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illuminatedcomics · 2 years ago

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Today I remembered Mad Magic, and I made a LONG post about it. MM ran from November 2017 to May 2020 for a total of nearly 200 pages, my longest comic yet, not only in terms of actual continuous posting, but in development, as I have sketches and art dating back from 2011. Almost ten years of planning and drawing resulted in me having a big burnout that lasted a year and a half. It wasn’t MM fault that happened, and this post is sort of me coming to terms with what went wrong.

While the details and the higher concept shifted and changed multiple times, the heart of this comic always remained the same: there’re two girls, they’re roommates, and they live through a series of comedic horror adventures.

Around early 2017, I combined this first draft with many newer ideas about high concept parody/deconstructions of Harry Potter: “What if a teenage Chosen one enters their adulthood and realizes they can’t top all the stuff they did as a kid?” and “What if one of those wallpaper background bullies that work as henchman for the main rival was the center of the narrative?” To be honest I was never a huge fan of Harry Potter, but still, I was in the right age group to see the movies as a kid, and read a few of the early books, so these concepts intrigued me.

Enter Mad Magic, the story of Joy Kaplan, former Demon Goat (that’s your house Slytherin), who after getting kicked out of school, ends up living a life of expedients, together with sassy Alix Peck, a punk girl that appears normal but has actually a mysterious past.

You know how they tell you “don’t make your first comic your big end all epic magnum opus”? Well, Mad Magic wasn’t technically my first attempt at a webcomic, but it nailed the too big for its own good part. When I finished planning it, it was going to be 17 chapters long (40 to 80 pgs each), with dozens of characters, twists, turns, action scenes, magic, time travel, vampires, elves, doppelgangers, lovecraftian gods, crossovers with other stories of mine, long haul plans a la Once Piece where that one character introduced in one panel in page 4 of chapter 1 was supposed to become the main villain of the story arc of chapter 12…

Considering the series ended after 4 chapters and a quarter, we know something broke down along the way. But what? Well first off MM was a ton of work. I structured the pages in a large euro-comic style, with four rows of panels, that fluctuated between 10 to 20 each, all full color. With a day job, completing a full page could take a couple of days or even a full weekend. So that was tiring, maintaining the schedule ate up a lot of free time, and whenever I missed an update or decided to take a brief hiatus I always regretted it and felt like crap about it.

But the biggest problem was a lack of general fulfillment and this absence was caused by my perceived inability to “find an audience”. There’re plenty of articles online explaining the causes of burnout, and one of the big ones is the problem with “reward��, when you don’t feel like the effort you put into something is worth what you’re getting in return.

There were people reading Mad Magic, there were people that seemed to love Mad Magic, but in my eyes, they were never enough… but what would’ve been “enough” anyway? What magic number would've made it worth it??? Ultimately, this junction between my inability to gather a larger interest, and the presence of this foggy, undescribed “number” of people that would’ve satisfied me caused the wheels to break down. I was letting things like subscriber counts, likes per page, pageviews and reblogs dictate how I perceived my own creation. If a page got fewer likes than average, I started wondering, obsessing what was wrong with it.

The point is, after nearly three years of working on Mad Magic, doing my damnest to put out pages weekly, I was seeing absolutely no growth in reach or audience and I didn’t really know what I was doing wrong or if I was doing anything right in the first place. This stagnation led to stress, which led to losing pleasure in doing the comic in the first place, so that I was forcing myself to make pages, eventually leading to burnout and the complete loss in my desire to draw again. It took me a year and a half to get back into things, a period so nasty and bleak that even the idea of reading a comic made me queasy. The fact that this coincided with the global covid pandemic exacerbated the problems, but I think that even without that, it would’ve simply taken a bit longer to reach the same point of no return. I realize now this mentality was unfair towards the few readers I had, and to myself too. I try not to worry about the idea of “finding an audience” anymore. I make the stuff I make because I want to, if I catch myself thinking “people won’t care about this” I nip it in the bud. I’m lucky enough that I don’t need to draw for a living, and considering artist’s spaces on the web seem to be constantly shrinking, the whole endeavor of finding a following online seems just a headache. I also try not to be bothered by the concept of schedules and updates. I only draw when I want, when I feel like it, and it works. I look at stuff like Toxic Park, one of my current projects: in 2022, I produced around 80 pgs of story in two blocks, when the will and inspiration to do so hit me. That’s roughly the same amount of pages of Mad Magic I made in a similar period 2017/2018, by forcing myself to have at least one page ready every single week. So, the change in schedule or lack thereof, didn’t result in a change in output. Not to mention, that in both cases, I tried to develop other ideas simultaneously, and while with MM coming out that felt like crunching, at my leisure carefree pace I also made a 20 pages historical comic, Theo the Lucky, and nine more shorter comics, which are all around two to three pages worth of story (and you’ve seen posted on this blog). Simply put, I feel like I draw so much more now that I don’t cage myself in a mentality where “I must get this done before this completely imaginary deadline hits”.

I still hold the Mad Magic’s cast dear to my heart, they’re part of a ten year journey. I often try to think of ways of bringing it back, but continuing from the point where I left it off, where things were just starting to get interesting, doesn’t feel right. I may follow Osamu Tezuka’s Star System, where the same characters in personality and design are recontextualized in completely different stories. We’ll see.

Mad Magic is still up on tumblr where it was originally posted! And looking back at it, I think it still holds up relatively well. I lost all passwords and emails relative to that account so I can’t access it, but the entirety of the comic in its uncompleted state (I think some pages might’ve been weirdly flagged during the tumblr porn ban?) can still be read here:

@madmagic-comic

#my comics #webcomics #tldr #wall of text #illuminatedcomics #mad magic #web comics

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softboyluvr · 3 years ago

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just friends

cedric diggory x female!reader

warnings: angst (ish???), intentional lower caps, that’s all tbh

very few could say they knew someone for forever, someone that knew their weaknesses and helped turn them into strengths. though they, they were the lucky ones. or unlucky ones, depending on who you asked. cedric and her had been inseparable the moment their parents introduced them when they were children.

from then on she always had someone to pick her up when she fell off the swings, a shoulder to cry on and someone who listened unconditionally when it seemed like the voices drowned her. she was lucky to have him.

she brought out the best in him. everyone expected him to be everything all the time, but with her he could be vulnerable. he felt like he could breathe when she was near. he had to see her fall in love with some of the guys in the castle, and then be there for her when it all fell through. he was just never that lucky to have her. at least not completely, she had the best of his moments. when in fourth year his friends teased him for never having had his first kiss she was the one to pull him in by his jersey after winning the first game of the quidditch season, the light drizzle sticking to their hair and making the whole thing seem like a dream to him. she had his first dance at their first ever ball. and most of all she had his heart hanging off a thread on her pinky finger, yet he was never lucky enough to have her completely.

he was resigned actually, no longer eager for the next time she came running to his arms after she realized the last guy wasn’t what she wanted, much less deserved. an eagerness that he knew was wrong and completely selfish but he couldn’t seem to deny. he liked being the guy that lit her those vanilla candles she loved so much and held her through the night.

he didn’t know what deity he had to thank for putting them together in every single class for the past six years. but there he was, letting her draw some sort of happy face kaleidoscope on his hand as he just looked at her with some stupid grin he could never wipe off when they were together. looking at how the tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration and then down to the crystal hanging around her neck. remembering how one saturday she just dragged him to the lake to look for crystals. one of the last days of the summer, the morning sun keeping them warm but not sticky with sweat. the wildflowers around them made the air sweet and the soft swishing of the water in the river filled up their comfortable silence making everything perfect. if he were asked what he thought heaven was like he would think that’s the closest it could ever get. or maybe it was all perfect because he was with her.

he wasn’t surprised when she had to bring him back from his daze and put him to work on the potion slughorn had just spent the last 10 minutes explaining. he was eager to finish brewing the concoction, amortentia was one of their biggest projects of the year. but that was not what motivated him to finish it, neither was it finding out what he was going to smell. he knew exactly what his heart desired, and was not surprised when he smelled vanilla, soft rain and wildflowers. his eagerness was to discover what she was going to describe the potion to smell like. he hoped her heart’s deepest desires pointed towards him like a compass pointing north. he was about to ask when hermione granger, somehow managing to take classes above her level, turned around and asked herself.

he pretended to write some notes on his notebook when he was really waiting for anything that would hint at her fancying him the way he wished she would.

“we must’ve fucked it up because it smells like nothing” and she snorted like it was the funniest thing ever. their conversation carried but he was no longer interested on any sort of gossip the griffindoor carried. he knew the potion had worked, so either she was sick and her nose was all messed up or just didn’t fancy anyone at all. she could’ve also been lying, was it for his sake? did she just not want to share any more fragments of her love life with him and she decided to lie about this to keep some secrecy? was it someone he knew? was it one of their friends? had he introduced her to them?

class ended and the day flew by, whenever she asked about his change in demeanor he brushed her off with a smile and assured her it was all fine, “just tired ‘s all”

he wanted to go down to his room and read, alone, as soon as the school day was over. but he had promised to go with her to this tree they always hung out in when the day was nice. she was talking about things she had noticed throughout the day and when he zoned back into the conversation their tree was closer than he realized and she was talking about potions class.

“i swear i was keeping an eye out for you. i was worried you were sick because someone had slipped some amortentia on your water or something. i mean im surprised no one did” and she sat down leaning on the trunk of the tree. “anyways you never did tell me what it was your heart’s deepest desires were. or who is it that that is for that matter” she was taking some colored pencils out and it seemed like the whole thing was humorous to her. but the question had struck him, she was lying back in class.

she had taken his silence as a cue to keep her chatter going. not paying any mind to how he still hadn’t sat down. “i heard someone say how when slughorn showed the class below us the potion just as a heads up for next year cho chang said she swore she smelled you. i didnt know you guys were that close” and she wiggled her eyebrows at him while taking out some sketch book from her bag. she was really trying to joke with him right now. “she’s really pretty-“

but he cut her off. “why would you lie?”

“i swear! hermione told me all about it after i ran onto her in the bathroom before potions class started. i mean you have been tutoring her for a while now so i don’t know how you didn’t see it coming”

he was silent for a second and she grew uncomfortable of his gaze just lingering. standing up as he started again.

“we didn’t fuck up the bloody potion. but you told granger we did, why did you lie?”

she looked at him for a couple seconds and then laughed. “come on ced, slughorn said the thing was perfect. don’t worry about the grade”

“this is not about a mark and you know it” his tone was so serious it was bordering into stern. it was like his patience was growing thin but she didn’t know what to say, so she just shrugged and looked away.

“didn’t feel like talking about it then”

“we can talk about it now”

“it looks like there’s rain clouds coming”

“what are you trying to avoid?”

she just went to pick up her book, stuffing her things back into her bag. she started the walk back to the castle making him scoff and follow her lead.

“why don’t you want to talk to me?” to her he still sounded defensive. but he was trying his best to mask his vulnerability.

“i do want to talk to you ced. just not about it right now”

“was it someone i know? was it fred? i heard he’s with angelina so that’s a dead end you know”

“cedric just drop it”

“so it was him then”

she groaned and turned to look at him, breaking her stride. her face was burning with what he saw as anger.

“why does it matter so badly to you cedric?”

the thunder quickly ate up the good weather they still had and the air turned chilly. how fitting.

“it just does and i want to know”

“it really doesn’t matter to me and it shouldn’t to you either” she was upset about it, maybe her feelings for fred were far deeper than he could guess. he was aware of their friendship, but he never knew how close they had grown to be. maybe him being a tutor pushed her to finding someone new, some new more interesting friend. “i really don’t get why you’re blowing this to be such a big deal when cho-“

“it is a big deal to me” he chuckled and he saw the drizzle before he could feel it. “it’s a big deal to me when all i could smell on the thing was wildflowers and fresh rain” he let a breath out, his voice lowering back to its usual tone. no longer exasperated but tired. “fresh rain and vanilla”

she just stood there. quiet. looking at him. a couple steps and he had broken the distance between them. placing his hands on her shoulders and running them down to her hands.

“so please, just please tell me what it was for you”

“lilacs” she looked up at him and met his gaze. the flowers his mother had planted around the swing sets were lilacs, the flowers she tucked on his suit pocket on their first dance were lilacs. but he still couldn’t let his heart jump to conclusions. she took in the silence and looked forward, staring at his chest rather than looking at him in the eyes. the blow was coming. “warm sheets and fresh rain”

she smiled at the irony of the drizzle that covered her hair at the moment and dared to peek at him from under her lashes. he was puzzled by the last one. she kept looking down at his hands holding hers.

“that was my first kiss too you know, you never really asked and i guess i never told you. but i knew you were tired of everyone teasing you for it so i guessed you wouldn’t mind as long as you got it over with” she was rambling and he smiled. the rain coating her lashes reminded him of the first time, he let go of her hand and took her chin between his pointer and thumb. tilting her head up to look at him, moving his hand to run through her hair and finally cupping her face. running his thumb over her cheek. it was like he was getting a do over, and he wanted to take his time this time around. she looked into his eyes and then glanced down to his lips. he didn’t waste more time before his other hand flew to the free side of her face and his lips were on hers. her hands on his shoulders pulling him impossibly closer to her.

he cursed his lungs for preventing him from staying there, causing him to pull away slightly. she opened her eyes to see him looking at her already. he took in how the water droplets stuck to her hair and the smile that danced on her face.

her eyebrows shot up a little “took you long enough” her teasing smile made him let out a loud laugh.

he hummed and nodded. feigning seriousness “maybe” he looked at her with a teasing smile of his own. “but not nearly as long as it took you, now did it”

her eyebrows shot up and she let out a surprised laugh. he admired her for a second more before he leaned down to kiss her again. missing how she quickly ducked and escaped his grasp. starting to sprint through the grass towards the castle. he chased behind her as they both laughed at the water splashing around their feet and starting to soak them up slowly. she looked back at him and playfully screamed, booking it through the courtyard and slipping past the few people that were still out enjoying the soft rain.

their friends quickly spotted the pair, not surprised by their behavior but intrigued as to what had caused the giant to chase after her through the rain. watching as he was catching up to her when she had almost reached the group, which was seated waiting for them next to one of the arches surrounding the courtyard. staying safe from the rain under the roof. they all playfully looked at her catching her breath, not amused at all by their games when he reached her. hair sticking to his forehead and robes drenched just like hers. she yelped as he picked her up and spun her around, their friends getting ready to listen to whatever story was behind their chase.

the story telling itself when he set her down softly and pulled her in for a quick kiss. their bubble of happiness not popping but encasing all of their friends as well. no questions were needed, the happiness just flowed and bubbled.

he swung his arm over her shoulders. pulling her into his chest as she started the conversation back up. everything had fallen into place for him, and now he could light up candles and tuck her into bed not because she had another unlucky shot at love. but because he was finally lucky enough.

#cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory angst #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory imagine #friend to lovers

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writingforfunsies · 4 years ago

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The Demon Brothers: Creative Outlets Headcanons

they are all immortals and when you've lived longer than you can remember, you're bound to find a creative outlet to destress, alleviate boredom, or you know, to just have fun!

Lucifer

He’s a busy demon. If he’s not working, he's sleeping, or cleaning up one of his brother’s messes, so he doesn't have that much time to just relax and explore his creative sides.

That said though, it doesn’t mean he has no hobbies at all.

He plays the piano. He used to play it every morning, back when he’s still in the Celestial Realm, when he’d taught Lilith how to play the piano every morning and she’d sat besides him as his fingers moved across the keys slower so she could copy him.

Nowadays, playing the piano feels very nostalgic and bittersweet, but you’ll hear soft, bittersweet melodies drift from the music room once in a while.

He also composes his own music, but that's an even rarer occurrence. The last time he created a new music piece was centuries ago.

(Ever since MC came to Devildom though, he's been itching to write music for them.)

Practices calligraphy for fun. He has a whole set of brushes and ink and lettering pens. His handwriting is already beautiful but his calligraphy is even more amazing.

Another thing he does is gardening. He's got a great eye for landscape architecture, he's the reason why the house's backyard is pretty.

He plants decorative plants and likes to cross breed flowers so the House of Lamentation's backyard is full of pretty shrubs and unfamiliar flowers.

He is usually joined by Beel as he is the other brother that finds gardening very relaxing.

Mammon

He definitely shows his creativity by coming up with the most absurdly brilliant, out-of-the-box, original schemes to make money.

Mammon can draw, like really good. His drawings are very realistic. He prefers to use traditional media: charcoal pencils, graphite sticks, blenders, erasers, drawing pens, brushes, and maybe some watercolors.

He usually does architecture sketches.

But if you check his drawers, you’ll find several sketchbooks of his brothers in different candid poses. MC alone has taken up three whole sketchbooks. Mammon makes sure MC doesn’t see those sketches though.

Crashes Asmo’s Art Day regularly, claiming that if Levi’s invited then the Great Mammon should be too. Asmo and Levi always complains but they let him stay anyway.

Mammon also has a natural talent on jewelry making and metalwork. He makes jewelry from buttons, beads, pearls, diamonds, and crystals. From small pendants to elaborate neckpieces, simple anklets to ornate hairpins.

Mammon has made metal bookmarks for Satan because the book lover always misplaces his bookmarks or destroys them in fits of rage when he doesn't like a book's ending.

He sculpts wood. It takes him months to finish one small piece because he only does it when he's really, really bored, he prefers to make his much more profitable jewelry.

He keeps all of his sculptures in his room, small and detailed pieces of wood engraving of Devildom native animals lining up on one of the shelves.

Leviathan

This is canon but he draws! He doesn't think he's very good at it, but he really enjoys it.

Unlike Mammon who likes to draw with his charcoal pencils and drawing pens, Levi prefers to draw digitally. He still switch to traditional media now and then though.

Has a monthly scheduled “Art Day” where he and Asmo hang out together, Levi draws with his sketchbook or his drawing tablet and Asmo paints. They basically just gossip and hype each other’s art.

Dabbles in making short animations but feels like it’s just not something for him. He makes short comics though.

He wants to be able to make his own video game someday though. Maybe after he learns programming.

He makes the most detailed cosplay outfits for his own cosplays. He sews really good and patches his brothers clothes when they ask. Where do you think Asmo learns how to sew his own clothes from?

Really good at dancing and he really likes it too. He's a natural at it. From the most intricate traditional Devildom dances to freestyle dancing. He can make new moves on the spot and can copy any moves from one look.

He’s a shy baby though, you’ll rarely see him dance when he’s sober.

Except when he’s playing DDR (Demons Dance Revolution). Then, it’s like he’s the most confident demon in Devildom.

Satan

Satan writes poetry when inspiration strikes him. He has also written short stories but he always comes back to creating beautiful poems. He’s got a way with words.

Photography is something he has only recently taken interest in but he has a great eye for taking breathtaking shots.

Has become the family’s go-to photographer.

“Satan, take a picture of me and Mammon!” “Satan, take our picture, quick!” “Satan, help me get a picture for my Devilgram!”

He’s the reason Asmo’s Devilgram pictures always look like they’re taken professionally in a photo studio or something.

Satan loves art, likes to stroll through museums and stare at paintings for hours, but has little talent in creating them. Even so, he still likes to paint even if he's not good at it.

Sometimes he just wants to slap paint on a canvas and make a colorful mess. It's fun.

He joins Art Day every other month.

Another thing he does is knitting! It relaxes him. It gives him something to focus at when he's angry (um, angrier than usual), just to give his hands something to do that doesn't involve breaking anything. The simple patterns he makes are easy enough that they don't frustrate him.

Rarely ever finishes his knitting though, you'll just find this 5 meters long knitted fabric in one corner of his room with the ends coming undone because he calms himself down enough to stop knitting.

Asmodeus

Regularly designs, cut, and sew his own clothes.

Has a lot of sketchbooks full of drawings of flowy dresses and stylish coats and many aesthetically pleasing shirts.

He has started his own clothing line and sometimes collaborate with Majolish.

But for the most part, he designs clothes for himself and himself only, he doesn't want anyone else to wear clothes as fabolous as his.

Nail art? Nail art.

Asmo paints all of the brothers nails and sometimes he'll persuade one of them to let him do a complete manicure, with glitter polish and shiny studs and all.

Yes, even Lucifer. You just never see the results because Lucifer wears his gloves almost all the time.

Asmo creates beautiful makeup art. He doesn't really like a lot of makeup on his own face though, so his brothers' faces are his canvases.

He also has a great eye for interior decorating and flower arranging. He restyles his room every month.

Not many people know it but he paints. And he's very good at it. He has done a painting of each brother, the paintings can be seen on the walls of the House of Lamentation's hallways.

Art Day with Levi (and sometimes Satan or Belphie) is spent with him in front of canvases, chatting with his brothers, paint splatters on his hands. It's the only day that he doesn't mind looking a little messy.

Beelzebub

He cooks, of course! And bakes too!

It's one of the times he’s willing to wait to eat because cooking the ingredients first rather than just straight up eating them will make the foods taste better.

Half of the food in the kitchen are his creations. Anything he can make on his own from scratch, he will; jams, ice cream, sauces, juices, bread, chips, etc.

Likes to experiment and always do something different than the original recipes.

He garnishes his cooking like it’s something you order from a five star restaurant.

Beel is another demon who has a green thumb. He likes taking care of plants and doesn't mind getting a bit dirty doing it so gardening is another hobby of his.

If Lucifer plants ornamental plants, Beel grows useful plants like herbs and vegetables and small fruits. He's also good at topiary.

Always has an idea for a DIY project.

His creations is scattered all over the House of Lamentation. Belphie's drawer divider is made out of yogurt cups. Broken drawer knobs recycled into Asmo's jewelry organizer. The coat rack. The bathroom towel holder.

Even Lucifer's hanging Demonus rack is handmade by Beel when he's bored one weekend, with Mammon's help for the engraving decorations along the sides of the rack. Beel's got a bit of Bob the Builder in him.

He is very good at singing. His voice is clear and he has a broad vocal range. Has been caught unconsciously humming in class many times.

Has definitely sang Belphie to sleep.

Belphegor

Does his pranks counts as a creative outlet though?😂 Between him and Satan, Belphie's ideas are the most creative and out of the box, resulting on some of the best pranks they did.

Belphie does origami. It's relaxing, easy enough to learn, and doesn't take much effort and energy to do it.

Has stacks of origami papers in his room: standard origami paper, foil paper, traditional Washi ones, the leather-like Momigami paper, all kinds of paper.

He especially loves to make little origami stars and keeps them in glass jars in his room.

Belphie also has adult coloring books.

And kids coloring books.

Coloring is relaxing to him. It's very calming to just lay down and fills a page with pretty colors for a while. It's not a tiring way to destress, he can color without moving from his bed, and it feels satisfying when he finishes a whole page.

He sometimes joins Art Day if he's not too lazy to move. Still prefers to color alone where it's quiet though.

He also journals. It's another thing he can do that is inexpensive and not energy consuming. He writes about anything that comes to his mind, his thoughts, his ideas, memories.

Definitely keeps a dream journal.

Also I headcanon that as the Avatar of Sloth, sleep and dreams are some of the things he can manipulate. He enjoys creating dreams; the worldbuilding, the story, the details. He can be really creative when it comes to making them, spinning the most vivid and imaginative dreams.

They’re not necessarily good dreams though. After all, he is still a demon, his dreams will most likely mess up your mind than make you smile in your sleep.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #rol writes

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offda-rails-art · 3 years ago

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Been a while since I’ve enjoyed art. I finally finished my story-no color becuase paint is expensive and I can expand more by doing what I love most-sketching. Slight gore warning, like typical horror movie gore⚠️

Thank you for anyone following me recently, even though I haven’t been very active. I hope this makes up for it. Peace and love. Lochlan’s story part one👇

The countryside of Hennessy had a horrible storm roll in. It poured endlessly all night and into morning. The seemingly endless pounding rain made everything a muddy slippery mess, and with that the tracks were overflowed with water. Travel for any engine was dangerous so it was decided that everyone would take the day off and wait out the storm inside. Old Red, Donner, and Cracker Jack had already been in the roundhouse that night and early in the morning they were told “no work for today. Too dangerous.”

Lochlan had still been on his job pulling a long train all night. Something that had been expected to be finished by early morning was delayed by the rain. Lochlan went along the tracks carefully and managed to deliver his train by late afternoon meanwhile the rest of the engines back at the roundhouse were confined to their berths all day. And with that the group of 3 were very bored.

Lochlan backed his way into his respective berth, he was soaked from being in the down pour all day. He was also visibly tired from his tedious journey of start stop all through the wet slippery tracks. Before the poor big engine could get a word out Cracker Jack piped up. “About time! Reds been going on and on about silly stories. We’ve traded back and forth on interesting ones of our own. Well, Donner and I at least. Reds giving the whole “Wild West romance, forbidden engine/human love” spiel again.” Cracker Jack groaned.

“My recounts of pistol packing cowgirls are not romance stories! I’m simply making it clear that women are just as dangerous as men! That’s all!” Red growled quick to defend himself. His face turning slightly pink.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that you old fart.” Cracker Jack smirked. Even Donner gave a slight chuckle in agreement.

Lochlan smiled and shook what water dripped down his face off. Cracker Jack grinned up at Lochlan expectantly. “Suppose you have anything of your own to share?” Cracker Jack asked, his grin widened hoping that Lochlan would have a story to tell. At least one that wouldn’t put him to sleep. Or any about his love interests.

“Me? What kind of story? I don’t do much that interesting.” Lochlan sighed and tried to think of anything worth telling.

“Lochlan. You’re huge. You see the world from a different point of view everyday. You do the more than any other engine on the railway. You’ve been everywhere, you must have something?” Cracker Jack retorted. Lochlan frowned and clicked his tongue in thought. A loud crack of thunder boomed in the background and shook the roundhouse. The 4 engines jumped at the sudden loud noise. The natural fearful reaction to the loud noise gave Lochlan an idea.

“What about a scary story?” He smiled and knew exactly what to share. The other three raised their brows in interest. Cracker Jack noticeably grew attentive.

“Yes! I think we can all agree that horror over a whole romance novel is sure to help pass the time!” Cracker Jack grinned. It took Red a second to process the slight dig made at him. He only grumbled and rolled his eyes.

“Good! I have just the one! It happened the very first week I arrived here.” Lochlan grinned and cleared his throat to begin.

When Lochlan first arrived at Hennessy he was immediately tasked with pulling long trains of heavy and important cargo for distances many other engines couldn’t travel. He traveled from late at night till very early morning so naturally his rest time in the afternoon was spent in any noisy bustling yard he could manage to get a break in. Most of the time Lochlan couldn’t sleep with all the noise. He didn’t mind not napping but peace and quiet was something he could definitely enjoy. It seemed that wouldn’t be an option for a while with his break schedule. So, Lochlan decided to eavesdrop on his human counterparts. They did after all have interesting things to share. While in a yard one afternoon the prefect opportunity to eavesdrop came in, a group of engineers decided to take their break not far away from him. They sat down on some old flatbeds and joked around for a while. The oldest man in the group began talking about his past colleague who was a Native American. He recounted all kinds of interesting things his colleague shared. From ancestral meanings to cultural symbols, but then he brought up something strange. Lochlan grew curious and listened in best he could. The engineer asked the others if they ever heard what a “wendigo” was. The two men shook their heads. Lochlan listened in as the man explained to them what it was, and the reason for bringing it up.

The engineer grew serious before beginning, “ a couple years back a rancher went missing out by his home just a good ten miles from the south side of Hennessy. No one knew how he could possibly go missing, he was in touch with the locals and was a very smart man. He knew the wildlife and his homeland well enough to where an animal attack was ruled out. He carried a gun on him all the time to stay safe and no one would want to harm a lonely rancher with not much of anything to give anyway. Robbery and murder was ruled out too, especially after his home was found kept well with nothing out of the ordinary or missing. He just seemed to have vanished along with his horse and dog. The sheriff decided he could’ve left unannounced for private reasons and perhaps he would turn up soon. It wasn’t until a week later a hunter stumbled across what was left of the poor rancher. He was so severely mangled that the only thing that showed proof it was him was his hat, horse and dog. Whatever creature that did that couldn’t possibly be a bear, or even a pack of wolves. Only the rancher looked like something had eaten parts of him. His horse and dog were for the most part untouched, the possibility a rabid bear attacked him was brought up due to the massive claw marks and slashes embedded in his horse and dog. And how badly the man was shredded. But what bear could be that big? A search for whatever rabid bear or sick pack of wolves was put out but nothing was recovered.

No one wanted to admit but they were scared. The scene was so brutal it seemed almost impossible another living thing could do that. It was swept under the rug and everyone tried to forget about it in hopes it would just go away. It seems there’s no answer for what happened right? Well your wrong, that’s were this “wendigo” comes in. Wendigos have an insatiable hunger for human flesh, they crave taunting people and torturing them until giving them a brutal horrible death only to feast on their scared poor souls. They tower above the tallest pine trees, make blood curdling screams, and can strip the flesh from your bones instantly. He wasn’t attacked by a rabid animal, he was murdered and eaten alive by one of those foul beasts. Only something that big and mercilessly brutal could’ve done such a thing. And why eat just the person? An animal would’ve taken all it could get. Dog and horse would’ve been part of the main course as well.”

The two other men who listened in shuddered upon the end of the tale. Lochlan was intrigued but was interrupted by his crew coming to fetch him from his break. He needed to get back to work and couldn’t listen in anymore. He sighed and set off to collect his train, he had plenty of time to ponder what he just heard on his long quiet journey.

Lochlan enjoyed the unexplainable, everything had an explanation. An answer. While the story of the wendigo was interesting to him he couldn’t help but believe it was simply a tall tale. Even with how big and goofy the engine could be, he wasn’t gullible. The only way he’d believe something is if he witnessed it first hand. And as far as he knew he never saw any forest animal that towered over pine trees or had a specific desire for human flesh. But for some reason something inside him wouldn’t let go of it. The story was kept in the back of his mind and not forgotten.

Lochlans first week on Hennessy’s railway was almost over. He already gotten familiar with the area and his routes in the short time he was there. His job went swillingly and it was something he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his days doing. Oh, and no strange gigantic monsters hungry for human flesh appeared. There was one route Lochlan hadn’t traveled yet, and the unkept longer line of tracks was only taken if necessary but no reason was ever really given as to why it wasn’t used. But with only almost a week of experience on the railway he had a lot more to learn and explore.

While Lochlan pulled a long train of cargo with the morning newspaper edition, important mail, and dairy that needed to get to its destination quickly in order to not spoil he came to a stop when he realized his normal route back into Hennessy was blocked. Someone had derailed and a big mess of tar trucks were scattered everywhere. Lochlans engineers grew frustrated and argued with the crewmen in charge of cleaning up the wreck. “Listen pal, it’s going to take all night to clean this mess up. You’ll just have to wait until morning to pass through or go through the south side.” The agitated worker groaned and pointed up ahead to a route Lochlan wasn’t familiar with.

“Well. We most certainly ain’t got time to wait. I’ve got the morning paper to deliver and dairy that will spoil! Come on big feller we’ll just have to go through the south side which will still delay our schedule because some incompetent idiot can’t operate an engine worth Jack shit.” Lochlans engineer growled and made his way back to his cab. Lochlan looked on curiously up ahead at this new route. The grass ahead was severely overgrown, and by the looks of the track no one seemed to have been down it for a decade. His cow plow would come in handy to shove away any overgrowth that littered the track up ahead. Lochlan puffed down the track without incident. He sliced through any overgrowth that littered his path, and was thankful for his bright headlamp because it seemed any lights that lit up the track before had been left not repaired. Lochlan had come upon something odd as he plunged further down the unused route. A herd of deer were stopped close by the tracks, what was odd to him was that the animals didn’t acknowledge his presence at all. It was normal for the forest animals to hurriedly clear the way when any loud engine chuffed close, to the animals an engine was another predator to run away from. But the large herd of deer stood stalk still, their backs turned towards him and their heads cocked up looking into the distance at something. They didn’t dare move and their fear was focused on something Lochlan couldn’t see. Lochlan raised a brow and chuffed by but the deer didn’t move. Even as steam whooshed out and his own massive frame rumbled on the rails shaking the ground. The deer seemed to care less about him. It was one of the most peculiar things he had seen, but he had no idea it was about to get worse.

Tumblr limits posts and I have to many illustrations to do one part. So I’ll have to skeet part two in another separate post. Stick around for the second part if you enjoy so far. Thanks so much for people who’ve stuck around my blog and actually wanted to read my stories. I really really appreciate it.

#ttte #the rural railway #ttte oc #trr lochlan #trr #trr lochlan’s spook #trr donner #trr old red #trr cracker jack #also-#if anyone’s messaged me #I haven’t checked my inbox or messages in forever #don’t worry I’m not ignoring you #just depressed ;)#and not sociable

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mizunetzu · 4 years ago

Note

hey mark uhhh suck my dick that’s the request

no HAHAHA but I’m sure Iida will do it innnn *drum roll*

——————

Iida x reader - Iida Tenya’s Imaginary Boyfriend (pt.2)

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns - male, he/him

Part one can be found here!

The true ending can be found here! (Pt.3)

——————

“Alright,” Kaitekina flipped open her sketchbook, setting it back down on the easel. “Who’s going to describe something to me?”

Everyone gestured at Iida.

“I apologize once more,” Iida scrunched up his fists in his lap. “I do not wish to-“

“C’mon, Iida!” Uraraka grasped onto the sleeve of Iida’s school blazer. “You’ve been sulking for a month about this ‘(L/n)-kun’ guy! You need some sort of comfort! Or better yet-closure!”

“I am completely fine! In fact, I see him every night, and that is enough for me! Now, I do not wish to be here, and I have nothing to describe!”

Everyone fell silent. Uraraka voice was barely above a whisper. “Every night..?”

Iida sat back down, bowing slightly in apology for yelling. He said nothing. Todoroki looked down, before looking at Iida.

“If you do this one thing, we’ll let you go and we’ll never speak about it again. Just this once and we’ll leave it at that.”

Iida thought for a moment. He absentmindedly picked at the metal frame of his watch with his thumb and forefinger. Just this once couldn’t hurt. How accurate can a drawing be?

“Fine.” Iida visibly relaxed. “Just this once.”

———

“So, are you describing a boy or a girl today?”

Kaitekina’s voice was smooth like butter. Her eyes, once a chocolate brown, delved pink, bright and demanding. It was probably a side effect to her quirk activating.

Iida’s lips turned up into the faintest of smiles. A sheepish one. “I’m describing my boyfriend...”

Uraraka and Midoryia choked back a shocked gasp, while Todoroki simply raised his eyebrows. Nonetheless, they gawked at Iida like he was crazy.

Kaitekina cooed. “D’aww...how long have you two been dating?”

“Almost 5 months now.” Iida seemed more calm than before. You could almost say he was happy finally talking about his baggage. He rubbed his thumb across the glass of his watch discreetly. Kaitekina looked away from her sketch to eye the dull red watch contained under Iida’s blazer.

“What’s that red thing you keep touching under your jacket? Is that a watch?”

Iida sat quiet for a moment, before pulling up his sleeve and raising his arm. There revealed a dirty, cheap red watch, cloudy but functional. He tugged at the strap, watching as it unraveled and tumbled down onto his lap.

“It was something my boyfriend wore everyday. He wore it everyday since the start of the school year. He said he’d always cherish it, so I’m...cherishing it for him.”

“This isn’t the original one he owned though, that one...disappeared. I bought this one to keep with me where ever I go.”

The woman hummed, taking note of something on a sticky note stuck to the edge of her easel. It was most likely details to add or emphasize in the portrait.

“Can you tell me like-the shape of his face?”

“Angelic.”

Iida didn’t say anything else after that. Kaitekina waited for him to go on.

“Oh-forgive me. Round face, and his hair was a (h/c)-ish shade. It was always kept rather short/long.”

“You keep saying ‘was’. Is he no longer with us?”

Iida narrowed his eyes. Uraraka, Midoryia, and Todoroki eagerly awaited his answer, not-so-subtly staring him down. “It’s...it’s difficult to explain. But in simpler terms, he isn’t here with me anymore. Or he never was. I cannot seem to tell anymore.”

Those last parts came out as a whisper. More like he was saying it to himself, rather than to the sketch artist infront of him.

“I’m...sorry.” Kaitekina stopped drawing for a second to offer her condolences. Iida shrugged.

“...I am too.”

“Um-can you describe his eyes for me?”

“It was a bright (e/c)-color.” Iida limply held up his arm, before letting it drop back down on his lap. “They were always kind of squinted, like he was always so carefree. It was one of the things I never understood about him. Beautiful, (e/c) eyes that would stare up at me like I was the world.”

She made a noise of acknowledgement, grabbing (h/c) and (e/c) pastels scattered across her desk. Scribbling down details with her hazey glowing eyes scanning the paper, she looked up again at Iida. “What about his smile-what did it look like when he was smiling?”

“I believe it was his default expression. His lips were on the thinner/thicker side, though he kept telling me he wanted them to be a bit thicker/thinner. And-they were always chapped. I always told him to put on chapstick.” Iida chuckled.

“If you had to choose one thing-and I know it’s hard, but what would you say you miss the most about him?”

Iida fell silent. He stared down at his fingers, halting temporarily. He opened his mouth numerous times to speak, but each time, no words came out.

“His ability to make me smile.”

He said nothing else. Kaitekina inhaled to speak, but let her mouth fall closed, focusing on her drawing once more.

“Can you tell me about him while I finish up?”

Iida nodded. Midoryia, Todoroki, and Uraraka turned towards him, waiting patiently. This was what they were waiting for.

Iida pushed his glasses up with his forefinger. “His name was (L/n)-kun. He went to our school, and actually sat next to me in class-but apparently no one...seemed to remember him. It’s like he disappeared. That, or my delusions delved to the point where I hallucinated a whole five-month relationship with a boy I see every night in my dreams. It’s made me look forward to going to bed. It’s the only thing I want to do these days.”

Iida thought for a moment, before continuing. “He was good friends with these 3 next to me. But they don’t seem to remember him either.”

“It’s alright, though. I’ve grown used to it. I’ll see him again tonight and I can live on with these memories alone.”

A heavy silence filled the small studio. Midoryia contemplated setting a hand on Iidas shoulder, but as he was about to, Kaitekina clasped her hands together.

“So, I believe I’m done. I hope I was able to capture at least a small part of this person you had such an amazing relationship with.” She picked up her sketchbook, walking around her desk towards the 4 kids seated on the couch. “Are you ready to see it?”

Part of Iida didn’t want to look at it. All of his logical beliefs told him people were giving this woman and her quirk too much credit. Besides, how could she possibly know what mountain of complexity (Y/n) held, and capture it into an unworthy piece of fine-tooth paper?

He nodded anyways. She flipped her book around, holding up the displayed page in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“This is what you described to me.”

There stood a charcoal sketch of a beautiful boy, smiling so gently and earnestly. His hand was resting again set his neck and shoulder, a dull red watch strapped tightly to his wrist. There were features Iida swore he never mentioned, like the crease near his left eye, or the dimple that lay just under his cheekbone.

What captured his attention most, was his eyes. It was only pastel, but it shone and demanded attention, even if his eyes were in his usual half-lidded stance. Bright, (e/c), gemstone eyes that Iida fell in love with. Honestly, he could gaze at this picture forever.

This was him. This was his (Y/n).

Uraraka gasped. “Ahhhh! Wow! It looks really good! Ne, is this accura...Iida? You alright..?” Midoryia and Todoroki tore their eyes off the illustration to check out what Uraraka was talking about.

Iida was staring, eyes slightly wide, at the drawing. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it; he didn’t want to. The drawing was more accurate than he’d like to admit. It was as if he was staring at (Y/n) himself.

He didn’t know tears were steaming down his face, until he felt small drops of water pelt down onto his lap. He removed his glasses shakily and wiped his eyes, doing his best not to take his eyes off the sketchbook.

“It’s-“ Iida’s voice cracked along with the seam of his heart. “It’s very accurate, you should be proud of the business you own, Miss.”

———

The stagnant air followed the UA students out of the building. Iida was stiffly walking straight ahead, doing his best not to look at the paper of (Y/n) folded in his pocket.

“Ne, Iida,” Iida hadn’t realized he was walking so far ahead until Uraraka had to jog up to him, followed by Midoryia and Todoroki. He hummed in acknowledgment.

“Do you feel better?”

There were two answers to this question. Yes and slowly but surely, yes. He was feeling better in the sense that he no longer had the urge to cry into his bedsheets, holding the piece of sketchbook paper firmly to his chest. He lost his dignity, and he found it again.

He was also feeling better in the sense that he finally got some sort of closure. Maybe this person isn’t real. And it’s ok. He has some sort of proof of his imaginary ‘friend’ that he can gaze at forever, instead of pitifully checking his wristwatch every 5 minutes, wishing it would go faster just so he wouldn’t accidentally forget how his face looked like.

It wasn’t healthy living day by day, waiting to fall asleep just so he could feel something again. A self imagined kiss on the cheek or just plain rest. He was willing to move on from that. It was time to start the ‘healing’ process. The drip finally stopped.

And he knew that if he got tired, if he was sad, or just needing some assistance, (Y/n) would be there waiting for him with open arms, welcoming him into his imaginary world again.

Though, he wasn’t sure if he really needed that right now.

He loosened the cheap red watch from his wrist, his head suddenly feeling empty and light.

“I’m feeling better. Thank you.”

——————

This is how this story really ends. Though, even I didn’t like it HAHAHA so I made a “true ending”. A sweeter ending without the bitter if u must LMAOO

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imaginedhaven · 4 years ago

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Reluctantly Rooming: Part Two

Link to Masterpost

So I realized today I hit 50 followers! Wow. That’s amazing, and I love you all so much. Plus, it was so inspiring I got to work on some more prompts for this wonderful little AU. I combined two prompts in this part:

1. “Are those slippers?” / “Is that you being mean? AGAIN?”

-and-

2. “You don’t know how to change a tire?” / “Give it a rest, would you?”

As I mentioned last time, I am still taking prompts for this universe! It’s been a great time playing in this particular AU, and of course I have the rest of the story vaguely sketched out but it’s been way too much fun incorporating these prompts. Hope y’all enjoy!

~*~*~

Aelin was still marveling at the turn in her morning as she got dressed for work in the afternoon. She and Rowan had spent an hour or so finally getting to know each other a little like they probably should’ve when he first moved in, only stopping when he had to leave to go on a run with one of his coworkers. They still had quite a ways to go, but Aelin already felt more at ease than she had previously.

She still felt a twinge of embarrassment at how it had happened, but she had gotten herself into more awkward situations before and Rowan had seemed content to not bring it up further.

Aelin hummed along with the music playing on her phone as she wriggled into the dark pants that served as the bottom of her work outfit and then sat to braid her hair back. In her month and a half working behind the bar at her current job, she had learned in a single shift that leaving her hair down was absolutely not worth it; the golden waves that she was so proud of had an annoying tendency of getting in the way while shaking drinks, and choosing to tie them back instead left her hair much neater at the end of a long shift. Lately she had taken to braiding the long strands into a crown around her head, the style elegant enough to please her but practical enough to survive the night.

Smiling with satisfaction, Aelin pinned the last few strands in place and stood to leave. She took a few extra moments to glance in the mirror and make certain that her shirt was presentable enough for work before grabbing her keys and heading down the stairs.

She made it all the way to the driveway before her good mood evaporated.

“Fuck,” she whined as she stared at her car. It had been fine when she had gotten in, or she thought it had been. But now in the daylight the left rear tire was obviously flat, almost cartoonishly so. There was no way she would be getting in to work on time, not with her car out of commission.

If he had been home she would have asked Aedion for a ride, but he was absent and his car was garaged wherever it was he put it while away so that he could save on his insurance payments. That left trying to get in touch with her coworkers to see if they could pick her up.

Taking a deep breath and preparing to grovel, Aelin scrolled in her phone to Lysandra’s contact information and was about to press the call button when she heard a surprisingly welcome voice from the edge of the driveway.

While Rowan’s voice was a relief, his words certainly were not. “Are those… slippers?” he asked.

Aelin crossed her arms, not ready to deal with this kind of interaction when she was still trying to figure out how she was going to get to work. “Is that you being mean again?” she retorted, shuffling her feet. The motion only served to draw attention to her choice of footwear, however, and when she looked back up at him she was met with an expression she could only call amused exasperation. She sighed and decided to end this probable fight before it could begin, if only to preserve the remnants of her sanity after an already-stressful day. “I always wear slippers when I drive to work,” she admitted. “My work shoes are great when I’m actually on my feet, but I hate driving in them.”

“All right,” he allowed. “I can’t say I relate, but I suppose that makes more sense than anything else I was coming up with. Doesn’t explain why you’re staring at your phone like it’s your only lifeline instead of actually driving to work, though.”

At the reminder of exactly why she was stuck here and not at work, Aelin sighed and wordlessly gestured to her tire. He glanced down at it and then back at her, clearly confused, and began to laugh.

“Oh, what is it now?” she demanded, immediately on edge again.

He crouched beside the tire and braced his hands on his knees, inspecting it as he continued to chuckle. “You don’t know how to change a tire?”

Just as it had a few hours ago, Aelin felt heat flood her cheeks. “Give it a rest, would you? So what if I never learned, I didn’t exactly have anyone around to teach me.”

Aelin bit her lip to stop the words from coming out, though she had already revealed far too much. Even if it was true, and even though the theme of the day had been building some kind of camaraderie with her roommate, she firmly believed there was such a thing as oversharing and that had been it.

A small part of her brain noted that she felt more exposed now than she had been literally exposing her backside to him just that morning, but she carefully stifled that thought to be dealt with hopefully never. Instead, she blurted out, “And I’m not sure I have a spare anyway.”

Rowan gave her a skeptical glance. “Open your trunk.”

“What?” Aelin asked, stunned. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

Deciding to humor him, she did, and in less than five seconds he had opened a compartment and revealed exactly what he had been looking for, a spare tire as well as a few tools. “Oh.”

Rowan shook his head. “Most cars have the essentials in case this happens on the road. The replacement isn’t meant to be driven long-distance, it’ll only get you to the nearest repair shop. I’m assuming you don’t have time for that.”

Aelin nodded. “I’ve only got about an hour before I’m supposed to be at work.”

“All right. You have tomorrow off?”

Aelin checked the picture of the schedule she’d saved to her phone. “Yeah, tomorrow and Monday are my ‘weekend’,” she replied.

Rowan pulled the tools out of the compartment and straightened. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to put the replacement on now, because that tire’s flat enough that you’re risking damage to the rim if we let it sit and that gets expensive fast. I can drive you to work tonight, and tomorrow we can take it to someone to see if you can get away with patching the tire or if you need new ones.”

Aelin stared at him, surprised. “Wait, you’d drive me to work?”

“Would I say I’d do it if I wouldn’t?” he retorted.

Before today, she would’ve bristled at that comment and perhaps even snapped back at him. However, through their talks after his aunt had left she’d learned that he had an incredibly dry sense of humor bordering on outright sass. With that knowledge in mind, she bit back her immediate urge to fight back and instead simply said, “Thank you.”

Rowan’s head spun around to stare at her, and she shrugged, uncomfortable under the intense focus of his gaze. “What?” she asked. “You didn’t have to offer, but I appreciate that you did. Honestly, before you got here I was running down my list of coworkers, trying to decide who was most likely to pick up.”

“You may still want to see if one of them can bring you home,” he cautioned. “I’m not saying I won’t do it, but I’m not exactly used to staying up that late and I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep.”

Aelin laughed at the admission. “And here I thought you were the life of the party. Have you ever done something just because it was fun?”

“Says someone who is currently reaping the advantages of my lack of a social life,” he snorted. “I thought you were supposed to be grateful.”

“I can be grateful and still comment on your life choices.”

Rowan carefully set one of the tools next to the tire and got to work, pointedly ignoring her and leaving her with nothing to do but watch him.

Even before today she’d noticed in a distant kind of way that her roommate was unfairly attractive, for all that he didn’t seem to do himself any favors. That recognition was only affirmed as she watched the muscles of his shoulders and back while he worked to change her tire. He hadn’t even had the time to change out of his running clothes, and sweat lingered at the back of his neck, darkening the short strands of his hair.

She’d never bothered to ask if he’d naturally gone completely grey at a strangely young age or if he simply dyed his hair that color, but either way she could admit it suited him in a way she wasn’t sure would work on anyone else. Paired with piercing green eyes and angular features, what would have been a noteworthy feature on anyone else was a stunning combination on him.

It was really too bad that they barely tolerated each other. And now that they were roommates, she knew too much about him to be swayed by looks alone. All it took was one recollection of him reorganizing their living space and those thoughts retreated to the back of her mind where they belonged.

It was just in time, too, because she realized belatedly he was speaking to her. “—got lucky,” he was saying. “I’m no expert, but I think they should be able to just patch this and you won’t have to get new tires.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked, curious.

Wordlessly, he rotated her tire—which she noticed was now freed from her car—and pointed at a large nail driven right through the rubber.

“Oh.”

“Here, stuff this into your trunk while I get the spare on and then we’ll get you to work,” he said, rolling the tire in her direction. She rushed to comply, and by the time she had tucked it away as neatly as she could manage he had finished his part of the job as well. “All right, get what you need and we’ll go.”

“I already have what I need,” she replied.

He looked at her, gaze moving from her braided hair down to her slippered feet, and said, “Your work shoes?”

“At work,” she said.

“And you’re not bringing food when you’re working a full shift?”

“Rowan, I work in a bar. They have food there.”

Her statement granted her a withering look that promised a painful end to her admittedly-unhealthy usual diet. “Do you even have food in the house?”

“If you’re going to judge me, I’m not going to answer that,” she evaded.

“Fine. We don’t have time to fix that right now anyway,” he muttered. “Get in my car, and I’ll get you to work.”

They drove in silence the entire way to the bar, but it was somehow less uncomfortable than Aelin would’ve expected. Maybe there was something to be said for utterly humiliating yourself in front of your roommate, after all. She could only go up from here.

As they arrived, before she could slip out of his car she turned to face him. “Hey, thank you,” she said. “I mean it. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

He waved off her thanks with a single gesture. “I know you have my number. Just text me if you need me to pick you up as well.”

As it turned out, Lysandra was able to get her back home after her shift and she texted Rowan about a half an hour before her shift ended, receiving no reply. But as she crept into the house, she noticed a sight that made her freeze and then smile. Rowan was passed out on their couch fully clothed, phone prominently placed on the coffee table as though he’d fallen asleep waiting for her message.

Not willing to risk waking him, she quietly crept up the stairs to her room, but the image lingered for quite some time as she prepared for sleep herself.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows

#rowaelin #haven writes #reluctantly rooming

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Just Below the Surface (Taywhora) - Phryne

A/N: Hello all and welcome to the shark fic, an absolute labor of stupidity, a half-processed thought come to live in the middle of the night. This fic is inspired by @incorrectdruk’s post. Please comment and like if you’ve enjoyed; it means the world! Also a shout out to my wonderful girlfriend, @scarletenvy, who reviewed and supported me throughout this fic. All my love to you.

Tayce tries to get Aurora out of a design funk by taking her to the aquarium for some inspiration. Aurora has never actually seen a tiger shark in real life—she gets a rude awakening about sharks, and imminent failure.

When her drab little apartment is getting her down, with its peeling pre-war paint and hard water stains; when the rain no longer feels soothing and mesmerizing and sleek; when Aurora finds herself tapping her pencil against her face instead of against her sketch pad, Tayce insists on a change of scenery, even when sheets of rain are splattering against their windows.

She comes up behind Aurora, spreading her fingers over her shoulder. It’s a risk, knowing that Aurora might startle and throw her head back into Tayce’s nose, but she kisses the crown of her head anyway. “Not going good, is it?”

Aurora groans, but nonetheless leans into the touch. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” She holds up her sketch pad with nothing more than the model on the page.

“Reckon you can’t send nudity down the runway, love?” Tayce laughs, digging her thumbs into the base of Aurora’s neck. “Though I’d call off work to model that one for you.”

Ignoring the quip, but for quirking a brow, Aurora shrugs out of the touch and continues. “I’ve got nothing. No inspiration. No real idea. No thoughts about structures or colors or fabric I’d like to work with.” She slams the pencil down. “I’ve started from every square one I can think of and I’ve still got nothing. I’m supposed to put more of myself into these designs but myself is giving me nothing useful.”

As much as Tayce understood the classic Aurora ‘I’m not amounting to anything, everything I do is dull and boring and meaningless, but, insert forced laugh here, if I give up now I can still be your sugar baby, right?’ speech was coming, and would typically be chased by a reminder that she was only a couple years younger, exceedingly talented, and a retail worker’s salary could never sustain both of their tastes, Tayce decides to cut off the monologue before it even starts.

“Let’s go.” Tayce says, releasing Aurora’s shoulders and giving a hearty clap. “Grab your slicker, we’re going to the aquarium.”

Aurora hums before letting the request fully sink in. “Why are we going to see a bunch of scum covered fish?” She pauses, pushes her hair out of her face and tries again. “It’s a lovely idea, but I don’t have much time for a date right now. I need sketches and fabric samples by Monday.”

But Tayce ignores her, taking the pencil and pad from Aurora’s hands and stuffing them into her purse. She continues absently, “There’s a new tiger shark exhibit that I think—”

“A fucking tiger shark?” Aurora turns around, resting her arms on the back of her chair, glancing up at Tayce and speaking through that Cheshire Cat smile of hers. “You’re telling me we’ve got a tiger shark now?”

Tayce feels herself brighten along with her. “It looks rather interesting, world’s greatest predator and all—”

“Of course it is, it’s a tiger shark. Like, just try to think of something more fierce than that.” Aurora punctuates every word as she hauls her purse into her lap and sweeps the contents of her desk inside, zipping the top even as her fuchsia and forest green pencils stick out from the corners, muttering on about the world’s greatest predator, how it’s an absolute destroyer.

Tayce takes Aurora’s sudden disinterest in organizing her pencils into their case—by most to least used—as her cue to leave and slip on her boots, already wearing a pleased little smile.

They settle into the tube, Aurora securing her umbrella before sitting down next to Tayce. It’s easy to find a seat, the car less crowded than usual, likely thanks to the weather. Aurora thinks she’d like to stay inside with the rest of London, put the kettle on, and work in the living room where she can see the damp landscape before her and Tayce on the couch beside her, but that wasn’t working before. So here she is, wet blonde hair plastered to her forehead, the thought of seeing the tiger shark still coursing through her, lighting her like neon.

“Concept: a tiger shark suit,” Aurora poses, just as Tayce holds her hand out for Aurora’s purse. She obliges and continues. “A little shift on the color forecast. Instead of yellow and grey—so bloody industrial, I’m thinking orange and grey. Would need a poly to get that wet-look of vinyl though…”

Aurora tends to work like this, rambling off her ideas in a whirlwind, usually tearing apart the flat for the nearest pad of paper to get it all down before the idea’s lost forever and she’s left pouting while Tayce is trying to work as well. She’s become used to the smattering of Post-It pads around the house, reminding Aurora to dig the pens out of her pockets before running the wash, cheeky grins as she pulls pencils out from Aurora’s frantically done bun before properly lying down for bed. It’s endearing though, the chaos Aurora works in, the way Tayce’s chaos stabilizes Aurora’s.

So Tayce digs around in the tote until she pulls out a little baggie with her croissant, and Aurora’s notebook, pleased at how she’s taken to the leather bound folio Tayce gifted her for their last anniversary. She hands it over before picking at the almonds atop her croissant, adding, “bitch to make though, isn’t it?”

Aurora knows what Tayce is referencing and almost shudders at the thought of more vinyl after her Spring/Summer 19’ collection. She spent hours on end cursing the fabric, trying not to tear the tissue between, which she used to help the panels float smoothly under the presser foot as she sewed them. On an industrial machine, no less, which was a bitch to haul up into their flat. It was a disaster to get an invisible zipper into the gown, the damn thing ripping itself out with every try-on. And at the end of it all, she had to sew Tayce into the finale catsuit not fifteen minutes before the show, which meant she had to cut her right out of the garment at the end of the show, with her girlfriend’s reassurance that it was “bloody sexy” and “what’s a little bit of scissoring between two lesbians?” doing little to sage her qualms about ruining hours of work in a snip.

“Maybe some treated leather.” Aurora nods solemnly and writes notes wildly, not sure she’ll even be able to read anything besides the “SS19” with an angry cross over it when she reviews them later. “Either way, I’m thinking it’s going to be fierce, especially if I can figure out the movement; move like the tiger shark, no? To get that floating through water feeling.”

Aurora doesn’t expect an answer, seeing that Tayce is occupied with picking almonds off of the pastry. She holds her hand out for them, throwing them back in one shot before taking half the pastry as well. “Why get the one with almonds if you just got to pick them off?”

“The taste, the flavor,” Tayce says through a bite. “And I know you prefer them, so…”

Aurora gives her a light shove before pulling her back in by the crook of her arm. “You’re soft,” she taunts, capping her pen and sticking it in her hair.

“We can’t all be tiger shark ladies, babe.” She gives her pastry a deep bite, raising her brows at Aurora as she does so, if for nothing but to catch a chuckle from her, from what was a miserable day.

Aurora shakes her head, but nonetheless shifts closer, taking a bite and swallowing quickly. “Stupid, absolutely dense—”

“—The idiocy, the dullness, dimwittedness, superficiality of it all,” Tayce continues, brushing the crumbs off of her black trench jacket, picking a couple tricky ones out of the red stitching with her nail. Head resting against Aurora’s still damp shoulder, she adds between a cheeky grin, “We gotta finish up; Waterloo’s in just a bit.”

By the time Aurora gets her things gathered and finds the umbrella, Tayce is taking her hand and leading them to the exit. They schlep along to County Hall, Tayce holding the umbrella high above them, Aurora wrapped around Tayce’s arm, bundled up against her, pressing her bag flush against her side. She’s practically buzzing by the time they reach the aquarium, her childish enthusiasm endearing, and Tayce feels it bubble up in her as well. It’s contagious really, Aurora’s joy. It practically travels through the air, filling the room.

“Here, let me,” Aurora says, fishing for her wallet as they approach the ticket counter. “Since I’m spending our date looking at a shark.”

“Tell me what you really think of me, why don’t you,” Tayce quips back, laying on as much annoyance as she can while still holding a grin, studying the exhibit poster in front of them.

Aurora takes her card back, muttering as she stuffs it back into its slot. “It’s the world’s fiercest predator, babe. I don’t know what to tell you.” She hands Tayce her ticket before taking her hand, dragging her to the queue. “It’s me in animal form, though I wouldn’t typically pair black and orange, especially for spring.”

Tayce breathes out a laugh. “Then what am I?”

“Dunno. Maybe a squid.”

This time, Tayce fully cackles. “A squid?” she asks, and she feels the rest of the queue turn to look at them. She shakes her head playfully as Aurora eyes her long legs and arms before she shrugs, already moving on, focused on a poster next to the queue.

“Or maybe an absolute hound.” Aurora pokes Tayce’s side before wrapping herself around Tayce’s arm, tugging them forward.

“Shark fact,” Aurora continues, reading off the line-marker. “Tiger sharks have a near completely undiscerning palate. Some tiger sharks have eaten sting rays, birds, squids, old tires—even other sharks.”

“Sounds like you, A’Whora,” Tayce teases, pulling her in closer, draping an arm around her shoulder.

Aurora rolls her eyes and pats Tayce’s forearm. “I obviously only go for the finest of squids,” she says, before glancing up and giving a pronounced chomp.

“Babe, please don’t bite my pussy.”

Aurora doesn’t get to respond, finding herself right in front of the ticket scanner, who’s shifting around a bit in his uniform, unable to look at the two women in front of him. Not that Tayce or Aurora particularly care about offending some greasy twenty year-old boy at an aquarium with the concept of pussy. He scans their tickets and gives them a nod, so they walk off toward the exhibit, breaking into laughter once they clear the lobby.

The hallways are lined with fish, of all different colors and sizes, flitting in and out of coral and anemones and grasses. There’s a reception class gathered around a circular tank, trying to find the Nemo, but to no avail. Tayce knows that usually, Aurora would stop by the tank and help the kids out, wholeheartedly join this hunt for the orange and white fish. She’d remind the kids that the little clownfish might be taking a break in his anemone, just like he did in the movie, but that he’ll surely come out, especially if they’re kind and patient. And usually, Tayce would stand back a few feet and watch the scene play out, heart swelling in the process.

Today, however, Tayce’s heart is going double-time as Aurora takes her hand and pulls her through the crowd. Aurora’s on a mission, weaving in between strollers and other couples, skirting behind tour guides as they explained how algae grows, following the signs pointing toward the tiger shark exhibit with a cutting precision Tayce hadn’t seen since last year’s Arlington sample sale.

Aurora breaks free when she sees the tank, running up to it and practically smashing herself up against the glass, with no care for the second years or the family of four next to her.

Tayce catches up. “Love, you don’t gotta press your tits up against the glass, he knows you got them,” she breathes out, wrapping an arm around Aurora’s waist, pulling her back in the process.

“What the fuck,” Aurora whispers. The look of wonder she once carried is replaced with shock, her face fallen, a dangerous pout forming. “That’s not a tiger shark.” She trains her eyes to the tank and speaks quietly, pointedly, like she’s jabbing the shark with each syllable. “That’s just a shark.”

Tayce gives her a moment, her own lips pursed as she studies Aurora, then the shark, then Aurora again, searching for the disconnect but unable to find it. She was so excited to see it, but in a moment, something had gone exceptionally wrong.

She gives up, drumming her fingers against Aurora’s waist, before pointing to the sign. “We went to the right place, babe. The sign says it’s Oliver the tiger shark and he’s 17 years old…today.” Tayce turns Aurora toward the sign, but her feet stay firmly planted, her eyes trained on the shark. Nonetheless, she continues. “It’s his birthday, love.”

“Fuck his birthday,” Aurora grumbles, head following the shark as it passes by them. “He doesn’t look like a bloody tiger shark to me. Why’s he gray? Where’s the stripes?”

“Aww, he’s old. That’s why he doesn’t have any stripes.”

Aurora shakes her head like Tayce doesn’t get it, and frankly, she doesn’t. As far as Tayce sees, it’s a perfectly good shark, swimming about, living his life, being as inspirational as any shark can be. But Aurora’s miffed, her mood as clouded and dreary as the weather outside.

She hikes her purse up her shoulder and leans forward again, her nose and two fists pressed right against the glass. “You’re a filthy liar, Oliver.”

“Babe, it’s a shark—”

“I’ll still fight an old bastard like you. You’ll pay for your lies.”

Tayce takes her by the shoulders and spins her around, marching them out of the exhibit. “Ok, you can’t fight a shark so it’s time to leave him alone. Time to find some other inspiration in the…” Tayce looks up at the next exhibit’s sign as they walk. “…sea spiders.” She shakes her head. “Christ.”

As they walk away, Aurora softens, though she’s still dreary and listless. The spiders, of course, aren’t helping—they’re disgusting little heathens, what with their spindling legs and radioactive green backlight. Even Tayce has to admit that. But as she pulls Aurora in for pictures, she finds her limply pressed against her side, disinterested in the pursuit, even though in one of the pictures, it looks like the spider’s balanced on Aurora just so, like it’s woven itself into her waves, made a nest atop her head. Tayce quickly sets this as a new background; Aurora only gives a hum in response.

They continue with the deep sea creatures, with their dark tanks and neon blue tint, stopping at the octopus and its inky purple light, all spread out against the wall of its tank, its orange tentacles sticking and peeling periodically. Tayce again insists on a picture, “for memory’s sake, even though he looks like a bollock, all pruned from the bath.” Reluctantly, Aurora lets out a breathy laugh and gives in. Tayce counts this as a win, even though her pouting resumes once they move on.

At the next tank, Tayce is amused by the little round fish that dips in and out of its hole, its mouth forming an “O” as they approach it. Aurora cracks a smile, but for a moment, when Tayce pulls her in by the shoulder and makes the same face, jaw slack and nude-painted lips rounded like the fish’s. Aurora claims she’s not going to kiss “fish lips over here,” and yet she does, giving Tayce a peck. Tayce snaps a picture of her now smiling girlfriend, the red light from deep within the fish’s hole haloing her.

Aurora needs a bit less prodding in the stingray exhibit, sticking her hand in the open tank as soon as she’s given the go-ahead. “He’s a velvet pancake,” Aurora comments, petting the flat beast, its mouth flap opening and closing as it moves through the tank. Tayce reaches for Aurora’s folio prematurely.

“Velvet is super 2018. I’m bored of it,” Aurora explains, drying her hands before taking Tayce’s. “Thank you though.” She says it quietly, but Tayce knows she’s appreciative from the way she tightens her grip, by the way her thumb lays on top of Tayce’s as they walk into the next exhibit.

“Look at all these fucking sharks.” Tayce glances upward, dragging Aurora’s hand with her as she points, full of awe, glued to the shark gliding above her, cutting through the water seamlessly. “Look at them go. Absolute beasts they are.”

Aurora sees it’s clearly Tayce’s turn to be struck with wonder, and at the sharks no less. So, she tries to wipe the pout off of her face, smooth out her furrow, and take in the moment. Take in Tayce, arms spread before her. How the blue light reflects off of her cheekbones. Her still rain-slick hair and jacket. And the sharks passing above her are beautiful, with their milky white bellies and steel body, their rounded faces and sharp fins. There has to be something inspiring about them, she’s sure. Maybe in the shapes, or the colors? She could play with the sharp and round structure, surely. Or work in grayscale. Imitate the leather-y touch of their skin. She rests against the wall, pulling out her folio, clicking her pen aimlessly.

Tayce continues with the sharks, pointing at them one by one, asking each, “let’s be having you? And you? And you?” with a silly point. She takes pictures with a few.

But when Tayce returns, suggesting they head out and have lunch while the weather’s clear, Aurora finds her paper blank yet again, more and more sure that she has nothing left to give.

The cafe Tayce picks out is splendid and quaint, though Aurora wouldn’t expect anything less. The server wipes down their seats and the metal table before they take a seat, hands over the menus, and gives them a moment to look them over. Aurora doesn’t even bother looking, knowing she’s too upset to eat much at all, instead laying her head against the cool metal, trying to focus. Or, rather, pull her focus away from her imminent failure and toward Tayce’s new story in the saga about the lady who orders all these clothes online, and every single week, comes into the store, three shipping bags in hand, demanding that everything be returned.

“They’re not even nice clothes.” Tayce adds, dipping a chip. “We sell some nice shit, but she keeps buying garbage and complaining that it’s garbage.”

Aurora hums, ripping at the bits of lettuce hanging out of her sandwich.

“So she comes on in, throws her shipping bag onto the counter, whips out this polyester blouse, and sticks her hand through it and starts ranting on about how see-through the top is.” Tayce sticks her hand up, wiggling her fingers around.

“She shouldn’t have bothered with a polyester Zara shirt to begin with.”

“Shouldn’t have bothered buying a top labeled “sheer” to begin with,” Tayce threw back. “I thought she’d stop her nonsense after I took her around the store, pointing out everything that was good, would look good on her, would fit her enviable work-life-balance, but she still comes back, every Thursday with more shit.” Tayce takes the now ketchup-soggy chip out of the ramekin and sticks it in her mouth. “Even if we didn’t go to the aquarium, I would have called out today. Like I just couldn’t look at those shirts anymore without frying my mind.”

“Couldn’t have that, could we?” Aurora tries at a laugh, finding it coming up faint.

Tayce tilts her head, analyzing the situation in front of her. She opens her mouth, like she’s got something to say, before stealing one of Aurora’s chips.

Pointing the chip at Aurora, she doesn’t ask if Aurora’s okay, or if she’s still disappointed by the aquarium, or if she’s still racking her brain for a sliver of a design idea. Instead, she asks “Well, Whora, what did you think a tiger shark was?”

Tayce always cuts down to the bone, even when she’s not meaning to.

Aurora throws her head into her hands, speaking through her fingers. “Fuck if I know, something fantastic and inspiring and shiny and fierce and—”

“Orange?” Tayce laughs before popping the chip into her mouth.

“Fuck off,” Aurora mutters, raking her fingers through her hair. “I thought it’d all just hit me, babe, and now I’ve got no idea what to do.”

Aurora looks up, blinking rapidly. Her nose starts feeling peppery, and she knows soon her face will become red, blotchy, and streaked with tears.

But Tayce reaches over and takes her hand between both of hers. Aurora dares a glance at Tayce, before resting her gaze on their hands.

“Look, I know you’re not going to tell yourself this, but you’re brilliant and talented, and your brain is, like, dancing so fast, even when your feet aren’t moving.” She gives Aurora’s hand a squeeze. “You’ve got so many ideas up there, and I’m sure you’ll have the work to show for it soon. And those ideas are surely better than a tiger shark pantsuit, promise.”

Wiping a stray tear, Aurora breaks into a chuckle. “It was like, my dumbest idea.”

“Not your dumbest, no.” Tayce says. “But a dumb one.”

When they get home, Tayce all about shoves Aurora into her office, throws a can of Fanta in behind her, and tells her to look through the pictures from today, get inspired by nature, sort it out, and come back when she’s got a design.

“Can I at least get a kiss for good luck?” Aurora shouts through the door.

“How about one for good work?” Tayce quips. And before Aurora can fire back, she hears the faint sounds of the Mortal Kombat theme through the crack in the door, and thinks better of disturbing Tayce when she’s in the zone, getting out the stress of Polyester Blouse Lady on Johnny Cage.

So, Aurora picks the Fanta off of the floor, sets it on her desk to rest, and settles into her chair. She moves around in her seat, trying at least a dozen positions before taking a deep breath, flipping to a fresh page.

She pulls out her phone, scrolling through the pictures Tayce sent her today. There’s a few of the two of them on the tube, Tayce resting on Aurora’s shoulder. Anyone who didn’t know Tayce better would think she looked ready for a nap, with her closed eyes and relaxed lips, but Tayce wasn’t one to rest in the middle of an adventure.

There’s another of Aurora, taken from behind, stood in line, bouncing on her heels, a neon wave floating above her head, as though she were under the water herself.

There’s Aurora, plastered against the tiger shark tank, her face blue tinted by the water and the lights in the tank, her gaze steely as she watches that shark—who is an arsehole, she might add.

And then the next series of pictures—the two of them again. Painted in neon green, a sea spider nesting in Aurora’s hair. Then in purple, shocking purple, the octopus behind them looking ready to strangle them both, it’s tentacles plinking off of the glass like pennies into a well. Then they’re kissing in front of the little fish that kept opening and shutting its mouth, forming a perfect “o,” bathing them in a bloody red tint. She’s not sure how, but Tayce managed to miss all of the miserable faces Aurora knew she had on throughout the aquarium. But when she thinks a bit deeper, she’s not sure when she’s ever looked truly miserable around Tayce.

She nearly puts her phone down when she comes across the next picture. She couldn’t even remember the moment; Tayce must have asked someone else to take it.

It’s Tayce, resting against the far wall of the shark exhibit—the tunnel-style tank, with the sharks swimming all around them—glancing off to the side with a lazy grin, eyes vigilant, wild. And the neon blue all around her, bouncing off the shine of her slicker, hitting her cheekbones and her collarbones just-so, filtering through her hair.

Tayce cackles from the other room, the metallic clash of swords following.

Absolutely radiant. Aurora chews at her pencil, studying the picture further, the way the light bounces off of the wet jacket…

And Aurora’s scribbling, the model she sketches nothing more than a handful of lines, led by memory, as she’s working desperately to draft the design. The pencil sweeps, once, twice, three times, as she sees the fabric floating. But it’s floating over something tight, sleek, but still soft and shiny. And there has to be a shimmering quality to it, or course. It’s not opaque either, no, much more sheer. She’s going to have to work with chiffon, damn it to bits, but it’ll give her the look she’s after, the wet shine she needs. And in a moment’s time, she’s flipped over to another page for another design, one that drapes lightly. She glances once more at the picture, before following the tempo of her pencil, this time switching it out for a light blue.

In a blink, she’s filled four pages.

So she grabs her folio and runs out into the living room, knowing from the sound of the TV that Tayce is still there, and still ripping Polyester Shirt Lady a new one, mentally.

“I’m here for my kiss,” Aurora announces smuggly, throwing her folio into Tayce’s lap.

She’s smart enough to pause the game right as Aurora makes her presence known, surely anticipating her dramatics after all this time.

Tayce flips it open, staring Aurora down like she’s about to rip her designs apart, though she knows Tayce would never, or really, wouldn’t have the reason to do so. It’s that serious look Tayce has, though Aurora knows it only shows up because she’s serious about Aurora’s designs. “And I’m here for some good fashion, love.”

Aurora falls beside her on the couch, pulling her legs up on the seat and curling in against Tayce. She’s warm. It’s comforting.

“So I’ve got this one, like the octopus tank. And it’s got this iridescent purple that just flows off of the pantsuit, like it flows right off of it,” Aurora explains, leaning in further, pointing out the details. “I’m thinking Bim for this one.”

“I can definitely see that. Definitely. With all that movement, ugh.” Tayce runs a finger over the design, outlining where the fabric would trail off steaming behind the model, like the wind’s carrying it, like it’s suspended in mid-air.

“Okay flip,” Aurora instructs, pressing her cheek against Tayce’s arm. Aurora continues, answering questions about fabric, structures underneath the garnments, styling. Tayce slips the pencil out of Aurora’s hand at some point, jotting down answers as she rambles on and on, far too excited to manage writing it on her own. So Tayce scribbles down her directive to add wirey jewelry around the wrists, heels with lacings up the calf, everything looking like it’s floating just below the surface. At some point, the Xbox powers off, until all that’s lighting the room is the standby logo.

Tayce reaches over the couch, turning the lamp on.

“So, which one are you thinking of for me?” Tayce pokes at Aurora’s side, her voice trailing into a whine.

Aurora takes back her book, flipping through the pages aimlessly. “Oh, you know, the first one. From this morning…”

“You didn’t even have—”

“…Absolute nudity.” Aurora curls in closer, a devious smile forming. “Or maybe full vinyl?”

“I thought no more after last time?” Tayce begins flipping through the book. “I guess I’ll just have to find it on my own, now won’t I?”

“Gimmie that,” Aurora takes it from her hands and flips to the page easily, holding the design close against her chest. “And you look good in the vinyl, is all I’m saying.”

She plops it down in Tayce’s lap. “You’re obviously getting the finale gown, moron.”

Tayce scans over the page, over and over, tracing along the outline with her finger, as though she can feel the slip of the iridescent blue chifon layered over black organza, how it gathers at one hip, falling down in crashing waves, with the other side draped cleanly, softly.

“It’s supposed to be murky, like you’re coming out of the depths of the ocean where all the weird spindly things live, that have, like five eyes and spikes and stuff.” Aurora bristles for a moment. “At least that’s what I was thinking. But really, you could wear any of them if you wanted, it’s all inspired by you,” she says, soft, feather-light, like she’s letting the words float on down from the surface.

They continue on in silence, Aurora watching as Tayce scans over the design, mouth agape. Tayce swallows and mutters, “lil ol’ me, the finale?” She turns to Aurora. “It’s just gorgeous. So, absolutely gorgeous.”

And Aurora smiles, closing her eyes, breathing in the moment, the relief, the momentum of the collection. She places the folio on the coffee table and sets her sights on Tayce.

“So, did I earn my kiss?”

Tayce rolls her eyes playfully. “If you insist,” she says, not leaving Aurora much time to think before pulling her in closer, thumb stroking along her cheek. Their lips meet comfortably, knowingly, in a way that would seem commonplace if not for love.

They break apart, Aurora resting in the crook of Tayce’s neck.

“You did an amazing job, love,” Tayce says, quietly this time, as though the moment deserves quiet. And the two hold the silence, open palmed, soaking in the golden, still light of the lamp.

“Oi, you!” Aurora taps on the glass, sure she’s the subject of a few wandering eyes, and the reason why the aquarium security tests the receiver of their walkie a few times. But she doesn’t care. She has some unfinished business, business that’s been keeping her up at night, making her toss and turn right into Tayce’s spread-out, sleeping form, ever since she began production on her collection.

So she’s returned to Oliver the tiger shark. This time, she’s bearing gifts.

Aurora points at the shark as it passes, hoping in vain it’ll stop for her, just as she’s stopped for him. She tries again, snapping at him as he passes by once more, before giving up, feeling lucky Tayce wasn’t around to mock her attempts. Aurora continues on regardless.

“We’ve had our differences, but I must thank you for the inspiration…” Aurora trails off, spotting the shark stopped on the other side of the tank. She scurries over, hoping she can get a good view of him, maybe take a reprieve from looking like a lunatic, talking to nothing.

“But thank you, Oliver the shark,” she says to him, before he swims off again, practically to the spot Aurora was just standing.

She huffs and hauls herself back to the other side of the tank.

“You’re a right dick, you are.” Aurora breathes in deeply before digging into her bag, pulling out her phone, pressing it against the tank, as though he’ll look at the picture and have any idea who she is. “It was really her, my girlfriend here who did the heavy lifting, and she got more than a thank you for it all.”

Aurora bites at her lip a bit, locking her phone, muttering, “sex, obviously, but you don’t get it, you’re a dumb, heterosexual shark, so…” into her purse as she plops her phone in.

“But I figured giving you some thanks would earn me back some ocean karma points—” The shark swims to the back of the tank, facing entirely away from Aurora, and she has to remind herself not to stomp like a petulant child.

She settles for muttering a “fucks sake” under her breath.

“Anyway,” she hikes up her purse. “Have a good one, Oliver the tiger shark.”

She gives a half-hearted wave before walking away, dividing to give that funny, little, perpetually surprised fish a visit, hoping he’ll appreciate her company more.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk2 #phryne #just below the surface #tayce #a'whora #taywhora #lesbian au #aquarium au #shark fic #established relationship #fluff #concrit welcome #submission

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thecagedsong · 3 years ago

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Forgotten Light: Chatper 8: Boundaries

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11

Chapter 8: Boundaries

Ronodin hadn’t returned, and said that he wouldn’t until tonight. Kendra had another day to whittle away. She read more in her book on the Fair Folk over breakfast, then sat in front of her crafting materials again.

Kendra had no idea if her medallion even worked, but at least it dried nicely. The wooden texture came through the paint, but that made it look functional. Like, hey, this is a wooden medallion meant to weaken my enemies, not be a high school shop class project.

Did she take woodshop class? Did she ever go to high school? From Ronodin’s story, Kendra probably had tutors. Why did she feel like she knew more about the American public school system than she did about monster hunting? Or even tutoring schedules?

Trying to figure out her past by evaluating what bodies of knowledge she possessed and what she didn’t left her with a headache.

Kendra refocused on the fabrics in front of her. She did okay with the medallion, maybe her body had remembered something her brain didn’t. Hopefully that subconscious knowledge would help her do what she wanted to make next: create a jacket.

Ronodin assured her that the clothes in her wardrobe were all hers, taken and given to Ronodin from her own closet for exactly this time. Pieces her family didn’t approve of and wouldn’t know to find missing. But old Kendra’s clothes…left a bit more exposed than she liked. Aside from also being mostly black and red, and she was really growing tired of those colors, the dresses were low cut at the top, and high cut around the thighs.

She looked sexy in them, but with Ronodin continuing to ‘forget’ that she had only met him two days ago, sexy wasn’t the look she wanted to wear. She’d start with a simple cardigan, covering up her shoulders and back, then see what she could do about altering hemlines.

Looking over the fabrics, she wished she had pink. She thought she liked the color. Pink wasn’t among the fabric options. There was more red and black, and white, silver, dark blue, green, orange, and dark purple.

Because it would clash horribly with the red and the black, she selected the pumpkin orange fabric. If she was enough of an eyesore, maybe she could convince Ronodin that they needed to pop into a shopping mall for a real wardrobe. Something she was comfortable with now. The orange fabric was a wool/giant hair blend, dyed with pigment from the Fala plant, that produced its own distractor spell to convince people that it was dead until they forgot what they were looking for.

Sewing was a lot harder than she thought, especially without a sewing machine. Did she do this by hand the first time? The needle felt so awkward, her stitches were uneven, she was approximating the designs in the book, but some of them had her folding fabric before cutting? What did it mean by grain? She tried to incorporate ‘make me look hideous!’ magic intentions as she sewed, imaging Ronodin cringing away from her, refusing to look at her in it, but it was a little hard when most of her focus went to not pricking herself.

Still, she wasn’t a quitter. Kendra had to undo a seam, because apparently clothes were assembled inside out, but by referencing the book every few minutes, and working through hand cramps, she managed to at least make the pieces stick together.

It was early afternoon when Kendra finished her uneven hems. Some of the tools in the basket might have helped her, but her books didn’t reference any of them, so she left them alone.

Holding up the final product, Kendra giggled. She’d done everything on larger estimates, figuring that her goal was to be covered and folds in fabric were easier to have than one side not fitting, and cutting down was easier than adding. The result could generously be described as an orange tent. Kendra had to see herself in the monstrosity. She rushed to the bathroom, passing Mendigo in the hall, and positioned herself in front of the mirror.

She slung on the cardigan over the black lace dress, and cracked up.

“Hi Ronodin!” Kendra waved to the mirror with both hands, one sleeve reaching halfway up her palm the other so wide it fell back against her elbow at the motion. The ruby necklace looked like it was suffering, trying to hide from her attempts at sewing.

“Oh, er Kendra, I see you tried sewing,” Kendra mocked in the mirror with a low voice.

Kendra twirled, then did an impression of herself with a higher pitch than normal, “I did, do you like it? I love it! I put soo much effort into it! I love the pumpkin look, don’t you?”

She imagined Ronodin’s face, the horror, the strain not to insult his girlfriend, and burst out laughing. Kendra couldn’t wait to see his face for real. She would insist on wearing this until he took her to the mall.

Kendra stopped laughing and frowned at her reflection. That really didn’t seem right. Even if she had arranged all of this herself, why would she arrange a hideout she couldn’t ever leave? If old Kendra had wanted to live a free life with Ronodin, why didn’t she pick a hide away that let her go outside? Her family couldn’t be powerful enough to search the whole world. If she had been able to pick anywhere, a remote island seemed like a much better hiding place than where she was.

Maybe she and Ronodin had had a disagreement over how long she should stay underground. He might be capitalizing on her memory loss to keep her extra safe; it’s possible Kendra had never intended for herself to remain sealed away. That seemed like something Ronodin would do. Slip in a little lie amongst the truths to save himself battles.

Well, wherever they were, Kendra wanted out. Now that she wasn’t dressed for a cocktail party, she would find her way to a window at least. She went back to her room, and decided to arm herself with the bow she had brought with her through the barrel, even though she didn’t have any arrows. She hadn’t had anything else on her, so she slipped on her shoes and went to the door that Ronodin usually walked out of.

She turned the heavy knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. Jiggled it some more, but didn’t move. She searched everywhere for a key, but couldn’t find on. What kind of front door could be locked from the outside?

“Mendigo?” Kendra called, and her puppet came forward. “Open this door.”

Kendra stepped to the side as Mendigo started straining his wooden hands at the door. He turned back to her and shrugged, showing his wooden fingers. Duh, no way could he get the grip he needed that way.

Should she order him to break down the door? These rooms were rented to them by their mysterious ‘host’, who apparently had Ronodin working like a slave. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her busting his door down. She decided against it until things looked more dire.

The last hasty, destructive action she had ordered had almost killed her fiancé. She would demand a key from Ronodin when he got back before resorting to property damage.

“Thank you Mendigo,” Kendra said, “Let’s see what else there is in this place.” Putting her hand on the wall to the left of the door, Kendra started walking, never lifting it. She discovered three different storage closets: one for cleaning supplies, one empty, one for linens. Kitchen, Ronodin’s bedroom (extremely frugal, disappointingly empty) (he had a couple of robes Kendra considered using to augment her own wardrobe, but decided that would send the wrong message), Library, bathroom, craft room, Kendra’s room, Kendra’s bathroom, Kendra’s closet, sitting room/front room, and back to the main door.

That was it. The entirety of her existence, done up in blacks, reds, and gray stone and drenched in blue firelight. Some of the carpets had cream accents, but that was it.

Kendra knew what kind of front door locked from the outside.

She wandered back to her craft room and picked up a canvas to draw. This was about passing time. Next time she wouldn’t let Ronodin leave without her. Kendra just needed to stay sane until he got back. Even if practicing her magic with nicer emotions would create a less effective item, she wanted something nice to look at. Something peaceful. An outdoor scene, and she’d try to work peace into it. It was for herself anyway, and she’d do it in blue and green and white, and it would look beautiful.

Unfortunately, Kendra couldn’t visualize what ‘outside’ looked like. She knew the sky was blue, it had a sun, and grass was green and flowers came in all colors, but the pieces wouldn’t put themselves together. Kendra had never seen ‘outside’, she had nothing but rote facts. She put her pencil to canvas anyway, figuring that if she drew the pieces, it would all come together eventually.

Her hand refused to move. It had no direction on what to draw. Were horizons bumpy or straight? What color blue was the sky? What did sun look like on plant leaves?

Glaring, Kendra started sketching her craft table, in front of her, with the wall behind it turning into prison bars. She’d seen those in her mad-dash self-kidnapping.

Sketching came easier than sewing or carving. Maybe because more art principals were known by the public, the curse wasn’t able to remove them as personal memories. It was nice to have something come together, even if it was only a picture of her cell.

When she got to painting, she ignored the descriptions of materials and focused on colors. Easier than before, she took threads of magic, threads of the flame from the candle inside her, into her hand and turned them to her own emotions, mixing with the paint materials. She wanted people to look at the painting and know that she was trapped. She wanted them to know the suffocation, and the feeling of crafting little trinkets while sun and stars roved the heavens unseen. Not being able to draw the sun or the sky. Not knowing what those looked like. Not knowing what anything looked like outside of six people, a puppet, and her prison. It was a nice prison, possibly one of the nicest in the world.

Kendra painted black beyond the bars. Even gilded cages birthed insanity.

#Forgotten Light #Fablehaven #Dragonwatch #Kendra Sorenson #I...may have been dealing with the initial pandemic claustrophobia when I wrote this #I'm just being dramatic #I'm at it again like an addict with pen

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laceymorganwrites · 4 years ago

Text

The damn jacket

Word count: 2,210

Pairing: none rlly

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs, like a sentence of Mötley Crüe slander xD, um bad structure??

A/N: this is a mess. modern AU, kinda character analysis, idek but it was fun. Inspired by @pirate-shrimp (if any of u catch the MSI reference I will marry u on the fucking spot)

Kid had bar vibes. He was the kind of guy you found sitting in the corner of your local pub, just far away from the others not to be forced into a conversation but also not far away enough to seem lonely.

He was the local phenomena of the man you didn´t want to get close to but whose story you wanted to know at the same time. The guy who pushed people away because he was more scared of hurting them than being hurt.

Hell, he doubted he could get hurt anymore at this point, over the years he´s lost so many friendships, been betrayed so much by the people he considered the closest to him, it was laughable.

Maybe that was why he didn´t let anyone get close anymore, why he always seemed so distant, his thoughts stuck in a past long gone or perhaps a future he knew he´d never have.

A good for nothing college drop out, those were the hard facts he had to face every day.

It wasn´t because he was dumb that he quit, far from it. Kid wasn´t thrown out, he quit himself because college was too restricting for him. There were some classes that were nice enough, but working towards exams really wasn´t his style, he wanted to do something, anything really.

People like him didn´t have it easy, society measured your worth in degrees and results. But what if the way was so much more fun than the end result?

Kid had a lot of jobs to make a living, never staying in one though, he got bored so easily. How could anyone expect anyone to keep doing the same routinized thing for over 40 years? It was insanity. To him anyways.

Being punk, never fitting in, living the life of sex, drugs and rock n roll…. It all seemed so much more fun than it really was.

Kid´s band was a bad ripoff of Mötley Crüe, though some might argue that the band itself was.

Yes, he fit into some stereotypes that he was so sick of hearing: playing in a band, being that eccentric lead singer that caused too much trouble for his own good, though the second part wasn´t true anymore. Lately he just wanted people to leave him alone.

It was nice being a small town band, the bonds with your audience were so much stronger, it felt like hanging out with friends rather than playing a show for money. Kid never wanted that feeling to end, he never wanted to end up like those big bands who lost their spark, who lost that glimmer in their eyes, their racing heart when Killer counted and initiated their first song, the immense feeling of belonging whenever the crowd would sing his words back to him.

This.

This was what he was made for. Passion. That was what was missing when he was studying, he needed to do things, be that sketching or tinkering with his car or writing everything down that was going on in his head.

In truth Kid started writing because it all got too much, too many fake people around him, too many people acting like his best friend and leaving him cold the next day, too many people telling him they loved him and then spitting at him, gossiping behind his back.

A part of him missed the times when he cared, when he was shocked and hurt by this. By now it´s become so common, like the energy drink before work.

Kid didn´t have the dream rockstar life, not the one where people looked so cool shooting up in those movies, that shit was fucked up and society was sick for portraying it like that.

He only had bad experiences with drugs, living in a small town like this he saw the addicts everywhere, sad creatures who couldn´t support themselves anymore, who got dependent on things that destroyed them because nobody would help, because nobody gave a shit about them. Why would they? They were good for nothings who couldn´t work ten hours in some shitty job that didn´t pay them enough to pay rent.

The system wasn´t corrupt? Yeah, bullshit.

The problem he faced was that of a fleeting society, a society that sped up so much, never once slowing down and looking around to see what was out there. They never thought about expanding their horizons.

Schoolings were looked down upon, but at the same time cheered for. It was so strange… the craft was dying but also needed.

Nothing held value anymore, nothing lasted, nothing strove to.

Kid was happy with his life as it was now. He hated being selfish and arrogant but learned that a certain amount was needed to survive, you needed to look out for yourself before you could look out for anyone else. A local rockstar, frequent bar visitor, the best mechanic in town. All those fit him so well but at the same time he looked the part, oh how he hated it sometimes. The acquaintances he made because of his looks, because people spread rumors about him, making him more myth than man, it was pretty tiring.

Especially when they all were disappointed by the rather bland truth.

Not that Kid was bland in any way, it was just that people expected so much more from him, they wanted him to be this rebel, this punk, this heartbreaker.

Expected him to have tattoos and piercings but the truth was that he had such a low pain tolerance it was embarrassing. Yes, he bore every punch and kick he ever got without any complaints because there were parts of him that told him he deserved it, parts that hated him more than anything else.

Just try it…. there´s nothing you can do that I haven´t already done myself, you can´t hate me more than I hate myself.

Ah yes, the typical phenomenon of this generation: being way too soft and overly sensitive.

That was it, they weren´t more considerate and aware of their mental health and other people´s wellness, of identity and morals, of things that got swiped under the rug because ´it was always this way´. Why the fuck would people so desperately try to keep something misogynistic, racist and homophobic up? Just because it existed the majority of time doesn´t mean it was a good system.

Fuck, it never was.

And Kid was sick of everyone playing down those things. So what if he was a fucking crybaby and didn´t get humor? He wouldn´t take this shit anymore, yeah it mostly didn´t affect him but he got angry beyond belief for the people it did affect.

It wasn´t fair.

He couldn´t do anything? It wouldn´t matter anyway? It wouldn´t make a difference? So fucking what. He´d never know if he didn´t try.

Just now Kid finished up his work at the garage, closing up shop for the day. It was a busy day, many people who were driving through came to him to do a check up, others came by for their regular reparation. He loved that busy meant fun in his world. He was so fucking happy that he could do the things that brought him joy, that burned like a fire in his heart. And no, he didn´t care how cheesy that sounded.

Washing his hands and closing the door behind him he called Killer to let him know he was done. Killer was also just now finishing up his shift at the record shop. Now was their time to rehearse, band practice was always the best part of the day, though quite honestly most of the time it was just the guys hanging out and having a good time. And they wouldn´t have it any other way.

Kid grabbed his jacket and locked the doors before making his way to his car.

The jacket. That damn jacket.

It was where it all started. He bought that old thing from his first ever pay at the garage, his boss told him to spend it on something nice for himself, something that´d make him a man. He didn´t ever ask what he meant by that, his boss said weird things at times. But this was true, at least in a sense.

It was the first time Kid ever stepped foot inside of a second hand store and it was like heaven revealed himself to him, it was pure paradise. Just going through the aisles, finding treasures like no other, it became one of his favorite things to do.

The jacket was the first thing that ever caught his eye, the firs thing he purchased. The black leather with the yellow and dark red details, the skull on the back… it was calling to him. Those were his favorite colors, he didn´t even have to think about it before he bought it.

But what about it made him a man? It was just a jacket after all. But that´s where you´d be wrong.

It was so much more than that.

The very next day he started wearing it religiously, he noticed people staring at him at the streets but this time it wasn´t because he was a loser, it was because he looked fucking cool. The jacket boosted his confidence immensely. And it showed.

His boss complimented him and said that from this day on his journey was only beginning, and how right he was with that.

It was the day he reconnected with his high school friend Killer, he didn´t even know he was back in town, let alone working at his favorite record shop and searching for a band to play drums for. So Kid got his first guitar and played it to death, jamming with Killer and searching for others, thus meeting Heat and Wire, the coolest guys on earth.

He grew so much, finding more and more passion in his life, only his jacket stayed the same. He decided that it was time to change that.

Kid went to the crafts store and bought red leather protectors with a quilting pattern, sewing it to the shoulders of the jacket. He also decided to pimp the skull, making it his own personal jacket in painting on the goggles he wore at work, two knives as a cross because it was edgy and of course: his hair. His untamable hair that would never hold up so he got used to wearing any sort of silly glasses, sometimes even the goggles from work. Hair gel was a lie to him, so was hairspray.

He painted bright red flames in homage to his dyed hair, yeah, it wasn´t just a phase.

Everything was coming together.

He grabbed his stupidly large square blue sunglasses that made him look like a dad. Yes, Kid had a dad style. He loved second hand shirts more than anything, not the boring ones, the ones with the stupidest prints, he wore dad shoes like no one´s business and he was proud of it. He was the cool dad, the cool dad with the big car and puns that were so bad they somehow got good again. But damn, did he have talent with words. Screw not being able to formulate shit in speech, that man could write like a god, or rather the devil. Because, let´s be real, the devil sounds so much better on the mic.

Starting the engine, he drove home to at least make some room to sit for his friends, on the way he shopped for groceries too. Now that he was home he got the snacks, drinks and notebooks ready as well as the tons of pens where he never knew which one worked but never threw any away because somehow he thought he´d exchange the mines. Yeah, as if.

He threw on a black shirt and some black joggers before tying his hair up into a tiny ponytail, still his bangs fell in his face as always. It was annoying so he clipped them back with some black hair clips. He didn´t care if he looked stupid with that, at least he could see clearly now.

But getting a hair cut? No way, he looked too cool for that.

Kid opened the door when the others came and sat down on the couch with his acoustic guitar, lately they decided to play around with reimagining their songs after supporting and motivating Kid to sing rather than growl. He had such a nice guttural and gruff voice, these imperfections when singing, the edges just made the song that much more genuine.

Listening to Kid you just couldn´t help but get mesmerized, the way his biceps flexed when he held the guitar, the emotions in his eyes, the way he frowned and squinted whenever the lyrics got emotional and close to home, it made you want to protect him, to keep him happy, to keep this alive, this wonderful world he created for himself.

The others also scribbled down ideas and practiced new melodies, tried out new lyrics and solos. After a while work mixed in with private chats and the night faded into distant, nostalgic laughter and the crinkles around Kid´s eyes that showed how much it all meant to him.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece oneshot #one piece scenario #one piece drabble #one piece fic #one piece kid #one piece modern au #one piece writing #op #op imagine #op oneshot #op scenario #op kid #op drabble #op fic #op writing #op modern au

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four-rabbit · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Piece Left

This was supposed to be fluff the first time I had this idea. But then I decided that it could be fluffy with angst in the end. But then I got to actually write it and it became angst with even more angst in the end, so... hope you enjoy

I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: For the first time since he left the Others, Virgil reunites the courage to talk to an old friend, but neither of them seem to know how to feel about each other. Or how to not make things worse.

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Warnings: swearing, mentions to death and dead bodies, angst (does that count as a warning?), fight, sex mention

Word Count: 2287

“I told them my name” Remus looked away from the canvas in front of him, just to see who he once called a friend standing in the middle of his room, with an expression as abstract as the paint Creativity was trying to finish. So many feelings in such a small space it became impossible to understand.

“Ok? Good for you, I don’t give a fuck” replied, focusing his gazes on anything except Virgil’s eyes, doing his best to keep his emotions simple. We hate each other. He abandoned us. That should be enough. Virgil stayed in silence for what seemed like a lifetime. “What do you want, emo?”

“Thomas painted his hair” he started.

“Yeah, I noticed. Purple doesn’t really go well with green. Unless we’re talking about a wound. Or a dead body. Nevermind, purple and green are awesome together”

“Yeah, I really liked the hair, actually. I was thinking… I mean, you and Deceit have green and yellow. The core sides also have colors. I’m kinda tired of the black”

“Are you? I think it matches you, boring, quickly establishes that you’re the villain, having been washed in at least some months”

“I just want you to teach me how to sew,” Virgil replied, already starting to lose his temper. Calm down, he said to himself,he may be hard to deal with, but you are here to help, not make things worse.

“Roman knows how to sew, probably way better than me. Do you think I should add like, blood red or more like a wine red?” He pointed to the canvas, answering his own question before Virgil could do so “Yeah, blood red of course, the classic”

“I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Also, I don’t think Princey’s style really matches mine” Remus wishes he was as honest to himself as he was with other people. He knew deep down it would hurt more to do that. He knew that getting a bite of what used to be their friendship would just make him more hungry for something that didn’t even exist anymore. He knew it would probably hurt both of them even more. But someone wanted his help for the first time in… well. Virgil wanted his help.

“Ok, get out of my room” said, finally turning to Anxiety, who tried to pretend those words didn’t send a wave of disappointment though his body.

“Of course... This was a mistake” mumbled, starting to sink out.

“No dude! Fuck, I mean, like, intrusive thoughts and anxiety is never a good mix, let’s go to your room or a neutral room” quickly explained.

“Oh” Virgil came back, seeming surprised “I can take your room just fine, dude, I’m used to it”

“It got way worse since the last time you were here, trust me, Gerard Gay” Virgil looked around. The view did look messier, if it was possible. The floor felt like skin, but with something off. He could hear whispers in the back of his consciousness, to which he could never identify a source. The smell was less like trash can and more like a trash can on fire where a corpse had been discarded some days ago. But he could take all that. He could take hours in that room, the same way Remus could take hours in his room.

“I don’t see how”

“As much as I would love to see Thomas hyperventilating because his anxiety can’t stop thinking about how people are going to invade his house and slowely murder him if he doesn’t check all the locks at least five times, I’m pretty sure you don’t want that headache. And it will be a hell of a headache as soon as the room reaches your mind”

“Fine, My room, then?”

“Yeah, I’m in need of some new spiderwebs anyway”

Virgil’s room didn’t change much since The Duke was there for the last time, except for some new Disney posters, probably from Roman and a drawing on the desk right beside anxiety’s bed. It was terribly colorful and childish, with all the three core sides and Virgil. Patton, then. Of course it was Patton. Anxiety immediately took the gift out of Creativity’s sight.

“I’m not gonna eat it or anything, y’know?”

“It’s personal”

“Of fucking course it is” He could see how Patton seemed better compared to Janus. But they didn’t need a stupid - and shitty, let’s be honest - card to prove how much they cared for, everything was just so fucking stupid and boring with the core sides, why would Virgil fucking chose to be with them?! What was wrong with him?! What did Remus do wrong?! “It’s really shitty, but I guess daddy has always been bad at everything he did”

“Could you keep it down? For at least thirty fucking minutes?” Virgil snapped, clenching his fists and looking at Remus with pure danger in his eyes.

“Do you have a… “He looked around, wishing he could just stop fucking talking for at least one damn second “A sketch. For how you want your hoodie to be?

“I do, actually” Virgil kept his eyes away from his old friend, the tension in the room so heavy it could be cut, grabbing one of the drawings on the same table Patton’s gift was and giving it to the duke. It was… a concept. Remus conjured a pen, turning the paper and using it’s other side to make a more clear image, giving it back to anxiety.

“How about this?” Virgil tried not to smile, but his eyes betrayed him by shining. It was perfect.

"It 's cool”

“Great” he then started to reunite all the materials. One of Virgil’s older hoodies, purple fabric, white and black threads and…

“Why a spinning wheel?”

"It 's cooler” replied, shrugging.

“If I touch the needle will I also sleep for one hundred years?”

“Who knows? Now sit your ass down, emo, this will take time”

“Ok, what do I do first?” said, sitting on his bed and waiting for instruction. Remus flinched until the realization struck him.

“Wait, you actually want me to teach you? Buddy, I’m the worst teacher ever and you know that” And also I’m a selfish motherfucker who knows very well that if you never learn it every time you need to fix it you will have to ask for my help.

“It can’t be that hard”

“If you actually want to do something decent, it will take at least some days. Do you want The Duke in your room for days? I wouldn’t mind it, we could even have some fun” He smiled maliciously. He was right. Virgil wouldn’t want any of the core sides to know he still talked to Remus. Especially not Roman.

“Fine. How long will it take for you to do it?”

“One hour” He could do it in a couple seconds, actually, but sshhh.

“Ok” Virgil looked down, seeming almost… embarrassed. Creativity grabbed all the materials, conjured a bench, sat down and started to work. He tried to stay in silence, but it was almost painful to do so

“How are the core sides doing? Anything interesting, if that’s possible?”

“Are you trying to do small talk?” Virgil almost smiled. The only one of the Others good with that was Deceit and they all knew that.

“I’m trying to keep it down like you said to protect your now light side ears or whatever” Virgil chucked, rolling his eyes.

“What was that painting about?”

“Oh… I was trying to do an abstract representation of the emotions decay and rottenness bring”

“Sounds like you. How was it going?”

“Like shit. Not literally, even though that’s a good idea, did you know that when we die our whole body, like, relax, including our stomach muscles and all? And yeah, we shit ourselves, so go to the bathroom before you die, I guess” Virgil flinched with that unwanted information.

“I feel like you told me that before”

“I probably did, it’s pretty basic. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, I haven’t being able to paint anything good”

“I thought it was pretty nice” For Remus’ standards.

“Sure you did. But really, how are those dorks? Did someone already explained to Daddy what sex it or nobody had the courage yet?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“Of course!”

“Nobody did, obviously, but I’m considering, I like Patton, but if he refers to adulthood as adultery one more time I’ll lose it” Remus snorted.

“He does what?”

“Long story, dude”

“Holy fuck” He laughed “He’s definitely doing that on purpose”

“What would he win by doing that?” A couple of answers came to Remus’ mind but he was sure VIrgil would hate all of them. Still, he had to choose one, that how things work “Maybe he likes fucking with you guys”

“Not everybody finds it funny to manipulate the people around them like Deceit” Oh, here we go again.

“Patton and Janus are not that different”

“Name one thing they have in common” fortunately for Remus, the first answer that came to his mind was not that bad.

“Well, if you’re right, they both don’t know where babies come from” Virgil seemed divided between keeping arguing and smiling. He went with the second option. You can do it, Virge. You can not screw everything.

“I guess so. But Patton is definitely better with hugs”

“Which one of the light sides would you fuck if you had to chose?”

“Where did that come from?!” Remus shrugged.

“Just curious”.

“I won’t fucking answer that!” exclaimed, his face starting to get red.

“For me it would be Logan. Or maybe you. Do you count as a Light side already?” Anyway, Logan must be amazing. It’s almost like fucking a teacher and I always wanted to know how it feels like” Virgil was about to order him to shut up, but he knew Remus enough to know it would only make things worse, so he went with a more effective technique.

“How is Deceit doing?” Remus raised his eyebrows, the question surprising enough to stop his line of thought.

“Fine? Why do you care?”

“I mean… are you guys good?”

“As always”

“Haven’t he been… hurting you or anything like that?”

“Janus never hurted me, dude, what the fuck?”

“Except that he did. Except that he does it everyday. You just don’t want to admit it” Remus looked into his eyes, frowning.

“Emo, what is this all about?”

“What do you mean?” Based on how he focused his gaze on the floor, Remus raised his eyebrows even more.

“This is not just about the fucking hoodie, is it?” Virgil stayed in a seeming never ending silence.

“They accepted me, Remus.You guys said it was impossible for the core sides to accept us, but here I am. They could accept you too” Oh, so that’s what this is about. Remus went to one of his rare silences, which were always scarier than his loudest noises.

“We already talked about this, emo”

“But that was before! When we thought they all hated us! But they don’t! Logan is welcoming and Roman is trying and Patton… Patton is willing to receive us with his arms open”

“No, he’s fucking not. Patton hates me so fucking much I’m pretty sure he would get rid of me the second he had the fucking chance and would still convince himself it was the right thing to do” He got up without realizing, putting all his efforts into not crying like a pathetic child.

“I think you’re mistaken him for Deceit” Virgil also got on his feet.

“Janus, his name is fucking Janus, why can’t you just call him for his fucking name?! He yelled.

“He’s a liar, Remus! He doesn’t care about you or any of us! He just wants to… Follow his plans or whatever”

“Oh, do you think Patton cares about you?!”

“Actually yes, I know he fucking does”

“Well, yeah, maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t, but if I get there? Not only will he get scared and kick me out, he will also be angry at you for bringing the freak here into his perfect little world of sunshine and rainbows, so thank you so much, but Janus at least was there for me when I needed it, unlike those dicks or you!” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I should have known this was a mistake” Virgil said, letting his shoulders drop with the height of defeat.

“Yeah it was. Here is your fucking hoodie” He finished it with a snap of his fingers at threw it at Virgil, sinking out right after. “Have fun with your new friends, Virgil”

Slowly, anxiety grabbed his new costume. It was amazing, Comfortable, spooky, creative. And it was so… detailed and clearly done carefully, It was… He started crying.Ugly crying, with the tears scratching his throat to came with violent sobs, their warm burning as they fell down his face, wetting his own clothes and the new one in his hands, the pain in his chest seeming like a monster was tearing apart his whole soul, trying to destroy his heart, it hurted more than anything that he ever felt.

He knew, deep down, it was impossible to have a real famILY like that. But he also knew he was a hypocrite and it was easier to pretend things were simpler. It was easier to pretend he didn’t need Remus. Or Janus, by that extent. It was easier to pretend they weren’t family. But not easy enough for him to not hold on to all there was left from what they once called a friendship.

He held the hoodie tighter.

#sanders sides #fanfic #tw sex mention #tw death mention #cw swearing #angst #intruxiety #rabbit writes

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spaceorphan18 · 4 years ago

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99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #24

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

Coach Beiste (I Am Unicorn)

Coach Beiste turns off the light in the office. Another full day over; tryouts for the musical are finished for the evening, another round of plays to show the kids tomorrow afternoon have been completed, and the election is going so well, it feels like it could continue on swimmingly without any adult supervision. It’s a good thing Beiste doesn’t have any classwork to deal with.

On the way out, Beiste notices Blaine Anderson standing in the darkened hallway looking up at a giant, colorful poster of Kurt Hummel riding a unicorn. His hands are on his hips, head tilted, as if the poster is a perplexing puzzle he has to figure out.

“S’up, pun’kin?” Beiste asks, startling him. “I thought you woulda been long gone by now.”

“Oh,” Blaine relaxes a little, though gives a little frown. “Kurt and I were supposed to meet after my audition, but he didn’t show up. He said Rachel was having some kind of NYADA audition emergency or something.”

There is more to the story, but Blaine isn’t saying anything. Beiste isn’t usually one to pry into the students’ affairs but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that something is weighing on Blaine’s mind. “So, why are you here staring at this poster? If you’re worried it might offend him, we can take it down. I promise it’s better than the first sketch Brittany tried to get okayed. That gal is creative but…”

“I love the poster, actually,” Blaine interjects, much to Beiste’s surprise. It’s hard to imagine anyone actually loving the thing. Blaine, however, begins to just let the words tumble out of his mouth. “Kurt is special. He is this amazing unicorn whom the world doesn’t see because the world thinks he’s too abstract, too unusual, too… himself to really understand. But I get him, and I love him, and he deserves the world loving him, too but I can’t… I am not this. I want to be this. But I’m just not.”

It takes a moment for Beiste to catch on to what Blaine’s saying. “Blaine, you’re a special guy. Maybe you don’t have Kurt’s…” Beiste pauses to look up at the poster, “...unique qualities, but you’re an incredibly talented young man. Why do you think we wanted you to read for Tony tonight?”

“That’s just it,” Blaine says, throwing his hands up in the air. “Kurt would make a perfect Tony. He’d bring a fresh take on it. And he needs it to help him get into NYADA. Besides, I’m standard. I’m what’s expected. And I would be more than happy with taking a smaller role if it meant he got to shine.”

Beiste’s heart breaks just a little for the kid. “I get it, kiddo. Young love is like a wild bull that never really gets tamed and before you can get a handle on it, you end up flipped upside down with a couple of broken ribs.” Blaine gives a funny look. “Kurt is a special guy. And a talented one. And I have no doubt that someday he will have a chance to spread his wings… or show off his horn? I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I really understand the unicorn thing.”

Blaine gives a tiny laugh. “That’s okay.”

“But here’s the truth,” Beiste continues. “His audition was fantastic. No one’s saying that it wasn’t. But your audition was the one that made us sit up and feel things. We weren’t looking for someone with just raw talent -- we were looking for someone who has the ability to transform the part and make it their own. And you did that in your audition. And between you and me, I think you’re going to make Tony special all on your own. So, don’t sit out the race because you can fit into another man’s running shoes.”

Blaine lets out a tired little sigh. Poor kid looks like he has the weight of the world still on his shoulders. “I guess I don’t want to be in the way of what gets him to greatness. He can do the part if you let him...”

Beiste isn’t entirely sure how to respond to that thought, but gives a smile anyway. “Look, pun’kin, it’s a hard world out there. Each of you are going to have your own strengths and weaknesses to deal with, as well as your paths. Remember it’s best to be supportive of each other instead of trying to ride the tail of someone else’s prize horse, or I suppose in this case, unicorn. And he’s going to have to learn that, too.”

Blaine gives a genuine laugh. “Thanks, Coach Beiste.”

“Alright, get along now, you kids all have places to be,” Beiste says, shooing him down the hall. “And I have a whole chicken waiting for me at Breadstix.”

Blaine gives a quizzical look. “I didn’t know Italian cuisine included whole chickens. Huh.”

#s.o. writes things #99 perspectives

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fanfic-collection · 5 years ago

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Loki x Reader: Quarantine

Please comment

‘And this is Captain America, signing off, reminding everyone once again, stay safe, stay strong, and stay true to America. Please, buy only what is necessary, if you’re quarantined, stay home for the assigned days, get a lot of rest if you’re sick, take the necessary precautions, and we’ll get through this, we always do.’ Steve smiled, saluting the camera on his laptop then looked at Bucky.

Bucky gave a tired thumbs up.

'Signing off, I’ll see you all tomorrow.’ Steve clicked the end transmission button and the feed ended. 'That was really good Bucky, I really think we’re making a difference, I hope we can keep people calm in this trying times.’

Bucky raised his eyebrow and leaned back in the seat groaning as he covered his face, 'Are you seriously going to drag me through these podcasts every day?’

Steve stood up and stretched, 'Until the quarantine ends, it’s the least we can do for the public, so yes, yes I am.’

You snorted into your vitamin enhanced energy drink, watching the two super soldiers across the counter.

'Don’t start.’ Bucky muttered, looking at you, raising a warning finger.

You set down your glass and held up your hands defensively, 'Not a word.’

'It’s day two and I’m stir crazy already.’ Bucky groaned, running his hand through his hair as he stood up and began to pace.

The big screen turned on and Tony appeared, poolside with a margarita in hand, shades halfway down his nose as he squinted at his phone to see the three of you in the kitchen. 'Cap! Other soldier, teddy bear.’

'Why does he call you teddy bear again?’ Bucky asked, glancing at you.

You sighed and shook your head. The automatic kitchen doors slid open and the two norse gods walked, mid conversation, stopping only when they saw Tony on the monitor.

'Oh excellent,’ Tony continued, 'thunder bros, anyways, Steve, loved the pep talk, my stocks stopped their nose dive, they’re still dropping but not nearly as bad, I heard one of the local grocery stores even had toilet paper on the shelf too.’

Steve rolled his eyes, 'What do you want, Stark?’

'Can’t I check in? One quarantinee to another?’

'You’re pool side in Malibu.’ Bucky grumbled.

'And you’re in Stark tower with tons of friends in New York, your point?’

'Tony? Lunch’s almost done!’ You heard Pepper call from somewhere within the house.

'Yea just a second honey.’ Tony grinned, 'Quarantine is awesome, am I right?’

Thor grumbled, 'I don’t see why I have to be stuck in this building.’

'Thor, we’ve told you countless times, people are worried you could transmit the disease.’ Steve replied.

'No Midgardian illness is a match for me.’ Thor replied, fist on his chest.

Loki rolled his eyes, 'And yet, the disease may cling to you and travel to the mortals, brother. How our physiology is compatible to theirs is unknown, must we go through this again?’

You made eye contact with Loki and smiled softly.

Loki’s irritation seemed to fade somewhat and a faint smile touched the corner of his mouth before he turned his attention back to Thor, folding his arms.

'So are you guys going to have a party then?’ Tony asked, 'Wait, where’s Hawkeye? Two of you are missing.’

'Hawkeye and Nat are around.’ You replied. 'Nat was taking a nap last I knew and Clint’s… lurking.’

Tony shook his head before abruptly touching his phone, 'yes, what is it? Kid, I told you to only call in emergencies. What, wait, say that slower. You’re quarantined? Do you have enough supplies to get you through the next two weeks, just calm down. No, I’m on the phone with the other Avengers. Yes, most of them, the ones that are quarantined at the tower. Yes that includes Loki. Why do you call him Mr. Loki. Kid… Focus. Yes, ok good, you have supplies, yes you’re not sick, I know, Aunt May is pretty young, yes I know, she’s fine, you’ll both be fine, it’s just a quarantine, keep entertained with Cap’s podcasts, they’ll keep you calm, he posts them each day, yes you’re talking too fast for me to understand you. Kid. Peter. Listen to me.’ Tony sighed. 'Kid.’ He sighed again. 'Listen. I will hang up on you. Kid. Listen, stop it. Stop. I’ll send over a suit with groceries. Yes, I’ll send toilet paper. Yes, I know all the stores are out, I have connections.’ Tony smiled weakly, 'I got you covered, you’ll be fine. You’ll get through this. Now all of you, I’m hanging up and getting lunch with my hot date. Bye.’ The screen went black.

'That spider kid got quarantined?’ Steve asked, looking around the room.

You blinked, 'I guess so.’

Loki crossed the room, moving away from Thor and came over to sit beside you. He left a respectable distance, peering into your glass curiously before easing himself into the chair next to you.

'I could bring him supplies.’ Thor grumbled.

'Brother we have dealt with plagues, as has humanity before, if their response is to lock themselves away to deter the spread of it, we are not to interfere. Their healers, doctors, have made their demands,’ Loki looked up from your drink, 'We do not interfere.’

'We are protectors of humanity, we must safeguard the realm in whatever way possible.’ Thor urged.

'You cannot fight a disease with your hammer.’ Loki replied. 'Or are you suggesting culling the sick to limit its spread?’

Thor creased his brow.

Loki raised his eyebrow, 'Such action has been taken in the past and will likely take place in the future.’

Steve and Bucky watched Loki uneasily.

Loki continued coldly, 'Tell me brother, would you risk more lives or take them because you are uneasy with patience?’

'Loki…’ You said slowly.

Thor growled softly before turning and stomping from the room.

'He’s never patient.’ Loki muttered, shrugging.

You sighed and touched his forearm hesitantly.

Loki glanced down at you somewhat surprised. You slowly pulled your hand away as Loki’s eyes trailed your hand, watching where you had been and slowly staring at your hand where it lay a few inches from his arm.

Steve cleared his throat. 'Well I was thinking I might start drawing again, I haven’t had a chance to sit down and just sketch in a while.’ He managed a smile, 'Anyone have any suggestions? Maybe I’ll do some skylines…’

Bucky sighed, 'I haven’t had a lot of time to hone any hobbies.’

'Well now is a great time to start!’ Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, 'C'mon, Stark is bound to have plenty of things lying around this musty old tower. Let’s go digging.’

You finished your drink, staring at the empty mug. 'Do you think there will be a culling?’ You asked, looking at Loki.

Loki shook his head, 'Not at all. Thor is too quick for action, this disease is easily controlled by your mortal means. Stay clean, take care of yourself and avoid too many people. The spies staying to themselves are smart, the three of you are the only regular humans in this tower, otherwise it’s nearly empty on the top floors. Between the soldiers and myself and my brother, you’re the only mortal really.’

You nodded slowly, staring at him with concern.

Loki carefully touched your hand, a bit of color rising to his cheeks, 'I doubt with the chemicals running through their bodies and my brother and myself and our genetic make up, we seem to be safe from this disease. I fear only for you falling ill, but we will keep you safe and even so, there are many more cases of recovery than there are fatalities.’

You nodded, 'Yea, you’re right.’

The black screen flipped on. 'What motherfucker, is stealing all of SHIELD’s motherfucking toilet paper?’ Nick Fury’s voice roared over the speakers as he glared out around the screen, staring down at you and Loki. 'Where is Rogers?’

You blinked, quailing beneath his glare. 'He went looking for art supplies, sir.’

'Someone got it in their funny little head that it would be a good idea to ransack the SHIELD bathrooms for toilet paper and now I got nothing to wipe my ass with. HILL, get me Hill on the line.’ Fury continued, barking orders at someone out of view.

Loki rolled his eyes, 'I don’t know what you expect us to do about it, we’re under quarantine.’

You snickered, fighting back a laugh.

Fury looked down at the two of you, 'Oh right, I’d forgotten.’ He sighed, 'Do I have any Avengers or SHIELD agents I can call into duty?’

'Not that I know of, sir. I’m pretty out of the loop.’ You waved your hand, indicating the quarantine.

'Fine, fine, carry on.’ The screen blanked out again.

Loki looked at you and you looked back at him before the two of you started laughing weakly. You both quickly looked away.

'Want to go check out the library? It’s going to be a long quarantine.’ You offered your hand to him.

Loki looked at your hand hesitantly before taking it, 'Certainly.’

It might be a long quarantine, but perhaps not a terrible one.

#Loki x Reader #ficbit #quarantine fic

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