost a year ago, trying to address his issues instead of masking them with brusqueness and anger. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. There was a definite softness to him that there hadn’t been before, but Jin was quick to mention that even after he planned to live independently again, he was still going to be taking regular therapy sessions. He wasn’t suddenly perfect, but Noel could tell that he had been trying incredibly hard.

When the nurse arrived to let them know that visiting hours were almost over, Jin had passed her the little figure, and given her hand a light squeeze.

“I want to get better, Noel. I’m going to make myself better. For all three of us.”

As much bad blood as they’d seemed to have, Noel really did want them to be a family again. As soon as she could, she wanted to visit him again.

The last toy she grabbed was distinct in not only being the oldest, but also the only one to have no intentional smell to it. It was a little doll, modeled after the Torifune Pandas that lived around the city. Edgar and Claire had given it to her shorty after her adoption, as a sign of their love and acceptance of her. It matched the tiny size of the real pandas, small enough that Noel could put it in her uniform pocket and gently pet it whenever she needed something to calm herself down. While it was supposed to be just a simple toy, it had managed to cling onto the lingering scents of home- the furniture cleaner her mother liked to use, with just a bit of her dad’s cologne. It was weird now, to stay in contact with her birth siblings and her adopted family at the same time, but they had loved her unconditionally, and in Noel’s mind, they were just as much her parents as anyone could be.

The little box was almost full. Noel held it close, taking in all the scents all at once, flooding her mind with memories of all the people she loved. Once she was sure she’d had enough, she folded the cardboard ears down and reached for the packing tape.

Maybe moving wouldn’t be so bad after all. Hopefully her new home would bring more special memories for Noel to cherish.