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pandorafallz · 10 months ago

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Vampire AU | Chapter 29

The surgery felt far longer than it actually was, Jake had realised, as he obeyed the words of both Surgeon and Tsahìk in the operation. At one point, due to inexperience, Harper almost woke up once but Ashely was able to get her back under quickly for them to resume.

It was a success, in the end. With one concussion as well.

Zeke’s poor timing in walking into the theatre had given him the view of internal things he didn’t need to see and had keeled straight back almost comically. They had left him on the floor given there wasn’t a nurse to drag him away once Ruby was sure he hadn’t cracked his skull in and shoved an ice pack under his head.

Once Harper’s side was stitched up Mo’at did take over to apply her medical balms to aid the healing process; it worked far more efficiently so while there would be a scar, it wouldn’t be too noticeable once it was fully healed up.

Jake was glad to deglove and wheel himself out by the time Eliza called it for unnecessary hands to leave. Getting back into his old clothes was a massive relief and he happily wheeled around the trodden-down grass to flex his arms and back more from the ache of his position in the afternoon sun.

N’deh was gone, as was Neytiri, but Mo’at’s Pa’li that they had used was still about and licking at a new pitcher-pod flower. With the uneven terrain under his wheels, he couldn’t do much exploration to see if he was far or close. So, all he could do was wait; Mo’at could return him back to camp if need be. Seze was gone as well so Jake had to assume N’deh had gone with his niece to Hometree to report to Eytukan or Neytiri had just left on her own to do that.

“I can’t believe you guys just left me on the floor?” Zeke’s voice was a soft whine before the masked figure was guided out by Zane who gently sat the guy onto a near the lab’s wooden ramp on a partial log. The Ice-pack held in place by the mask straps still.

“We made sure you weren’t at risk of brain injury but there was some prioritising the woman cut open on our operation bed over a guy on the floor with a concussion,” Zane said, patting the guy’s shoulder.

“Wow, I feel so loved.” The concussed guy said with a roll of his eye. “I just didn’t expect there to be a lot of blood.”

Jake snorted a little, his eyes following Zane for a moment as the guy headed off without a word and disappeared around the Rolab’s side. “What did you think we were doing?”

“I may be a scientist with PhDs in Bioengineering and Xenobotany but I am not used to blood on a day-to-day basis.” Zeke said, “Unless I’ve cut myself shaving.” He ran his hand over his clean-shaven face.

“Bioengineering?” Jake cocked his head curiously, “What does that entail?” He could picture something but he couldn’t imagine that skill being overly useful on Pandora. At least Xenobotany was another fall-back.

Zeke went to open his mouth but Mo’at huge form was swift leaving the airlock and stretching out at her full height and pulling off the tiny, modified apron off her front that looked more like a dentist’s dib on her. She pulled her kuru back to her front and without another word hurried to the river.

Both Jake and Zeke watched for a moment as the Tsahìk dipped in and out rather quickly and squeezed out the water from her hair but looked to try to rub the water into her skin. It wasn’t often she was disgruntled but that was certainly the expression on her face.

“All good?” Jake couldn’t help but ask as she returned.

“That spray smells. I don’t smell like… myself.” Mo’at complained but she was relieved to slip her beaded shawl back over her shoulder from the folded pile she had left on a nearby rock. “It’ll take days to leave me.”

“Ah.” He could understand that very easily Na’vi had a more sensitive nose and could follow scent trails; sterilizing spray would certainly going to throw her off and no doubt Eytukan as well too. It was unnatural. “But how was your first real major operation?”

“Educational. ElizaDrennek is… very stern in her practice but efficient.” Mo’at crouched down to be at their level, running her fingers through her hair. “I believe I will need new tools to be of practical use if such an occurrence happens again.”

“Yeah, the appendix is a tricky thing. More common in children or young adults but can happen into adulthood.” Zeke said, lifting his shirt to show there was…only a small scar that his finger traced. “I had mine out when I was seven. Didn’t rupture but it sucked. Fortunately, Germany’s medical system is better than America's.”

“Oh, you German?” Or did he visit when it occurred?

“Ja, on my father’s side.” It was very jarring that Zeke’s American accent shifted entirely away as he spoke, going full-on German. “Mostly raised in Amerika but I’d spend every summer at my vater’s hometown and trying not to get a wedgie from kids who thought I was ‘too Amerikanisch.” He added the last bit with viable quotes with his fingers. His accent vanished on his next sentence, “Aside from that, I loved it.”

“Damn, you’ve learned to pick up the American accent wonderfully. I would never have guessed.”

Zeke grinned, “You got any foreign blood in you, Sully?”

“I heard my great-grandfather was Canadian?”

“Canada doesn’t count. Outside of America, Canada and Delaware.”

“Delaware’s a state.”

“No one cares about Delaware, Jake.”

Jake snorted but craned his mind back to the depth of…what he knew of his family. Tommy had been the one to know off the top of his head. In all honestly, he was a typical American now so… he didn’t reflect any non-American blood now. However, his grandmother… now that he thought about it

“Australian? My grandmother? I think?”

Zeke hummed for a moment in consideration. “I’ll take that.”

There was a momentary lapse in conversation before Jake remembered the Tsahìk’s existence and he turned back to her. “Right, sorry got onto a tangent there.” He said to her, “It happens a lot.”

“I’ve noticed,” Mo’at responded with a little dry but looking a lot more herself now and more relaxed as she ran her fingers through her hair and made sure there wasn’t anything human lingering in it. “But, I do have to ask the purpose of the Appendix. Na’vi does not have such an organ ourselves.”

“Oh, the appendix is used to help the body produce cells to help fight infection,” Zeke said then he grinned a bit. “I do enjoy the irony of it; an organ designed to help infection of the one causing it.”

Mo’at’s lip did twitch at that, “I see. I’ll return to home tree soon. I will need to get new tools crafted or in the making before the sun is down. Some with smaller ends. Our size differences are not kind. I didn’t realise how frustrating it truly was. Thank you for being my hands, Jakesully.”

Jake nodded his welcome. In all honestly, his medical training was not….surgical training so he really did rely on the words of those professionally trained to guide him through Harper’s guts. Thankfully, the fact he was getting used to butchering was the only reason he wasn’t queasy about looking at blood and guts. Zeke must not have a strong stomach.

“It’ll take a few weeks for her to fully heal. I want to pop down tomorrow and check-in,” Jake said, “Probably in my avatar.” If he could convince Neytiri to allow him the morning off.

“As will I. I’m confident in Eliza’s ability to care for her patient but I know the medicinal herbs far better than her for now to promote better healing. I will need to teach her for when I am absent.” Mo’at rose to her feet, clicking her tongue that called the Pa’li to her.

“Oh, do you think you could drop me off back at camp? I don’t have a ride back since…N’deh and Neytiri aren’t here.” He couldn’t hear them or anything so… he wasn’t sure if he could sit and wait about it. Sure, he could relink with his avatar to see if they were at camp but he just wanted to go home, at this point. He was sure Nadine had company return once they heard and were waiting on news. No point over the radio when he could talk to his camp directly.

“Of course.”

“<Uncle, be patient>” Neytiri said as the man in question aggressively picked apart seeds from fibres from his earlier collection but she could see his tail was lashing high still. “<My father will need time to fully decide.>”

Apparently, from a suggestion from Kim this morning, N’deh had the idea and desire to get a new Ikran and had firmly latched onto the notion. Neytiri had been there when he had asked after they had informed him of what medically happened at one of the human’s camps but her father was very blunt on the matter and dismissed him back to camp. Neytiri had opted to return him herself and she had been stuck with him fuming for hours so, she had opted to help him continue to process his gathering in the meantime. Letting him stew alone on his feelings was not wise. Her mother would not be happy that she didn’t do anything to tend to hurt or tender feelings. Unbecoming of a tsakarem.

“” N’deh said hotly. “I have done nothing wrong to be rebuked.”

Neytiri sighed deeply but she knew the reasons of why, to a degree and while she couldn’t go past her father about it, she knew she had to soothe her uncle's nerves. This was a…complex choice and her father had clearly weighed the risk of the Rookery too great of crossing paths with… Graceaugustine. Her father had ordered her not to make contact unless she could help it and she knew better than to disobey. Her uncle could not know of where she was, even if she desired to lift that burden for him. It was not her place. She had to think of the clan first.

“<Perhaps he thinks the Rookery is…too close to the Tree of Souls?>” Neytiri scrambled for an excuse and was glad to find one swiftly. The rookery was in the mountains and often shifted around between the floating mountains and it seemed close that it was possible to be in the range of the sacred sites. It wasn’t uncommon but… it would be a plausible excuse to use that wasn’t a lie either. She was comfortable enough with that. “<You are not allowed there>”

N’deh let out a frustrated sigh. “<The only other rookery close is… further north close to the Tawkami clan. It’s on their territory.>”

Neytiri’s head cocked to the side. “<You have visited their clan before.>”

“<Yes,>” N’deh paused in his work, “<, Unlike the Ikran at the floating mountains here, there will be little way in fighting to the death. Their Ikran do not see Na’vi as prey but have other methods for proving a bond.>” N’deh’s mood tapered off a little in consideration. “”

Neytiri’s brow pulled in confusion. “<You do not choose each other? No fight or challenge.>”

“<Each rookery has different behaviours depending on Na’vi exposure the young Ikran have. It’s frequented a lot by the Tawkami when they harvest the flowers up there; some plants grow exclusively in the rookery that would not go elsewhere in their territory. With that much exposure over generations of Na’vi, they feel no concern over Na’vi but they still hear Eywa’s calls for when a Na’vi is there to be chosen to be a rider. A few are like that, like the Aranahe clan’s rookery but again, a portion is much like ours given that there is significant distance between the People>” N’deh explained with warmth in his voice. “<It was something I was taught when I stayed with them for a little while after my initial banishment. A few women were fond of Txon'ong’s colouring and wondered about our story.>”

Neytiri nodded but she couldn’t help but feel a little fascinated. There wasn’t much news recently from clan-to-clan and not many travellers that came to Hometree but she knew it would be important to learn from each clan still. It was…remarkable that the Ikran taming was so different. She had believed that they were all the same.

“”

Her uncle seemed to light up with pride at the mention of the Dreamwalker. A distant reminder to Neytiri that… she vaguely remembered Kimgreene had been close to getting her own Ikran before their banishment. Neytiri had seen the woman hunt and could see she was fully trained. Had to be and certainly her uncle had trained her well in what areas they hadn’t gotten to after they were gone from the Omatikaya. A robbed rite, but... she wasn’t suitable just yet. One child was risky enough but two in her womb? No.

“<Let’s not be too hasty, Uncle.>” Neytiri reminded, “<She is a few months until she is due to birth. I don’t think it’s wise. Perhaps after her children have their first breaths but before....” She trailed off a little, her tail lashing. “<As docile and as calm as those Ikran are, they are still wild animals before they’re tamed by a bond>”

N’deh let out a reluctant huff at her wisdom. “<I know. She has desired one for years. I want her to feel the same joy as I first did when I took my first flight. To feel the wind and the…senseless freedom. I want her to have that joy as well. She had worked so hard for it.>”

Neytiri reached for her uncle’s shoulder warmly. “<One day, N’deh but… after her children breathe our air and rest happy upon their parent’s chest.>”

N’deh remained quiet for a moment. “<I’ll consider the Tawkami’s rookery. It’s… the most viable option unless your mother can convince Eytukan to allow me passage to the Mountains.>”

That thankfully pacified his mood enough for him to relax into his work, his fingers picking out seeds and separating them far faster than hers but she didn’t try to go quickly.

The time continued to turn, long enough that Jeromeepstein made his appearance back to the camp with concerns and having heard of Harper’s sudden health turn but they were still waiting on news. Nadinereza had also been busy; anxiety reorganising the storage supplies by the sounds of it and the occasional burst of profanity when she dropped something.

Morgan made an appearance, this time with an overly large skull in his hands with his carving tool kit but…the skull itself was very unfamiliar. It looked very close to a Nangtang but…it wasn’t. A carnivore for sure.

“<What animal is that skull from?>” Neytiri asked, leaving her uncle’s side to crouch beside as the human seemed to settle down with his tools.

Morgan looked up, “Oh, this is... a vekreng. Humans call them Cloaked Panthers. It’s an old skull from the bone carvers got from some Zeswa traders that passed through years back. I asked if I could have it and they agreed. I think I’ll probably settle fully into bone carving. I’ve worked in most of the areas Hometree has but… bones seem more interesting and…I still got a shit ton I need to put to use. Might as well invest.”

Neytiri smiled a little. “You have found a calling?”

Morgan paused for a moment then nodded. “Hopefully. Took almost two months but…yeah? That and sling-training.”

“May I?” She held her hands out for the skull. Morgan handed it over after a second and she gently turned it in her hands to…see more in-depth of the creature’s face. The natural pathways into the skull for its dual kuru along the tops of its head, the eye sockets as well that were strong and the sharp teeth that were still set into its top jaw. “An impressive animal.” She could see its strength with how thick the bone was and how sharp the teeth were.

“Indeed.” Morgan agreed, taking it back from her. “I want to make this into something stunning. Maybe some sort of mask or perhaps a deceptive piece for my shack.”

“A mask? This is bigger than your own head.” Neytiri pointed out softly, “It may not fit.”

Morgan shrugged, “Maybe a mask for Jerome or Jake? Or N’deh if he’s curious.” He tossed a look down to the weaver who didn’t seem to be paying them any attention. “Like, I get they hunt but I was thinking…what happens if they run into an RDA patrol? Dreamwalkers will get recognised so… why not have them dress up for a bit? Maybe splash in some body paint?”

“The Sky people won’t be that foolish to be that deep into our land.”

Morgan let out a dry laugh. “You say that like they’re not already carving a path to your home or hunting us down.”

Neytiri’s eyes narrowed but… he did have a point there. Sky people often would push their boundaries and small groups could be missed in their patrols. Perhaps caution must have some consideration. Still, Jerome and Kim had been out for years and hadn’t been recognised. Jake as well for months.

“Well, I think Jerome can slap on some paint to cover his eyebrows or see if he’ll shave them off. The RDA think his Dreamwalker is also dead so they won’t initially recognise him…or Kim for that matter. They both wear Na’vi clothes anyway.” Morgan continued, “I’ll scan a 3D scan of this and do some mock-ups on my tablet.”

With that and otherwise still pleased, Morgan headed away towards his mauri-shack with a wave. Of course, the silence didn’t last long and the human disappeared off into his shack as the airlock hissed shut after him. Neytiri’s attention turned as she heard steps through the tree, her ears perking in the relief of seeing her mother upon a pa’li. Sitting in front, holding his chair with all the might of his arms was Jake who seemed to relax visibly to be back.

“Neytiri!” he noted, waving at her with a beaming smile that…made her heart flutter with warmth at his cheerfulness.

Neytiri smiled in relief; no look of worry or concern which meant everything had gone well. Neytiri took his wheelchair from him and opened it then set it onto the grass. Taking him softly from the Pa’li but placed him on the ground for him to get into his chair; why he didn’t allow her to sit him into the seat, she didn’t know but he was stubborn enough to argue her attempt.

Nadine abandoned her organising, coming straight over loudly and Jerome seemed to come out of his mauri with an armband he was crafting.

“Jake!” Nadine came over and hugged his head. “Did you faint?”

“No. Although Zeke did get a concussion.”

“How? He wasn’t the one being operated on!” Jerome laughed a little. “Let me guess, he keeled back like his soul left his body?”

“Pretty much. The guy does not like blood, it seems.”

“All was well, it seems?” Neytiri asked, her eyes flickering between him and up her mother. Although her nose wrinkled at the… strong alien smell that seemed to linger on her mother’s skin. Sharp and…chemically. Unlike the sweet sap and herbs smell she was familiar with.

“Yes, Harper is recovering well. I will visit often to ensure she’s healing well. It will be some time before she can return to Hometree. Eliza will also be absent for some time as well.” Mo’at spoke calmly. “But I must return. I need a wash with a stronger scrub.”

Neytiri chuckled a little, bidding farewell with the familiar gesture then followed Jake as he pushed his wheels over the uneven terrain. Her body itched to lean down and help push but she suspected that wouldn’t be welcomed gesture. He might get offended given how stubborn he was about doing it himself so, she restrained.

“Stay here, Let me have a snack quick and then link back up.” Jake said, pushing his wheels faster towards the shack, “Then I can tell you all about it.”

Neytiri hung back but at her uncle’s gesture towards the mats, she sat down. Nadine also sat down and Jerome although neither of them touched the fibres and Jerome simply carried on with his armband. It didn’t take more than a few minutes before Jake descended down

“Is Kimgreene not back yet? Morgan?” Jake asked, his eyes scanning about as he crouched down

“Morgan’s in his shack, I think he’s cool getting an update later. He’s got some plans with a cranium.” Nadine said, “Also, Kim’s still at Kung’s camp. When the message got to her, you lot were well into the surgery so she figured it was all handled. She did ask to make sure.”

“I suppose. Plus, she may not have been able to help much given her size. Mo’at did struggle. I had to be her hands for the event given she couldn’t work a human-sized scalpel.” Jake said, “But the surgery went smoothly, barring Zeke fainting. It…could have gone better but none of us are trained like a surgical team. We relied heavily on Eliza’s orders to make sure it was smooth going. I do think…maybe we need some of us to train with Eliza to cover the areas needed if this happens again. I’ll bring that up at Hometree tomorrow. Today was fortunate but we can’t rely on luck.”

Neytiri found herself nodding, “Why is it that…you smell? My mother too, for that matter? It’s a horrible stench.”

“Oh, Eliza had everyone involved sprayed down with a sterilisation spray. Your mother was no exception. Humans can be susceptible to infections brought in on a normal basis. On Earth, anyone operating on another human must undergo the same procedures to ensure minimal risk. Since we’re on Pandora, an alien world, our bodies will be more likely to get an infection given our bodies don’t know how to fight alien germs.” Jake explained, “Everyone was masked up, sterilised, and covered so Harper was at minimal risk. As she heals, that’ll tell us if we’re successful.”

“I hope that…smell goes. It’s not pleasant.”

“Me too, but needs must.”

Needs must indeed.

Neytiri found herself not opening up the rest of the day for intense training; the headspace for Jake was…not one she knew would be ready to partake given the natural emotional exhaustion that would come from aiding the life of a friend so directly. Instead, she helped around his camp, keeping him speaking in Na’vi and particularly; to recite the prayer for hunting as they went.

“<…and your body stays to be the people>,” Jake said slowly as they cleaned up the hand-made bullets that had been since scattered in their earlier training when he had been showing her the sling weapon.

“<Your body stays behind to become part of the people>” Neytiri corrected, adding one of the cracked bullets to her growing collection. “Close.”

Jake wrinkled his nose. “Not close enough.”

“<you’re doing very well, Jake.” She said, “You’ve picked this up far quicker than I expected.”

“I’m still too slow. I feel like…I’m still too passive. I need to do more.”

“You’re a skilled bead maker and you’re learning the weaving patterns very well. I have noticed that you show promise of a leader with the humans that are here.” Neytiri gave him a soft look, “You need to See yourself. You’re a hunter at heart but you’re also of two bodies.” She grasped his shoulder. “You are enough. You are doing well for being bound between worlds.”

Jake’s yellow eyes were like pools of golden honey, deep and rolling with emotion but there was the lingering uncertainty that floated within them. She wanted nothing more than to remove his doubt but she hoped he’d reflect on her words later.

“Tomorrow, we will…work on your bow and arrow. You’re posture when actively hunting needs work. On the Pa’li and crouched. We can spend all day working on it if you want?”

“I…I want to visit Harper in the morning; check in on her.” Jake said, “It’d be good…to see her when I’m not elbow-deep in her intestines and covered in blood.”

Neytiri’s nose wrinkled but she agreed to the adjustment. That didn’t sound pleasant but… a new memory to go over was better than reflecting on that grotty aspect of aiding her. “The area of land that they’re in is a good area for hunting. It’s open to a large river and it can attract many animals for you to track. Fresher. Your ability to track through scent needs more work but we can work on that too.”

Jake nodded, looking more determined. “When will Ashely get her Ikran?”

“Two weeks by Tsu’tey’s estimates,” Neytiri said, a little surprised really that Tsu’tey would think so soon but she had seen the woman hunt and train; she knew her Dreamwalker body well and had since developed it. It was a warrior body. She hadn’t seen much, if of anything of Ashelysloan’s human body but she hoped to see her soon. If she had healed up fully.

Jake looked surprised. “Wow.”

“She’s had much longer inside her Dreamwalker, its age is much older than yours and lived life into it. Tsu’tey did take over my teaching with her so I could up for work with you.” Neytiri said.

“I’m just…amazed. Jealous but… at least she’s making real good progress.”

“Once she’s passed Iknimaya, she will be able to participate in hunts with the people. As she is not Omatikaya, my parents are…still deciding on whether this means you’re considered a fully-fledged adult in our culture or not. You cannot have Uniltaron, the second rite that would make you one of the Omatikaya.” Which was…unfortunate. “They’re still uncertain on how to accept sky people into their traditions.”

Jake let out an unsurprised huff. “Na’vi as a whole never will. We gotta make the best of it, even with Uturu.” He offered a tight smile but took her little basket of sling whistle bullets from her. “Let’s not dwell on that now. Let’s focus on something else.”

The Na’vi stepped through the base with a determined pathway. Familiar now having helped construct Refuge’s new home to make it fully airtight and suitable for earth-atmosphere so no one had to sleep in masks when there was another leak.

Excitement hung in the air as well as anticipated and they were almost set to go but… Teylan had not shown up. So she decided to find him first. There were little known places Teylan would be and she had passed most on her way to see there was only one viable place. She slipped through the large airlock before the doors opened at the end of the lab.

To no surprise, Teylan was there.

“…and today, the others are going to visit the Aranahe clan. I think you would be quite proud of them.” His voice echoed.

Kìoetey watched as he was kneeling next to the grow-tank. Alma’s Na’vi self was almost asleep inside. Nude and life sustained through the umbilical cord, the thumping beats of her heart going through the monitors that kept her vitals in check; keeping her alive inside.

It had thrown her off the first time she had seen her teacher like this. Never seen her with her hair down and out of that braided bun, or asleep… or…vulnerable like this. Her body twitching as if she was an unborn baby within the womb. A few instances when she was sucking on her thumb out of basic reflexes. But she had gotten used to it now but.. it seemed Teylan had taken great comfort in coming here often. The most familiar person he knew from the RDA was in the tube.

Kìoetey understood but she knew he had to concentrate his energy on those who would speak and interact back. Alma couldn’t hear him, as much as he liked to think otherwise.

“Teylan,” Her voice echoed, coming around to his side, “We need to do.”

Teylan’s ears drooped. “Must I?”

“Alex says that it would be good for us all to go and make a good impression with the Aranahe. It’s well into the morning. We shouldn’t leave it too late.” Kìoetey said softly.

“I…I don’t want to go. I’m sorry but...it’s just too much pressure. I like it here. Plus, who will keep Alma company here? I can help when they need to sort something out with this tech. Alex showed me how it works.”

“Alma will still be here when we get back tonight.”

Teylan spared a look to the avatar. “But… she’s so alone in there. I know she can’t talk back but I’m sure she’s listening. I don’t want her to get lonely.”

Kìoetey sighed heavily. “If everything…does go well with the Aranahe, can you…at least try and visit next time?”

Teylan paused for a moment. “Well, I suppose if the Aranahe do like you, I can visit but...only for a little bit. I do not like it outside that much. It’s so dangerous.”

Which was the best she was going to get from him, she supposed. “Okay.” She grasped his shoulder warmly. “I will speak to you later. I have a radio on me as well Ri’nela and Yefti but the others will not. The Aranahe may not like them so we’ll use them for emergencies.”

Teylan nodded, his hand coming to touch his new radio. “Okay.”

Kìoetey left him to it and returned outside where Nor was waiting with the others. Raj had kitted them all out in Na’vi clothing. Some burying shades of grey from reusing old clothing but Na’vi enough she hoped would be acceptable. Ri’nela of course had gone all out and had added decoration back into her hair. As many as possible.

Okni had also added some decoration to hers but since it was shorter, she hadn’t had as much. Telisi’s hair was still growing out from her scalp since Mercer had had it shaved as punishment for disobeying him in their last training session. The only hair on her head was the braid protecting her kuru. Alma had epic timing in bursting and grabbing the electric sheers before the guy could take that hair too. She had apparently broken his wrist in the process which had brought some joy in Nor and Telisi to hear. The next day, Alma had led them out of TAP in secret when her SecOps mutiny occurred.

It was all a rush after that but everyone was still finding themselves and Kìoetey hoped the Aranahe clan would be the first step now that they were out. To be with real Na’vi. For the first time since…they were babies and toddlers.

They barely looked the part and she could see the anxiety on the other’s faces. Especially Yuayt’s face.

“Teylan won’t go but he’s agreed to visit if everything goes well,” Kìoetey said as she reached her group. “Now, we all have our bows? Arrows? Knives? We have to walk to the Hometree but we don’t know what sort of animals we may come across on our journey. Don’t shoot first and see. We can read the body language.�� She reminded, eyeing the latter half of their group like Okni and Telisi.

“Let’s go. We’ve waited long enough.” Nor said impatiently, “I’ve got a quick route in mind. Let’s go.”

With that, they headed out.

“Good luck!” Priya’s voice echoed from the airlock.

The journey through the foliage was long. Though the terrain was unfamiliar to most, Kìoetey had learned enough in her time out to steer a few other's way from dangerous plants. Like those puff pods that Okni thought were like balloons up until she told her that they exploded if touched.

Kìoetey liked to think it was Eywa watching over them by the time the canopy broke to show the top of the massive Hometree in the distance, spurring them one before they found a trodden path to follow and so they charted it with confidence.

The closer they got, and as the tree was looming above, Kìoetey’s heart sang in her chest with nerves but she held onto the truth that this must be done for them to have any part of their people. For their future.

“<Is that…>”

“<No, that clan is long gone.>” The voices were hushed, distant in Na’vi but Kìoetey’s attention turned to two hunters that looked to be in their path and have stopped. “<This must be something else.>”

“<The mark is clear. Kat’nat will want to know.>” The second hunter hissed to the first, her eyes sharp as she took them in. “<If you do not, I will help. They all look lost.>”

The first looked unappeased but after a moment he nodded. “<Fine, I’ll go ahead and inform Kat’nat. You take them.>” He said then turned tail and began to jog away.

The female hunter rolled her eyes at her hunting partner’s antics but turned back to the group. Kìoetey stepped forward, hoping to look less intimidating. “<hello. I am Kìoetey. We…wish to go to your Hometree to relearn more of Na’vi ways.”

The hunter’s eyes dipped down to their attire, clearly sensing something based on their appearance. Hopefully to verify her words. “Your reasons will be heard by our clan’s leader. Kat’nat. I will suggest you put your bows away. Predators will not be this close to Hometree. Our Hometree scouts may not like them to be easily drawn before they know why you’re here.” She was sharp in her tone but gestured the seven of them onwards.

Perhaps reluctant but not passive to let them go on their own, Kìoetey was still relieved that…a guide was better than none and the trip to the tree was shorter too.

As expected by the hunter at least, an Ikran swooped as they neared the main entryway with a very young man, perhaps a teenager with a raised bow. Nor tensed right up with a hiss at the aggression. Ri’nela grasped his arm to temper his reactions before he got them shot.

“<Calm, Neyan.>” The woman said.

“<What is this, mother? You bring strangers to our home?”

Thankfully, the question did not need an immediate answer. The first hunter they saw seemed to return, with three others in two. One male who Kìoetey assumed was the clan leader, but two women; one dressed in bright yellow and seemed to be about her mid to late forties with a bounce to her posture, the second woman as more stern, sharp-eyed and had complimentary colours to the clan leader.

“<Sarentu.>” The woman spoke, moving past her mate towards them. Kieotey held her gaze, allowing her to properly look at their shared mark. “<It had been a long time since we last saw your people here. You’ve been gone a long time.>” She was light in her remarks, her hand coming to her jaw but not touching.

“<Sarentu?>” Kìoetey couldn’t help the question, “<No one has ever called us that.>”

The Tsahìk’s ears tilted in a sense of alarm but her eyes were narrow, taking in her outfit and the others more closely “<Where have you been for all this time?>”

“<The Sky people. They took us when we were little and told us our clan abandoned us. We knew better. We escaped recently with sky people who did not like their ways.>” Kìoetey spoke, “<But… we know little of our own people and what happened to them. You and your people are the first Na’vi we have seen since we were stolen.>”

The woman in yellow shooed the teen warrior into putting the bow away. “<Put that away. There is no need for hostilities. Can you not see they are frightened?>” She reprimanded, moving past the teen and towards Okni first who immediately shied away. “<Do not fear him, young one. His bark is bigger than his bite.>”

The clan leader moved as they spoke, taking each of their faces. “<We knew the Sarentu. Yet none wore these…sky people scraps. Have your spirits been moulded by the sky people or do you remember the ways of your clan?>”

“<Some things I remember, not a lot. My mother’s smile.>” Kìoetey said, her tone coloured with some warmth. “”

“<Ma Mate, it is clear they need guidance and they are here for it. To have Sarentu return to us is a wonderful gift and in such numbers.>” The Tsahìk spoke, “<Aranahe and Sarentu have always had a good relation, let us not judge them upon their start in life and restart them back into our way of life>”

“<And get them into far better and colourful clothes at the very least. They’d frighten the hide off an Angtsìk.>” The woman in yellow spoke, her eyes looking in mild disgust at their clothes. Telisi’s arms came over her front. “”

Kat’nat eyed them for longer and then nodded softly. “<As you wish, Nefika. They will need time to settle and many hands to guide. I trust you to direct them.>”

“” The Tsahìk said, “<Come. Hometree will welcome you and you can rest your burdens with us. We can celebrate the return of Sarentu.>”

Priya sighed deeply but gladly accepted the box Anqa handed straight to her and headed directly into the bathroom, taking a full second to secure the door, shut the lid over the makeshift toilet and set the box into the sink with a huff. The mirror was barely fixed onto the wall but it was functional as she stared at her reflection for a long moment, tilting her head to the slight shadows from under her eyes.

Not good.

They needed more protein; more than what the RDA rations they had stolen had so far. This box’s shortcut wasn’t going to last forever and certainly not when it was shared between the three of them.

She opened it up, took the little pot and filled it with some water first then added the treatments into it; watching the water turn a soft pink before she set the denture glue onto the side before she reached up to her mouth. Sharpening fingernails sunk under the faux teeth but it took force to push each of the five teeth covers out and let them drop each one into the chemicals to clean before she’d eventually put them back in fresh.

The eight from her lower jaw soon joined the rest before she fumbled with her pills, the red pill barely in her hand a second before she swallowed it down and then sighed, taking a second to bare her inherited Vampiric teeth in the mirror. Blunter than a first-generation Dhampyr but… still too sharp for a human. One day they wouldn’t need to cover them.

Just not today.

No one needed to know after all.

Masterlist

#avatar #avatar au #avatar james cameron #avatar the way of water #jake sully #mo'at #neytiri #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #nor #sarentu #priya chen #alma cortez #avatar frontiers of pandora #frontiers of pandora #aranehe #kat'nat #vampire #vampire au #anqa

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meraki-yao · 10 months ago

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Would you know why Nick was allowed to post a lot of pics of IDOY ( I counted nearly 40 considering around 4 posts and 10 pics each) but could hardly post of rwrb? I assumed since both are under Amazon they'd have the same restrictions but perhaps not ( though I don't understand where the difference lies) .. he said he can't post pics of him in costume but I don't think any of the IDOY pics he's posted during filming were in costume either .. they were all random cast and crew pics out of costume (maybe some of the tattoos).. so I was wondering why it was different for rwrb

I... don't know. I mean when thinking on how to answer this I was trying to make some educated guess, but I realized I was running into walls.

I get why Amazon/Prime would put so much effort on the press and promo for TIOY: you got it being a book adaptation, you got the star power with Nick and Anne (and 1D/Harry Styles to a certain extent), you got the tried and true formula of a heterosexual rom-com, you got the trope of an older woman with a younger man that's certain going to attract a certain big demographic, so at least on the surface, it's a winning formula, so they went out with the promo, including Nick posting about it. I think a little more about it might be the costume: Hayes, as a celebrity, wears essentially want Nick already wears, it's not that distinct, as opposed to Henry who's a freaking prince.

But my question is I have no freaking idea how Amazon/Prime view RWRB. You would think they would hold it in high regard, somewhat equally to TIOY. And look at what they did for marketing, with the book quest, premieres, karaoke bus, fan screening, character Instagrams and stuff. You can say that yeah, they did see it as an important project, and did a lot with marketing/promotion (or at least what they could do with the strike going on) to hype it up more.

But then we come to the question of production: As much as I love it and as much as it's minor, there are some meh green screens (see all the new reports and the DNC, heck in the DNC wide shot, it's literally just models, the "Alex" figure is still), and Matthew was told it was overperforming, meaning the expectations weren't that high. I tried to search for the exact number for the budget of the movie, but couldn't, and realized that streaming media doesn't calculate profit the way theatre releases do because there's no "box office".

I think I went off a tangent? Anyways, back to your question, why couldn't Nick post RWRB photos? Well, if we say that RWRB was seen as an important project, then my best guess is that by keeping set and behind-the-scenes and costumed photos secret, they can build up hype by keeping the audience hooked, willing to wait and check for updates to see more. My other guess is that they wanted to use some of the photos Nick took as promotional material themselves: if you look at the photos posted on the official rwrb Instagram page around September to October, there are a lot of behind-the-scenes/set photos, that wouldn't look to out of place if it was in one of the cast member's phone gallery. The selfie of Nick/Henry with Taylor's atrocious plastic yellow sunglasses was definitely from Nick's phone. I briefly thought on the negative side if they didn't care about rwrb, maybe they just didn't give a damn or something, but upon further inspection that doesn't make sense. Even if they underestimate the movie, it doesn't make sense for them to hoard photos. (which is also why I cannot for the life of me understand why their hoarding the deleted scenes when there are clearly so many)

...so apparently I can't answer a question without it turning into an essay WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME

#anon ask #answered #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #taylor zakhar perez #alex claremont diaz #nicholas galitzine #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #firstprince #rwrb thoughts #the idea of you #hayes campbell #meraki essay

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whoseafraidofliloleme · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐌𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

Summary: Kwon YN is invisible in the eyes of her classmates. They spill secrets with her there. Any cheating secrets she tells Yuna. Who uses her popularity to expose it. When YN finds out a secret about Lee Heeseung. YN goes straight to him and now she’s fake dating Lee Heeseung?

Permanent Taglist: @honeyhuii @chirokookie @nyxtwixx @clar-iii @centheodd @prdxinvade @hiqhkey @junnniiieee07 @love-4-keum @acciomylove @sproutswonies @youkwim @kpoplover718 @anotherimaginesaccount @ashxxkook

Honestly don't understand where the Taglist for this disappeared too but really it was fun thinking about where these lot would be right now, also I didn't realise just how dramatic this story was until I re read some to catch myself up on group dynamics 😂.

We ended with them graduating. They didn't all get into the same university but that's not going to stop them.

The 3 couples all got into the same uni, all of them doing wildly different courses.

YN with how much she loved dramas, decided to study film direction. She might not be invisible anymore but she still prefers to stay behind the camera.

Everyone assumed Yuna would choose theatre, be an acting student but she instead chose law, she wants to open a fully female solicitors office.

Lia despite saying how much she hates children and school, is getting a degree in education with the hopes of opening her own school or atleast becoming the head teacher of a school at some point.

Jay always knew he wanted to study business. He wants to take his family business to even bigger heights.

Yeonjun to no one's surprise is a law student. With how much he puts his foot in his mouth it will be a wonder if he gets his degree.

Heeseung chose criminology. Nobody knew what he wanted to do and even Heeseung didn't, until he heard a speaker talk about the importance of criminology and he did his own research and bam he knew this was his path.

Ryujin, for all her talk of choosing a course with more girls. Chose to do Sports Science where she's one of 10 girls doing the course 😂.

Taehyun, hated being student body president but still chose international relations because why not 😂. Really that's his response whenever asked.

Jungwon chose to do literature and he's having the time of his life. Even if he's not at the same uni as everyone else.

Huening Kai went the route of an apprenticeship in wood work and everyone loves that for their birthdays they will get a little wooden figurine.

Sunghoon chose to spend some time abroad and he's still there a year later but he has reached out to Heeyn. YN obviously more happy to reconnect than Heeseung.

But Heeseung being the supportive bf that he is, understands how important Sunghoon is and well they both talk it out. They might not like each other very much right now but in the future they'll get that friendship back.

Sunoo and Jake, after the argument with the rest of the group just minded their own business not getting involved or caring about what the others were doing.

They kept in contact with Sunghoon but even that wasnt the best. They still blame YN for everything and don't understand why Sunghoon had to leave.

Unfortunately in the year it's been, they haven't matured much but are slowly coming to respect YN's decision. That doesn't mean they like Heeseung and his friends tho. The two avoid them as much as they can.

YN has forgiven them and the rest of her friends are okay with them but it's very obvious they aren't all that welcome.

To end this on a happy note. The whole group make it a thing to meet up atleast once a month, mostly at YN's house and it's a whole big sleepover.

The 3 couples go on triple and double dates all the time. Lia and Yuna aren't threatening to break up with Yeonjun and Jay cause of their inability to shut up 😂.

Heeseung and YN are the parents of Niki. To the point that the school calls them if he's acting out or something is wrong.

Niki jokes that he is practice for when they actually have a child which leaves YN blushing, hiding her face and Heeseung looking stunned but with a glint in his eyes.

At a later date he will tell YN that he was imagining they're kids when Niki said that to them.

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pocketramblr · 24 days ago

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GC1 SUBTITLE TRANSCRIPT:

GC1: Hello, Gotham City One, I'm Jack Ryder, and welcome back to the Gotham Harbor Annual Event For Charity! Usually headed by Mr. Cobblepot, this year's top platinum donor honor was snatched up by Mr. Bruce Wayne! I'm here with Mr. Wayne tonight- now sir can you tell us about why you decided to make an even larger donation than normal this year?

BW: Hi, Jack. Well, there really is something special about a Gotham Harbor party, but I'll admit I really was thinking about my ward this year. Dick was in Haly's before... The tragedy.

GC1: Ah, right, young Richard Grayson! I'll tell you, I'm still surprised when I remember that the most eligible bachelor of the largest city in the world is taking care of a kid when he's not going to operas or auctions or clubs. What did convince you to do that?

BW: Ah... Well, I suppose I felt like I had to, after his parents were murdered. I was lucky to have-

GC1: Wait, his parents were murdered?

BW: Um, yes? It was part of a shakedown for protection money, though I suppose it was initially assumed an accident....

GC1: Really! Well I guess this town is just lousy for those! Honestly we'd have an anniversary memorial every day if we threw one each time it happened. But thankfully, we don't, because I sure do not want to be the guy who just reports on that every night, am I right? And even more thankfully, we've got folks like good ol Brucie Wayne doing what they can to help people out, opening their homes and wallets. Now, the proceeds from tonight are split between the Haly Commemoration Fund and the Gotham Orphanages Foundation?

BW: Yes, specifically to benefit the Gotham Narrows Orphanage.

GC1: Yes, the Narrows Orphanage, the one at the center of of the tragic exploding bus of orphans.

BW: Yes, watching the news that morning was just terrible. I haven't seen Dick so shaken since the night we met. I think it's quite brave he's attending tonight.

GC1: Ah, well, Gotham kids are tough! That's why, each year the Gotham Narrows Orphanage brings a bus load of kids back here every year, to prove they can't be kept down for long!

BW: Oh, yes, they do...

GC1: Yeah, isn't it great?

BW: It's, uh, something all right...

GC1: yeah, we're going to interview some of those kids next!

BW: Ah, Jack, may I be honest with you?

GC1: Please do!

BW: I offered to double my donation if they didn't force the children to come, and they turned me down.

GC1: What?! Turned you - and your money - down! Why, Mr. Wayne I don't believe it!

BW: I was surprised as well.

GC1: Not a lot of people in this town who'd tell you no.

BW: It isn't even about that, I was just worried about the kids- I mean, if it were me, I can't imagine the irreparable damage it would do to my psyche to be dragged to the alley by the Monarch Theatre every year and forced to relive my worst night.

GC1: You know, it does sound bad when you put it like that. But they turned down your donation to do it anyway- well if there's anything more Gotham than love of money, it's pure spite!

BW: Indeed, Jack - though, of course, I doubled my donation anyway.

GC1: You... Did?

BW: Well I couldn't punish the children simply because the adults left in charge of them weren't agreeing to anything I asked for, that'd be ridiculous.

GC1: hmm. You know I think maybe if they didn't think you'd just fold like a wet paper towel, they might have done what you asked instead.

BW: You think? I'd hope not, but Dick said the same thing. Well, he called me a doormat, not a... Wet paper towel.

GC1: Really? And what'd you say to that?

BW: Well, that I still wasn't going to let him skip school.

GC1: Ha! Well, I suppose your ward and these Gotham Narrows Orphanage kids will thank you one day for ensuring they get care and education. Now, it's a rowdy night here, but what is the afterparty going to look like, Mr. Wayne? Any fun- oh huh it's really rowdy, it's getting louder - why are people screaming.

BW: Ah, Jack, we should probably-

GC1: Oh! Micky! Micky, quick, turn the camera around- there! It's Robin, on his motorcycle! Quick, get footage- I wonder what's happening tonight!

BW: Um, I'm just going to... Go look for Dick, and evacuate. Please, someone, go check on the orphans-

"Ah yes, the tragic night at Haly's Circus, when a mob shakedown for money went horribly awry, and- what? No? Who are the Graysons? No, we're talking about the Exploding Bus Of Orphans, obviously."

#Bruce: i can't imagine how terrible it is for the children to be forced to relive the exploding bus of orphans each year #Bruce: *is indeed going to the monarch theatre every year on the anniversary to force himself to relive his pain and is like. probably also #snorting a lil bit of fear drugs while he does it just to make it stick even more*#there's something soooo messed up with him (<- referring to Bruce. and Jack. and Dick tbh)#ficlet #ig #btaa #my writing #why does anyone even live in gotham

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sailforvalinor · 3 years ago

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LU Boys as College Students

(Note: I'm not planning to do a fic with these or anything, these were just some ideas that flew into my head.)

Time:

Can't imagine him as a student, so he's the History professor. Comes off as extremely intimidating to freshmen, but is a favorite of the upper-classmen.

Graduated from the college he teaches at, but his graduation year is a topic of debate among students. Even many of the other professors aren't quite sure how long he's been working there.

It took the Boys a ridiculous amount of time to realize that the sweet red-haired lady working in the cafeteria was his wife; they had all assumed he was an old bachelor.

Is secretly responsible for most of the campus legends, folk tales, and other rumors of strange and creepy happenings.

You don't prank Time in his classroom, he pranks you. Has a tendency to target freshmen.

His classes always get out exactly on time, and if you have the audacity to start packing up your things while he's still lecturing, he will glare at you so intensely that you'll feel as if you have holes burned into your head.

Warriors:

Senior Communication and Business double major

Since they were put together in a group during the university's "Welcome Weekend" their freshman year, he, Twilight, and Sky have been inseparable.

Aside from double majoring, is the president of multiple clubs, is the football quarterback, and is even involved in the drama department.

Somehow seems to have his life together, and no one can figure out how. Assignments get in on time, gets perfect grades, all the professors love him. His planners have planners.

Spoiler alert: he actually doesn't have his life together. He's that one guy who is so busy that he gets maybe 4 hours of sleep on a good day and is always having to shower at 3 am.

Twilight:

Senior English Major with a History Minor

Is that one guy who, despite having quite a lot of friends and being fairly popular, still somehow comes off as a loner.

Strangely popular with the professors.

Will go to random club meetings if Warriors drags him there, but is only truly involved in the campus literary magazine, which he runs.

Works in the campus library.

Is the guy to look for if you want coffee, tea, etc.

Is related to Time, but doesn't advertise that information very widely.

Has never dated anyone on-campus. Only Warriors and Sky know that this is because he had a high-school sweetheart that he still hasn't gotten over.

Sky:

Senior Criminal Justice Major with a Music Minor

As he's such a sweet and unassuming guy, most people outside the criminal justice department are mystified as to his choice in major (the Education department kids have made bids to steal him multiple times). But those in the department are under no such delusion. Sky is....terrifyingly good at what he does.

He and Sun, who is the daughter of the university's president, grew up together and were high school sweethearts. (Sun is a physical therapy major.)

Is the RA on his floor. You would think that his dorm is the chillest place ever, and you'd be correct--except for the fact that all of his residents are slightly TERRIFIED of him. They speak in whispers of what they have dubbed the "Coke-and-Mentos-Rocket Incident of 2021." Due to this, is dorm is one of the most well-behaved on campus.

Is the guy playing the guitar at any major campus event.

Likes to have group movie nights in his room.

Legend:

Junior Theatre Major with a Music Minor

Somehow wound up roommates with Warriors after Wars' former roommate dropped out after one semester. As you would expect, they fought constantly, and after many pointless intermediary sessions with their RA and campus Resident Life, they are...still roommates. No one understands why. One assumes that they must have figured something out--but considering they still fight just as much, you wouldn't be able to tell.

Really does NOT give the air of a theatre kid--until you see him on stage, that is. Managed to land a main role in the play his freshman year and has always landed them since. A shockingly good singer.

As you would guess, part of Legend and Warrior's animosity stems from vying for the lead roles in productions every semester. It really annoys Legend, as Warriors has PLENTY of other things he's involved with, but theatre is the only thing Legend is really involved in on campus AND it's his major.

His freshman year, rumors were flying about that he was dating a music major named Marin--until she mysteriously dropped out without warning. No one knows why, and Legend never talks about it, but stories and speculation abound.

Wild:

Sophomore (-ish), undecided

Is Twilight's younger brother.

Went into college undecided--perfectly fine, of course--but seems perfectly content to continue that way. His advisor is extremely worried for his intent in career but can't manage to get much out of him. As it is, he's focusing on gen-eds for the moment.

Works in the campus cafeteria, and when he isn't inadvertently causing disasters, between him and Malon, they sometimes manage to improve the state of the cuisine. (As much as it can be improved, anyway.)

Rides around campus on one of those electric scooters, even for really short distances. As you would expect, has run into people and objects multiple times.

Lives on Sky's floor.

When he isn't in class or working, he often makes money by selling whatever food he can whip up on the fly to the guys in his dorm--grilled cheese, quesadillas, cupcakes, etc.

Is considering dropping out and going to culinary school.

Hyrule:

Sophomore Biology (Pre-Med) Major

Gets mistaken for a high schooler a lot--it doesn't seem to bother him much, though.

Managed to get so ridiculously lost his first day of classes that he missed nearly all of them. He would have if he hadn't been rescued by Legend, who he happened to share a gen-ed with. Legend forcibly adopted him into the friendgroup afterwards, and (though he won't admit it) has been fiercely protective of him ever since.

Didn't have a lot of friends in high school, and isn't used to having such a close friendgroup.

Lives on Sky's floor, and is roommates with Wild. Their room is a disaster zone--even Sky won't touch it with a ten-foot pole.

Has a habit of going missing for several hours or even days at a time and missing classes--he always manages to toe the line of allowable absences. The professors almost expect it at this point. The Boys usually send someone out to look for him, but they usually aren't too worried.

Had to be tutored in his gen-ed English Composition class by Twilight his freshman year. He struggled a lot with the class almost to the point of tears, but Twi helped him through it, and afterwards he even managed to convince him to join the literary journal.

Four:

Junior Psychology and History Double Major

Skipped a year thanks to high school credit. Is very dedicated--his work ethic could give Warriors a run for his money.

Works in the library with Twilight.

Lives on Sky's floor, and is roommates with Wind. Their room alternates between pristine cleanliness and absolute disaster zone--there is no in-between.

Has tried to start a metalworking club on campus, but can't get enough people who are interested to join.

Is widely liked by the student body, but most struggle to get an exact read on him.

Wind:

Freshman Communication Major

Also gets mistaken for a high schooler a lot--and it DOES seem to bother him.

Almost decided to go to a trade school, but changed his mind for the sake of his grandma, who really wanted him to get a college degree. (He's still half-considering dropping out after this first year, though.)

Is a bit uncertain about his major.

Idolizes Warriors--many refer to Wind as Wars' mini-me.

Floats in and out of clubs--can never seem to settle on a single interest.

Is always texting his sister, and has absolutely no shame about it.

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azenkii · 5 years ago

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A Long List of Trash Fire Lord Zuko Headcanons

...that i couldn't get out of my head:

(warning: SUPER LONG POST i havent figured out how to trim posts yet)

he's the one who unchains azula despite iroh's protests. she doesn't even try to fight him, just cries into his shoulder and keeps mumbling about how father's going to be so disappointed in her. he takes her to her rooms and has her drink a sleeping draught, then stations the best guards he has left outside her chambers.

his first council meeting takes place literally a day after sozin's comet. he hobbles into the council chamber shirtless with his entire torso covered in bandages and every council member just looks at him like '...what'

he does NOT sleep for like,,a week after sozin's comet and then another two weeks after his coronation. katara, aang and suki try to persuade him to sleep and he doesn't listen. eventually sokka, toph and mai team up to literally drag his ass to bed and tell him he's not allowed to get up until he sleeps (does mai pin him to the bed with her knives? yes. is it kinky or sexual in any way? definitely not.)

he drinks So. Much. Tea. at this point it's practically tasteless to him but he drinks it anyway because he just needs something to do and tea is something familiar. he keeps iroh on his toes because he's constantly asking for new tea blends, uncle, i think i actually tasted the last one,

he flat-out refuses to grow his hair for at least a year after ozai's defeat. the second it starts getting close to his chin he shears it off himself, with his knife, and his stylist has a heart attack every single time

when he's tired he'll occasionally jump up when one of his guards moves. it stops after a bit, but for the first month and a half or so he's really twitchy. when sokka asks, the only explanation he can come up with is that he's not used to having people stand behind him silently and not want to kill him, much less want to protect him (sokka immediately takes him out for a shopping trip and makes a point of walking behind him the entire time, but only on zuko's right side, where he can clearly see it if sokka moves towards him)

when the healer declares azula mentally unstable and in need of an institution, he shuts himself in his office for the rest of the night. no one's allowed in, not even iroh. he finally emerges in the morning, eyes red from crying and sleep deprivation, and tells the librarian that he'd like a list of the best mental institutions in the country, please, the best in the world if you can get them

he loves theatre (is this even a headcanon?). unfortunately it practically died out in the fire nation along with the rest of the creative arts, leaving nothing but small troupes like the ember island players. one of zuko's personal goals (meaning things he wants to accomplish that aren't as important as restoring his country) is to bring back theatre; he finally manages to do it after about eight months or so of being fire lord, along with other arts like dancing, music and sculpture

he establishes a national day of mourning, on the first day of autumn every year, to commemorate the genocide of the air nomads. from 100AG onwards, every calendar printed in the fire nation has it marked. at first it was called the day of repentance, but aang persuaded him to have it changed (by arguing that he didn't want guilt to be a literal staple of fire nation culture)

he introduces literally So Many educational reforms, plus a mandatory class that teaches students about the cultures of the other nations (air nomads included) and how some of their traditions overlap

he turns down the offer of having a statue put up of him in the capital. toph ignores him and does it anyway.

he visits azula regularly, makes sure she's (relatively) comfortable and well-fed, and sometimes just sits down outside her door and tells her about everything that's going on right now ('some of the far colonies have developed their own standardised writing, azula, you wouldn't believe it, and i've asked the fire sages to come visit more often—but you never liked them, did you? oh, well; i'll make sure none of them go into your chambers by mistake')

(he doesn't know it, but when he does this azula sits by the door and listens. she wonders what kind of writing the colonists have developed, and whether or not the fire sages have taken on some new recruits.)

he hates being above anyone else. never sits in the throne if he can help it, nor does he sit on the dais in the council room. when he talks to people shorter than him, he finds himself stooping a little bit to talk to them on their level (the exception to this rule is sokka, who he mocks for being shorter all the way up until sokka grows taller than him, the bastard)

the first time he visits the earth kingdom, the earth king's ministers call a toast. he ends up being the only one who has to sit out, because he's too young to drink by earth kingdom law

once his servants figure out he won't kill them for talking to him, they start becoming a lot more bold, telling him off when he doesn't take care of himself. at one point, they force him to let them take care of him so much that he literally just bolts into the gardens and hides there until the staff rope in mai and ty lee

when he needs to escape, he does one of two things: (a) he dresses up as the blue spirit and does some parkour until he calms down, or (b) he goes to work at the jasmine dragon. (b) happens less often bc the jasmine dragon's in ba sing se, but there's been a few memorable incidents when an earth kingdom diplomat walks in and yells, 'LEE?!' when they see the fire lord

the first court artist who draws him also happens to be the one who drew azulon and ozai. he draws zuko without his scar. zuko takes one look at it and tells him, very calmly, that he'd like him to leave, please.

zuko burns the portrait. he doesn't fire the court artist, but he never calls on him again unless he has to. a second court artist is called, and can't help but be a bit confused when the fire lord tells him to be sure to include the scar

he forgets the crown. a lot. sometimes he walks into council meetings in his sleepwear with his hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a bunch of scrolls tucked under his arm. none of his councilmen have the guts (or the heart) to tell him that this is not, in fact, formal council wear

he goes to feed the turtleducks when he's stressed. he thinks he's being subtle. he's not. the entire palace knows, and they consciously give him space when they see him in the turtleduck garden

most of his staff are older than him, so they look at him and see this teeny tiny fire lord who is So Small and who Must Be Protected. the day after zuko's coronation, the head chef holds a meeting where they commence Operation Do-Not-Let-That-Boy-Turn-Out-Like-His-Father (subsection He's-The-Only-Good-Thing-We-Have)

one night he wakes up to find suki sitting in his room, decked out in full kyoshi warrior garb and makeup, and just about screams blue murder. suki tells him there are suspicions of an assassin in the palace, and would you please stop yelling it's very distracting, we won't be able to hear anyone coming over that racket

zuko gets very, very paranoid of random spirits after that. yeah, suki looks like a possibly malevolent spirit when she's wearing her makeup, what about it? (when he tells sokka he's highkey terrified of spirit shenanigans, sokka just looks at him and says, 'man, the stories i could tell...', and THAT'S when zuko remembers sokka spent like six months more than he did travelling with the avatar)

on his first visit to the southern water tribe, he removes his boots and leg guards, rolls up his pants and kneels barefoot in the snow. even though chief hakoda immediately starts trying to pull him up, he's stubborn as hell and stays kneeling for the entirety of his very long, very sincere apology-on-behalf-of-the-fire-nation speech. he nearly loses his toes to frostbite after that, and both sokka and katara never stop giving him shit for it

the first time he grows a 'beard' is completely accidental. he's stressed over some trade miscommunications with chief hakoda, hasn't slept in a few days...and then when sokka arrives as water tribe ambassador to help smooth things over, he takes one look at zuko and says 'man, facial hair does not suit you'

zuko: facial what now

he checks a mirror to find that he's got stubble covering his chin, dark enough that it almost looks intentional, and holy gods how the fuck did he not notice this before

'UNCLE WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME' 'i assumed you were doing it on purpose' 'WHEN HAVE I EVER DONE ANYTHING ON PURPOSE'

he shaves it all off immediately, of course, which prompts a lot of teasing and rib-poking from sokka until zuko finally snaps that he's scared it'll make him look like his father. sokka stops after that.

(the day after sokka leaves, zuko finds that a mysterious someone has scribbled all over ozai's royal portrait, giving him a frankly ridiculous beard and moustache that literally CANNOT be grown in real life. oddly enough, he can't bring himself to care about the defamation of royal property. he's too busy laughing.)

his paths cross with toph and sokka more than any of the others, because sokka is ambassador and toph is technically still a beifong. most of the time, at formal functions, he ends up sequestered in the corner with toph and a hoard of snacks, and they talk and swear much more than they usually do (zuko's ministers once heard him when he was drunk with toph, and the servants swear the older ministers' ears started bleeding)

he restores fire nation cultural festivals, and in doing so subjects himself to learning a lot of complicated dances

during one memorable week, he wrote so many letters and drafted so much legislation that he ran out of paper. he had to go visit the nearest school and ask for some

he keeps up with his firebending and sword training even though it's hard to fit into his schedule. his ministers refrain from reminding him that he has guards to protect him now; it's still hard for zuko to trust his safety with anyone but himself (team avatar is the exception).

he started sleepwalking about two months into his reign. no one knew why. one time, he nearly sleepwalked right off the edge of a balcony, and one of his guards had to grab him by the back of his robes.

the sleepwalking stopped after around a month and never happened again. at this point it's practically palace legend.

after freeing the war prisoners, he went around collecting every single earthbender-proof wooden cell he could find in the capital and surrounding areas. when he'd gotten most of them, he gathered them into a huge pile in the city square and set fire to them with his own hands.

unfortunately he couldn't do that with the waterbender metal cells but he did get toph to come in and bend them all into pretty shapes (well, toph thought they were pretty shapes. everyone else thinks they're meaningless squiggles)

he learned how to write with both hands at the same time out of sheer necessity (he refused scribes until it became clear that he'd be putting some people out of a job; that was when he started letting scribes write very, very minor things, but all important documents/drafts/letters are still written by him)

he once put the wet end of an ink brush in his mouth instead of the wooden end by mistake. didn't even realise until he bit down to keep it in place and ink went oozing everywhere

when his guards rushed in to find him coughing and spluttering black liquid all over his desk they thought he'd been poisoned but no he's just stupid

on his 17th birthday, his first one after being crowned, he got tackled by team avatar in the middle of the ballroom and ended up at the bottom of a cuddlepile for like ten minutes

this cuddlepile happened at an event that was very much public and very much formal. it was a scandal for weeks

just. fire lord zuko, guys. so much potential

#holy cow this ended up so much longer than i intended #atla #avatar #zuko #firelord zuko #headcanons

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sankyeom · 4 years ago

Text

picture perfect | k.m

pairings: kevin moon x reader genre: art student au, strangers to lovers, art!student kevin, actor!reader, another secret admirer situation (yes i know we already did that in my sangyeon fit but it’s cute so idc) summary: in which you find a sketchbook filled with drawings of you, and go on a mission to find the owner word count: 8.5k (these just get longer and longer wow) series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

Your psychology professor always spoke a mile a minute, and it made taking notes unnecessarily difficult. Usually when she lectured, your wrist cramped from writing so fast, and your classmates couldn’t wait to get out of the room. On one particular autumn afternoon, you stared into nothingness as your professor gave a lecture on Milgram’s experiments, running lines in your head instead of taking notes like you usually did.

When you were cast as one of the lead roles (who didn’t even have that many lines to begin with) in your University’s winter play of An Ideal Husband, you were ecstatic to be given a new challenge. You had never been involved in acting or theatre before University, and you always felt like you were behind your peers. Your excitement soon morphed into something less productive: fear.

You were so afraid to mess up and disappoint your peers that you frequently did poorly in rehearsals and were the source of your cast’s frustrations. Perhaps it was your lack of experience, or perhaps it was because you didn’t really have any faith in yourself. Either way, it was all you could think about.

As your classmates started packing up to leave, you realised that the lecture was over and that you had just been in your own head for over an hour without learning anything from your class. Scrambling to pack up, you put away your notebooks and pencils as your phone chimed. Checking the text, you saw a message from your friend Sunwoo asking if you wanted to get lunch with him.

Getting to your feet, you texted Sunwoo that you were down for lunch as you exited the now empty lecture hall. As you left, you felt your shoe come in contact with a solid object in the doorway; a notebook that somebody must have dropped on the way out. Knowing that you would want your notes back if someone found them – especially in this class, where your professor spoke way too fast – you opened the notebook to see who it belonged to.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t a notebook, it was a sketchbook. With a drawing of you on the first page.

At first, you scolded yourself for assuming that the person in the drawing was you. It was presumptuous of you, wasn’t it? But the texture, colour, and length of the person’s hair perfectly matched yours. The person in the picture had your eyes, skin, clothes, and smile.

Perhaps it wasn’t so arrogant of you to presume that you were being depicted in the drawing.

“That’s a lovely drawing,” Professor Shin, who was on her way out, complimented. “You’re an excellent artist.”

You glanced up from the page, feeling a little dizzy. “It’s not mine,” you admitted, head spinning at the idea of somebody drawing you. Plain, simple, me? You couldn’t believe it. “I just found it here on the floor.”

“Looks like somebody admires you,” your Professor mused, smiling before bidding you farewell, leaving you standing in an empty lecture hall, clutching the sketchbook in your hands.

You tried to find a name on the other side of the cover, but there was no number or form of identification anywhere. The only thing that alluded to an identity was the small signature at the bottom right corner of the drawing.

Moon scribbles.

The first time Kevin saw you, he was seated three rows behind you in one of his Cultural Anthropology classes last semester. You were jotting notes as quickly as possible, brows furrowed together in concentration as you gripped your pen hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.

Kevin didn’t take any notes that day.

All the could do was watch you, appreciating the way your expressions changed as you understood the content, and the hesitance on your face when you volunteered an answer during class.

He didn’t mean to start drawing you. You had simply inspired him to pick up his pencil and start sketching, the soft strokes of the lead slowly but surely forming shapes that resembled your eyes, nose, lips…

Kevin didn’t think that you’d be all he could draw from that moment onwards. Even during his art classes; if the assignment was to study the scenery surrounding the University and draw a landscape, Kevin couldn’t get the image out of your face out of his head. Whether he used paint, charcoal, ink, or lead, it was your profile that emerged from his efforts.

Today was no different; Kevin was supposed to be studying the Psychology slides from class that day – which he hadn’t taken notes on because he was too busy sketching you – and yet he only had the urge to add the finishing touches to his drawing instead of facilitating his studying. Dragging his messenger bag over to his desk, Kevin rifled through it in search of his sketchbook. He had filled many, many pages with your face at that point, and it had become a habit for him to bring it everywhere with him in case he had the urge to draw.

Kevin furrowed his brows when he couldn’t find it. His heart pounded suddenly, the idea of him having lost his sketchbook in a place you might find it seeming terrifying and disastrous. After a final sweep of his bag – which included emptying it inside-out to make sure he didn’t miss anything – Kevin could only hope and pray that he’d find it before you did.

“You found what?” Sunwoo asked through a mouthful of noodles, his eyes comically large and rounded in surprise.

“A sketchbook full of drawings of me,” you replied in a monotone voice, knowing fully well that Sunwoo had heard and understood you the first time. This was the fourth time you had explained the situation, and it was starting to get a little old.

Eric narrowed his eyes, judging Sunwoo’s eating habits, before turning to face you. “Are the drawings cute?” he wondered.

“I wouldn’t say they’re cute,” you said absentmindedly, thinking back to the drawings you saw. After succumbing to your own curiosity, you had looked through the notebook to see what other drawings there were. You knew this was an invasion of privacy but you couldn’t help yourself. Surely enough, they were all of you.

“They were beautiful. Drawn in such detail that I couldn’t even believe it when I first saw them… And I look genuinely gorgeous in them,” you paused when Sunwoo scoffed at your words. “I’m not saying that to be vain,” you defended. “Trust me, I look much better in the sketches than in real life. Whoever drew them just… sees me differently than I see myself. I look beautiful in the pictures.”

“Your Professor’s right, it does sound like you’ve got yourself an admirer,” Eric teased you, pleased that somebody other than your close friends was starting to see how great you were. He wasn’t your best friend like Juyeon or Sunwoo, but he knew you well enough. “Did you get a name or anything?” he asked excitedly.

“Nothing,” you sulked. “I can take an educated guess that this person is probably in my Psych class since it’s the only class I have in that room, but who knows? It could be anyone that’s seen me before.”

“Maybe it’s one of your fans from the drama department,” Sunwoo poked fun at your cast members, not liking how they were treating you in rehearsals.

“Very funny,” you rolled your eyes, finally picking at your rice and starting to eat. “I just want to know who’s drawing me in such an amazing way. It’s so detailed that I assume it might be someone will a lot of skill, maybe an art major? But a lot of people draw as a hobby who aren’t art majors as well. Maybe-”

Eric interrupted you. “You’re thinking too much,” he said, trying to clam you down. “Just… slow down a little. Maybe they’ll come looking for it next time you have Psych? There’s no name or information so you can’t do anything to find them, anyways,” he rationalised, something that was usually your role in your friendships.

Your eyes lit up. “Moon scribbles,” you exclaimed.

Sunwoo gave you an unimpressed look. “Bless you.”

You ignored his cheek, taking out your phone and going onto Instagram. “The artist signed all of their drawings with a signature that says Moon scribbles,” you explained.

“You know it’s rude to go onto your phone during mealtimes,” Sunwoo replied.

You laughed. “I’ll be sure to remember that for the next time you do the same, Kim Sunwoo.”

After typing moonscribbles into the search bar, you saw an art page by the same name pop up. You couldn’t tell who it belonged to, as the bio vaguely gave information about the artist going to your University, studying art and being a pisces. Since the account was private, you decided to risk it and request to follow them, no matter how strange that might be if they weren’t the person you were looking for.

“I should have invited Juyeon out for lunch instead,” Sunwoo decided, picking at your rice dish in between bites of his noodles.

“Juyeon would rather hang out with Eric than you anyway,” you teased your friend back, knowing that Juyeon and Eric had a deeper friendship despite Sunwoo and Eric being the same age. Eric grinned, amused that the was the topic of discussion and not chiming in to deny anything. “And excuse me, I paid for lunch, you rascal! Now stop complaining, I’m done anyway.”

“Alright, fine. Did anything come up?” Sunwoo wondered, slapping your wrist when you tried to take some of his noodles. You rolled your eyes. Typical Sunwoo: always taking your food but never willing to share his with you.

“I don’t know yet,” you admitted. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

A few days passed without any response from moonscribbles on Instagram. You checked a few times a day to see if they ever accepted your request to follow them, but nothing ever came back. They didn’t deny your request, nor did they let you follow them either. It was frustrating, but it fell to the back of your mind after a week due to your schedule.

You had started doing full rehearsals with your cast members on stage for the play. At first, you thought that the setting might help you remember your lines and act without feeling awkward, but you were wrong. Most of your cast mates thought you got one of the lead roles for an alternate reason; perhaps you were related to someone on the University’s board and the director put you in because they wanted to keep their job. None of that was true, of course, but it didn’t help you make any friends.

The only friend you made was Younghoon, who played the lead opposite you, and with whom you frequently got together to go over lines and practice. He was one of those actors who was a completely different person from his role; he could keep be totally in character while doing his lines and the second the scene was over, he was back to his smiley self.

It didn’t help your confidence that he was an absolute pro. It only made you seem less competent in comparison, and you scolded yourself for even thinking that. Of course you knew it wasn’t Younghoon’s fault that he was simply much better at acting than you, but it definitely hurt your pride even more.

After another disastrous rehearsal, your cast mates had left to go backstage so you could have a word with the director. Younghoon sent you an encouraging smile and a pat on the shoulder before he followed your cast mates backstage, going over his lines in a faint whisper.

“Y/n,” your director began gently. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but what’s up with you?” You said nothing, prompting her to keep talking. “Your audition was really great. I knew I wanted you to play a lead role the second you were done auditioning. But you’ve been doing pretty poorly in rehearsals.”

“I know,” you admitted. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Your director sighed. “Look Y/n, I still want you to play your role. I like your chemistry with Younghoon and I think you guys could be really great leads. But if things don’t improve, I’m going to have to replace you with your understudy for the sake of this production.”

Even though you knew it was the obvious thing to do, it still hurt to hear. “I understand,” you whispered, nodding as you glanced at the floor.

“I really hope you can figure this out,” your director said, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let me know if I can help in any way, okay?” You nodded, and your director excused herself, leaving you standing at the edge of the stage by yourself.

You groaned once you were alone, taking a seat at the edge of the stage and letting your legs dangle over the edge. Welcoming the silence in the theatre as most of the cast had left for the day, you allowed yourself to lay back and close your eyes.

Why couldn’t you get this right?

Maybe I should just quit the play, you thought to yourself. It’s probably for the best.

When you heard the gentle patter of footsteps leading onto the stage, you spoke without opening your eyes. “Let me guess, you came to tell me how terrible I am too?” you uttered, not even caring who it was anymore.

The footsteps paused. “Um, actually, I’m just here to paint the sets…” a soft male voice spoke, causing you to open your eyes and sit up.

A familiar face stood a few metres away from you, paintbrushes and paints in hand. He had black hair that slightly covered his eyes, cat-like eyes and small lips that were pursed at the awkward interaction the two of you had just had.

“Sorry,” you apologised, getting to your feet. “It’s been a rough day,” you paused. “You’re Kevin, right?”

He looked surprised that you knew who he was. “Oh. Yes, actually.”

“I’m close with Juyeon,” you explained, realising how strange it might seem that you knew his name and recognised him. “I suppose I should probably have led with that.”

Kevin smiled. “No worries. I know you as well, you’re Y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” you replied, bending down to collect your script and other belongings, pushing them into your tote bag as quickly as possible. “I’ll get out of your hair, then,” you smiled at him, implying it as your farewell.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re terrible,” Kevin confessed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and starting to mix paints. You glanced at him. “Are you in your head a little? Maybe. But you’re far from terrible,” he assured you, his brown eyes brimming with kindness.

“That’s very nice of you to say,” you replied. “Thanks. Although, you seem more like an artist than an actor,” you added, teasing him just a little. You couldn’t help yourself, he was pretty cute.

Kevin laughed. “Fair enough,” he allowed. “If you want me to brag about being the lead in Aladdin in middle school, then I will.”

You placed your tote bag on your shoulder, holding your hands up in surrender. “I take it back,” you said immediately. “You have more experience than I do on stage.” The two of you shared grins.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Kevin assured you. “If I can do it then you certainly can.”

He seemed really sincere, and you appreciated it. “Thanks, Kevin,” you said, feeling much lighter and in a far better mood than before Kevin had come on stage. “I’ll see you around,” you bid your farewells before exiting the stage.

You’d have to ask Juyeon more about his friend Kevin.

The next time you and Kevin bumped into each other was after one of your rehearsals a few weeks later.

You had improved in your rehearsal times, with a lot of help from Younghoon – who practiced with you in between classes – and Sunwoo – who you ran lines with anytime the two of you were together. When you were done rehearsing, your director had expressed how happy she was that you were starting to warm up to the stage and really get into the character the way she was hoping you would. Younghoon earned himself two week’s worth of free coffee from you, and your cast finally stopped glaring at you whenever you came to rehearsals.

“Oh, hey,” you greeted Kevin, who started coming onstage to work on the sets with other people who were involved in the production process. “Good to see you again,” you told him.

“You too,” Kevin beamed, his hair falling over his eyes just slightly. You had the urge to brush it out of the way so you could see him better, but you resisted the urge and scolded yourself for being so forward. “You guys are looking pretty good out there,” he complimented, waving at Younghoon as he left the theatre. His older friend gave him a knowing look, making big eyes at him and puckering his lips to tease Kevin about his crush on you.

“Thank you,” you smiled back at him, entirely clueless to Kevin cursing Younghoon with his eyes right in front of you. “The sets are really coming along too,” you commend him, gesturing around you. “It’s certainly adding some more colour to our rehearsals.”

“Glad to hear it,” Kevin replied. “Set painting isn’t exactly my vocation or anything, but it’s a fun way to help out with my skillset.”

“Skillset?” you echoed, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Ah,” Kevin cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, I’m a fine arts major. So set painting is a little less refined than what I usually do. Not that I’m bragging,” he added quickly.

“Not at all,” you agreed, your eyes widening in realisation. “Fine arts, that’s a really cool major. You must be pretty talented to get into fine arts here, it’s such a competitive major,” your eyes widened in sudden realisation. “I’d love to see something of yours that doesn’t involve painting sets,” you motioned to the stage around you.

Kevin almost blushed. “Really?” he asked, his heart beat hammering in his chest at the idea of you seeing his art.

“Yeah,” you nodded your head eagerly. Partly because you were really curious about his art, but mostly because Kevin was pretty damn cute. “For sure! I mean, if you come to opening night of the play, I’d love to go see your art some time.”

“How’s this Saturday?” Kevin asked, his words almost slurring together at the speed he was talking. “The art department’s putting on an exhibition and a few of my drawings are going to be in it.”

“That sounds great,” you agreed. “Do you think I could bring some friends?”

Kevin nodded, his deep brown eyes brightening at the idea. “For sure! I already invited Juyeon but you can bring Sunwoo along as well.”

“Then I’ll be there,” you promised.

“Oh my god, are you touching the art?” you heard Kevin exclaim semi-loudly. You froze from your place, pointing at the water fountain from which you were filling up a cup of water to drink.

“What?” you asked dumbly, your eyes widening as Kevin smirked, hiding his laughter.

It was the Saturday of Kevin’s exhibition and you were doing your best to blend in with all the artistically-minded people in the room; admiring the paintings, motioning at the sculptures and pondering over the meanings behind the light exhibitions.

“I thought this was just a regular water fountain,” you tried to defend yourself.

“It is, I’m just messing with you,” Kevin shrugged, causing you to exhale in relief and slap Kevin’s arm.

“That was awful of you,” you scolded, unable to hide the large grin making its way onto your face. “You suck.”

“So I’ve heard,” Kevin retorted easily. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you replied. “So, when am I going to see your pieces?” you asked, motioning around the room. It was filled to the brim and people were bustling around the room to get a good look at every piece.

“Right now if you’re up for it,” Kevin suggested, waving as Juyeon and Sunwoo made their way over to the pair of you. You had excused yourself to get some water when Kevin spotted you and came over. “Hey guys. Sunwoo, good to see you again.”

“You too,” Sunwoo replied courteously, which was unlike him. Sunwoo knew Kevin vaguely through Juyeon, who was the same age as Kevin and had a lot of classes with him, and Eric, who Kevin often hung out with because they both spoke English. “Any of these yours?”

“A few,” Kevin said modestly.

Sunwoo nodded, looking around. “Are they good or are they more… conceptual?” he asked, his own way of asking whether or not Kevin’s art was a piece of crap or not.

You rolled your eyes. “Your eloquence astounds me, Sunwoo,” you said sarcastically.

“Well I might as well get to the point,” Sunwoo chided, glancing back at Kevin. “So?”

Kevin, who was observing you and Sunwoo with the same amused smile that Juyeon was, motioned the three of you over as he led you in the direction of his drawings. “I’m not so sure if they’re good, or conceptual, but I suppose you could judge that for yourself,” he told Sunwoo, coming to a halt in front of a display of drawings.

The drawings were lively and bright; colours in the form of pastels and charcoal bringing richness and warmth to the image. Most of his drawings depicted a faceless person. There were multiple drawings where the person was being portrayed from the back, and ones that were head-on didn’t have any facial features.

“These are amazing,” you breathed out, enchanted by the creativity of the drawings, as well as the immense detail that went into them.

“I like them,” Sunwoo decided, causing Juyeon to nod in agreement.

“They’re really good,” Juyeon complimented his friend, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m really glad you decided to put something on display this year.” Juyeon knew all about the artistic slump Kevin was in last year, so he didn’t have any art on display.

Kevin thanked Juyeon quietly, still studying your expression. “Can I ask why they’re faceless?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied the drawings further.

“Ah, that,” Kevin began, an uncharacteristic shyness appearing in his tone. “Well, I’ve been inspired by somebody for a few months now,” he explained. “I suppose I made my drawings faceless because I don’t want people to know who my muse is. I’m not ready to face how I feel when I draw them yet, and I think it’s too personal to put in an exhibition.”

You nodded your head, understanding where he was coming from. “That’s really great. I hope that one day I’ll get to see their face,” you said kindly, genuinely enjoying his art. Your eyes widened as you realised something. “Hey, do you know the other students in your major well?” you asked him.

Kevin raised an eyebrow at your sudden change of topic. “Yeah, I think so. We’re a small major and I have all of my 300-level classes with all the same people. Why do you ask?”

“Would you be able to recognise one of your peer’s work?” you inquired, the sketchbook in your dorm room burning a hole in your mind. He might be able to solve my curiosity.

“Maybe,” Kevin drawled slowly. “Why?” he found your sudden change of pace surprising. “What’s up?”

“Well, I found someone’s sketchbook in one of my classes and I was wondering who it belonged to,” you began, hesitating before bringing up the sketchbook you found in your Psychology class. “But they didn’t put their name on it so I can’t return it to the owner. It was really detailed and skilled work, so I thought they might be a fine arts major.”

Kevin’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

His worst nightmare had come true: you had found his sketchbook. His sketchbook that was filled with his heart-felt drawings of you. And here you were, asking him if he knew who it belonged to. Somehow, it was equal parts thrilling and mortifying.

Sunwoo, having heard about your secret admirer decided to check out a different part of the exhibition, but Juyeon – who was hearing this for the first time – stayed out of curiosity. “You found someone’s sketchbook?” he repeated. “What was in it?”

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh. Well, here’s the thing… There’s some drawings of me in it,” you admitted, feeling shy about divulging everything about the sketchbook to Kevin. “I just… I guess I want to meet the person that made me feel so vibrant and beautiful when looking at the drawings.”

“You have an admirer,” Juyeon realised, beaming at you; eyes squinting into little crescents. “That’s adorable. Does it say anything inside?”

“Yeah it does, actually,” you told him, giving him a smile before meeting Kevin’s eyes again. “All of the drawings are signed with the handle Moon scribbles,” you recalled. “No name or phone number, though.”

Juyeon’s brows furrowed together. “Kev, isn’t Moon scribbles-“

“A really interesting name?” Kevin cut Juyeon off, sending him the clear message that he wasn’t ready to tell you about the fact that you were his muse and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Getting the message, Juyeon eagerly agreed, thanking Kevin for finishing his train of thought. “Um, I don’t think I’ve heard of it before. But if you show me the drawings, maybe I could recognise the style?” Kevin suggested, coming up with a solution for you to find the owner of the sketchbook.

“That would be really great, actually,” you acknowledged. “I could bring it by the next time we hang out,” you suggested, excited to figure out who you should thank for their hard work.

“Next time?” Kevin echoed, excitement filling his stomach. “Are you really so eager to solve your mystery?” he teased you.

“Well, you’re not such a bad addition,” you added with a wink.

Kevin’s heart soared.

You met up with Kevin in the library a few days later to show him your sketchbook. It was good timing because you definitely needed to study for your Psychology class after zoning out in your last few lectures, so the library was the perfect setting to meet.

“Hey,” you greeted Kevin, taking the seat next to him on one of the sofas in the more secluded area of the library.

“Hi,” Kevin mumbled in return, his voice sounding quieter and more hoarse than usual. At first, you thought it might be the fact that he had to whisper that made him sound more quiet. Then, you spotted the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he was wearing glasses, which he didn’t normally do.

“You okay?” you asked him, seeing him stretch out and yawn in his seat.

“Me?” Kevin murmured, meeting your gaze with tired, glazed-over eyes. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Not to sound like an asshole who’s telling you that you look terrible, which I’m not, but you look really tired,” you had to tell Kevin. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You look like you could use some sleep.”

“Sleep,” Kevin said the word like it’s funny. “Sleep and I… we aren’t friends.”

You smiled sympathetically at your new friend. “Up all night studying?” you wondered.

“Insomnia,” Kevin corrected you.

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding. “So sleep is… a distant acquaintance?” you played off his previous joke.

“Something like that,” he allowed, moving his glasses up onto his forehead to rub his eyes. “I’m good, though. I look like this most days, don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so,” you trail off, your concern still not being calmed by Kevin’s explanation. “We can do this anther time if it helps, though. I wouldn’t want you to be unwell because of me.”

Kevin grinned, adjusting the beanie on his head. “But I couldn’t possibly be unwell if I’m around you,” he said, pointing his finger in the air as if he had made an excellent realisation. “Now, show me the sketchbook.”

You pulled the sketchbook out of your tote bag and handed it over to him.

Seeing it right in front of him, Kevin could confirm that it was definitely his sketch book that you had found. Although the chances of another person on campus being entirely smitten by you to the point where you became their artistic muse was slim, it wasn’t zero.

“Can I,” he motioned to the sketchbook, asking for permission to open it. It was incredibly ironic, but Kevin was too embarrassed to come clean about the sketchbook being his.

“Go ahead,” you nodded, telling him to flip through the pages.

Kevin did so, pretending he was seeing all the drawings for the first time. He paused on every page, looking over the details in the sketches and the way they realistically depicted your features. Even though he was the one who drew them, Kevin could admit that the drawings were really great. They were great because he appreciated the subject and was inspired by you. That much was clear to anybody.

“Wow,” Kevin said when he was done looking at all the drawings, holding the sketchbook on his lap. “That’s… you,” he observed, as if he didn’t already know.

“So I’m not crazy?” you asked immediately, biting your lip. “That’s me?” you glanced down at the open page in front of Kevin, seeing the resemblance between you and the person in the drawing.

“Oh it’s definitely you,” Kevin confirmed. “Unless you have an identical twin somewhere out there, there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s you.”

You let out a relieved sigh, leaning back onto the sofa. “Okay, good. I thought I was being really shallow and presumptuous at first but it’s good that you agree,” you told him, feeling a weight being lifted off your chest. “So, does it look familiar?”

“I’m not sure,” Kevin replied vaguely, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this one. “Do you think I could keep this? Maybe look over it a few more times when I’m not about to pass out,” he added.

“Sure,” you allowed. You trusted Kevin enough that he wouldn’t lose the sketchbook, since all of your mutual friends spoke very highly of him. Besides, you were becoming more impressed by him every time the two of you met. “I hope something comes up. I looked moonscribbles up on Instagram but their account is private and they haven’t responded to my follow request yet.”

Kevin had completely forgotten about his private art Instagram account. Before he was inspired by you to draw, he was in a serious slump and had been spiralling downwards. In this time, he made his Instagram account private in an effort to not think about it too much. Kevin scolded himself for not realising that you would look him up on social media to find him.

“That’s too bad,” he said sympathetically. “Maybe they’ll respond soon?”

“I hope so,” you mumbled, sighing. “I just… I want to meet them.”

“Just out of curiosity, why do you want to meet them so badly?” Kevin wondered. “Because they drew pretty pictures of you?”

“Kind of?” you replied unsurely. “That’s definitely part of it. I guess I wanted to meet somebody who thought I was vibrant and colourful and beautiful,” you shrugged, glancing down at your lap. “Because I don’t think that about myself at all. It’s why I suck at acting, and it’s why my cast mates hate me. I just thought that if somebody out there really thought I was special, maybe I would have a reason to believe it, too.”

Kevin felt butterflies rising in his stomach again, but not in a fluttery, nervous way. He was anxious about what was going to happen. “I’ll do my best to help out,” he said gently. “And Y/n?” you looked back up at Kevin. “I think you’re special,” he admitted. “A lot of people do. Juyeon, Sunwoo, Eric, Younghoon… You don’t need Moon scribbles to be special, you’re already special to us.”

A grateful, shy smile spread across your lips at his words. “Thanks, Kev. For your help, and for saying that. I really appreciate it,” you acknowledged afterwards, realising that Kevin was going out of his way to figure out your mystery while he was dead tired.

Noticing the shift in atmosphere, you cleared your throat and changed the subject, heart hammering. “I’m going to stay here and study for my Psychology class, so you don’t have to stay if you’d rather get some sleep.”

“Psychology?” Kevin echoed. “Are you taking it with Professor Shin?”

“Yes,” you groaned. “She talks so fast that my hand feels like it’s going to fall off after her lectures,” you complained.

Kevin laughed. “I can relate,” he commented. “I didn’t think you were in my class. I’m in section fifteen, what about you?”

“Section twenty-two,” you said, shrugging. “Although I’m glad to hear that it’s not just my class that she’s driving crazy.”

“Ditto,” Kevin agreed. “I actually have to get some studying done for that class too. You mind if I stay?”

“Not at all,” you promised. “It always helps to study with a friend,” you added, pulling out your notes and laptop from your tote bag.

After setting up all of your work, you quickly got to studying, cross-referencing terms from your notes to the textbook to make sure you didn’t write down anything wrong in your hurry. Kevin was silent and still beside you, which you took no notice of because you were so focused. In your distraction, he soon drifted off to sleep with his pencil still in hand, head lulling back to rest on the sofa as his eyes shut by their own accord.

Forty minutes later, you had finished both of the units on Social Psychology and furrowed your brows at an unfamiliar name. “Hey Kev, did you guys talk about-“ you paused after turning to face your new friend, seeing that he was peacefully sleeping, his head now leaning to the side to face you.

The sight of him sleeping peacefully warmed your heart, especially after he had talked about his insomnia earlier. Smiling, you pulled your headphones out of your tote bag so you could listen to the recorded lectures in favour of waking up Kevin to ask him for help. As carefully as you could, you slid the pencil out of his palm and placed it to the side so he could get some rest.

You spent the next half an hour studying in silence, until you noticed Eric, Sunwoo and Jacob walking up to you and Kevin. “Hey,” Sunwoo greeted you, earning a wave from you.

“Hi guys,” you whispered back. “What’s up?”

“Are you and Kevin dating?” Eric interrupted whatever Sunwoo was about to say, an excited glint in his eyes. “You guys are in the make-out section of the library!”

You made a face. “That’s why nobody’s here?” you realised, looking around and frowning. “No, Eric. We’re just studying together.”

Jacob grinned. “Looks like Kevin’s making really great progress on that front,” he teased. “I’m Jacob, by the way,” he added, since the two of you hadn’t properly been introduced yet.

“I’m Y/n,” you replied. “Nice to finally meet you! These rascals have told me all about you,” you motioned to Sunwoo and Eric, who beamed proudly.

“I’ve heard a lot about you as well,” Jacob replied. “And I’ve come to collect Kevin. If he doesn’t wake up soon, he’s going to miss his Ceramics class,” he explained.

“Aw,” you pouted, glancing over at Kevin. “He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, though. And he said he was struggling to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Jacob agreed. “I hate waking him. Believe me, I’m his roommate so I see it all first-hand. But attendance is graded in this class, so…” he trailed off with a small shrug before leaning over and waking Kevin up.

Kevin awoke, eyes blinking drowsily as he took in the image of four people staring at him. “What did I do?” he asked, wondering what prompted all the attention.

You grinned, finding the sight rather cute. “Your wake-up service is here to tell you it’s ceramics time,” you explained.

“I fell asleep,” Kevin realised. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, feeling bad that you were studying in silence when you were supposed to be helping each other out.

“Don’t be, I’m glad you got some shut-eye,” you assured him. “Go get ready for your class.”

Kevin gathered all of his things into his bag and waved his goodbyes, trudging out of the library with Jacob. “So,” Jacob began, a wide grin gracing his features. “That’s Y/n?” he teased.

“Yes, that’s Y/n,” Kevin replied quietly.

“The famous Y/n?”

“Oh my god please tell me you didn’t say anything to Y/n.”

“What should I have said? Oh so you’re the Y/n that Kevin has been in love with all semester! The famous muse! Nice to meet you, I’m the guy that has to listen to him gush about you.”

“Don’t make me hide your guitar.”

moonscribbles accepted your follow request!

You sat up from where you were lying down on your bed, startled at the notification you had just received. Racing to open your Instagram app, you looked at moonscribbles’s account. None of the drawings on their account were of you, so you couldn’t decide if they were the right person. But they simply had to be. They went to your school, they studied art…

Braving it, you decided to send them a private message.

Hi! I think I found your sketchbook in Professor Shin’s lecture hall. How do you want me to return it to you?

You waited for a response, which came within a minute.

You can keep it.

You were pouting over your cereal in the dining hall when Juyeon joined you, his plate stacked high with all kinds of delicious breakfast foods. “Hey pouty,” he teased you, giving your shoulder a gentle nudge when he took the seat next to yours. His smile never failed to cheer you up, which is why your frown caused concern to grow in your best friend. “Why the long face?”

“I’m never going to meet moonscribbles,” you told him, your eyes uncharacteristically sad and shiny when they met Juyeon’s.

He startled at how upset you were. “What? Why would you say that?”

“They accepted my follow request on Instagram,” you explained. “And they told me I could keep the sketchbook. Then they went offline,” you recalled. “I guess I was wrong about them.”

“I’m sorry. Whoever they are, they clearly have no idea what they’re missing.” Juyeon frowned, sympathetic of your situation and confused about what Kevin thought he was doing.

“What who’s missing?” Jacob and Eric took the seats opposite you and Juyeon, their plates equally filled with breakfast foods.

“Moon scribbles,” you said vaguely, not wanting to get into it with anyone other than Juyeon and Sunwoo. While you were starting to get to know Jacob better, you didn’t feel comfortable enough around them to discuss the matter with them. And of course you loved Eric, and he knew your situation, but you hadn’t anticipated feeling so upset about Moon scribbles’s response.

“Kevin?” Jacob asked innocently, picking up his fork and elbowing Eric so he wouldn’t steal his food. “What did he do?”

Your eyes snapped over to Jacob. “What did you just say?” you asked. Juyeon’s eyes widened, mouth slightly open as Jacob revealed Kevin’s secret to you without even realising it.

“I was asking what Kevin did,” Jacob repeated. “You said Moon scribbles, didn’t you? Kevin’s artist handle?”

“That’s clever,” Eric chimed in, innocently eating his food. “Since his last name is Moon, and all.” Then his eyes widened and he realised the situation, his gaze snapping over at you to see how you were handling the reveal.

In that moment, you’d never felt like more of an idiot.

“Kevin is Moon scribbles,” you echoed, dropping your fork onto your tray.

“Oh,” Jacob paused, reading the room as he saw the way Juyeon was staring at him. “Did you… not know that?”

“No,” you told him, having lost your already minimal appetite. “He didn’t say a thing.”

“Oh boy,” Jacob said awkwardly. “I feel like I definitely just messed up.”

“No, no,” you denied, waving your hand in Jacob’s direction. “Not at all. I’m just glad that I know who it is,” you tried to convince him, as well as yourself. “Did you know?” you asked Juyeon. “That day at the exhibition… You were trying to tell me that you knew it was Kevin, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I knew,” Juyeon replied slowly, confirming your suspicions.

For a moment, a dull pain ached in your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, hurt that your best friend had lied to you.

“Because I figured Kevin wanted to tell you in his own time,” he explained. “I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you, I just thought he’d do the right thing and explain it to you himself. It felt like it wasn’t my news to tell.��

“Okay,” you nodded. “I understand,” you got to your feet, grabbing your tray after putting your bag on your shoulder.

Juyeon stood up with you. “Are you upset with me?” he asked. “Because I understand if you are.”

You did your best to smile, not caring if it looked real or not. “I’m not upset with you,” you assured him. “I’m upset, but not at you. I have to get to the last dress rehearsal before opening night, so,” you glanced over at Jacob and Eric, who both looked mortified. “Enjoy your breakfast,” you told them before putting your tray away and walking to the theatre as quickly as you could.

“Hey!” your director greeted you when you came in, beaming. “You’re like a half hour early,” she observed.

“Oh, I’ve just come to go over lines and talk to some friends,” you lied, smiling at her before stepping backstage. The set design volunteers were adding last-minute touched to their sets, and you knew that was where you’d find Kevin.

“Hey,” he greeted you when you arrived in front of him. “What’s up?”

“Moon scribbles doesn’t want their sketchbook back,” you told him, as if you didn’t know that he was Moon scribbles. “So you don’t have to keep looking for them,” you added.

“Oh, okay,” Kevin nodded as if he didn’t already know this. “Did you want the sketchbook back?”

“You can keep it,” you declined, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s rightfully yours anyway.”

Kevin paused his painting. “It is?” he asked, voice squeaking just slightly in surprise.

“Yeah, Moon scribbles,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “Besides, it’s the only way you’ll get to see me ever again, anyway,” you added, frowning as you turned around to go. “Bye, Kevin.”

“Wait,” Kevin put his fine paintbrush down to stop you from leaving.

“What?” you asked him, facing him with a raised eyebrow. “You know what, I actually really want to hear this. What exactly is it that you’re going to say to save this situation?” you wondered.

Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for it to go on this long,” he began.

“That’s a joke,” you accused. “You knew how much this meant to me! Just admit that you were never going to tell me that you’re Moon scribbles.”

“How could I tell you?” Kevin exclaimed, startling you with his sudden increase in volume. “How could I just come forward and tell you that it was me? What would you have thought of me?”

“I’d have thought more of you than I do now,” you retorted. “Look, I get it now. I read the situation all wrong. You don’t think I’m special or vibrant or any of those things. You just drew me because I was there, I suppose,” you decided, feeling your heart dropping in your chest at your own words.

“That is not true,” Kevin denied, shaking his head. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“I suppose you might have though I was pretty if you drew me,” you allowed. “But clearly, I was putting too much onto this whole Moon scribbles thing, and it didn’t mean anything to you at all. Which is fine, it doesn’t have to mean anything. It just sucks that you couldn’t just tell me that to my face,” you confessed wholeheartedly. “But it’s fine. You can just go back to drawing your faceless muse now, I’m over it,” you lied.

“That’s not why I didn’t want to tell you that I’m Moon scribbles,” Kevin insisted. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think I drew you just because you’re beautiful.”

“That worked out well,” you muttered.

Kevin sighed. “I don’t care about your looks, as ironic as that sounds. When I first saw you… You exuded an aura. I know that sounds cheesy and not everyone believes in vibes or energy, or whatever, but it’s true. You inspired me to draw and be creative,” he explained. “But I liked you when I met you. When I saw you in class and when I saw you around Sunwoo and Juyeon. You don’t get it. You are my faceless muse. You have been ever since our Cultural Anthropology class last semester.”

That stopped your train of thought. “You were in that class?” you repeated, confused.

“Yes I was. The first time I saw you… I swear, I haven’t drawn anything other than you since that day,” Kevin’s tone was uncharacteristically serious, and you felt inclined to believe him. “No matter how hard I tried. Flowers turned into your eyes, landscapes became your hair; I was a man possessed. I still am.”

“Then why not tell me all of this?” you wondered, frustrated with the situation.

“I thought that if you found out I was Moon scribbles, you’d just think I was shallow,” he paused. “Or worse.”

You rose an eyebrow. “Worse?”

Now it was Kevin’s turn to sound frustrated. “I mean, I’m not so great and special. I figured you’d be disappointed that it’s me.”

Your heart clenched for him. “How could I be disappointed that it’s you?” you asked him. “You’re great. It’s me who’s awful.”

“You aren’t awful,” he denied. “You’re so much greater than you can see. Don’t you get it? You inspired me to create after the most awful year I’ve ever had artistically. I drew you instead of studying, I drew you instead of leaving my dorm, hell, I drew you instead of sleeping. You didn’t misunderstand anything. I do think that you’re special, and vibrant.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Okay,” you spoke quietly, your mind spinning in circles. “I believe you.”

Kevin nodded. “Good.”

You nodded back at him, unsure of how to continue. “So… You have a sketchbook full of drawings of me,” you decided to tease him, just to bring some of the usual lightheartedness you felt around Kevin back.

Kevin visibly reddened at your words. “I mean… I’d be lying if I said it was just one,” he confessed.

You brightened at his words. “You have multiple sketchbooks full of drawings of me?” you exclaimed.

“I made drawings of you for the art exhibition,” he reminded you. “I haven’t been able to draw anything else for seven months. And I draw a lot, so the sketchbooks just started piling up. Plus my iPad,” catching the delighted glint in your eyes, Kevin cut himself off. “You know what, we don’t have to talk about my iPad.”

You smiled, flattered that Kevin had been so inspired by you. “Well, thank you. For filling sketchbooks and iPads and whatever other mediums with drawings of me. You made me feel seen for the first time in a really long time, and I appreciate it,” you acknowledged his efforts. “Is this why everyone acts so weird when we’re together?” you put the pieces together.

“What are you talking about?” Kevin asked, dreading your answer.

“Eric practically skips over to me whenever he sees me now, asking about you and all kinds of other things. Jacob is a lot more subtle, but he looks at me like a proud dad sometimes,” you explained.

Kevin rested his palm against his forehead. “Why are they so obvious?”

“The real question is: Why was Juyeon the least obvious,” you retorted.

“I think he just wanted us both to figure things out in our own time,” Kevin mused, earning a hum and a nod in agreement from you.

“Hey Y/n,” Younghoon poked his head around the corner. “We’re getting ready for rehearsals. Are you going to be done in time to change?” he asked, eyes flitting between you and Kevin.

“Yeah, I’m good to start getting ready. Thanks Younghoon,” you agreed, grateful that your friend wasn’t making a big deal out of what he might have overheard. Younghoon nodded, disappearing with a wink to get himself ready. “Well, that’s my cue,” you trailed off, motioning to the backstage area where you had to get changed for your last dress rehearsal.

Kevin nodded, slightly upset that your conversation didn’t come to a closure yet. “Okay,” he replied. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

You agreed with him, grabbing your bag from where you dropped it on the floor and making your way to the changing rooms. Before you opened the door, you turned back to face Kevin, who had been watching you leave. “I came to your exhibition, so you have to come to opening night,” you reminded him of the agreement the two of you made.

“I’ll be there,” Kevin assured you, taking it as a sign that the two of you could still – at the very least – be friends.

“Good,” you smiled. “And after opening night, we have a few days off so I would definitely be available, say, Wednesday?” you informed him, hoping he’d get the idea.

Kevin brightened up, his posture straightening suddenly. “Oh?” he stammered. “Would you maybe want to get dinner on Wednesday?” he offered. “Like, a date?”

You grinned, your eye dropping into a wink. “What an excellent idea,” you told him. “By the way, don’t bother asking the boys about what I like, they’re completely clueless. My favourite flowers are peonies.”

“Peonies,” Kevin repeated, accompanied by a nod. “Any preferred colour?” he asked, giddy with excitement at the outcome your confrontation had.

You shrugged. “Surprise me.”

note: okay i know you guys waited forever for this so thank you so much for your patience!! i hope you guys enjoyed it xx

#the boyz #the boyz imagines #kevin #kevin imagines #kevin x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz drabbles #the boyz fanfic #deobiwritersnet #tbznetwork #kevin moon #2k celebration

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themaribatpit · 3 years ago

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Saturday Challenge: Double Crossover

Written by: The Maribat Pit Prompt: Double Crossover Rated: M rating just to be safe (sexual references, mostly because of some very unsavory things Lila thinks and implies about Marinette.) Marinette x Jason Phantom of the Opera (specifically Hush Jason, from 2020′s Death in the Family).

A/N (Maribat fangirl): There is going to be a lot of class salt, Lila salt and some heavy duty character bashing. I’m going to be upfront, there’s characters being called harlots. A/N (DC fanboy): My S.O. and I pretty much did karaoke while writing this.

Paris, 1875. Marinette worked in her parents bakery, while she loved her family dearly, she was dissatisfied with her current lot in life. She wished to become a singer, and everyday as she walked in the streets of Paris to bring flour to the bakery, she would stop and stare at the Conservatoire de Paris. The enchanting music and singing could be heard even in the streets.

Listening to music always reminded her of her favourite fairy tale told by her father, the one about ‘Angel of Music’. She would sit on the street across the Conservatoire, close her eyes and listen to the beautiful music emanating from it. Once she tried to sing along, but passersby would be swift to yell at her to stop. They described her voice sounding like a rusty hinge.

Upon her 15th birthday, her parents presented to her a once in a lifetime opportunity. They had presented her with an approved application to the Conservatoire, they had saved enough money for tuition and would be sending her there to chase her dreams as an opera singer. Marinette held her parents tightly, thanking them constantly for the amazing opportunity.

That night, Marinette was unable to sleep, she was beaming with energy and excitement. She could not believe how her luck was changing, how she would be going to the musical academy of her dreams.

The next morning however she would be in a nervous panic for her first day of lessons. Running about the home, getting prepared, packing her bags. She even forgot to eat breakfast, she ran out the door with a croissant in her mouth, much to the chagrin of her parents.

However, her dream academy soon became a waking nightmare to her. She would be tormented daily by all her peers, especially one Lila Rossi, the prima donna of the academy. Every professor would sneer at her low birth, and did nothing when the others tried to sabotage her standing at the Academy. She tried to keep her head held high, even as everyone else looked down on her for being a baker’s daughter. Marinette ignored the comments and rumours about how she was able to attend the prestigious academy. Rumours that she dared not repeat, about how she and her parents must be criminals if they were able to afford to send her to the academy.

It wasn’t enough for her to be stuck in the chorus, Lila Rossi wanted to make sure her place as prima donna of the academy was ironclad. A couple of the teachers felt that she was growing more temperamental, more complacent, and their eyes began to wander for a dancer to take her place. The other dancers were unwilling to take her place, all except for Marinette, who saw it as a shining opportunity. For Lila, this simply would not stand.

The one time Marinette found a pair of scissors that had been used to cut the laces on her pointe shoes. The same scissors that were missing from her sewing box days earlier. She decided that the time had come to confront Lila once and for all.

Marinette confronted her just before rehearsals began, scissors in hand, in front of everyone. “Is it true?” she called, everyone turned to look at them.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Lila gasped. She looked down to see her wearing her worn out slippers, before looking back up at her face. “You do know you’re meant to be wearing your toe shoes now, right? The show is in a few days.” she reminded her.

“I do,” she breathed, “I also know it was you, you’re the one who cut the laces on my pointe shoes.”

Lila gasped and stepped back, everyone else was shocked by the accusation. She looked away for a moment, and squeezed her eyes shut. Marinette knew the trick well from their acting classes at the academy, she was getting ready to make it look like she was crying. “Why? Why would you accuse me of something like this?” she made sure her voice wavered as she spoke, “what reason do I have to sabotage a background dancer’s shoes?”

Marinette knew she had lost the battle before it had even begun, every dancer would move to protect Lila and her crocodile tears. Lila was the prima donna, the daughter of a diplomat, and she had the entire academy in the palm of her hand. “Perhaps there was some mistake,” she muttered, walking away from her classmates rushing to defend Lila’s fake tears. It was useless trying to explain that the scissors were stolen from her, and that this was an elaborate setup. It was her word against Lila’s, as the directors tried to command the dancer’s attention, Marinette ran.

Once again, she tried to keep her head held high, it wasn’t as if anyone would believe her when she told them about Lila’s machinations. She made a habit of keeping her costumes and pointe shoes hidden. On occasion bringing them home whenever she visited her parent’s bakery, somewhere that little saboteur would not even think to look for them.

Months later, tragedy struck again when she received a letter informing her that her parent’s bakery had been burned. Her parents, her hopes, her dreams all burned to ash in one night. It was made worse by the fact that one rehearsal, Lila snatched the letter out of her hands and read it aloud for the entire company of dancers and singers to hear. She assumed that it would be some kind of love note, probably preparing to spread rumours about Marinette sneaking off into the night with a mystery lover. Instead, Lila simply made a show of pitying Marinette, “poor thing, it’s worse than I thought. Unless you can find a patron to support you, your days at the academy are going to be numbered.”

Just as the theatre managers had arrived, Marinette fled, keeping her head down as tears were welling up in her eyes and blurring her vision. Since the day she arrived she had been mocked, humiliated, tormented simply so that one girl could have the adoration and sympathy of her fellow performers. Through all the salacious rumours and lies, she tried her best to ignore them and carry herself through it all. The loss of her parents, their bakery, and now Marinette’s hopes and dreams, it was all too much to bear.

Marinette ran to an empty music room to cry her heart out, she sat right against the wall, knees curled up to her chest and sobbed into her legs. In this state of absolute despair, she began to sing a song of her favourite fairy tale that her father would sing to her whenever she had a nightmare. She sang a soft, painful prayer for the Angel of Music and a farewell to her lost parents. “Think of me, think of me fondly, when we say goodbye…”, her singing was hoarse, off key, full of sorrow.

The more she sang, the harder she cried. Soon to the point that she could not complete the song. However, a disembodied voice sang the remaining verse for her. Marinette paused from her crying to look for the voice, it felt as if it came from everywhere and nowhere. It was hypnotising, elegant, enchanting. She walked out of the music room to try to find the source of the singing.

“Come to me, Angel of Music.” The voice sang, in a smooth tenor voice, luring Marinette as if she was a moth attracted to a flame. The voice led her to a musical hall, reserved only for the academy’s annual showcase. She turned the door knob, to her surprise, the door was unlocked. She peeked her head through the door to see a cloaked figure playing the organ, the source of the enchanting voice. “Insolent girl, this slave of fashion. Basking in your glory.” The figure angrily sang “Ignorant fool, this prima donna.”

“Angel of Music, is that you?” Marinette tentatively asked the figure. The figure stopped playing, and turned around to face her. Marinette was taken aback by the figure, he was a tall man, wearing a red mask on the left side of his face. Another distinctive feature other than his magnificent voice was the white streak of hair and piercing green eyes.

“You are unlike any of the fools in this academy. You did not join this academy for fame or fortune. No, you came here because of your love of music.” The figure told her. He took a deep breath and composed himself, straightening his jacket. Then he raised an arm, reaching out to Marinette. “I am your Angel of Music, come to me Angel of Music.” Marinette walks forward and accepts the Angel’s hand, thus beginning their first musical lesson together.

Marinette’s talent and ability in music skyrocketed with her extra-curricular lessons. Her mysterious patron was also the one continuing to fund her education at the academy. Meanwhile, no one else had the time to spread rumours about Marinette, not when there were rumours of a ghost haunting the Conservatoire.

Unbeknownst to Marinette, she was the key to establishing control over a very profitable endeavour for her mysterious patron. The managers were being extorted to the tune of 20,000 francs and requested that box five remain open. This money was nothing to them, especially when the sons and daughters of the wealthy and powerful were attending. Very few had seen Jason’s face, and if they did, they would draw back in fear. It was the result of a boyhood accident that left him changed and altered in more ways than one. Taking control of the Conservatoire was merely the first step in taking control of an entire city. This girl, Marinette, was the key to captivating their attention. She would hold their attention and adoration as the rising star of the academy, drawing their eyes away from his growing influence and power. Using talents and potential that they had cast aside, twisting their own hubris against them.

Months later, everyone in the academy worked towards its annual showcase for its patrons, the nobility and all family members of its students. Lila had grown bored of tormenting Marinette, and had moved on to other victims. She had her other dancers and singers wrapped around her little finger, and all eyes would be on her at the annual showcase.

At last the day of the annual showcase had arrived, Lila sat at her personal preparation room, after all she would be the star of the show. She walked over to her wardrobe and opened it, she then screamed in horror to see her dress tattered and in pieces.

In the days leading to the showcase the Director of Conservatoire de Paris had received threatening letters demanding 20,000 Francs, box 5 to remain vacant and worse of all to replace Lila Rossi with some baker’s daughter. Director Bourgeois scoffed at the threats, tossing the letter away.

The next day during the rehearsal for one of the ballet numbers, students and teachers paid no mind to the threats that were outlined in the letter. Until one of the dancers looked up and gasped in horror. The other dancers looked up to find the stagehand hanging from the rafters. The theatre soon bursts into screams of fear as they all see the dead body of the stagehand. Director Bourgeois ordered all faculty members and students present to remain silent of the murder. This prestigious institution could not afford such a scandal this close to such an important showcase. As the Director inspected the body, he found a letter titled to him attached to the corpse of a stagehand.

Director Bourgeois read the second letter with shaky hands, it read “Monsieur Bourgeois, good day to you. It seems you did not take my threat seriously. I present to you this corpse to show my sincerity. I see you have a young daughter, pray that no harm would befall her. I shall reiterate my demands, 20,000 francs, box five remain vacant and Mademoiselle Marinette shall replace the harlot Lila Rossi.”

Director Bourgeois collapsed into his chair, wiping his sweat. Until he heard a scream from outside his office. He ran out as fast as he could to see Lila Rossi confronting Marinette. Crocodile tears flowed from Lila’s eyes as she accused Marinette of sabotage, purposefully doing so in front of the Director's office.

“How could you Marinette?” Lila wailed, “Whatever your reasons, how could you do this to me? To the Conservatoire?”

Marinette merely said “Lila, don’t you stay in a private room with guards patrolling the hallway outside?” She shrugs, “I was in my dormitory last night. Besides, how could anyone sneak into your room at night, unless they were a phantom?”

Director Bourgeois goes pale at Marinette’s implication, he had to intervene quickly, before the situation got worse. He attempted to placate Lila, “Now now mademoiselles, I can’t punish anybody unless we have solid evidence. As the saying goes ‘the show must go on.’ Signora Rossi, as you are currently unable to perform, I’m afraid Mademoiselle Marinette will have to take your place.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at the offer given to her, she could not believe it. Director Bourgeois himself offered her the star role for this year’s showcase. It is all as her Angel of Music said would happen. She accepted the role wholeheartedly and thanked the director profusely, she skipped back to the musical hall to begin rehearsals, now as the main lead.

Lila’s jaw dropped to see the director siding against her, how he gave away her role to that peasant without any hesitation. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, she stomped her way back to her bedroom to begin scheming the ultimate humiliation for Marinette. She was so distracted with her rage, she had not noticed a shadowy figure following her.

Lila planned to show the entire Opera house just who Marinette was, little more than a filthy peasant who got lucky. She was supposed to have packed her bags and left months ago, after her parents and their pathetic little bakery burned down. “This Opera Phantom had a lot of nerve calling me a harlot, when Marinette is probably his little harlot.” she muttered harshly in the darkness. She searched the costume room for the lead actress’ dress, a long flowing gown that brushed against the floor. It was made with the finest fabrics that money could buy, it almost broke Lila’s heart to sabotage it. She would rather die than see it worn by some peasant girl, a pretender, a talentless sham of a performer. Before she can lay hand on the dress to destroy it, a gloved hand reaches out and grabs her by the wrist. A voice interrupts her, “What do you think you are doing with that?”

Lila slowly turns around to see a grotesque figure staring at her. In the candlelight, she was horrified by the person she saw. The left half of his face was severely burned, almost completely disfigured. His bright green eyes flared with a fury that genuinely terrified Lila as the figure glared at her. She immediately drops everything and screams, as she runs out the door as fast as her legs would carry her, wailing and screaming how the ghost is trying to kill her. “He’s there, the Phantom of the Opera!” she wails as he chases her down. The Phantom pursues his prey. Just as Lila runs around a corner, the ghost is there waiting for her. She gives another horrified scream, falling to the floor and trying to crawl in the opposite direction. “No no no, please don't kill me!” She begged as tears blurred her vision.

Her howls and pleas of mercy attract nearby students, teachers and guards. They all arrive to see Lila screaming like a maniac on the floor, alone and raving about some ghost hunting her down. “The ghost is real! He is real I tell you! He’s going to kill me!” she sobbed. As Lila was being escorted out of the academy, gossip spread like wildfire. Within hours everyone would be talking about how Lila had lost all of her sanity because of the ghost.

They had no other choice at that moment, the show had to go on. If they wanted the night to go smoothly, with no one noticing anything strange or peculiar, they had to meet the Phantom’s demands. Marinette stood there, centre stage, with all of Paris’ most influential in the audience. She began to sing her show stopping aria.

As she glided across the stage and looked out into the audience, her eyes searched for the man in the red mask. She liked to imagine her Angel of Music beaming at her with pride, without him, she would still be that sad little girl crying in the music room. She sang as loudly and as clearly as she could, hoping that her voice would pierce the heavens clearly enough for her mother and father to hear.

As she reached her crescendo, she peaked with an E6. Her voice echoed across the entire hall with the sharpness and perfection of a veteran soprano singer. The audience collective dropped their jaws at the spectacle. Marinette ended her aria with a bow, and the theatre erupted with a thunderous round of applause.

Jason watched from his seat in box five, with a self satisfied smile on his face. From that day forth, he would see to it that all eyes were on her.

#maribat lila salt #jasonettejuly2021 #jasonette #maribat #ml x dc #maribat class salt

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senadimell · 4 years ago

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Reynie Muldoon

I just started watching the TV adaption of The Mysterious Benedict Society, and I’m pleasantly surprised!

These books (especially the first) meant a lot to me when I was younger. Reynie’s life, in particular, resonated with me--he’s smart, quiet, and polite, but he doesn’t really know how to fit in, and his peers make sure he knows it. Usually, if a character in a book is struggling socially, they’re somebody’s punching bag. There’s a clear bully, and something’s clearly wrong. These books usually deal some sort of “poetic justice” to the bullies. As a reader, it’s easy to root for the bullied kid, rage at the bullies, and cheer when justice is dealt.

Reynie isn’t a bullied protagonist. He’s smart and a little bit awkward, which other kids pick up on. They make sure he knows he’s an outsider, but they never really cross the line into overt bullying. As a result, he’s quiet, polite, and isolated. He would like to fit in, but he’s genuinely uninterested in the things that they enjoy and doesn’t know how to mimic the social patterns that come easily to them. He's more comfortable around adults than with his peers, but most adults don’t talk to him like an equal, and as a result, he’s more often than not alone.

You can’t blame that isolation on one person. There’s no great wrong to undo. Sure, you could say they should have been nice to him, but when it comes down to it, they don’t owe him their friendship. Since there’s no clear breach of justice, it’s easy to internalize the critical remarks and exclusion. You start to assume you deserve it since you don’t fit in, and also assume that because they didn’t hit you, or go out of their way to torment you, nothing’s really wrong. If you mind it, you’re just too sensitive. After all, you are an oddball. If you’d just learn to fit in and grow a tougher skin, everything would be fine.

That was my experience growing up. I was never bullied, but I always knew I didn’t belong. I constantly found myself tripping over some social rule that I didn’t know was a rule until people started giggling. I didn’t enjoy the games my peers did, and when I tried to participate, I was clumsy and awkward. I didn’t follow the pop-culture references that they used. I used too-long words that I’d picked up from reading, and talked about weird things that they weren’t interested in. I knew the answers to the quizzes, and heard my classmates groan when I answered or make snarky comments about me because I liked this stuff. In class, I was very often bored.

I tried to fit in, but I never figured out how. As a result, I read a lot of books, befriended the teachers (who were much easier to please than my peers), and grew up assuming that there was a lot wrong with me that I needed to change.

Once a week, I got to attend a special class. We moved around instead of sitting at desks, and we got to do research projects. We played around with analogies to see how ideas were connected, and we built terrariums and puppet theatres. The curriculum was all over the map. Most importantly, there were other kids like me who didn’t think it was weird to over-analyze things, or talk about history, or get really involved in solving problems. It was the only time I felt normal, and I swear it’s the only way I got through elementary school. (In retrospect, our style of “gifted” education was perfect for my own neurodivergence: interest-driven, involved, and hands-on. It wasn’t about classroom acceleration, and served mostly as a relief valve).

Watching the Mysterious Benedict Society reminds me of that feeling. Reynie finds a group of people who are as weird as he is, and they don’t expect him or anyone else to change. They just accept each others’ eccentricities as natural, and their quirks are vital to their mission. Before they were weird, and suddenly, they belong.

Crucially, they still fight and struggle with each others’ personalities. But they never target each other for their eccentricities. Nobody mocks Kate’s bucket, and even Constance doesn’t make jabs at Sticky’s memory.

I was worried the adaption would smooth over their weirdness. Delightfully, the kids are all quite awkward. They’re genuinely offbeat, and the rhythms of their conversations don’t flow the same way as their peers. Also, they’re still getting to know and trust each other, so they don’t feel like an established friend group yet, with old jokes and similar interests, but they still accept each other and work as a team.

#the mysterious benedict society #reynard muldoon #reynie muldoon #the mysterious benedict society show #adaptions

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poetrusicperry · 3 years ago

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Running Towards Nothing

Chapter One

a/n: hello !! @noelliza and i fleshed out an idea about if todd came from out of state (specifically, somewhere in the southern united states) to attend welton, so i wrote it heh. i’m not sure how many parts this will be (if people like it enough for me to continue posting lol), but i have the first like... five written haha. so yes, todd is from the south (alabama) and i don’t know much about the south bc i'm from the west coast, but i tried haha. hope you guys like it !! xx

chapter summary: something in todd’s past is the reason for his family’s move, leading to a new neighborhood, a new school, a roommate he was never expecting, and an overall shift in his life.

pairing: todd anderson x neil perry

warnings: none (i don’t think there are any in this chapter, but if anyone spots something, let me know !)

word count: 2479

–

If there was one thing Todd missed about home, it was the sky; the sun set differently over the rolling hills of Vermont than the grassy fields of Alabama. He was used to seeing all of the elongated, blue canvas sky that melted into bright shades of pink and orange along the horizon; there was nothing in the way of the creation, just a plain view of where the heavens met the earth. In the northeast, however, the sunset snagged on the seemingly-black pointed edges of trees and lush branches, interrupting the gradient leaving only soft blue and speckles of marigold.

But he had experienced his last Alabama sunset two days ago, and there was no going back. Not for a really, really long time (if ever). After the events of the past few months, there was no way Todd could ever show his face again, even if he really wanted to. Now, Todd Anderson and his family were living in the suburbs of Vermont, where, as his parents hoped, the past would stay hidden and they could build a new façade for the one Todd had recently, though unintentionally, demolished.

As Todd sat on the floor of his new, empty room, surrounded only by boxes and his bed (which didn’t have a box spring or frame yet), he gazed out of his window forlornly. Through the toothbrush-tipped trees that were jam packed along his new horizon, he could make out the silhouette of a church’s steeple. One that, no doubt, would be frequented by his mother and father while his brother, Jeffrey, was out of state at college, and Todd himself attended the prep school just a few blocks down the road. Out of all the cities in Vermont, Todd’s parents had picked the one with the lowest population and tourist pull, which meant not a lot of people inhabiting the city. However, on the flipside, there wasn’t a wide variety of schools to choose from. Back in Alabama, Todd had attended his local public high school, Nixon, and would have been an incoming senior there if certain... events hadn’t occurred. Instead, Todd was now forced to continue his education at what was deemed “the best all boys prep school in the United States” by his parents and surrounding boarding schools (no pressure).

Todd’s mind wandered through the recent weeks, pulling apart everything that had happened like rotten cotton candy. This was his life now: a new state, a new town, a new school, brand new everything. And yet, Todd felt stuck between wanting to start over and aching to hold onto his old life. If those five seconds could have gone differently, he’d be preparing for his first day of senior year with all his friends at Nixon. But his friends would never speak to him again, and he’d never walk the halls of Nixon High School ever again. Todd wondered what he could possibly be holding onto? There was nothing in a place he considered home and nothing in a new place that would likely never be home. So much of his past, he wanted to leave behind, but he just… knew that he couldn’t.

As he reached into the open box beside him, there was a knock on the door. When Todd didn’t answer, the door cracked open, revealing the familiar face of his older brother.

“Hey, I was going to go on a drive around town, maybe see some of the cool hangout spots if you wanted to come. I know I’m leaving for school in a couple weeks, but might as well check out some places anyway?”

Jeff always had a way of talking to Todd gently, never with any hints of condescension in his tone. After all, Jeff was the only person in the house who ever acknowledged Todd’s existence. And after everything that had happened, Todd was certain he was no closer to gaining support from his parents than a couple months prior; in fact, he’d been quite sure he was further from garnering any cent of respect, let alone support.

“Oh, uh… right now?” Todd spoke, barely above a whisper. He knew he didn’t need to feel embarrassed or nervous around Jeff, but that’s just how things were for him now. Anything he said or did felt… wrong, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

“Yeah, I think Mom and Dad went to pick up some dinner, so I was just thinking that we could head out for a few minutes. Maybe get a little familiar with town and stuff,” Jeff smiled at Todd, his perfectly straight teeth somehow still gleaming in the darkening light of Todd’s room, “Come on, I know you probably don’t feel up to it, but it’d be better than sitting in here while it progressively gets darker,” Jeff attempted to joke, laughing slightly.

Todd gave him a half smile, half grimace, “Alright. Think I need a jacket?”

“Want to drive with the top down, so probably,” Jeff smiled, smacking the doorway and turning down the hallway, “Leaving in five!” he called down the hall as he went.

While they rode leisurely around town, Todd kept his head mostly turned to the side, leaning his cheek on his arm and taking in all the things they drove past. Lots of houses on moderate pieces of land lined the streets; they were nothing like the spacious farms and open pastures of Alabama. Up until recently, Todd had always considered the south home. But truth be told, he wasn’t sure what home was anymore.

“Oh, sweet, Todd, look! There’s an arcade!” Jeff patted Todd’s shoulder with the back of his hand as he cruised down the street. The big neon lights were hanging over a brick building spelling “GAMES & POOL.” It looked like the marquees Todd had seen of New York City in the magazines. He just nodded at his brother’s sentiment as they pulled up to the red light. Glancing up at the bright sign once more, his gaze was torn away when the door to the arcade opened, revealing five lanky boys spilling out onto the sidewalk.

“I told you I was going to beat the high score and you punks didn’t believe me!” one with sandy hair said, walking backwards and facing his friends. His face was twisted into a mischievous grin and his voice ricocheted across the street as the boys seemed to be making their way to the movie theatre a few doors down.

“Charlie, no one cares that you beat the high score,” the tallest one replied; Todd noticed he had a flattop haircut, which is something no one in Alabama would have ever had; Todd thought it looked neat. The flattop’s sentiment earned a chuckle from all the boys, but a particularly loud laugh from a tall, dark-haired boy standing toward the front of the group. He wore beige slacks and a tucked in red flannel with black and white hi-top Chuck Taylor’s. And Todd noticed his dimples were deep into his cheeks while he laughed. As the boys walked down the sidewalk to the theatre ticket vestibule, the light turned green and Jeff began to drive. As the car passed the group, the dark-haired boy looked up and locked eyes with Todd.

“Neil, still five for Gidget?” the ginger one with glasses said. The dark-haired boy (who Todd could now assume was Neil) held Todd’s gaze for a couple more seconds before tearing his eyes away and nodding at his friend. Todd’s cheeks were ablaze as Jeff drove further away. Trying to not move his head, Todd simply looked back at the boys in the side mirror until they were simply blobbed figures standing under the light of the theatre.

When Todd and Jeff arrived home, their parents’ car was in the driveway, and the light in the kitchen was on.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Jeff turned to Todd as he switched the engine off. He just looked at Jeff blankly; his appetite had still not returned, so he didn’t feel hungry much anymore, “I know I am,” Jeff smiled, ruffling Todd’s hair and easing the tension between them. He nodded a little bit and opened the door, Jeff doing the same. As Jeff made his way up the steps, Todd trailed behind him, not wanting to be the first person his parents saw.

“Jeffy, is that you?” his mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, Mom, we just went to check out the neighborhood a bit,” Jeff called, slowing his pace, falling into step with Todd and slinging his arm around his little brother’s shoulder.

“Dinner’s on the table, dear,” she replied as the boys walked into the dining room.

“Smells good, Ma,” Jeff smiled, taking his seat at the table after patting Todd’s shoulder. Todd sat down tentatively and stared at the spread in front of him. His parents had gotten KFC for the second night in a row, and Todd was about as excited as he was the first time (that being not at all).

“I know we had it last night, but it really just reminds me of the food back home,” his mother said, pulling her napkin into her lap.

“You boys eat up, now,” his father said, gesturing to the bucket of chicken and sides in front of the pair. Jeff grabbed his food, and took extra care to offer Todd all of the things he picked up for himself. While their parents busied themselves in a conversation about the pie their neighbors had dropped off, Jeff nudged Todd lightly,

“Look, I know you’re not hungry, but have a biscuit at least, okay?” he muttered and held one out to his younger brother. Todd took it hesitantly, put it in the middle of his plate, and stared at it, “Come on, Todd. Please,” Jeff mumbled again.

“What’s that, Jeffrey?” his father turned to him.

“Oh, nothing, Pop, just telling Todd to have some dinner,” Jeff smiled small. Todd’s father looked at him with disgust.

“Eat,” he grunted. At the timbre of his father’s voice, Todd flinched slightly and picked off a part of the biscuit to nibble on while the conversation turned to Jeff’s plans for the fall semester. Fading into the background (as usual), Todd tuned out the conversation and focused really hard on his white Chuck Taylor’s, getting a flash of the tall, dark-haired boy’s face in his mind. Neil. Shaking his head slightly, Todd adjusted his gaze to the plate in front of him and waited for another painful dinner to end.

When the summer had wound down and the weeks in Vermont had become more familiar, Todd’s parents had busied themselves with getting Jeff ready for dorm move-in and paying little, if any, attention to Todd. Currently, Todd was up in his room, preparing for convocation the next day. Jeffrey had left the past Thursday, driving up on his own. He had told Todd to not take everything so seriously and to do the best he could (because he knew that Todd was capable of a lot of things). He also mentioned that he was just a call away if Todd ever needed anything (he wrote his telephone number onto a scrap of paper). Todd had searched the arcade and the theatre a couple times in the hopes of running into the group of boys he had seen on their second night in town, but to no avail.

Sitting in front of the mirror, Todd analyzed himself. His hair had grown out kind of long, and his mother hadn’t taken him to get it cut, so he’d have to deal with that, but everything else looked normal. Things certainly didn’t feel normal, but he was used to the discomfort by now. The only thing he was truly worried about was his stupid accent. He’d spent the last few weeks hanging around diners and spots with Jeff, and hadn’t heard a single southern accent. He knew his drawl would just make him appear stupid to all these super educated kids, so he’d put a lot of effort into controlling it. He was actually doing okay at it, he just needed to make sure he didn’t slip up. Todd didn’t need any aspect of his personality or appearance to be called attention to. He got up from the floor and crawled into bed, dreading what the next day and year would bring.

Convocation turtled by, two hours of sitting in a church pew and listening to some headmaster spout of statistics that Todd didn’t care about. As far as he was concerned, he wanted to finish his senior year and get the hell out of here; Todd had always wanted to go to California, but his parents told him it was a pipe dream (“After the stunt you pulled in Alabama, we won’t be funding your college anywhere!” his father had yelled).

“Ah, Mr. Anderson, is it?” the headmaster questioned when it was Todd’s turn to be introduced after the ceremony.

“U-uh, yes sir,” he mumbled.

“Well, we don’t normally take public school transfers, but you will fit in well here. Any major problems you let me know,” he shook Todd’s hand rather harshly.

“Thank you, sir,” he nodded and moved along.

Feeling his chest start to tighten, Todd made his way out onto the grass where he sat down against a tree and waited for his parents. After an uncomfortable and awkward goodbye with them, he roamed the grounds a little bit, practicing his newly-fashioned accent quietly to himself. As he rounded a corner to the courtyard, he bumped shoulders with a boy, and turned to apologize, dead-set on making his southern accent unknown (or as unknown as it could be).

“Ope- sorry about that,” the boy laughed nervously. When Todd looked up at him, it was the boy from outside the arcade all those weeks ago. Shit.

“S-sorry,” Todd mumbled. The boy nodded a little bit.

“It’s all good. I’m Neil Perry,” he smiled, holding out his hand, seemingly unaware or forgetting of the fact that they’d seen each other before.

“Todd Anderson,” he manipulated his tongue to sit flatter in his mouth, so as not to let slip his Alabaman background. He had trouble looking into Neil’s eyes, but when he got a good look, he realized they were dark, dark brown and incredibly deep.

“Oh, that’s you? I think that makes us roommates,” Neil said, patting Todd on the shoulder. Oh no, Todd thought, his cheeks flushing. Stop it, he thought to himself and cleared his throat.

“Oh… cool,” Todd nodded a little bit and pursed his lips.

“I gotta get going. See you soon!” he patted Todd’s shoulder again and took off in the direction he had been going when Todd bumped into him.

Yep, Todd sighed. This is going to be a long year.

tagging some people (especially those of you who said i should post this heh): @queertoddanderson @babytoddanderson @cupiiid @justarandompjofan @charliedaltonofficial @pretentious-strikes @aedan-mills

and a big thank you to @noelliza as always bc she’s the best and reads all my stuff before i even think about putting it anywhere on the internet lol <3

#dead poets society #anderperry #neil perry and todd anderson #todd anderson #neil perry #angelina writes

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slytherinsnekxvii · 4 years ago

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this isn't my best work, but it's still pretty good for something i wrote when i was 15 after having a half a year of writer's block. anyways, ahem, presenting the fic in which severus says fuck it after the lake incident and just doesn't go back to hogwarts but potentially gets dragged into the war anyway despite living in the muggle world for like,, three years, part 1 (aka the only chapter i wrote bc my writer's block came back oops):

It starts simply, like most things do. It starts with a few words, tossed out without care and full of childish conviction. It escalates to brawls in the corridors and duels in the dungeons--if you could even call them that when it was four-on-one and most encounters left him reeling. It continues until he's twitchy and hypervigilant and awkward, always on the lookout for an attack, ready to bite before anyone could bite him.

It ends much the same. The events leading up to this are a production fit for the theatre, if the crowd is anything to by, but the ending itself is quite simple. Gasping for air near the shore of the Black Lake and battling a headache that hurts almost as much as the sharp press of his heart at the thought of what he'd done to Lily, he simply gives up. He picks himself up, tells himself this is the end of it and goes about collecting his belongings.

His wand comes to his hand easily enough with a mumbled Accio. His bag does, as well. Its contents, on the other hand, have to be collected by hand. His textbooks and ink are strewn beneath the tree, mostly, but the loose parchment and his quill are lost to the wind. He snatches up what he can find before someone gets it into their head to come further humiliate him and turns to head back into into the castle. Only to be smacked in the face by a bound sheaf of parchment and a quill. It's suspicious, and he's tempted to burn it then and there. It's his, but they were definitely scattered about the grounds two seconds ago. He doesn't burn it. He hesitates, puts it in his bag and returns to the castle, intent on making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

The apology doesn't go well. Lily isn't interested, refuses to hear it. He returns to the Slytherin dorms, drops into his bed and thanks Merlin that they'll be going home soon. Cokeworth is God-awful, but at least there's only one man trying to kill him there and only one woman for him to disappoint.

So, he waits it out. Spends his final classes looking over his shoulder and staring blankly at his parchment every time he remembers that they tried to kill him and they humiliated him and they got away with both. He shrinks into himself, avoiding the corridors at all costs, skipping meals to avoid being in the Great Hall and spends as much time as possible in the Library and the dusty old Potions Lab on the Fourth Floor that no one knows about, losing himself in research so he doesn't have to interact with his Housemates. He sits alone at the Leaving Feast, refuses to touch his plate until Evan Rosier falls into the seat next to him and bothers him into eating. The Headmaster dismisses them, says that they'll see each other come September and lets them filter out onto the train.

He ends up sharing a compartment with Mulciber, Avery and Rosier even though he's barely spoken to any of them since the incident. Evan needles him about everything and nothing the whole way to King's Cross, and when they get there, Evan claps him on shoulder and that's goodbye.

He gathers up his things, goes to meet his mother so they can Apparate home and not waste what little money they have on transport. Eileen's cheeks are sunken, her arms rail thin, her dress loose-fitting. He'd still rather see her than anyone even loosely affiliated with Hogwarts. She nods at him, he nods back. They go home.

He spends his summer making himself useful. He does odd jobs for the neighbours, is grudgingly polite to his father, takes care of his mother. By the time term rolls around, people are talking about that Snape boy. Strange, and quiet, too, but he works well, doesn't he? September first dawns bright and early, and Severus doesn't go back to Hogwarts.

He studies at home instead, nose buried in his mum's old books. He plants the few ingredients he has hidden away in his trunk at the back of the house and uses what grows to brew medicines and weedkillers and anything he can think of after experimenting a bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith down the street both swear up and down he's working magic on their little garden and their old bones.

He feeds cats, delivers packages for the grocer, takes tables and nightstands home to cast Reparo on. Someone tells the pub owner about him, and the next thing he knows, he's frying chips and learning how to mix drinks even though the most complicated thing anyone ever orders is a pint of the beer that they have on tap.

It's not a bad existence. Eventually, slowly, his mother starts coming back to herself. She takes over the brewing when he isn't around. Annotates his annotations and even makes a trip to Diagon Alley for more ingredients to add to their garden when Severus forgets to write Narcissa to ask her to send a few more.

Severus is old enough now to drag his father home from the pub behind him when he's done working. One evening, they come home and Tobias nearly trips over the end table that Severus is meant to be fixing for Mr. Williams three houses up. Severus works his wand out of his boot and goes to cast a spell, but Tobias grumbles and bats his hand away. Drunk as he is, he still digs out his toolbox and gets to work. The job turns out almost decent.

By December, Severus is at the pub, feeding cats on his break and making deliveries when he has the time. Eileen is brewing and Tobias is doing carpenter's work fixing and building wardrobes, cupboards, cabinets and everything else. It keeps him busy enough that some days he doesn't see a drink at all. It's not much, but there's a little food on the table at the end of each day, and Severus thinks that he's probably better off than he would have been at Hogwarts.

Sometime around Christmas, his mother talks him into getting a Muggle education and writing his NEWTs. He writes the O-Levels for his Muggle exams in January. They're a breeze, given how well-read he is. He sees Petunia at the store shortly after, and she sneers vaguely in his direction. He hears her condescending voice in the back of his head and decides to sit the A-Levels in May out of spite.

His birthday comes and goes, the NEWTs come right after and he aces each and every one of the written exams. The practicals are spread out across the following weeks, and he's leaving the Ministry after his last exam to find that the date coincides with that of a field trip for the Sixth Years at Hogwarts.

He watches them a little, tearing his gaze away after he catches sight of a tanned arm draped over a shoulder touched by a red braid. The students mill near the doors for a while and so, Severus looks around for escape routes, eyes skipping hurriedly from door to door until they rest on a Ravenclaw who'd also taken the January NEWTs. All kinds of people had been there, adults who hadn't passed when they were younger and needed to retake the exams to get jobs, teenagers who had family fortunes waiting for them whose parents wanted them to at least look like they were competent, and overachievers--like Severus assumed the Ravenclaw was--who wanted to know where they stood before the actual exam. He jerks his chin toward another door, this one proclaiming to lead to the "Apparition Division". Severus nods once at him and makes his way toward it.

There's a one-day course for Apparition, apparently. The woman at the receptionist desk doesn't even bother looking at him, just points him in the direction of the Training Room with her nail file. He stays for nearly the rest of the day, until they're finally done. He gets his license and is quietly pleased to see that the building is nearly devoid of life when he leaves. He goes home.

May and June come around and bring with them the A-Levels. He finds them only marginally more challenging than his O-Levels and returns to his routine. It's a nice routine, which takes him all the way through to July of the next year when Lily starts coming in with Black and Potter and Pettigrew and Lupin. The first time it happens, he leaves the counter so fast that the patron he'd just given a glass of water to is convinced he teleported. He's already taken his regular break to go feed Mrs. Jones' cats, so he steps into the kitchen and tells Jimmy he's taking a smoke break. Jimmy snorts and reminds him that he doesn't smoke.

He fidgets, trying to think up a way to avoid going back out, when the ruckus they're making makes Jimmy look through the little window and see the lot of them crowded around a little table. He gets a peculiar look on face for a bit, before he asks Severus if they have something to do with why he doesn't go to his fancy school anymore. He doesn't need an answer, just tells him to keep an eye on the food and steps out to man the counter. Severus stays late, frying chips and washing dishes until the early hours of the morning when Jimmy pats him on the back and kicks him out.

It keeps up until September comes around, and by then, Severus has taken so many smoke breaks that he's actually started smoking. He keeps smoking long after they're gone.

He goes back to his routine until it's broken again by a letter that comes by owl. It's a short letter, coming from a Potions Master whose apprentice had been overseeing the exams. It claims that his work was the best either of them had seen in years and after asking around, they'd found that he was unbound to any Master and was highly recommended by the Malfoys. It ends with an offer. Severus would think himself foolish not to accept, so, he does. After that, two days a week are dedicated to Flooing to Master Diogene's laboratory to fulfil the requirements of his apprenticeship. It finds its own little nook in his routine and so he continues until June of 1980.

He's preparing to go to the pub when there's a knock at the door. It's not so uncommon anymore, so he thinks nothing of it, only that he hopes it doesn't take too long. His shift starts in half an hour. He pushes his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, where they perpetually are these days, and decides he'll roll them up properly later. He opens the door.

"Good afternoon," a very pregnant Lily says, and standing next to her is the Ravenclaw from the Ministry, back straight, arms clasped behind his back, his entire being alert.

"Good afternoon," he replies, awkward. After a long moment of silence, he asks, "Can I help you?"

"Depends on whether or not you let us in," she says.

Wordlessly, he steps aside, sliding the three pairs of shoes nearer to the wall in order to let them pass. "Do you want tea?"

"No," she says, at the exact same time her Auror friend says, "Thank you."

He gestures them into the little kitchen, where they sit at the little table where he and his mother and his father take their meals. He tugs his wand out of his boot, flicks it so that the cauldron bubbling away on the stove scoots aside but doesn't spill. The burner beneath lights on its own. He puts the kettle, already full, on to boil. "So," he begins, absentmindedly rolling up his sleeves. "Is there something you need from me?"

Lily smiles, strained. "Can't I just visit an old friend?"

"Sure," he says, quietly. "You made it very clear that you would prefer if we weren't, though."

Her expression twists. "And with good reason," she grits.

He says nothing. The kettle whistles. He searches for the boxes of tea, sets about mixing two cups of mint. He puts them both on a tray with milk and sugar, as well as the small container of honey kept for special occasions. He puts it on the table.

"I'm sorry."

She doesn't say anything, just watches him with bright, green eyes aflame with old anger. She picks up one of the teacups and starts doctoring it to her liking. Her Auror friend follows suit. It really is obvious, Severus thinks, watching the man scan the room from top to bottom, corner to corner. He sighs. "Why are you here, Lily?"

She glares at her tea. The Auror shifts uncomfortably. Severus sighs again. "You know, when people visit old friends, they usually don't bring Aurors with them."

"Trainee, actually. This is my last year." He grins sheepishly. "That obvious?"

Severus nods.

He leans over the table, stretches out a hand. His right, Severus notices. He leans over and shakes with his left.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," the Auror trainee introduces himself.

"Severus Snape, but you already knew that."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

Lily continues to glare at her tea. Shacklebolt fidgets. Severus stares, adjusts the heat on the burner below the cauldron. Silence prevails. The door creaks open, just then, and Eileen comes in, stirring rod in hand. "You'll be late if--oh," she says, noticing their guests. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," the other three respond with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Well, if it isn't Lily Evans. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? You look well," Eileen says, nudging her son out of the way so she can poke at the mixture in the cauldron.

"You as well," Lily mumbles. "And it's, ah, it's Potter now, actually. Lily Evans Potter."

"Ah, I see. My mistake. Congratulations are in order, then, Mrs. Potter."

"Congratulations," Severus echoes.

"And you're a Shacklebolt, yes?" Eileen continues, her hands methodically sprinkling ground lavender into the cauldron. "Elodie's son, I should think. You resemble her quite a bit."

"Yes, ma'am," the trainee replies. "Grandmother says I'm nearly a carbon copy."

Eileen hums, lowers the heat under the cauldron. She takes out the stirring rod, examining the clinging lavender paste before wiping it off and placing it on the counter. "I suppose I'll leave you it, though Doris just passed, and she said that Jimmy has a full house, so, do try to hurry. It's already nearly four."

"Yes, Mam."

She leaves, and once more, silence settles over the small kitchen. Severus looks at the clock on the wall, sees that it does, indeed, say that it's minutes to four. Eleven minutes, to be exact, and it's a ten minute walk to the pub. He starts gathering the tea things, has just taken Shacklebolt's empty teacup when Lily clears her throat.

"Are you a Death Eater?" she asks.

"No," Severus tells her, and takes her teacup. Ten minutes to four.

"Prove it," she says, glaring.

Severus sets down the tray and leans across the table, arms outstretched, palms up, forearms exposed. The skin on either arm is pale, smooth and utterly unmarked, save and except for the scars one is bound to get when their preferred work involves knives and hot cauldrons.

"You keep regular contact with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, as well as Regulus Black and Evan Rosier, all of whom are suspected Death Eaters. Why?"

Severus' eyes narrow. "Lucius is sponsoring my Potions Mastery. Narcissa, for whatever reason, enjoys my conversation. Regulus and Evan both seem to think that I'll drop dead if I don't speak to them at least once a week and I haven't been able to disabuse them of the notion--though, not for lack of trying."

"So, you aren't planning to become a Death Eater?" Seven minutes to four.

"I'm not," Severus says, biting down on something rising in his chest. He returns the tea things to their proper places, washes the cups and sets them to dry. When he looks at them again, Lily's glare has softened into an unwavering stare.

"Are you certain?" she asks, and Severus grits his teeth.

"Oh, no, not at all. I only left the Wizarding World to live in a Muggle neighbourhood with my Muggle father, work for a Muggle and feed old ladies' cats and fix their husbands' cabinets because I thought it would make it easier for me when I decided I wanted to murder them all. Obviously," he snaps, throat closing around the words as soon they've been forced out of his mouth. His jaw clamps shut. Three minutes to four.

"You're being an a—" she starts, but then she bites her tongue. "Why... why did you leave?"

He stands silent for a moment. "Reasons I don't believe we have time to discuss. It appears that I'm late for work, I'm afraid." The clock reads three fifty-nine. By the time, he reaches the front door, it will be four o' clock. He starts walking.

"But–" Lily begins, standing.

He gestures them onto the porch while he shoves his feet into his boots. "Terribly sorry to leave in a hurry like this, but duty calls. Things to do, people to see. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Potter. Auror Trainee Shacklebolt." Four o' clock.

"Really–"

"Until next time, Mr. Snape," Shacklebolt interjects, and with a stiff nod, he and Lily make their way towards the Apparition Point they'd used and Severus is walking down the street. He exhales, slowly, carefully at the quiet, telltale crack of Disapparition off in the distance. He picks up the pace and hopes that'll be the end of it. He knows it won't, though. Until next time, Shacklebolt said.

It isn't the end, of course. It never is. There's a knock at the door just before he's ready to leave the next afternoon, and he contemplates just not answering the door and staying at home for the foreseeable future. There's enough food to last at least a week, and he could always just tell Mrs. Havisham that he wasn't feeling well. The news would make it around the town and back within the day. The knock sounds again. He sighs and gets up to go answer it. "Can I help you?"

"Only if you want to. May I come in?" Shacklebolt asks.

Against his better judgement, Severus lets him in.

#severus snape #snapedom #pro snape #fic #i didn't expect anyone to take me seriosuly but someone did and goddamn it i'll be damned if i don't give them something to read #anyways have fun #probably a bit ooc #but that's what makes aus fun amirite hehe #alright that's enough from me

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