#edwin that little piece of shit is smirking

[shipspainfulships]

Crystal: The next person that says "weird flex but okay" is going to get kicked in the shins.

Edwin: Preposterous boast but alas...

[dykeninthdoctor]

“tony getting deaged and rhodey being the only one he trusts/surprised rhodey is still in his life” for @official-impravidus. happy birthday, lexie my love!

“What the fuck happened to him?”

Jim knows his voice is shaking, but it’s better than yelling, better than seeing the teenager in front of him shrink away and curl in on himself, a habit that took years for Jim to coax out of him with gentle words and even gentler touches. Rogers raises his hands in a show of peace–I’m on your side–but it does nothing to quell the anger building in Jim’s throat.

“We don’t know what happened, Rhodey–“

Jim’s fists clench at his sides at the nickname from Rogers’s mouth as Tony–little Tony, tiny Tony, the Tony that used to be his–looks up in shock.

“Rhodey?” he asks breathlessly, hopefully. “You–you’re Rhodey?“

Jim nods, not trusting his voice.

And then his arms are full of a trembling teenager, a trembling teenager that was once his, and his shirt is slowly growing damp from the silent tears Tony cries against his chest.

It’s easier than breathing to hold Tony closer.

He starts carding a hand through Tony’s soft hair, the usual gel that Jim’s become accustomed to absent, and rubs his back with the other hand, humming just soft enough for Tony to pick up the melody and tap it out on his shoulder with light brushes of his fingers.

Rogers stares at them.

Jim doesn’t care, because Tony’s not shaking anymore.

-

He takes Tony to the lab first, because the lab is where his Tony feels safe.

But this Tony looks around with an unreadable expression–almost unreadable, except to Jim.

It’s disbelief. And fear.

“I did this? Not–not Howard?”

It breaks Jim’s heart.

“Yeah, Tones. It was you.”

“Oh,” Tony whispers. “Wicked.”

-

Jim tells him about the future, and Tony listens with wide eyes.

Jim tells him about Tony’s place in the future, and Tony understands with wider ones.

-

It’s not hard to tell Tony about his parents’ death.

It’s the hardest thing in the world to tell Tony about Edwin Jarvis’s.

Tony tries to make JARVIS again, for the first time in his lifetime, and Jim has to stop him, for the fifth time in his lifetime.

Jim holds him while he cries.

-

Tony doesn’t ask about Rogers until two days in, after two days of not leaving Jim’s side, after two days spent in the lab with the bots, his creations, his children.

They’re on the couch in the common living room, watching Star Wars Episode VII, because after Tony had heard there were more than just the original trilogy, he’d begged for a marathon and Jim’s never been able to resist his puppy eyes. Tony’s head is pillowed on his chest, Jim’s nose is resting against the crown of his head, and their arms are around each other. Tony’s watching the movie. Jim’s watching him.

Rogers walks into the room right as Finn and Poe reunite on screen.

Tony tenses. Jim holds him tighter.

“Oh–I didn’t realize you were in here–“ Rogers says. Jim taps a calming pattern against Tony’s back.

“It’s all good, man.”

There’s a beat, a moment of silence as sharp as glass where Rogers’s eyes stay on Tony, and Tony’s eyes don’t leave the screen.

Jim clears his throat and shatters it. Rogers blinks, nods, looks at Tony one more time, and leaves the room.

There’s an explosion on screen.

“How did he find him?” Tony asks, barely a whisper.  

Jim frowns into Tony’s hair. “How did who find him?”

“Howard.”

“No,” Jim says sharply, before he can stop himself. “It wasn’t Howard.”

“Oh.”

“He’s gone, Tones. Rogers wasn’t his find. And Rogers–he’s–“ Jim sighs. “He’s okay.”  

Tony relaxes against his chest.

“Okay, platypus.”

-

The overwhelming feeling of relief, and then guilt, creeps its way into Jim’s heart when Tony still refuses to leave his side, even with his newfound trust in Rogers, and to an extent, the rest of the team.

It takes them a week to figure out how to reverse it, a week for the flowers of relief and weeds of guilt to continue to grow, along with the coiling, painful root of longing, longing for his Tony.  

Tony’s always been perceptive, so when he picks up on it, Jim isn’t surprised.

“You miss him. Me. The other me. Your me.”

“Every you is mine,” Jim says immediately, and means it.

Tony will always be his, and he will always be Tony’s. It’s the way the universe works.

Tony just rolls his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. But you still miss him. I mean…it’s weird to be in love with a seventeen-year-old when you’re like…fifty.”

Jim drops the casserole dish and spills Momma Robbie’s famous peach cobbler across the kitchen tiles, staining white with yellows and oranges.

“Shit,” he says, because Tony flinched, even if he tried to hide it. “C’mere, Tones.”

“Did I guess wrong?” Tony asks weakly, tucked into Jim’s chest, head under his chin.

They fit together like pieces of a puzzle; or, two puzzles with matching pieces.

“No. No, you really didn’t. You picked up on something my Tony’s been missing for years, though.”

“He doesn’t know you love him?”

“No, he doesn’t know I’m in love with him.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t want to believe it,” Tony whispers softly.

Jim doesn’t know what to say in response.

-

It takes them a week to figure out how to reverse it.

When they do, Tony, Jim’s Tony, stands in front of them, gray at his temples and in his goatee, a lifetime clouding his eyes, but still drowning in Jim’s old MIT hoodie.

“Tones?” he asks weakly.

“Hey, platypus. I think you’ve got something to tell me.”

“I hate you.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was the opposite,” Tony says, a smirk that looks more like a smile on his face.

And then he’s in Jim’s arms.

His Tony is in his arms.

Jim smiles.

It’s easier than living to kiss Tony breathless.

[shnuggletea]

This is my attempt at EdWin pairing from Full Metal Alchemist. It’s for @kalsies​ bday and since you like EdWin and FMA I thought I’d switch it up for you. I also realize that you don’t really know me but I’m a fan of your work! And I hate it when I miss a bday; we all deserve some love especially on our bday!

I’m going to post this on Tumblr only for now to see how it goes. Idk if this is any good and I kinda rushed it but here goes. 

I do not own Full Metal or the art used in the cover above (came from here) I just own the story!

Happy Birthday Kalsies the Derp!

I also made a playlist but it is also a WIP! You can listen to it here!

The Coffee House

It wasn’t like I was looking for the place or planned to ever go inside. I blame the damn wind. It blew my hair free of its tie and damn if it didn’t want to quit! So I had to duck in somewhere and I’m not a coffee drinker. As soon as I stepped in out of the wind I was nearly pushed back out by the smell of the place. 

I never had a problem with the smell of coffee really. It has a decent scent to it. But I knew that the scent was misleading and that the taste was far from the enticing smell. So much so I had distrust in coffee and everything to do with it.

Especially the baristas that slung it at you with a false smile.

And this place had all the bells and whistles of your usual coffee house. Tables and ‘comfortable’ chairs. Dark lighting and soft music. Everything you needed to get people to stay and drink more. The only difference was, this place had huge pieces of twisted metal sticking out of the walls and hanging from the ceiling. Probably considered ‘art’ but I wasn’t buying it. I did find the piece that was half an engine from an old tank stuck to the wall interesting. 

There weren’t a lot of people inside so maybe this place made even shitter coffee? It made getting my hair back in its place a hell of a lot easier, slipping off to the bathroom for a mirror. That turned out to be an added blessing because I hadn’t noticed the smudge of oil on my face. Undoubtedly from work cause not even Al would tell me it was there. They would laugh while I walked the streets unknowing.

A few more bodies were in the place once I returned. It made the place loud and I hated loud. “You have to buy something!”

Turning to the shrill voice, I expected a doughty old maid. Instead, it was just a girl. She was pretty... I guess. If you’re into tall blondes. With her hair pulled back to the top of her head and the dirty apron covering her front, it was hard to say anything else about her other than tall and blonde. And irritated since she was still glaring at me for some reason.

“Huh?”

“Are you dumb? You used our bathroom; I saw you. Only customers are allowed to use it so either buy something or I’m going to punch you in the dick.”

I laughed because it was ridiculous. But that only pissed the blonde off more as she started to jump over the counter to get to me. “Okay, okay I’ll buy something. Jeez!”

She stepped back and stopped all attempts to get at me… with violence. Now she had arms crossed over her chest (couldn’t tell how big her chest was still) and went back to glaring at me. “Well? Order something!”

“Look, I just needed to fix my hair…”

She snorted. “Your hair? Seriously?!”

I growled back at the woman. “Yeah, my hair! Like you have room to talk!”

“I do since my hair is actually cute.”

“Who the hell do you…”

“Are you gonna order today or next week?”

I took a glance around. It wasn’t like I was holding up the line or anything. “I don’t even like coffee…”

“You’ll like my coffee,” the strange and annoying girl said, stepping back to a large and intimidating machine, “my coffee is the best in town.”

“Hasn’t this place only been open a week?”

“Two!” She shouted with pride and pulled down a lever. It was like an old fashioned slot machine that was ready to explode. Cause as soon as she pulled down the lever the whole thing shook and twanged like it would get up and breakdance. “It’ll just be a minute.”

The wall behind me became mine as I leaned against it. The girl didn’t talk her eyes off me so I didn’t take mine off her. She was… strange. Pushy and arrogant and rude. Her eyes eventually got to be too much and I didn’t like how she was studying my body. Not that it would help but I crossed my arms over my chest. Which most people took the hint when someone did that but not this girl.

“Who did your Automail?” The packs of coffee beans that held my attention for a second could have been set on fire and it wouldn’t have changed the glare I was giving this nosy woman. “Doesn’t look like they did a very good job. I can see it hitching at your shoulder.”

The hell she could. I had on an undershirt, long sleeve henley, and my red leather jacket. Add in my gloves and there was no way. “I haven’t been in for a tune-up in a while, that’s all.”

 She couldn’t see shit, she was guessing or something. Messing with me. “How did you lose your arm?”

“That’s none of your business,” I shouted as fiercely as possible. She nodded as if I told her I didn’t want sugar though. “You know, I didn’t even use your damn bathroom. I shouldn’t have to…”

“So what are you? Street cleaner?” The woman was unphased by my angry stupor. “You have some dirt here.” She pointed to her left temple and I wiped at mine. “You do look familiar, have we met before?”

She was leaning on the counter between us, scrutinizing and sizing me up even more. The only part of her skin that was visible (other than her face) was her hands and they were covered in little bandaids. I was marveling at how tiny her fingers were and a snarky response slipped past my filter. “Maybe I cleaned your street before.”

Then she giggled. I swear there was a twinkle in her eyes, I didn’t imagine that. And adorable, mischievous, god damn annoying twinkle that made me want to burn the place down. Even more so when she stood back up and twisted a small golden tendril around one of her tiny fingers. “How do you like your coffee?”

“What is it with you and personal questions?!” She held up a small cup, innocently and I felt flames lick the skin on my cheeks. But she said nothing about it, staring at me with doe eyes that would have reminded me of a lake on a calm day but they were far from calm. More like the ocean before a hurricane. “I don’t like coffee at all so…”

“Right, cream and sugar then.” She moved away from me and I moved towards the counter. “How tall are you?”

She was crouched inside a small fridge pulling out bottles but looking up at me. Her golden hair almost touched the floor and yet she still had all her attention on me. “What’s it to you, Blondie?”

I struck a nerve with that one, finally. She slammed the fridge shut and handed the coffee to me so hard I nearly got burned. “It’s Winry.”

If she hated the name then why did she have blonde hair? It was nothing to change the color of your hair these days. She flicked a few loose locks behind her ear and showed that it was full of metal. Studs and hoops went from her lobe up to the corner of her cartilage. A lot of girls had their ears pierced but not quite like that and it made me curious if the other looked the same.

“Are you always this nosy, Winry?” 

If she was offended, she didn’t show it; shrugging and looking at her bandaged hands. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh, you asked. About everything that has nothing to do with you.”

Saying nothing else, she held out her hand and after a minute, I pressed a few credits into her outstretched palm. She took them and then plastered on a smile. “Come back soon and tell all your friends!”

“Tell them what? Come here and get pushed into buying?”

Her smile faded, but it was fake to begin with. “Well, just tell them the bathroom is for customers only then!”

The woman (Winry) was done with me so I left. The wind blew my hair out of my tie again but I was already at the shop by then. 

“That was the longest lunch break you’ve ever taken, Edward!” Louis yelled from somewhere in the back and although out of sight, I still glared in his direction. 

“Shuddaup you Bald bastard and mind your business!”

The bald man with the fabulous mustache just chuckled and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in irritation. Slamming the door behind me I walked over to where Al sat, looking up at me as I approached. “You got coffee?”

I had actually forgotten, still holding the cup in my hand. “Sorta.”

He took it from me and I let him. “Shouldn’t drink coffee. It’ll stunt your growth.”

I ignored his smirk. “I freaking hate coffee and you know it. I only got that cause I was forced.”

Al chuckled while I still simmered from the barista Winry. “When has anyone ever forced you into anything, brother?”

I smirked back at him but not because of his teasing. He tried to duck but it was too late, rubbing my knuckles into the top of his skull hard and making his dark blond hair fly all around. “Get anything done while I was gone?”

He shoved me away as hard as he could with his free hand. “We got a lot done for once!! Must be you holding us back!!”

Chuckling, I let him off easy and took off my jacket to hang up. Looking back at Al I caught him sipping on the coffee. “Hey! What about stunting your growth?!”

Al wore a sad smile but at least it no longer reached his eyes. “That’s not really a problem for me, is it?”

I had nothing to say to that, watching as he rolled himself away in his ancient wheelchair. I couldn’t even afford to get him a nice one; like the kind that roll where you want them to with a single thought. But that wasn’t what was important. What was important was getting the funds for Al’s body. 

It was why I worked at this shop, rolling up my sleeves to get back to work. There were a few projects still waiting for my touches so I had to hurry up. I needed to get to work and get it done for tonight. I’d already wasted too much time dealing with crazy coffee house girls. 

oOo

It was a warm night but I still wore my red leather jacket. It protected my skin and it had my symbol on the back. I never intended for that symbol to mean anything, I just thought it looked cool. But now I almost have to wear it so people know who I am and what to expect. 

That symbol was why (when I rolled up to the line) others either stepped out or changed their bets. 

My bike wasn’t anything special but I knew how to take care of it. Unlike the others here who spent thousands of credits to fix up or buy new bikes; mine was old and cheap. Before I made a name for myself, it was what gave me the advantage. Everyone knew how I raced now so there was little point. The only reason I came here night after night was for the money cause the thrill had left long ago.

I had my hair tucked up inside my helmet so it didn’t get knocked like crazy; not to hide even as my helmet hid my face. Anyone that saw me on the street would know it was me thanks to my jacket. But not everyone here wanted to be known. It wouldn’t be a surprise if an Under was mixed in the crowd. My jacket made me known but also gave me deniability on the streets in daylight. 

It was this reason that I wasn’t surprised when a stranger pulled up next to me on their bike and had a blacked-out helmet. Mine was blacked out as well but that was more out of preference than fear. It had been years since a new person showed up to race here; so I busied myself sizing them up. Their bike was nice, a newer model than mine. And an actual brand; a Tomoaki. It was a decent ride but I wasn’t worried. 

The new guy refused to look anywhere but the track ahead. They were clearly a Newb, it was showing in their laser focus as well as the small shake in their arms as they waited for the ‘gun’. It had me chuckling in my helmet and fogging up the glass. 

It was me, Newb, and three other guys ready and waiting for this race. Two of them were from the Homunculus gang so they would be trouble. As they were every time they lost. The other guy I knew pretty well; Roy on his trademark Mustang bike was hard to miss. That meant Risa was somewhere in the crowd. He was a good guy and a decent racer. But I was better.

This was going to be another easy win; easy money.

Olivier stood before us, taking her place with the flag to start. She was how I learned about this place; her brother complaining about the illegal activities his dear sister was involved in. Not sure what he’s so worried about; there are far worse things to be into as far as illegal activities go. Far more lucrative too but I was pushing it with Al doing this much.

The tall and buxom blonde lifted her arms for our full attention. A few idiots in the crowd with death wishes whistled at Olivier. She was a beautiful woman but if you ever told her that she would break your face. Olivier started the races for one reason only; to be a distraction and throw a few of us off guard. I looked at the Newb next to me to see if it worked. The rest of us were used to it by now. Newb didn’t look shaken in the slightest but he still shook. 

Olivier dropped the flag and it was time to stop dicking around, hitting my accelerator and jumping ahead of the rest instantly. There was no one ahead of me; the track was mine. Our location switched every week and you had to be in the know to find it. You also had to use the GPS to stay on the assigned track. Mine was beeping that there was a hard left turn ahead. This was one of the reasons I was unbeatable. Without skin on it to worry about losing to the pavement, I was able to dip lower on left turns and take them faster than the rest. 

It was right turns that slowed me down and this track had two right at the end. Even so, I still have the lead and little to fear. 

This was it. Alone on the track, going as fast as I pleased. The only thing missing was the wind in my hair and on my skin. This was where I felt peace; felt free. Winning was no longer a thrill for me. I only enjoyed this moment now; being my own boss and in control of everything. My speed, my movements, and my life. It was easy to forget the troubles I faced daily while I raced away into the night.

Nearing the end of the track, I leaned into the first right turn. Of course, I slowed and dipped a little less than before. This was my real leg, the only one I had left. It was expected. What wasn’t expected was the other racer that passed me in the middle of it. 

It was the new guy, flying by dangerously on the turn. I had been cocky and stupid, getting lost in the freedom instead of actually racing. Now they had the lead. If it was a straight away or another left turn, I could have taken the lead back. But it was neither of those and even as I dipped lower and went faster than I was comfortable with, they still had the lead. 

The Newb was going to win.

There was a strange pressure that I felt in my chest. I hadn’t felt it in a while. It was… excitement. 

I pushed my machine to its limits to gain a few seconds on the Newb’s lead but the race was pretty much over. We crossed the line with a two-second difference and the crowd was a mix of shock, awe, and anger. Just like the first time I raced and won. 

A lot of people just lost a lot of money.

The Newb stopped and I pulled up right next to them. “Follow me, NOW!”

They shook their head at me. “Why? I want my money.”

Their voice was garbled by an electronic voice changer. It wasn’t weird; a bit uncommon but again there was always the possibility of Unders in the crowd and with this person a Newb it was a good thing they were protecting their identity.

“I’ll get your money tomorrow and give it to you later. You need to get out of here!”

Newb glanced behind us at the crowd and I looked as well; even knowing what I would see. The crowd was restless, shouting, and pushing. There were more races to be had (the night was still young) but it was clearly over as the others were already fighting. 

“Great. How am I supposed to come back with that?” The Newb asked.

“It’ll be fine, they’ll get over it. But those guys,” I said, pointing to the two Homunculus members that had raced and lost to the Newb, “they will come and tear you apart if we don’t get out of here now.”

There were no more questions after that and as much as I wanted to help the guy out, I couldn’t force him. So I was glad the guy shut up and followed closely. The Homunculus followed for a while but it wasn’t too hard to lose them. We came to a stop miles from the track. A few quiet shops sat to one side while an empty park on the other. Without a word or sign, we both made for the park and killed our engines; turning our bikes into chairs with our kickstands out.

“That was too easy.” The Newb spat. “I thought they wanted to tear me to pieces?”

Even with the voice changer, I could tell they were mocking me. Resting on my bike, I pulled my helmet off so I could get more air. “Yeah, well they probably figured that they’ll get you next week. You should consider taking a little break for a while.”

They huffed, the automated voice struggling with the sound and came out like singing. “You just don’t want to lose again.”

My Automail was stiff from the ride. As were both my shoulders. So I stretched my hands high above my head and then rolled my shoulders around. “Nah, you got lucky this time. It won’t happen again.”

Newb was silent and I enjoyed the quiet while it lasted. “Why did you help me?”

His question was soft but in the silence, it was easy to hear. “Why not? I used to be right where you are now. New and talented. The Homunculi are a bunch of jealous assholes who don’t care about rules as long as they win.”

“What about you? Is winning that important to you?”

I looked at the dark window of their helmet, trying to see through it even with it impossible. My mouth still pulled into a smirk. “Of course it’s important. You get more money if you win. But only if I do it by my own merits.”

“So it’s the money you really care about?”

I shrugged, looking at my gloves and fixing the loose hold they had on my hands. “I need it. Everyone there does. It’s how this all works, right?”

“I’m in it for the racing, not the money.”

I grimaced hard back at the guy, thankful I took my helmet off so they could see the fire in my eyes. “Then you should be going pro, not slumming it with the rest of us.”

This Newb really needed to learn when to shut the fuck up; still talking away but I was no longer listening. I cut him off with the roar of my engine. He was a stranger; he had no clue who I was or the life I’d lived. My past was as much a mystery as his was to me. Only I no longer cared to know his past or present. His judgment could eat shit; I took off and left the fucker there.

He could find his own way home.

[eventidespirits]

Adam Allistair Freemont

Aliases: Edwin Lockhart, William Silva, Francis LaRue, Everett Brighton, James Fenwick

Apparent Age: "29"

Birthday: August 11th, 1897

Death Day: December 19th, 1926

Species: Vampire (Siren Bloodline)/Bloodbound Spirit

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: Primarily Heterosexual

Occupation: Photographer

Residence: Santa Marta, California; Morgan Kendrick's Psychic Realm

Universe: Primarily original lore but also Vampire the Masquerade where he's a Camarilla Toreador who defected to the Sabbat.

Appearance:

Height: 6'0

Build: Tall and lanky with angular shoulders and long limbs. He has a trim, lightly muscled physique with long delicate fingers and soft hands.

Eye Color: Luminous Yellow/Gold with slitted cat-like pupils and a darker, amber band around the edges.

Hair Color/Texture: Black, 1b hair texture. Just long enough for the ends to brush against his shoulders. Partially brushed back and parted to the right but a significant amount of his hair ends up falling into his face.

Face: Angular with a square jaw and high cheekbones. He has a mostly straight nose with a slight convex curve to the bridge. He has deep set eyes with heavy lids and dark circles and usually looks somewhat sleepy but in a strangely sensual way. Defined lips that are usually curved into a sadistic little smirk. He's quite attractive but in a way that feels vaguely dangerous or even predatory.

Distinguishing Characteristics: Adam has bright golden eyes with slitted cat-like pupils. He also has a rather large, jagged scar on his back, located between his shoulder blades. I'd include his *other* distinguishing characteristic but that's kinda NSFW ;)

Posture/Body Language: Confident, even arrogant, chin up, shoulders back but not in a way that looks particularly stiff. His body language is generally relaxed and easy, bringing to mind a big cat at rest -- there's always something about the way he moves that implies a predatory nature laying beneath his cool, collected surface. Adam walks with clear purpose and long, smooth strides and always knows how to make an entrance.

Voice: Soft and smooth with a deep timbre and confident inflection. Adam's voice is somewhat like poisoned honey or arsenic laced velvet -- smooth and sweet but with something slightly off.

Clothing Style: Adam prefers dark colors -- burgundy, blood red, black, charcoal, rich deep browns and the ocassional pop of gold or cream or a white dress shirt. He wears primarily expensive, tailored button downs made from things like silk, velvet or very high thread count cotton with the sleeves rolled up and the top three (or four) buttons undone. Sometimes with brocade, floral or striped patterns. If it's cooler out, he'll wear a black blazer or something similar. When it comes to pants, it's almost entirely black or charcoal tailored pants or pitch black jeans. He usually wears very few accessories -- a nice watch, a belt, a silver and garnet ring and a pendant on a thin silver or gold chain. Generally wearing pointed toe oxfords or other dress shoes. When it comes to outerwear, Adam generally prefers things like wool coats and the ocassional leather jacket (always real leather, too) (to get a better idea, check out his [Pinterest Board]

Skills

Social: Manipulation, Lying, Gaslighting, Flirting, Proper Etiquette, Public Speaking, Blame Shifting, Negging, Seduction

Physical: knife combat, some hand to hand combat, basic combat training (circa 1914), long range firearms/sniping, Ballroom Dancing, Fencing, Horseback riding, the carnal arts

Talents: Photography, Drawing, Poetry, Lying, Being an Asshole, Manipulation, Painting, Seduction, Sex

Knowledges: Fluent in French & Italian, Masters in Psychology (circa 1926), Photo Development (wet plate, autochrome, modern methods), some basic knowledge of financial law and property law

Hobbies: Photography, writing, breaking pretty girls, avoiding his deep-seated psychological issues, general hedonism

Special: Emotional Influence, Telepathy, Emotional Transference, Enhanced Stamina, Enhanced Strength, "Immortality", Enhanced Senses (esp sight), minor regeneration, sweet blood, emotional radar/supernatural empathy, hypnosis/mind control

Psyche

Strengths: Charismatic, quick-thinking, clever, good at understanding the thought processes of others, empathetic, deeply romantic, treats service workers well, dedicated, generally calm, high emotional intelligence, has critical thinking skills, polite*, can be incredibly sweet, adaptable, pays a lot of attention to his partners in bed, passionate, artistic, creative, protective

Weaknesses: selfish, self-absorbed, arrogant, manipulative, almost completley lacks compassion, disdain for basically everyone around him, dishonest, has a horrible temper, needs constant attention and praise, has a massive inferiority/superiority complex, overconfident, easily susceptible to flattery, deep-seated intimacy issues, can't stand being wrong, terrified of vulnerability, paranoid, detached from his own emotions/denies his own humanity, callous, sadistic, can be incredibly rude, actually a bit of a coward, condescending, possessive, jealous and generally kind of a dick.

Fears: genuine intimacy, abandonment/loneliness,true death, being buried alive

Goals: To finally create the perfect art piece (i.e., break someone in just the right way -- he's not even sure what this MEANS, he's just sure he'll "know" when he finally does it), to just enjoy his immortality.

Personality: On the surface, Adam seems likable enough -- at least, at first. He's incredibly charming and thoughtful, often anticipating people's wants before they're even able to articulate them, witty, intelligent and seemingly very polite...

But beneath that surface lurks a spoiled rich kid who learned early on in life that having money, being good looking and charming meant he could get away with almost anything. Adam is self-absorbed and arrogant and almost everything he does is a carefully crafted performance intended to get people on his side and manipulate them into doing what he wants.

Beneath even that, which he desperately tries to ignore, is a little boy who was spoiled by his mother and entirely ignored by his (largely absent) father -- a young man who was traumatized by being forced to fight in WWI and who is full of deep-seated fears and insecurities.

To make up for this, Adam is often sadistic towards the people around him -- but in that way where it's difficult to tell that he's actually being cruel until one looks back at the conversation.

He has difficulty genuinely connecting to others because of those insecurities and instead uses his powers as a Siren to make the people around him love and adore him-- no matter how badly he treats them.

Life

Best Memory: Being gifted his first camera, meeting his Maker.

Worst Memory: Somewhere between when he almost died during WWI and his actual death...

Biggest Achievement: Getting his Masters

Prized Possession: Silver and Garnet ring gifted to him by his Maker, his first camera, his black 2020 Ferrari Portofino (with the red leather interior), (he also has an engraved custom sniper rifle but a friend picked the model and shit for me and I cannot remember what it is for the life of me)

Favorite Color: Red, Gold

Favorite Food:

-Mortal Food: Partial to anything rich and flavorful, prefers food that's not pointlessly ostentatious (nothing coated in gold leaf, that's absurd), dry red wines, Italian Cream Cake, Eggs Benedict, Crepes Suzette

-Blood: Blood taken in the heat of the throes of passion from someone that's truly and deeply in love with and obsessed with him...

Favorite Scents: Blood, Gasoline, Cloves, Cinnamon, Resin, YSL Nuit, roses, vanilla, rain, the sharp smell of a cloudless winter night

Favorite Songs: Winter, 1st Movement - Vivaldi, Raindrops - Chopin, La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf

Can't Leave Home Without: At least one knife somewhere on his person.

Birthplace: San Francisco, California

Childhood: Adam is the only child out of six in his family to survive to adulthood with four older siblings who had either in infancy, had been stillborn or died of tuberculosis when Adam was still too young to remember them. He had one younger sibling, a sister named Mary who was killed in an accident at the age of 6 when Adam was 8 years old. His parents were already a little bit older by the time he was born and his father was the owner of an incredibly lucrative railroad line and had profited greatly from the Gold Rush as well as owning multiple properties in San Francisco and neighboring Santa Marta...

Due to the loss of her other children, Adam's mother doted on him -- giving into his every whim, supplying him with the best education she could and basically just spoiling the ever loving fuck out of him. His father, on the other hand, was always busy with work and when he was home, had nothing but criticism for Adam who desperately tried to gain his approval to no avail.

Adolescence: Adam developed a passion for photography as a teenager and discovered that being good-looking, clever and rich meant he could get away with A LOT more than most people and also meant that he rarely heard "no" and accepted it as an answer even less often (though he rarely resorted to force to get his way, relying instead on bribery, flattery, blackmail and implied threats). All of this gave him quite an interest in psychology and he intended to become a clinical psychologist. During his adolescence, Adam would have a great many girlfriends and despite being a selfish and manipulative little shit, was actually not the world's worst boyfriend and no hint of the violent temper and genuine sadism he'd develop after being Changed.

Adulthood: Adam's education would be interrupted by the outbreak of WWI,which if asked he will describe as "incredibly distasteful and personally inconvenient." He was a skilled marksman and sniper but was otherwise unremarkable -- much to his father's disdain. After nearly dying in one of the trenches of France after taking a grievous bayonet wound in the last few months of the war, Adam would be sent back from the frontlines and would shortly begin work on continuing his education...

However -- despite the fact that he would complete all seven years necessary to get his degree, Adam's interest in becoming an actual psychologist wouldn't ever come to fruition. In 1925, he would meet Amelia Madeleine Smith -- an unbelievably beautiful and charming socialite from Santa Marta who would see Adam's potential as a source of money and influence for the Nightingale Court of Northern California. She would spend the next year carefully grooming him to become her protege -- manipulating him much in the same way he would later manipulate the women he dates as a vampire -- using emotional transference, mind control and mundane manipulation to cause him to fall madly in love with her... In December of 1925, Amelia would finally perform the ritual of transformation on him and bring Adam over into the world of the Supernatural.

Unfortunately for Adam, his Change would take nearly two weeks to complete -- two weeks spent in absolute agony beyond anything he'd experienced before. Amelia, believing the most important first step for a newly born vampire is to break their bonds to humanity would kidnap his mother during this change and leave her for him to kill upon waking. Adam would remain with Amelia (who used her bond as Adam's maker to control most of his actions and her abilities as a Siren to continue to influence his emotions) until 1980 when she was killed by a member of the Bram Park Wolf Pack in Santa Marta, leaving Adam behind. During this period, Adam would end up being "taken in" by a bonded pair of Stryza -- Camille Belikova and Lucy DeSantos and would act as their primary draw for new playthings.

Recent: Adam met Morgan Kendrick at the Velvet Box goth club in Santa Marta when Morgan was twenty two years old and would sweep her off her feet, intending to make her into his "masterpiece"... Three years into this relationship, Adam would finally Change Morgan, which would break the initial control he had over her and result in her, in a fit of rage, completely draining him and through a magical fluke, causing his spirit to become bonded/fused with her blood...

Recently, Adam's presence has disappeared from Morgan's psyche due to the machinations of Miss Belikova and her wife -- though it appears that the two of them are still inextricably linked in a way beyond the usual bond between Maker and Fledgling.

Relationships

Family: Lawrence Freemont (Father; Deceased), Anne Freemont (Mother; Deceased), Mary Freemont (Sister; Deceased)

Lovers: Amelia Smith (Maker; Deceased), Morgan Kendrick (Fledgling, Ex, Soulbond), Many other unnamed girls.

Friends: Camille Belikova, Lucille DeSantos, Jonathan Andreason

Enemies: Morgan Kendrick, the Bram Park Wolfpack

Acquaintances: Miranda Cortez (Queen of the Nightingale Court of Santa Marta)

Income: Moderately Wealthy

Vehicles: 2020 Ferrari Portofino

Residences: Penthouse Apartment in Vista Rosa, a small Victorian row house in Val Del Mar and a 1br/1ba apartment in Park Verde (all located in Santa Marta)

[itsjovi-baby]

Babygirl | Edwin Honoret

Warnings: Oral sex

Description: Zari helps Edwin to realease his frustration, only to be left frustrated—James Dean Pt. 2

A/N: By the way this was meant to be written as a Nick imagine, so sorry if it doesn’t fit Edwin’s vibe, but I did want him to get his revenge. So, whatevs, but sorry if it sucks. AND the concept of sensual Edwin was totally forgotten, lol, so...oops

Edwin had come home frustrated, pissed.

Zari could tell by the way the front door slammed behind him, the barely mumbled 'hey', the forgotten kiss on her cheek. That wasn't the only telltale sign of the boy's frustration, because beginning yesterday he wasn't supposed to be home. He was supposed to be at the PrettyMuch house getting ready for their promotions and preparing for the tour, not stomping throughout their apartment, slamming shit. 

Zar’s fingers paused, hovering over her keyboards as she listened to his mumbled listening to his mumbled curses as he bumbled around their room. Zari took a deep breath before pushing her laptop off of her lap and making her way to their room, where Edwin was currently slamming the bathroom cabinets.

"Where the fuck is the purple shampoo?" He muttered to himself, his eyebrow furrowing as he stared into the organized cabinet.

"Third drawer," Zari called softly from the doorway, her soft eyes taking in his clenched jaw and tensed shoulders. She jumped a little at the door harshly closing as he moved onto the drawers.

“It’s not in here,” Edwin snapped as he pushed through the many bottles in the drawer. Zari rolled her eyes as she pushed past the boy to grab at the purple bottle in the drawer. A closed lip smile spread across her face as she turned around to show off the shimmer lights bottle; with narrowed eyes Edwin snatched the bottle, placing it on the counter as he exited the bathroom. 

Somebody's in a bad mood, Zari thought as she moved to turn on the shower for the boy.  

After making sure the shower was on its hottest setting, she plopped herself on their bed.  Her eyes filling with amusement as she watched the boy yank off his shirt.  Her eyes drifted over his back, mesmerized by the shifting of his muscles and the tattoos that were littered over his arms

Damn, I’m lucky.

"Don't you got something better to do than to watch me?" Edwin snarled, as he kicked his shoes into the closet and placed his shirt in the hamper.

Zari raised an eyebrow at his tone,"Ohh, somebody's angry."

"Zari, I'm not in the mood for you," Edwin grumbled, making his way to their dresser in search of a shirt and sweatpants. Zari reached out, grabbing onto his wrist, she pulled the boy to stand in front of her.  Those big doe eyes of hers staring up at him as her fingers slowly dragged up his defined stomach, "Zari."

"You gonna tell me what's wrong with you?" Zari mumbled, pushing the boy back so that she could stand up in front of him.

"I-I'm, it's--ugh," Edwin took a deep breath, his hands coming up to wipe at his face as Zari wrapped around his waist, "The boys--the everything."

"What happened?"

"Zion and Austin kept fucking around, I couldn't get the steps rights, an-and it’s just--."

Zari shushed him, her hand coming up to cover his mouth, "Breathe, babyboy. You need to breathe."

Edwin listened, his eyes closing as he breathed in the honey scent that lingered around Zari.

"Now you're gonna go take a shower," Zari mumbled, "And I'm going to get things ready to...defrustrate you."

"What does that mean?" Edwin shakes his head, his eyebrow furrowed.

"It means go take a shower," Zari giggled pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, "Go."

A smirk fell onto her lips once she heard the sound of the shower door being opened and closed.  Zari knew it wasn't just the frustrations of tour preparations, that had Edwin in a mood, she also hadn't helped. It had been five days since the kitchen fiasco, five days since there had been any sexual, intimate contact between the two.  The fiasco had not only shaken Zari up a bit but it had turned her whole world upside down.  

Initially, she was fine, joking and giggling about how Edwin's James Dean moment to her friends, but three days later she had found herself in the submissive role again. They had gone from cuddling on the couch and watching Friends with Benefits, to Edwin on top of her, mouth attached to her neck as his fingers trailed up her shirt.

"Babyboy," Zari had cooed, her fingers tugging at his silverish curls. 

She had expected a whimper, a buck of his hips, not for him to pin her hands above her head with a scoff, "Yeah, I don't think so babygirl."

Babygirl. 

It had her shook to the core, the words sounding like heaven from his lips. It had brought on both excitement and fear inside her body. Excitement, because since the kitchen fiasco, her dreams had been filled with the thought of Edwin taking control; Fear, because as he had continued to place kisses along her neck, she could feel her control slipping through her fingers. Ultimately, fear had won over and Zari had shoved Edwin off of her. They hadn’t talked about it since. 

The bathroom door opened shaking her from her thoughts. 

“Hey, bab-” Edwin stopped, his eyes widening at the sight of Zari. From he fluffed out halo co curls n coils, to the beautiful bright, yellow babydoll that clung to her rich, brown skin. “Holy shit.”

“Hey,” Zari was nervous as hell, her heart beating out of place as she watched him walk slowly towards her, his eyes dancing across her. 

“What’s this?”His voice soft and husky, yet it held a tone of surprise.

It wasn’t like Zari had never dressed up for the boy, on many occasions she had, it was just that normally when it came to her dressing up there was a dominant aurora that surrounded her. She didn’t look as shy or fragile as she did now.

Zari’s heartbeat was pounding in her ears, but she knew it was now or never. She just had to say it, “I want you to take the lead.”

“What?”

“I want you to dominate me,” She replied staring wide-eyed up to the boy, “I figured it would help you...get some of the anger out.”

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Edwin chuckled throwing the towel that was over his shower onto the dresser, “I get to take the lead, and you have to do what I say?”

“Don’t make me regret this Edwin.”

“Sorry baby its just-you were so standoffish last time, I was just trying to see where this came from”

“From me,” Zari heaved as she sat on their bed, “I was...surprised last time, E. I’ve never been the, you know, bottom. I’m always in control and when you went to take it, it scared the shit out me.”

Zari gnawed on her lip nervously, "But I want it, I want you," Her eyes fastened onto his, "I want you to make me take it."

"Okay," Edwin smiled softly sitting down next to her, "You sure?"

"Yeah, just don't Rico Strong me, yet, okay?"

Edwin chuckled, "I'm starting to question how much porn you watch when I'm not here? Wait, yet?"

"Yeah, yet, and it's not that much," She giggled taking a deep breath as Edwin began to place soft kisses along her exposed shoulder. A whimper slipping from her lips once he reached the area where her shoulder and neck connected, "Edwin."

She was trying not to think about it, not think about taking control of the situation, but the anxiousness, the nervousness was arising. It was feeling like her first time all over again, the first and really the only time she had let a guy take charge of the bedroom. With the memory of her first boyfriend leaving her unsatisfied playing in her head, she couldn’t help but try to fight Edwin when he kissed her. Her hand reaching up to caress his nape and pull him closer into the kiss. Edwin grunted into the kiss almost forgetting that he was the one in charge tonight. 

He pulled her onto his lap, leaning his chin up to continue their kiss. Zari fell into her normal rhythm--tugging on his hair, nipping at his lips--totally forgetting about what she had agreed upon before. Edwin smirked into the kiss as his hand rubbed over the round of her ass before his hand raised up and came down in a harsh smack.

“Oh!” Zari’s eyes stared down at her smirking boyfriend,”What the hell!”

“Language, Zari.”

“You could’ve at lea-” Smack!

Zari whimpered, gnawing on her bottom lip as Edwin rubbed his hand over the area. Edwin smacked at her ass again, a smile coming over her lips as he listened to the moan slip between her lips, “Do you like it, baby? When I smack your ass?”

“Yes,” Zari gasped, nodding her head. Smack!

“Yes what?”

“Daddy?” Edwin hummed cocking his head at the answer, “Papi?”

“That’s more like it.” He smiled, “Now lay back, babygirl.”

Zari whined softly at the word, doing what was asked of her nonetheless, her hands coming up to caress his jaw, pulling his lips to hers. His tongue glided smoothly against hers, deepening the kiss as he became more desperate. The progressive roughness, along with his hands disappearing underneath the babydoll tip, caused a moan to rumble from Zari’s chest.

Edwin was teasing, giving her a piece of her own medicine, as he slowly dragged his nails along the sides of her stomach. With his lips never unlatching from hers he took Zari’s hands and intertwine their fingers before pinning them above her head. Edwin’s lips wandered to her cheek and jaw, kissing slowly until he reached her neck and grazed along her collarbone. Zari hissed, her legs widening as Edwin ground his hips against hers. 

“Oh shit,” Zari exhaled, closing her eyes tightly, “Edw-papi.”

“Good girl,” he chuckled, his lips coming back to hers to peck them, “Open those pretty eyes babygirl.”

Zari whined again at the nickname, her eyes opening to witness the boy sit up between her legs and remove his t-shirt. Her eyes immediately took in his visuals, tattoos that contrasted against his golden skin, had her hand reaching up to touch. Edwin chuckled softly at the feeling of her fingers gliding over his skin and her hooded eyes following after them. 

“Take this off for me, babygirl,” Edwin murmured tugging at the hem of her babydoll top.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Edwin how her thighs tried to clench together at him saying ‘babygirl’, but he ignored it, for now, his eyes focusing onto her naked torso instead, “Fuck.”

His lips descended to her neck again before quickly making their way to her chest, his wet tongue leaving sloppy kisses in his wake. Once he had reached her breast, he sucked at the flesh, his head at the perfect place for Zari to tangle her fingers into his hair. He took a hard nipple into his wet mouth, his soft tongues pushing onto the hardened bud. Zari whimpered in pleasure her hips rolling forward against his, “Papi...”

“Hmm,” Edwin hummed his lips moving to the other breast as his fingers dipped into her yellow, laced panties to tug them off. Edwin waisted no time in getting himself situated, Zari’s thighs parted for him. and pressing his tongue against her core.

“Mmm,” Zari moaned, her head relaxing deep into the pillow as her hips bucked against his mouth, “Fuck.”

Edwin’s tongue lapped at her clit dutifully, making sure every inch of her was tasted. With his hands clutching her thighs tightly, Zari was able to gyrate her hips against his mouth, feeling his moans vibrate against her core, “Keep going, baby girl.”

“Oh my god,” Zari cried, her fingers threading through his hair and tugging. Normally she would have told him, no demanded him not to stop, but this time all she could do was beg, “E--Papi, please don’t stop.”

Edwin chuckled his tongue circling over her clit faster as he tightened his hold on her shaking thighs. Zari hissed, sitting up a bit to gaze down at her boyfriend’s head between her thighs. Edwin pulled away his eyes trained on hers as he blew cool air over the swollen bud, “So sweet babygirl.”

He went back to work, pushing on of her legs to spread them apart further, Zari’s pussy was on full display. His animalistic stare had her squirming, feeling almost unconfident about her body. She was used to being the admirer, not the admiree. Edwin dived back in, a lot rougher this time, his tongue adding more pressure onto the already swollen bud, “Ohh--fuck!”

“Ohh--holy shit--Edwin!” Zari yelped at the feeling of his tongue pushing into her entrance. Her moans and whimpers had ignited a fire within him, his mission becoming very clear as continued. Edwin pulled away, sucking on his index and middle finger, he allowed them to circle over her clit before they replaced his tongue. Zari jolted, her eyes rolling back at the feeling of his fingers curling up into her g-spot, his tongue now occupied with toying with her clit. Her back arched, lower back completely off the bed as her fingers scrapped against his scalp. Her moans and cries ringing across their room. Suddenly, Zari popped up the palms of her hands pushing his face more into his core, “ Just like that, don’t stop!”

And he did. Edwin completely pulled away, licking her essence of his lips as he looked at her.

“What the fuck, Edwin!”

“Knees.”

“W-what?” Zari’s chest heaved her core throbbing at the rejection of her orgasm.

“I said,” Edwin’s voice had dropped a few octaves, “get on your knees.” 

He pulled off his shirt, throwing it to the other side of his bed, his hands calmly and slowly slipping into his sweatpants as he stared down at her, “Now, babygirl.”

Zari’s eyes widened, slowly sliding down off of the bed as her eyes stayed locked on his.

“Well, are you just gonna stare at me, or are you gonna get to it?”

Zari’s hands shook as she grabbed at the waistband and tugged his sweatpants down. Her mouth watered at the sight of his hardened cock. 

“Open,” Edwin commanded his hand grabbing at the base of his cock, while his other tangled into her hair. He groaned, running the tip of his cock against her tongue. Slowly and unconsciously, Zari started to take control back. Her hands wrapped around his calve muscles, stopping him from rocking his hips into her mouth. It didn’t take long for her hands to join in unison, with her hollowed cheeks, in bringing Edwin to pleasure. 

“You really are gorgeous, babygirl,” He chuckled, stroking a thumb against her cheeks. He knew his compliments were boosting her ego, her hand and mouth moving faster around his cock: he also knew that the compliment would distract her from his change in demeanor, “but so disobedient.”

His hand tightened around the makeshift ponytail, pulling her mouth completely down to the base of his cock. A loud moan leaving his lips at the way her throat constricted around his cock. As Zari stared up, her mouth full, she could see it, all of the tension slipping away from his body as he dwelled into the pleasure. “Zari--fuck--that feels so good.”

He relinquished his hold on her head, allowing her time to breath before he was stuffing his cock back inside her mouth. Zari hollowed her cheeks, the pressure of her mouth causing a hiss to slip past his lips. His head tilting back as his hips started a steady rhythm, “Shit, babygirl--you feel so good, baby. Let me see your tongue.”

Zari moaned, her core clenching at the feeling of his cock dragging slowly against her tongue. His head hung down, his eyes threatening to close at the sight in front of him. He was close, his stomach muscles twitching at the thought of cumming down her mouth, “Oh, fuck Zari. You're going to make me cum babygirl. Is that what you want? for me to cum down your throat?”

Tears brimmed her eyes, a hum coming from her mouth in approval of his question. Her hands coming up to grasp at his cock and lick up the prominent vein. It was the slurping noises that made him lose it. His hips bucked out of his control and upwards, pushing himself further into her throat. He was so close. So close.

“It feels so fucking good, just a little more, babygirl. Please, just—oh fuck!”  with one more swipe on the underside of his tip, he felt the surge of his orgasm overtake him completely, hissing and moaning. Without thinking about he gripped on Zari’s hair holding her still as he thrusted into her mouth; every drop of his essence spilling onto her tongue and down her throat, “Fuck, baby.”

Zari pulled off of him with a pop, her eyes looking obediently into his hooded ones as he watched her lick around her lips. Edwin chuckled tilting her head upwards to mash his lips against hers, her hands grasping his face to deepen the kiss. He pulled away placing a small kiss on her forehead as he pulled his sweatpants back up, “Good girl, now go take a bath.”

Zari stared at him, her big brown eyes narrowing at the statement, “What? What about me?”

“Sorry, baby, not enough time,” Edwin smirked grabbing his shirt and yanking it over his head as he headed towards the door, “I have to head back. Love you”

��Head back?” Zari mumbled using her top to wipe off the slobber off her chest, as the realization of what he just said kicked in, “Edwin, I get all dressed up for you and you just leave me!”

“Bye!”

[constant-calum]

Watercolors (Brandon Arreaga) ~ Chapter Twelve:  Pollock

Summary:   17 year old Amina Parker was far from a blank canvas, but he still managed to make a finger painting with her love.

A/N:  I lowkey despise this story now.  Oops!

WARNING:  Mention of pregnancy and abortion

Part Eleven    Part Thirteen

Amina hated that Halloween was on a Wednesday this year. There was something so badass about getting dressed up in a costume and showing off to everyone in the neighborhood while she took her sister trick-or-treating.  On a Wednesday, however, Amina had too much homework to be able to participate in her favorite tradition.

As she sat in the lunchroom on Wednesday afternoon, she pouted in her tuna salad.  She realized how ridiculous and childish she must have looked, but she couldn’t help it.  All she was looking forward to was dressing up, and she couldn’t even do that.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” Edwin asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Zane sighed. “She’s sad that she can’t dress up for Halloween this year. That’s a big deal for the Parkers.”

“I take my sister trick-or-treating every single year. But since it’s a stupid Wednesday, I have too much work for the first time ever.” Amina sighed. “It’s frustrating more than anything.”

“Fuck work,” Nick stated bluntly. “You should go out and have fun on your Halloween. Especially if it’s a tradition you look forward to.”

Amina felt like she was overreacting to the situation, but she couldn’t help her emotions. “I really can’t. College applications are becoming all too real, and I have so much homework.”

Brandon placed a warm hand around Amina’s shoulders, giving her a comforting squeeze. Amina could feel herself relaxing even the tiniest bit. She immediately wondered when Brandon became a source of comfort for her.

“I’m sorry that you can’t go through with your tradition, Amina,” Brandon looked as though he was genuinely upset for his friend.

Amina nodded, which everyone took as the end of the topic. Looking across the table, Amina noticed Zion staring directly at her. She was about to ask him what the problem was until she realized just what he was so focused on. It was Brandon’s arm...that hadn’t moved from its resting place on Amina’s shoulder. Zion finally met Amina’s eye, smirking slightly.

Amina found it impossible to calm down her racing heart, unsure if it was from the physical contact or from the embarrassment of such a public display of affection. She tried to snap herself out of it. If it were Nick, Amina would not have thought twice about it. For some reason, it was different with Brandon.

A loud ringtone interrupted the comfortable chatter of the lunch table. After a few seconds, everyone realized its owner was Brandon, who got up from the table to take the call. Upset at the sudden lack of warmth surrounding her, she decided to lean her head into Nick’s shoulder, who wrapped an arm around her without skipping a beat.

.           .            .

Amina didn’t know how she beat Brandon to the art room after school. It was slightly concerning seeing as he had art last period, and tended to just stay there until Amina arrived. Amina just brushed it off, taking a seat on Brandon’s stool even though she knew he would make a fuss the minute he got there.

As if being summoned by someone else taking his place, Brandon walked through the door the minute that Amina’s butt touched the wood. His eyes were red and puffy, dripping with raw emotion. His steps were slow and uneven, as if he was unable to focus on the act of walking. Amina had seen Brandon emotional quite a few times, and it seemed as though every time he got worse.

“B, what happened?” Amina stood quickly, crossing the room until she stood right in front of her friend. “Are you okay?”

Brandon just sniffled, displacing his glasses in the process of wiping his eyes. Amina didn’t know what else to do but grab his free hand and lead him to sit down. Brandon immediately slumped onto his stool, looking as miserable as ever.

“Talk to me, Brandon. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

Brandon’s framed eyes met Amina’s, taking a deep breath before beginning to speak. “It’s Valerie,” he began. “She’s pregnant again now, with this one night stand’s baby. She’s keeping it.”

A piece of Amina’s heart broke for her friend. At a loss for words, she stumbled over what to do or say. Getting over an ex is hard; getting over an ex who aborted your baby is even harder; getting over an ex who aborted your baby and is now pregnant again is nearly impossible.

“I don’t even know why I’m so upset,” Brandon chuckled bitterly. “It’s not like I’m not over her. And I’m not the father of this new baby. It just...it just hurts for some reason. Not even in a ‘she kept this rando’s baby and not mine’ way. But more of a...I don’t even know. I feel like shit.”

Amina smoothed a hand over Brandon’s dark curls, secretly loving how soft they felt under her fingertips. “What do I always say?”

“I’m allowed to feel however I feel,” Brandon mumbled, reminiscent of a toddler reciting rules back to their parent.

“Exactly. It’s okay if you’re upset. It’s okay if you’re upset and you don’t know why. I’ll be here no matter what.”

“I guess there’s too much baby drama for a 17-year-old like me.”

“It’s not even my drama and it’s too much for me.”

Brandon looked up at Amina from his seated position. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Even though Amina could tell he was still devastated, there was a grateful twinkle in his eye.

“Thank you,” he began. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably turn into a ball of sadness and die,” Amina joked, causing Brandon to chuckle.

“You’re probably right. I’d have any bit of sadness or drama and I would just combust. Or just make super angsty art about it.”

“That sounds like a much more positive outlet.”

Brandon continued to look up at the girl in front of him, this time with a smile on his face and dry eyes. Amina couldn’t stop herself from running a hand through his hair once more. The two didn’t speak, but they didn’t have to. They both simply enjoyed the moment.

It was Amina who decided to break the momentary silence. “You know you could always make art about this. Write Valerie’s name in super big pretty letters, then just splatter paint all over it.”

“I think my art is a little more sophisticated than that.”

“Of course it is, Mr. I’m-going-to-RISD (Rhode Island School of Design),” Amina chuckled. “But maybe it will help.”

Brandon thought for a moment before finally nodding slowly. He instructed Amina to grab a few tubes of paint and two smocks from the supply closet. She did so giddily, pointing out how she never got to paint and was excited to do so. Brandon just watched her bounce around the room with a lazy smile on his face.

Amina tossed Brandon his smock before attempting to put hers on by herself. She frowned when her short arms couldn’t reach the tie behind her do.

“Brandon? Can you tie this for me?”

The boy did as told, walking over to his friend and securing the tie around her waist.  He let the tips of his fingers linger on the small of her back, and smiled slightly when Amina shivered.  When she turned to face him, he clapped his hands together.

“Alright, let’s do this,”  he grabbed a piece of paper and spread it out on the table in front of them.  “So normally, I would outline the name in pencil, and then paint over it, but I’m impatient today.  What color should her name be?”

Amina shrugged.  “Maybe we should do something bright.  Then we can put darker splatters on it.”

“Alright, how about orange?”

The way Amina turned her nose up at the color made Brandon chuckle loudly. He watched as the girl picked up each individual color, inspecting the tube like they were in competition with each other. Eventually, she pulled out the yellow, smiling brightly.

“I think we have our winner!”

The two worked meticulously, watching each other as they alternated between broad strokes of the brush and short flicks. Within an hour the two were done. Amina stepped back to admire the masterpiece she and her friend had worked to creative. As she inspected the whole scope of the work, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Brandon?” Amina managed in between her fits of laughter. “This looks like shit.”

This made Brandon’s indifferent exterior crack as he exploded into laughter. “Mimi, what did we do?!”

“I don’t know! I thought it would look good.”

Brandon placed a hand on each knee, doubled over with the force of his laughs. “It literally looks like a baby vomited on a piece of paper, smeared it, and called it art.”

“I know. It’s pretty terrible,” Amina rubbed her hairline with the back of her paint-covered hand. “At least we did it together right? And don’t you feel better?”

“I definitely do feel better.”

“That’s what matters,” Amina beamed.

The two were quiet as they began to clean up, washing dirty hands and brushes and hanging up their smocks. By the time they were done, the only evidence of their work was the paint smeared paper lying on the center of the table.

“Should I throw this monstrosity out?” Amina asked, still smiling down at their shared work.

Brandon hesitated before picking the painting up and holding it out in front of him. “Nah, I think I’ll keep it.

Amina was slightly surprised that Brandon would even want it, and was a little hurt when she realized that it still had Valerie’s name on it. That’s what it all boiled down to—Brandon and Valerie.

“Okay, well I’m pretty sure my mom is here,” Amina sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, B.”

“Of course. I’ll see you.”

Brandon waved as Amina left the room, still admiring the piece of work that the two created. Something about it warmed his heart, no matter how terrible it was. He smiled to himself.

“Oh, I’m totally framing this.”

.        .         .

As a compromise for not going trick or treating, Amina’s mother let her man the door for the entirety of Halloween Night. It wasn’t ideal for Amina to be curled up with a calculus textbook in one hand and a bowl of candy in the other, but she was happy to do something to celebrate the holiday.

After spending a few hours gushing over little kids and cute costumes, Amina closed the door for what she thought would be the last time. It was already 9:30 on a school night; no one would let their kids out this late. Her sock-covered feet turned away from the door and began to trek up the stairs until she heard the doorbell ring.

Groaning, Amina turned on her heels, picking up the candy bowl on the way. She flung the door open aggressively, obviously annoyed with this last minute group of children. What she didn’t expect was to see six familiar faces beaming at her.

“Trick-or-treat!” They all said in unison, making Amina break out into a wild smile.

Amina didn’t know if she was happier that her friends had come to see her, or that they were all dressed up in various costumes: Nick was a vampire, Edwin a werewolf, Austin was Ash from Pokémon, Zane was Number 4 from Codename Kids Next Door, Zion looked like some underground rapper, and Brandon was Spider-Man.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” Amina started. “But damn am I glad you did. You’re all getting your picture taken.”

“Of course we had to do this,” Austin leaned on the door frame. “It’s Halloween. If you can’t go out and enjoy it, we’re going to bring the fun to you.”

Amina beamed. “Well thank you.”

“Thank Nick,” Zane replied. “It was all his idea. He even planned everyone’s costumes.”

Nick looked bashful, shrugging slightly. “It was nothing.”

Amina was speechless as she went down the line to hug each of her friends. When she got to Nick last, she hugged him extra tight. Nick did the same, clutching Amina close as if he were to never let her go.

“Thank you guys, seriously. This means a lot.”

Zion scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Um, not to be headass, but can we have some candy? Like we are here to trick-or-treat after all.”

Amina chuckled, passing around the candy bowl to everyone. She didn’t miss Austin taking at least six Kit-Kats, but decided not to say anything in effort to preserve the fun.

After a few minutes of the group talking and laughing in the doorway of Amina’s home, Zane declared she was tired, which was instantly met with agreement from the rest of the boys.

“Wait, before you go,” Amina interrupted. “We have to take a picture.”

Although reluctant, the group eventually settled into an appropriate formation, and with a count of three, they were done.

As everyone began to say their goodbyes, Amina found herself pulling Nick close once again, unable to begin to show her gratitude for making her night better. Nick seemed to understand, though, just wordlessly holding Amina until Edwin declared that everyone had to go.

“Mimi, thank you,” Nick whispered, pulling away.

“For what?”  

“Being patient with him.”

“With who?”

Amina didn’t get an answer as the group walked away. She just stood in her doorway, confused as hell, watching her friends disperse into the nighttime.

[winryofresembool]

EdWin ice skating AU, chapter 9

A/N: aaand here’s the next chapter, by not so popular demand. This was a lot of fun to write, and I’m quite excited about the next chapters as well! Will Ed or Winry be able to continue their Olympic games? Please enjoy and remember to let me know what you think of this chapter because that is all I get for writing this thing. Thanks to everyone who gave the previous chapter likes and comments! Specific thanks to @mautrino for the messages! :3

Previous chapters:  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5.5, 6, 7, 8

Companion pieces (note: these are all post Olympics happenings so reading the main fic first is recommended): 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Next chapter: [x]

Words: 2100+

Warnings: probs some swearing but nothing else?

“Ms. Rockbell? We have the results from your x-ray.”

Winry simply nodded at the doctor, positive that this would be the end of her Olympic dream.

“I have some good news for you. Nothing in your foot is broken. You have some strong bones, I can assure you that not many would survive a failed landing like that without broken bones. I should know, I’ve been a sport injury specialist for a long while.”

“Oh thank goodness, so that means…!” Winry interrupted the doctor before he had finished.

“However, I do want you to take it easy for at least a week. The joints didn’t react well to the collision, so the foot might get sorer if you don’t give it a rest.”

“But the individual competition…” Winry grew worried again.

“It starts in a week, right? If everything goes well, you should be able to compete. However, I want you to skip the ice practices for at least 4-5 days and avoid putting any extra pressure on your foot. Compression might do. I also want to take a look at it before the competition”

The man wrapped a tourniquet on the injured foot and suddenly leaned in to whisper something on Winry’s ear:

“Don’t tell the others, but I’m really rooting for you in the individual competition. Of course as a team doctor I’m not supposed to take a side, but I knew your parents and… I can see they did a good job raising their daughter.”

“You did? Hey, I’d love to ask you a couple of questions…!”

The doctor simply shook his head and sighed sadly. “Maybe some other time. Now, if you excuse me, I have to get to my next patient.”

As he walked away, Winry felt completely puzzled. She hadn’t expected her parents to be brought up so suddenly. It still felt good to know she had people rooting for her, and momentarily she felt much lighter, knowing she could compete again.

That was only until she remembered the scene she had seen in front of her only an hour ago.

“Ed, Ed, can you hear me?”

Figures were spinning on front of Ed, and he couldn’t make up who was where when he opened his eyes. All he knew was that everything hurt. Moving his limbs was hard. Particularly his left leg throbbed like hell. He blinked his eyes once to let the people around him know that he was conscious, but that was pretty much all he could do. Finally, he registered that it had been Roy who had asked him that question and gave him a weak thumbs up as he tried to figure out what had happened.

The surface he was laying on was really cold. The lights above him were so bright they hurt his eyes. That must have meant he was still at the hockey arena. Suddenly, he remembered some force pushing him forward harshly, causing him to crash against the boards, leg first. He didn’t remember falling, but that must have happened since he was laying there in front of all these people.

“We are gonna lift you on the stretcher now, so brace yourself.” He heard a voice say.

Ed did what ordered and soon he could feel himself being carried off the ice. He dared to open his eyes again and saw himself and his helpers approaching an ambulance, but he didn’t remember much of what happened afterwards.

Before he knew it, he was already in the hospital. The team doctor, Marcoh, was doing his best to shoo the extra hospital staff away from him because he couldn’t let them see Ed’s automail. Unfortunately, Ed’s leg and head needed a proper check-up, and since there was no way Marcoh would be allowed to handle all the machines needed in a foreign hospital, he prepared himself to bribe a couple members of the staff to be quiet about what they saw.

Once Marcoh had gotten rid of the extra staff, he proceeded to make some tests and ask Ed a few questions. His conclusion: concussion and possibly a broken leg, but thankfully it didn’t seem the hit had made a lot of damage on his other body parts, and he was now able to move them quite normally. Perhaps most importantly, the automail port and the shoulder hadn’t been affected, something which Marcoh was grateful for because if something happened to it, that would mean a big and dangerous operation.

After he was done with all the possible tests he could make without the machines, Marcoh talked one of the radiographers into helping him, and they took Ed to be X-rayed. The automail arm had to be detached before that, but Ed didn’t complain since the pain in his leg was even worse than the nasty feeling in his right shoulder when his nerves were disconnected from the automail.

Ed started to grow bored while waiting for Marcoh to analyse the X-ray in his room. Even without the headache caused by the crash, he wouldn’t have dared to turn on the TV, because he wasn’t ready to face what would likely be shown there. The Olympics coverage would probably be full of his accident and people speculating how badly he was injured. Even he himself didn’t know that, so it was ridiculous to hear other people sound so sure when they said something like “he won’t be playing any more this season” or “he’ll be up and skating before you know it”.

Ed did have enough experience on injuries to know that he most likely wouldn’t be playing for several months. All he could do now was to wait for the results from both the tests and the game and wish for the best, and that made him feel frustrated. Just when he was about to start kicking the end of his bed with his healthy foot, at least five of his teammates entered the room, happy to see him looking relatively fine despite the accident.

“So? How did the game end?” Ed asked darkly before anyone had a chance to say anything.

“We won,” Hughes said, although his voice was lacking the usual excitement. “4-1. Havoc scored an empty-netter when the Drachmans were trying to tie the game.”

“Good,” Ed grumbled, although he felt far from good in that moment.

“We really wanted to stop playing after… that thing, but rules are rules… We did manage to get away from Bradley’s post game meeting though.”

“That’s cool guys, I’m just glad you won.”

“So, how are you feeling?” Roy asked. Ed couldn’t help but notice that for some reason he almost seemed… guilty? when he asked that.

“What do you think? In pain and pissed off.” Ed let some of his frustration out. “I can’t believe my first Olympic tournament lasted less than one game.”

“But do you know that yet for sure?”

“I may be fast at healing,” he said, thinking about his automail surgery from which he had healed in record time, “but I’m fairly sure my leg is broken and it doesn’t heal in one day.”

“I guess you have a point there…” Hughes admitted, but then a wide smirk rose on his face, as he remembered something that would distract Ed from his miserable thoughts.

“Anyway… I couldn’t help but notice there was a familiar looking young woman waiting in the corridor, looking like she wanted to see you but was too afraid to ask if she could come in…”

“Oh… who…” Ed’s brain felt a little sluggish still, but when he saw Hughes’ expression, the gears in his head started working.

“Winry? What is she doing here?”

“You can ask that from her. I’m gonna let her in.”

Before Ed could protest, Roy was already inviting to girl to join them. When she stepped in, she seemed very out of place, not knowing what to say in front of all these men, but finally she managed to give Ed an awkward wave.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Winry.”

“Um, how are you? I was waiting for my x-ray results when you were…”

“Huh? Did something happen to you?” Ed stopped her, looking more worried than Winry had expected.

“I hurt my foot a bit at today’s contest, but it was nothing serious… You seem far worse.”

Ed just shrugged. “I’ve been better, you’re not wrong about that… but been worse too.”

“Right… This is probably not the best moment to ask this, especially considering… but I was wondering if we could maybe talk? Alone?”

Ed gave his teammates a meaningful look and they left the room. Hughes couldn’t help but give Ed a thumbs up before he disappeared.

“What?” Ed turned back to Winry, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Uh… I know things are kinda weird between us, and I know you said it would be better if we didn’t see each other again…” she started awkwardly. “To be honest, I still kinda want to throw a wrench at you, but… if you feel like changing your mind about what you said earlier, I’m ready to start from the beginning. You know, as friends?”

It was barely visible, but Winry thought she could see a tiny smile flash on Ed’s face before he answered.

“What made you change your mind? I said some stupid shit back then…”

“Yeah, but I talked to a couple of people…”

“About me?” Ed raised his eyebrows.

“Y-yeah, kind of… But don’t draw any conclusions!” Winry blushed fiercely when she realized the implications of what she had just said.

“So, what did you talk about?” he asked, rather cockily in Winry’s opinion.

“Well, one of them, Rose, seemed to think that I should give you some time… and then she told me this interesting story about a hockey player who had helped her to get back onto her own feet again…”

Winry smiled playfully, happy to notice Ed had counted 1+1=2 based on his reaction. He seemed curious now.

“According to Rose, that guy seemed a bit of a jerk at first…”

“Hey!”

“Shut up, you big baby. I said at first. Anyway, even though the guy seemed kinda rough on the edges, his words really reached her, and she understood that she couldn’t dwell on something she couldn’t change. That saved her career. And now? She’s competing with me in these Olympics.”

“She is? That’s… that’s great.”

“Yeah… I guess what I’m trying to say is that you have a bigger impact on people than you give yourself credit for. You affected even me before we met here, inspiring me to aim higher in my goal to become a figure skater. That’s probably partially why I’m here in this room now. You know, sometimes you really infuriate me, but…” her tone became softer as she continued: “when I saw you being carried into the hospital, I realized that… I want to keep you in my life. Despite all. As a friend, of course!” she added hastily when she saw Ed blushing and having difficulties sitting still.

“You never give up until you get what you want, do you?” he asked after a while.

“No, that’s not a trait of a Rockbell.”

“In that case…  the answer to your question is: yes.”

Winry didn’t understand what he was referring to. “What?”

“You asked me if I had changed my mind… and you just convinced me. Yeah, I think we can be friends.”

“Great!” A wide smile spread on Winry’s face. “I do want us to be able to be honest to each other, though, so if something bothers you… I want to know. I will call you out if you start avoiding me again.”

“About that… There are some things that I should explain to you, but I’m not ready for that yet. I just got a concussion and missed my chance to win an Olympic medal so this is not the best situation…”

“I guess that’s fair enough… but when you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here. Um, it seems your doctor wants you to get some rest,” she pointed towards the door through which they could hear Marcoh telling Ed’s teammates to leave the hospital. “… So I suppose I should go.”

She got up from her chair and turned to leave, but before she got farther, she felt Ed take a hold of her wrist and she turned to look at him.

“Winry, thanks. For saying all those things, I guess. It will probably get pretty boring here, so I wouldn’t mind if you visited sometimes.”

“Don’t worry, I will!”

Winry gave Ed one more smile, and when she disappeared from his sight, he gave a deep sigh, and thought:

“Shit. I’m screwed.”

[edxwin-elric]

Chemistry (Part 1)

Part 1: Pop Quiz

Rating: T

Pairing: Edwin/Edward Elric x Winry Rockbell

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Word Count: 2279

Description: Part 1 of this Edwin Thing

Modern School AU where Edward is jealous when Winry talks about other boys, but she’s completely oblivious.

A/N: Request by anon for some Jealous Edward. I hope this satisfies. Comments are always appreciated.

tag || ffn || ao3

next part

Winry

My phone vibrates in my pocket on the way to lunch. As soon as I see the message, I roll my eyes and start typing my response. I shouldn’t be surprised Ryan is flirting with me via stupid jokes about shop class. His reply comes through, and I bite my lip, trying not to blush.

“Hey, did you finish the chem homework from Friday?”

“Hmm?” I look over at Ed who is walking next to me. “What?”

He looks down at my phone, and I see a muscle twitch in his jaw.

“Are you okay?” I frown at him.

“Yeah,” he grunts, looking away. “I just…I asked if you finished the homework in Mustang’s class.”

“Oh.” I nod. “No, I got started on balancing the equations, but then I got distracted and didn’t finish.”

“I can help you with it, if you want.” He shrugs. “If you’re not too busy with Ryan.”

“Since when have I ever sat with Ryan during lunch? He has second lunch anyway–”

“Oh, well good,” he cuts me off, rolling his shoulders.

We sit down, and I spread out my homework, eating my lunch out of the brown bag in my lap. Ed is really good at science, especially chemistry, so he makes it easy to understand the parts that confused me. I’m working the last equation when my phone vibrates again. I stop and reach for my phone when Ed’s fist on the table catches my eye. I look up at him to see him glaring at my homework.

“Edward, what–”

“Is that him again?”

“Is it who?” I ask carefully.

“You know who,” he growls. “That little bitch, Ryan.”

“Seriously?” I raise my eyebrows. “What’s going on with you?” I reach over and put my hand on his arm, forcing him to look at me. “Why do you hate Ryan all of the sudden?”

“I don’t hate him,” he bites out, pulling away and looking to the side. “I just…think he’s kind of a douche.”

“He’s not a douche! He’s nice! He’s my partner in shop class, and if it weren’t for him, I’d be stuck with that roach, Kimblee.”

“Well, of course you would think he’s nice,” he grumbles, and I feel my face getting red.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he snaps. “I’m just saying maybe if you spent less time flirting with him, you’d have time to finish your own damn chemistry homework.”

Ouch. I feel hurt and anger flood my system, as I stand and start gathering my things.

“Fine, Ed,” I mutter. “If that’s how you feel, I’ll go do my homework in the library.”

“Winry–”

I blink away the stupid tears threatening to fall as I sling my bag over my shoulder.

“I don’t understand what’s going on with you,” I tell him, my voice wavering. “Ryan is a perfectly nice person, and whatever your problem is with him, you don’t have to take it out on me.”

“Winry, wait. I didn’t mean–”

He stands up, looking apologetic, but I ignore him, walking out of the cafeteria and down the hall.

Edward

Fuck.

“What was that about, brother?” Al appears at my side just as the door closes to the lunch room. “Winry looked pretty upset.”

“Just me,” I mumble. “Saying something stupid. Making her cry.”

“What was it this time?”

I throw myself back into my chair and shove my fingers through my bangs.

“She… That stupid asshat Ryan has been texting her again.”

He raises his eyebrows at me and crosses his arms.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snap at him.

“Someone is jealous.” He smirks and sits down in Winry’s abandoned chair.

“Hardly,” I scoff. “I just…don’t want her to get hurt. I’m protecting her.”

“Right,” he says slowly. “The same way you were protecting her when you punched Ling in the courtyard after he said she was pretty.”

“He had it coming.”

He stays quiet for a second, and I poke around at the food on my plate.

“You made her cry again,” he says quietly.

Fuck. I know.

“Yeah,” I mutter.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Apologize, I guess,” I sigh. “Like I always do.”

“You’d think at some point she’d stop being friends with you. Considering how often this happens.”

“Yeah.”

“On the other hand, you could just tell her you like her, like a normal person, and maybe then you wouldn’t blow up in a jealous rage constantly.”

“What?” I sputter. “I’m not jealous! And why would I tell her I like her? I don’t—That’s not—I haven’t ever–”

“Better watch out, brother. All that lying will set your pants on fire.”

“I’m not lying!” I jump up, ignoring the people staring at us now. “She’s just…a friend. I don’t like her like that. She’s like family. Like a sister–”

“I hope not,” he cuts me off. “Normal guys don’t fantasize about their sisters–”

“Shut up, Al!” I kick his chair leg. “It’s not like that,” I hiss.

“You’re forgetting, brother,” he whispers as he stands, leaning in, “we share a wall. And you talk in your sleep.”

I feel my face heat, and my fists clench with the urge to punch him.

“Hey. Don’t get mad at me just because you’re in denial.” He turns and grabs his bag off the floor. “You have a crush on Winry, Ed. It’s about time you owned up to it. Before you blow your shot.”

He turns and walks away, and I stand there seething. What the hell is he talking about? A crush on Winry, my ass. I don’t think about her like that. And I can’t control what I think about in my sleep. It’s not my fault if I dream that we, um… Or, if I wake up and I’m…

I shake my head, trying to think of something else. Fortunately, the bell rings to signal the end of lunch period. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I drop my tray off at the collection on my way out. Next, I have history, which is boring as fuck, but at least I can count on getting a good nap in. No offense to Mr. Falman.

Winry

Study hall is boring. Especially since I finished the last two chemistry equations on my own in the library. They may not be totally correct, but I had the ones Ed helped me with—before he blew up at me—for reference. So, I don’t even have that to occupy me.

God, it’s even worse in here when Paninya actually has work she needs to finish. Otherwise, we can usually pass notes across the table when Mr. Havoc isn’t looking, and today is definitely a day I need her advice. Not that she has a lot of experience with guys switching from hot to cold on her the way Ed has been with me today.

What is with him anyway? I mean, he knows Ryan is my friend, so why is he all of the sudden upset about it? Ryan has been my partner in shop class since the beginning of the year. It’s not like it’s new. And sure, he flirts with me, but it’s meaningless fun. I’m not interested in Ryan. I’ve even told him that to his face. Maybe I would be if it were under different circumstances, but I’ve pretty much accepted that as long as Ed’s around, there really isn’t room for another guy in my life. Not romantically, anyway.

It would be nice, though, if Ed would return my feelings. I haven’t said anything to him because…well, if he doesn’t feel the same way about me…

It’s not like I’m pining for him or anything. I don’t expect him to fall in love with me, I guess, but…we’ve known each other forever, and the idea of him with another girl makes me feel…jittery.

I reach down and pull the red zip up hoodie out of my bag and pull it on, tugging my hair out of the collar. Instantly, I feel calmer. He gave me the jacket one day when I forgot mine, and the temperature dropped ten degrees before lunch. I haven’t given it back because…I don’t want to. The idea of another girl wearing his jacket makes me feel sick.

A piece of paper slides across the table, and I look up to see Paninya giving me big eyes. I snatch her note and unfold it, glancing over at Mr. Havoc to make sure he’s not looking.

Are you okay? You’re wearing the hothead’s jacket again. And I’m sweating, so I doubt it’s because you’re chilly.

I sigh and grab my pen to scribble my reply.

He was acting weird today. Went off on me about Ryan, though idk why. I needed to feel better.

She frowns at me, and I shrug.

What about Ryan upset him?

He wouldn’t say, exactly. Just called him a douche and a little bitch. He snapped at me when I tried to ask him.

He sounds jealous to me.

Haha. Why would Ed be jealous of Ryan?

Oh, idk. Because he likes you???

He has a funny way of showing it.

If that’s even true. I mean, does he like me as more than a friend? Because it’s Edward. He might just be picking at Ryan because he called him short once or something. His irrational dislike of him may have nothing to do with me after all.

If I see him, I’ll tell him flowers are the more traditional romantic gesture.

I roll my eyes at her and shake my head, quickly hiding our written exchange when Mr. Havoc turns our way. Unfortunately, we don’t get the chance to pick up our conversation again before the bell rings, so as I walk into chemistry, I’m still feeling confused about the whole Ed-snapping-at-me situation.

Naturally, he’s standing at my lab station when I come in. Scratching the back of his head, looking sheepishly contrite, which is actually a pretty common expression for him. My heart squeezes, and I sigh. Even though I’m still hurt, it’s hard to be mad when he so clearly regrets what he said. He’s Edward. It’s not like I can just stop talking to him forever.

With that in mind, I pull the sleeves of the hoodie down over my palms and make my way to my seat.

Edward

Shit. What am I supposed to say? She’s got that look on her face that kills me. Plus, her bottom lip looks puffy like she’s been nibbling on it.

Fuck, I want to nibble on it.

What the hell? No, I don’t! She’s Winry for fuck’s sake. God, what has gotten into me.

“Hi.” She skirts around me and sits down on her stool.

“Winry, I can explain,” I say softly, trying to buy time. “It wasn’t–”

“I’m still mad at you,” she interrupts.

“I know.”

“I’m not interested in Ryan, you know,” she volunteers randomly.

“What? I never thought—Why would you even suggest–”

“Paninya said you sounded jealous.” She shrugs. “I figured it wasn’t that, but just in case, I thought I’d tell you.”

“Oh.” I blink, ignoring the intense feeling of relief flooding my chest. “Well, that wasn’t it at all.”

God, if Al were here right now…

“He asked me to prom,” she murmurs, and I ignore the way my muscles tense. “I told him I already had a date.”

My jaw drops, and I blink at her.

“You do?”

I mean, prom is only two weeks away, so I shouldn’t sound so surprised, but she hasn’t mentioned anyone to me. Hell, if her date is some fuckwad, I’m going to scare the shit out of him before he tries anything with her.

“Well…” She glances up at me before looking down, running her fingers over the grooves in the top of lap table. “I might. It depends.”

“On what?”

“On you.”

“Me?” I blink. “Y-you want to go to prom with me?”

“Well, I thought we could go as, um, friends,” she says softly, looking down. “Unless you have plans…”

Oh God. Is it hot in here? I can’t breathe.

“Right. Um, as friends. That’s, uh, fine,” I stammer. “I mean, I can do that.”

“Okay.” She looks up at me with a smile, and my heart trips over itself.

Dammit. What is happening?

She reaches up to push her bangs out of her eyes—damn those eyes are blue—and then I spot the red sleeve, and I freeze. She’s wearing my hoodie. I forgot she had it. Why is she wearing it now? It’s not even cold.

Oh crap. Seeing her wrapped in my clothes is making me hard. Seriously, what the hell? It’s not like I haven’t seen her in my jacket before.

She looks up at me, and I feel my cheeks going pink. Shit. I can’t let her catch me with a hard-on right now. I quickly slide onto the stool beside her, hoping no one is looking at me.

Luckily, the bell rings before Winry can say anything else. I take a slow breath as Mr. Mustang saunters up to the front of the class. At least chemistry is something I understand, so hopefully there won’t be any more surprises. Like Winry asking me to prom.

Fucking shit. I’m taking Winry to prom. I steal a look at her and feel my face get red. Or redder. Fuck, Al is never going to let me live this down.

“Good afternoon, class,” Mustang pipes up with that annoying grin of his. “Pop quiz.”

Well, fuck. So much for no surprises.

[techmomma]

Sun-bleached

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“Search for my bones. They will give me some substance. But they are buried; the sea is trying to take them.”

 Her father had begged her not to look for his bones but she would not relent; to not see or touch her father was a cruel mockery and she would not let his supernatural efforts to remain with her be for nothing, if he could not even grasp her hand. To look for something that would let him rest was the least she could do, after all.

Finding the island where he’d washed ashore after that hellish day had taken about a fortnight, hopping from island to island, staying in inns with unfriendly eyes and quiet whispers. Haunted, as they called it, was a dangerous thing. Only those cursed were haunted, and even without her father there they knew she was, eyes too cold for the living anymore. Fine. She didn’t need their pity. All she needed were her father’s bones.

On a dim, overcast day, walking the chilly beach, her father stopped over a dune and Pel got to work, shoveling away sand with her hands.  Her fingers met something smooth, yanking up by two indents to find herself stumbling back with her father’s skull in her hands.

“HOLY—“ she yelped, dropping the skull, the flesh stripped away to white calcium. She stared, a wide-eyed, uncertain look on her face as she watched the two empty orbits. A maelstrom of feelings pounded at the back of her head but she remained numb, blinking, looking to her father’s ghost as he watched her.

“Are you all right…?”

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine.” Thunder and lightning drummed at the back of her head, the taste of saltwater in her mouth as she reached out, fiddling with the round skull until she had the fingers in the orbits, making the jaw move up and down. “Ra-ra-rah, I’m your father, go to bed, stop being a little shit Pelagosa, ra-ra-ra~!”

Edwin watched, unamused.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghoooost, ar-ar-ar~! … No?” Pel rolled her eyes, though a smirk snuck up on Edwin’s spectral face. “Do you just need your uh… skull, or do you need more?”

“A skull will do. But the more pieces, the more I have to attach myself to.” He offered his hands, Pel lifting up his skull. As though putting on a hat, his skull disappeared into his ghostly head, barely visible behind his face. But already, he looked more solid. More… him.

Pel stood and brushed herself off, reaching out hesitantly for him. Her fingers touched his coat, the texture endlessly familiar though it felt airy and empty behind it. He offered his hand, and Pel brushed her fingers on his palm, the calloused texture perfect. His hand had always been warm… he felt right but it was wrong still. She could feel him but this still wasn’t him. She swallowed hard, sniffling back tears.

But this time, her father could wipe them away.

“I know, my little Pelican… it’s not the same…”

Pel forced a laugh, looking away. “I’m fine.... It’s better than nothing, right?” She gave him a watery grin, wiping her eyes. Edwin sighed, holding her head to kiss her crown.

“Dad…” she laughed, taking a deep breath. “C’mon, show me where the rest are.” He pointed and like a child uncovering seashells, she got to work uncovering her father’s bones, piece by piece. Even after diving into the ocean, they could never quite find all of them, some already eaten to nothing by the sea, some lost in parts she could never reach.

But putting her father’s bones into a special chest after a long three days of searching, Pel finally felt like some little piece of her own life had been stitched back together. A small part of the still mending hole in her heart, but she knew there could be more done.

There had to be more she could do for her papa.

[constant-calum]

Watercolors (Brandon Arreaga) ~ Chapter 4:  Rembrandt

Summary:   17 year old Amina Parker was far from a blank canvas, but he still managed to make a finger painting with her love.

A/N:  It’s been 85490 years...and a girl still can’t get a reblog out here...wow

Part Three   Part Five

Amina was not looking forward to lunch on Friday.  It wasn’t because she didn’t want to see the boys, but rather, she didn’t want to see Brandon.  But as she approached the table, this time with Zane in tow, it seemed as though nothing changed.  Nick stood to greet her with a hug, almost squeezing her to death.  Amina found it comforting.

“What’s up, chicas?”  Edwin called, waving a french fry around.

“Hey, guys.”  Zane practically sang.

It was unfair how pretty Zane’s voice was.  Just by hearing her speak, you could tell she was an amazing singer.  Amina’s voice was a little deeper, definitely raspier.  She wished she had the clarity and presence in her voice that her best friend had always possessed.

Much to her dismay, Amina found herself sat in between Brandon and Nick.  She tried to block Brandon out as much as possible, admittedly still upset about their encounter yesterday.  It was hard, though, because his nose wasn’t buried in his sketchbook like it usually was.  He actually seemed engaged in the conversation.

“Yo so guys, I saw Miss Herrera in the hallway today, and I seriously considered taking spanish again just for her.”  Brandon said.

“B, you already speak spanish,”  Austin pointed out.

“I know, but she’s just that fine.  When I say I would risk it all…”  Zion fist bumped Brandon from across the table.

Zane looked confused.  “Wait, you speak spanish?  Like fluently?”

Brandon nodded.  “I speak it at home, so...But still, Eggwin is way better at it than me.”

“Once I leave the building,”  Edwin explained.  “No english for me.”

Amina was surprised, and oddly attracted to that fact.  She was in love with the spanish language.  She wasn’t oblivious to the fact that the boys were attractive before, but learning that about them instantly bumped up their attractiveness levels.

“Speaking of leaving the building,”  Austin interjected.  “Y’all are still good to come to mine for the Friday night tradition.”

Both Zane and Amina nodded as Austin pointed at them.  All of the boys smiled, except for Brandon, who looked confused.  Amina smirked to herself.  For once she was apart of something special, and it made her even happier that Brandon had no idea.

“Wait, you guys are coming tonight?”  He asked.

Amina couldn’t stop herself from snapping back.  “Yeah, is that gonna be a problem?”

Brandon looked Amina dead in the eye, and she could tell exactly what he was feeling.  It was a possessive, white hot anger.  Well less angry, and more competitive, Amina felt.  This was a stare down that Amina was not going to lose.  She cocked one eyebrow as a slight moment of silence passed.  For Amina, it felt like an hour, when in actuality, it was only a second or two.  Eventually, Brandon cleared his throat.

“No, no problem.”  He looked to Zane.  “It should be fun.”

Amina felt Nick squeeze her thigh under the table as everyone began speaking again.  It was low, closer to her knee, but it still made Amina jump.  She turned to him, and he looked extremely confused.  

Everything okay?  He mouthed.

Amina nodded, placing a hand on his bicep in reassurance.  The last thing she needed is for the guys to know how Brandon had treated her.  Maybe she had been overreacting yesterday, but what he said was still rude.  In her mind, that was even more reason to keep her distaste for Brandon to herself.  She had only been apart of this friendship for two days;  it was no time to be causing drama.

Amina half-heartedly picked at her black eyed peas that her mother had packed in her favorite gold glittered thermos.  A sudden wave of anxiety crashed over her as she thought about the reality of her friendship with the boys.  It had only been two days; why did it seem as though years had passed already?  The boys provided her with a sense of comfort that took years for her and Zane to establish.  She didn’t know how to feel about that.

Across the table, Zane leant into Zion’s side, the two of them fitting like puzzle pieces.  Amina couldn’t help but be a little jealous.  Of course, she was happy for her best friend, but at the same time, everything always came so easy to Zane.  At any given moment, she could have any boy she wanted.  That was never the case for Amina.  So now, to see Zane easily falling into a relationship was making Amina’s heart clench.  She knew it would be a long time before she had anything like that.

Austin’s house was on Mendham Road, only a few short blocks from where Amina lived.  If he was wealthy like Nick was, his house sure didn’t show it. Amina kind of liked it though; it made her feel less alienated about her own family’s financial status.

They all decided to drive to Austin’s house together, squeezing way more people into Nick’s car than legally allowed. The boys all busted through the front door like they owned the place. Amina couldn’t tell if it was because they were all so close, or because that was just the nature of the boys.  Amina and Zane hung around the back, shutting the door quietly behind them.

The two followed the group of boys down the main hallway. Austin peeked into a room that Amina assumed was the kitchen to say hi to someone. As Amina passed the room, she took a glance in and saw a short brunette woman fussing over some cake batter. She was adorably petite, and humming to herself. Amina thought that made her even more adorable.

Eventually, the group ended up in the basement. Nick, Edwin, and Brandon were all squeezed into a small, black leather couch. Zion and Austin sat together on a matching loveseat. Coming down the stairs last, Amina and Zane scanned the room for a place to sit. Not spotting one, they both made a move to sit on the ground.

“No, no, no,” Edwin protested. “You ladies are not sitting on the ground. Here, one of you take my seat.”

Austin got up along with Edwin, and sat on the ground. “And one of you sit here.”

Smiling to herself, Zane went to go sit in Austin’s place next to Zion. Amina mentally sighed, once again finding herself in between Brandon and Nick. She was beginning to really dislike Brandon, no matter how pretty or cute she thought he was.

Austin turned the tv on to an animated show that Amina didn’t know the name of. She was surprised when no one complained, but she assumed they all went by the rule of “his house, his rules”. A small nudge to Amina’s shoulder caught her attention. She looked over at Brandon.

“What?” She whispered, trying not to interrupt the group.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

Brandon rolled his eyes, sighing a little. “You know, for being an asshole in the art room. You didn’t deserve that. So, I’m sorry.”

Amina wouldn’t have believed him if it weren’t for the glint in his eyes.  He looked genuinely sorry, even though Amina didn’t want to believe he was.  She thought about earlier, and how she didn’t want to be the problem in the group.  She found it in herself to smile.

“It’s okay.  Just don’t do it again,”  She joked.

When he smiled back, Amina felt that familiar rush in the pit of her stomach.  Brandon was honestly beautiful.  His sharp jawline and pronounced nose created an almost model-like aura, but his black framed glasses made him seem impossibly nerdy.  Amina thought he was the physical embodiment of every sexy nerd-next-door character there has ever been.  It made Amina feel like there was a sinking hole in her stomach.  She loved and hated the feeling.

The group spent the next hour or so watching the tv show, with the occasional laugh or comment from Austin. Amina looked over at Zane and Zion, whose faces were so close that they were practically breathing the same air. Zane smiled, causing her dimples to pop out. Zion placed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to bury her face in his neck.

Nick was the one to break the relative silence. “Yo, it’s almost 6. Time to head out?”

Amina looked up at him from where her head was lolled to the side. He shot her a wink. Edwin stood up, stretching as Austin turned off the tv. Brandon was quick to get off of the couch, and he even extended a hand to help Amina stand as well. She took it with a shy smile, feeling her cheeks begin to heat up. For once in her life, she was grateful for her darker complexion.

The walk to Burger King was short, only because the group took a shortcut through the woods, which only Zane and Amina were opposed to. They ended up getting there a little after 6:15, which Amina thought was the perfect time for dinner. Her stomach growled at the thought of it, as they all waited in the long line.

“Mimi,” Zane called. “Shit, sorry. I mean Amina. Pops gave me the money for us so tell Mama I got it, ok?”

Amina nodded after rolling her eyes at the mention of her nickname. The boys, like always looked confused.

“Y’all are related?” Nick asked.

Zane chuckled in response. “No.”

“But you said Mama, and Pops…?” Austin looked like he was desperately trying to put the pieces together.

“I call her dad Pops,” Amina explained. “And she calls my mom Mama. It’s just because we’re almost like a family, despite not being actually related.”

“It’s a person of color thing,”  Zane said when Austin still looked semi-confused.

Edwin laughed loudly.  “Nick and Austin are our honorary POC.  They still got stuff they gotta learn.”

Everyone laughed.  Amina was starting to be able to piece out the roles of everyone in the group.  Zion was the heartbreaker, the pretty boy who was always with a girl.  Edwin was the dad, with all his corny jokes and sassy side remarks.  Brandon was the shy, quiet, artistic loner of the group.  Austin was the wild child, adventurous and outgoing.  Nick was a little harder to decipher; he seemed kind of just the glue to hold everyone together.

Where Amina and Zane would fit in was still unclear.  Amina knew that she was alone in this feeling, though. Zane was malleable. She could fit into wherever she was placed. Amina, on the other hand, could never change herself to fit her surroundings. She was always just who she was, even if it didn’t fit who she needed to be. For once in her life, Amina prayed that the people she was around would only need her to be who she truly was.

Nick threw an arm around Amina’s shoulders lazily, leaning on her for support. Amina chortled. “Well hello to you too.”

“Hey Mimi.” Nick smiled.

Amina sighed and rolled her eyes, looking to Zane right behind her. “Look what you did, Zane. Now everyone thinks they can call me Mimi. I think it’s only right then for me to introduce them to your household nickname.”

“Amina Nicole Parker, I swear to god I will fucking kill you.”  Zane threatened from under Zion’s arm.  

“Eh I think they should know. So tell me, Shu-shu, how does it feel?”

Brandon practically choked with laughter. “Shu-shu? Where in the hell did that come from?”

Amina cocked an eyebrow, smirking to the group. “When Zane was little, I’m talking about months old, her mother used to say she looked like a little dumpling.”

“And then my Pops,” Zane continued. “Who always takes things too far, started calling me his little shrimp shumai. Eventually he just shortened it to Shu-shu. And that’s been my nickname ever since.”

Zion cooed. “I think it’s cute.”

“Mimi and Shu-shu...sounds like anime characters,” Austin added.

Brandon happened to catch Amina’s eye as they both looked in each other’s direction. He sent a soft smile Amina’s way, and she felt her heart hit her pelvis. A warm tingle shot up the back of her neck, causing her to send an overly enthusiastic smile back. When she realized how weird she must of looked, she cursed to herself. Why did stuff like this always happen to her? All she wanted was to give a cool, cute, calm smile back, and instead she was all crinkly eyes and exposed teeth. God damn it.

“Next in line!”