#everyone is too nice there so consider the last sketch as “if they all have good relationships to bigby”

[herman-draws]

the tundra

inspired by this. just. cmon man

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I know You? Part 3

Jason Todd x Reader (no reader character this chapter)

Synopsis: Jason's family is far too nosey for their own good.

Notes: This chapter is a little different. I wanted to try Jason's POV and add the rest of the family. If any of them seem out of character, you’re probably right. Again, this was just an attempt to add a little drama to move the story forward and please enjoy.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Masterlist

Jason had experienced a lot of things in life, but he really hated family dinners. It’s not that he hated his family (only sometimes). It's that it always felt awkward. His guard was constantly up. He had wronged just about everyone in the room one way or another. Not that they ever physically showed repulsion towards him, he didn’t believe that they had forgiven him, not in the slightest. He just thinks they have all collectively decided if we don’t talk about things, they didn’t happen.  Which was fine with him, but it apparently made himself less intimidating to them, considering how Dick was currently draped over his shoulder, yammering on about something that happened in Bludhaven.

“and then I said ‘That’s not a very nice thing-‘” Jason cuts him off.

“No offense, Dickwad, I don’t know what you're talking about.” He says gruffly, crossing his arms in front of him. He had been led into a trap he thinks. Dick had texted him and told him dinner would be at 5:30 tonight instead of the usual 6. He should have seen it as the red flag it was since Alfred usually calls him about family dinners. Dick promptly pouts and dramatically lays himself across the couch beside Jason.

“that’s so mean, little wing, I’m trying to tell you a story.”

“Yeah, a story you’ve told everyone, like, five times” Tim jumps into the conversation where he sits upside down on the couch with Steph playing an old-school Gameboy.

“TT, I agree with Drake and Todd. If you tell this story again, Grayson, I may choose physical violence against you.” Damian adds from where he sketches a charcoal drawing of Titus and Cass. Jason chuckles at the fact that both Damian and Tim agree with him, but his body stays tense, he takes periodic looks in the direction of the kitchen, willing Alfred to move quicker. He contemplates just going to help Alfred instead of staying here when he tunes back into the conversation.

“-no one else around,” Steph says not looking up from her phone in her upside-down position.

“you guys are no fun” Dick continues to pout as he sits back up, clearly not having gained an ounce of sympathy in his pose. He turns to Jason with a look in his eye that worries him.

“So, Barbara says you’ve stopped by Aparo Park a lot on your patrols. What's that about?”

Jason didn’t know his body could tense more than it already was. You lived two blocks from Aparo Park, and he had made a routine as of the last two weeks to check if you were home safe. Tonight was the first time he wouldn’t be stopping by. It's why he went to see you at the coffee shop and walked you home, to make sure you got there. He forgot that Oracle tracks everyone during patrol and silently curses her for sharing that information with Dick of all people.

“Changing up patrol” he answers casually and that should be enough. They all constantly change their patrol routes so it's harder for anyone to track their movements. Apparently, it's not enough because Steph perks up from her seat.

“Are you sure about that?” She questions with a smirk. Oh, she knows something.  Dick had looked like he was going to drop it but at Steph’s comment, he leans back in.

“Not Patrol, then?” He looks at Jason expectantly and Jason pointedly ignores him to glare at Steph to keep her mouth shut. She just shrugs like she's not an instigator in this conversation. When Jason doesn’t speak up, Tim does.

“No, he's been seeing a girl.”

Jason seriously contemplates if it would be bad if he chose to beat Tim up again and drag him back to Titans Tower to make it real reminiscent of the old days when Jason was trying to kill everyone.

“A girl?” Duke interjected. He had been blissfully silent during the entire conversation, and Jason was hoping to keep him as a sibling he liked. Apparently, it would be just Cass and Damian who sat quietly as Damian sketched.

“Yeah, she's real pretty and she's a waitress at a bookshop,” Steph adds like Jason isn’t there.

“She's also not from Gotham, moved here like three years ago over some family drama,” Tim says, and Jason again resists the urge to strangle him.

“You’ve been Stalking her,” Jason states. So much for you only having one ‘Stalker’.

“So, it is a girl!” Jason turns to see Dick grinning widely. “I'm so proud of you little wing!” Dick looks like he's going to dive in for a hug, so Jason stands and ignores the “Oof” of Dick hitting the couch. He points a finger at Steph and Tim.

“Stop stalking her and don’t tell Dick anything.” He points at Duke, who hides a grin behind his hand. “You were doing so well man; you were on my favorite sibling list.” He drops his hand. “I'm going to help Alfred.” He turns and walks through a door and heads for the kitchen. As the door closes, he hears Dick screech, “You have a favorite Sibling list!”

He shakes his head as he walks down the hallway. So much for having a personal life. He doubts Steph had done any stalking, but he knows Tim tells her just about everything and she tells Cass everything, so Cass is definitely in the know too. But Cass also knows when to play the right cards. He was anxious to see when that would be. With Dick, you give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. There’s no doubt he's in there pestering Tim about the Details.  Thank God Damian couldn’t care less about this stuff. He continues his way towards the kitchen when he meets Bruce in the hallway.

“Bruce” Jason says formally

“Jason” Bruce says in a similar manner. He pauses and then says “Your early”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens with a manipulative family.” It comes out harsher than he means it to, but he's still peeved with his siblings. Bruce says nothing so Jason adds “I'm going to help Alfred.”

He doesn’t wait for Bruce to say anything as he continues to the kitchen. Part of him wants to kick himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. While he was tense with the family, things had been getting better and he didn’t want to break that good record because he got emotional over you. He just wanted something good (You) to be just his. But apparently, that was too much to ask.

As he entered the kitchen, the aroma of toasted tomatoes, warm cheese, cooked pasta, and basil overtook his senses. An undertone of melted chocolate and oven-baked cookies hidden underneath it.

“Master Jason, What pleasant surprise, you're early.” The soft tone of the older man draws Jason in. Apparently, Dick didn’t share his scheming with everyone. First Bruce and now Alfred. He wonders for a moment if they think he's trying to reach out or something, but he pushes down the thought.

“Dick’s fault.” He muttered. The way he says Dick’s name implies that he’s not using his actual name.

“Ah, Master Dick does like his way of things. Would you mind stirring the tomato sauce for me while I finish these Cookies?” Alfred asks. Jason moves to the stove. He knows it’s a simple task and one that could have waited until Alfred was done with the cookies but as always Alfred can read Jason in a way the rest of his family sometimes can't.

He stirs it quietly as Alfred works at the island. For a moment he’s reminded of a time before everything went sour. Back when he was Robin and it was just him, Bruce, and Alfred at the Manor, Dick was off doing his own thing. On days he didn’t have school, but Bruce still had to work he would shadow Alfred. The kitchen became its own sanctuary from the hero-ing lifestyle, (Since Bruce was banned from the kitchen after a microwave incident). He would sit at the counter and help stir whatever it was Alfred needed, always giggling as he stole licks and bites here and there. Looking back, he's sure Alfred was intentionally oblivious. The old man had a sharp eye, and he definitely knew. But Jason had been small, malnourished from his time living on the streets. Alfred always gave him what he thought was too large a portion.

“Are you alright?” Alfred’s voice shakes him from his thoughts.

“I’ll be fine.” He huffs out and then backtracks, turning to face Alfred. “I'm just a little upset. My siblings don’t know anything about privacy.”

“I presume this is in reference to your friend.”

Of course, Alfred knows. Jason rolls his eyes but responds quietly, “Yeah”

Alfred is silent before he responds.

“it's only because they care. You’ve come a long way, Master Jason, but you still have lengths to go, as do we all.” He says as he turns back to the cookie tray and places it into the oven. “I do hope, when you're ready, I will meet this girl.”

“Course, Alfred,” Jason says easily. Out of everyone in his family, Alfred would be the person he wants you to meet. Not that you two were anywhere close to that or heading in said direction. He’d barely had a number of short conversations with you, but he couldn't help but hope. There was just something about you that drew him in, and it had grown ten times when your life had been on the line.

Over the next ten minutes, he helped set the table and the food out, thankfully avoiding his siblings. But peace doesn’t last forever. One by one they slowly straggle into the dining room. In the time he had been gone, Barbara had gotten there. He’s almost prepared to share a few choice words with her but his conversation with Alfred stops him from saying anything out loud. It doesn't stop him from thinking it though.

Jason is thankful when Cass takes the seat next to him, but it lasts only so long as Dick takes the one on the other side. He waits expectantly for Dick to say something to him but is surprised when it's Cass that talks to him first.

“She would be good for you,” she says quietly and pats him on the arm. “You need to get her first.” And just like that the conversation is over as she starts dishing up her plate. Out of everything he had expected out of Cass, that wasn’t it. He stares shocked for a moment before Dick interrupts the moment.

“Am I on your favorite sibling list?”

“No”

“Why not?”

“Take a guess.” He answers as he serves himself some food.

Dick silents as the clattering of everyone getting food fills the space, along with the sounds of other personal conversations. After a moment Dick speaks up again more serious than before.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot earlier, just wanted to check in with my baby brother.”

Jason lets out a sigh, “Alright, Dick, your forgiven. Besides you’re not the one stalking her.” He pointedly glares at Tim who only glances at him before going back to talking to Bruce.

“Now drop it.”

To Dick’s merit, he doesn’t say anything finally content with silence. The rest of dinner goes on without any more incidents. Bruce does his normal check-ins running down the line. Dick’s been chasing down a drug trafficking ring showing face in Bludhaven, Tim was planning a new mission with the Titans, Cass, Steph, and Barbara were planning a girl's day out with some of the other Birds of Prey, Duke had had a few slow weeks of day time patrol, and Damain went into a myriad of reasons on why he shouldn’t have to go to school. It was nice to just listen to everyone, living their own lives. When it came to Jason’s turn, he gave a quick rundown of the last three outlaw missions he’d dealt with. Nobody else commented on you, something he was truly grateful for.

At the end of the night, as everyone went their separate ways, Bruce pulled him to the side. He waited nervously to be berated about something. He couldn’t remember killing anyone recently, so it wouldn’t be that type of conversation. Bruce stared him down before setting a firm hand on his shoulder.

“I heard something about a girl.” Jason rolled his eyes. Of course, Tim told Bruce, the whole household knew now. Before Jason could speak Bruce continued.

“Don’t worry. I'm not here to pry. I just want to say I'm proud and I hope to meet her someday.” Bruce squeezed his shoulder before dropping his hand.

 “Get home safe and we’ll see you on patrol.” With that, Bruce left him in the foyer. Jason stood shocked for a moment before making his way to his bike. Who knew his family could care and be so invasive at the same time.

Additional Note: Thank you to everyone who reads! I'm currently figuring out where I want this story to go in terms of plot because it feels like it should be going somewhere. This chapter was an attempt to get more characters and again if they feel out of character, they most likely are. I know more about fanon versions than canon versions. Thank you, Thank you, everyone! Someone did request a tag list, so I am creating one. You can ask to be added but if you have commented in the past I will just be adding you. If you would like to be removed please let me know!

Tag list: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs

[tremendouscreationperson]

This covers like 6-8 months so if it's too quick it's cuz it's snippets

Also be careful cuz there's a scene where the reader almost gets assaulted

The Ghoul's eyes scanned the room he had been placed in. Finally after a long journey he was rid of the thorn in his side. He was able to collect his bounty, he would be the richest mother fucker he knew.

As always it started with a Vault. A Vault whose leader ventured out and met a bounty post. The postee took all the information down and was quick to inform everyone they could and then four years later the Ghoul found himself entangled with you.

You were hustling pool at a two bit bar when he glanced at you - he hadn't even registered who you were. The memory scrappy and faded in his riddled mind but as luck would have it he had forced the postee to hand the sketch over.

Your nose was slightly crooked, it had obviously been broken, and your eyes were tired but you were the same girl.

It didn't take long to introduce himself, beat you and convince you to come outside. He hadn't had this much game in a while. How did a Vault Dweller like you flirt with a fella like him?

Fast forward to him tying you up and having to be infuriatingly nice to you because the job was specific that no harm should come to you. There would be a Cap Penalty if you were damaged. Which got him thinking, how did a goddamn Vault get Caps? They must've been selling supplies.

He tried not to think too hard on it, not when you were actively trying to commit suicide.

"Please, sir." Your voice was gravelly with lack of water, you'd spat each mouthful he forced down you at him. "Don't do this. Just kill me."

The Ghoul wasn't one for niceties, he hadn't been for years but seeing you like this made him consider it. Made him want to ease your brow, have you trust him enough to drink from his bottle, prove himself to you.

"I'll do anything, be anything." Your calloused hands reached out, grazing his arm. The Ghoul tightened his grip on your reigns, your hands were far too close to the gun belt slung across his waist. "Please."

His eyes flashed between yours, there was a genuine promise behind them. You were scared. He was the cause of your fear. Usually that was a turn on. "C'mon, princess." He dragged you behind him.

The two of you wandered the wasteland, him usually hauling your sorry ass (physically over his shoulder or with the lasso), there was a stiff silence between you.

You probably felt ashamed for your offer, he probably felt stupid for not accepting it. Either way you went from place to place as he tried to find the Vault. It had been years since he got the vague information and there were hundreds of Vaults hidden.

Eventually you began to sleep around him rather than just pretend. His own sleep schedule was near non-existent these days so it was a blessing that you had started. However that begged the question: were you trying to trick him? So every night he tied you tighter and placed his metal bottle along with a metal cup he had stolen on the lasso. If you move he would hear it, some nights you tossed and turned and you woke him unintentionally.

Those nights were... odd.

Maybe it was because you reminded him of a time long lost - your classic beauty made for the silver screen - or maybe he was just in need of a good fuck. But he felt strangely uneasy when you twitched and whimpered as dreams haunted your mind.

Entering the next town had been a mistake. Of course it had, he had known it as soon as he saw the first look you received.

The townsfolk were freakish looking people - milky eyes and scraggly hair - and they salivated at the sight of you.

The Ghoul barely got the two of you out of there alive, breaking the last of his RadAway. A fact he only realised as you two nestled into an abandoned home. One with walls and everything!

"Shit!" He peeled the bag from his side, broken glass embedded into his leathery skin.

You watched him toss the bag to the side and pluck at the shards. He swore again kicked at the sand beneath his feet.

"How fucked are we?" Your voice pulled him from his anger. You had smoothed the mess of your hair and placed your jacket on the ground as a pillow, staring up at him on bent knees.

The Ghoul didn't want to tell you. You could use this as leverage. If he divulged and you betrayed him he wouldn't forgive himself. This was rule 101. Don't trust the bounty! "We'll make a detour. We're fine."

You scrunched your face but didn't answer back. He had saved you today and yeah it was for the reward on your head but you did appreciate not being murdered or raped or some other horrid third option.

He was not his best the next few days. You were scavenging for RadAway in the few houses you passed but came up empty and he was coughing an awful lot.

"Look, we need to go back." You proposed the idea, with less confidence than you spoke it.

The Ghoul grunted.

"There wa-" He had stooped to your level, interrupting you with his movements, his forehead inches from yours as his eyes bore into your very soul. "Was a pharmacy in that town. I'm not trying to- if you're in pain I'll help."

He stayed there, breathing in your air, for longer than what was comfortable and straightened. "We ain't going back. We'll keep heading East." He took a step back and waited.

You weren't quite sure what he was waiting for.

"C'mon, fleshbag move it." He tugged your elbow and thrust you ahead of him.

The RadAway issue was sorted. You'd hit the jackpot. It meant killing a bunch of people but that hadn't previously bothered the two of you.

The Ghoul has lost sight of you during the fight only to be pleasantly surprised when you rocked up next to him with a case in your hand.

He was only thankful that he didn't have to chase you down.

And so once more into the breach.

Your hands were no longer bound, merely adorned in the finest lasso belt. He didn't want you to get too cocky so was a little harsher with his words every now and then.

But you eagerly divided your scavenged goods and food without hesitation. You were actually eating and drinking enough to function and he was able to relax slightly around you because you wouldn't drop dread. He didn't have to monitor your intake.

Things had changed fully from your first meeting when the second bounty was caught. You'd noticed the papers in the Ghouls jacket as you beat the thing dry. They were tattered and the pencil was so faded but they were bounty posters.

"Wha'd'ya doin'?" He scowled over your shoulder.

"Looking." You waved the posters. "It must be an interesting job."

He huffed in response but didn't take the paper from you as he yanked the coat on.

The man was short and stout but had the ego of someone tall and muscular. He endlessly flirted with you and made cruel remarks to your captor.

The Ghoul was ready to set him free - just be rid, with him free he wouldn't have to drag anyone around! The fucking poster said alive so he couldn't just kill the dickhead, if it go any worse he'd start cutting off fingers - but you were... Happy? Excited? It was an emotion he hadn't felt for a while so it was hard to recognise but you stood and took whatever the man said in order to hand him over.

"Where do we take him?" You asked at the Ghouls right. The lasso was no longer attached to you but to your new 'friend'.

"He's wanted West from here, eight days walk."

And so you did.

You walked and walked and walked.

And it was taxing.

So on the sixth night when you noticed the Ghoul's eyes drooping, and you couldn't recall the last time either of you had properly slept, you tugged the lasso out of his hands.

"Two hours." Was all you said.

He understood.

He hated that he understood.

Fuck, why did he understand?!

And why did it feel good to be understood?

He slept and you kept watch. Nothing happened. No one said anything. It was as simple as that.

The next night carried on in the same fashion. You took the lasso and bid him goodnight.

Only for the Ghoul to wake up to muffled noises.

His eyes flashed open and he couldn't see you. The Ghoul scanned the area until his tired eyes made out a vague silhouette.

He jumped into action, hand immediately grabbing a nonexistent gun. Shit, where was his- No time to think. He flung himself at the man.

There was a scuffle and the Ghoul managed to smash the butt of the stolen pistol into his head, knocking the assailant out cold.

You were laying on the sand with your hands covering your face, vest top torn and the flies of your jeans broken.

The silence was screaming. It was shouting right into his ear canal, right in front of his eyes, it was in his skin.

But he didn't dare break it.

What could he - your captor - say to make you feel better?

Finally your hands fell to your sides and you spoke to the sky. "He needed the toilet."

Cooper didn't know what to say. He really didn't.

"You were kind to me." Your voice was small. "You allowed me that luxury."

Because I can fight you.

Cooper sighed, dropping his head. He then bound the man as tight as he could, wrapping the lasso multiple times around his torso, shoulders, chest and hands before he stood, waiting.

You understood his gesture. Neither of you could sleep now anyways.

In the morning the harsh glow of the sun revealed the bruising on your face and arms.

As soon as he got the reward he dragged you into the remnants of a clothing shop and watched your face stay blank.

It had been blank all morning, all afternoon. It was eerie. You weren't ever this void. When you had fought him, you'd been passionate in your defiance. When you shared food you gave him a mock-scared expression, making him eat first - making him actually consume the food - and you smiled an awful lot for a bounty. How had he only realised that?

"That's nice." He attempted, pointing at an insanely faded white shirt.

"There's no point wasting your Caps." You finally brought your eyes to him, after a whole day of avoidance. "Let's just get to the Vault."

Cooper frowned. This wasn't you. What had happened? Had he been too late? "No, we're getting you clothes."

You didn't have the strength to roll your eyes.

"Want to tell m-"

"Nothing happened." You folded your arms. "I dunno why I'm so messed up."

"There's a bar over the road."

You shook your head. "There's no point, let's ju-" Your words violently halted when his fingers found your arm. He was delicate and you allowed the movement so he proceeded to bring you in close.

To...

To...

He...

Well, he hugged you.

He pulled you into a sweet embrace and you melted into the man, tears creeping down your cheeks.

The Ghoul would never bring this up ever. He couldn't. Why was he hugging you?!

But he knew you needed it.

The two of you did get that drink after you picked up some undamaged clothes.

So Cooper did something batshit: he stroked your spine.

There was a shift in the dynamic now; you stood closer to him and he hovered for you. It was nothing obscene but he noticed it.

And he was beginning to think you were gorgeous. The new clothes fit you better than their predecessors. Your jeans tugging at your thighs and ass as your shirt clung to your chest but was loose by your stomach causing it to blow in the breeze. Making you reveal your sweet sweet flesh.

It was as though he was turning feral. He felt hot - hotter than usual - and needy.

He definitely needed a good fuck.

And he didn't like to admit it but you were his favourite option.

He was toying with the thoughts when you literally stumbled across the Vault.

It was here.

Your bounty.

You were here.

Months of walking and slowly warming to each other.

It had taken months. A year perhaps?

But you were here.

"The code is 5829." You spoke.

He observed you. There were no outward signs of distress but he knew you better than that. You wanted to run. Wanted to hide. In fact, you were hiding your face from him.

"Let's get this over with."

Cooper didn't want to.

He really didn't.

"Let's go." He offered. "I don't need the Caps."

Your face was vulnerable. "You'd be set for life."

"No, I wou-"

"I saw my poster."

You were correct, of course, he would be set for life. He would be able to roam because he wanted to, not because he needed to. He could devote his whole being into finding Barb. The whole reason he was obsessed with bringing you back was in case this was her Vault. "I don't need the Caps."

The two of you stood on the threshold in a confused trance before you took a step back.

And that movement caused the one thing you were now trying to avoid to happen.

The door unlocked and identical men surround you.

"Y/N!" A smarmy man clapped his hands.

It had been so long, Cooper had forgotten your name - foregoing it with terms like 'princess', 'fleshbag' and 'doll' - he hadn't even considered giving you his and now it was too late.

He wanted you to know him.

He wanted you.

"Priestley." You gave a curt nod.

"Oh, and who's this creature?" Priestley eyed Cooper.

Cooper wanted to say a few choice words but you didn't let him. "This is the Ghoul that captured me, give him the bounty or I'm not coming."

Priestley giggled. "'not coming', you don't exactly have a choice." Two men clasped your arms and secured you. "I don't have the Caps here, they're downstairs. Feel free to unholster your weapon as you follow me. I have no use for fucking bottle Caps so I won't fight you."

Cooper was panicking.

He knew that it was best to play along.

But he hadn't thought about you actually being taken as a bounty. He hadn't known it would cause this pain.

You were willingly led behind the man into a lift and Cooper had to speed up to make it before the thing began it's descent.

Priestley hopped off the lift and snaked his way through the identical tunnels. The air was too still here, too pure.

He then snapped his fingers and you were being dragged to the right.

"Not you, I'm afraid sir." He ceased Coopers movements with a skittish palm.

This was it.

You were being taken.

"Wait!" You begged. "Please, jus-one moment!"

Priestley let an exaggerated sigh out but snapped and the men stopped.

You turned the best you could, meeting Coopers gaze. "Thank you for... I don't know. Your company? Goodbye."

The words could have easily been read as sarcastic and cruel but he knew you were sincere. You were really thanking him for his time. Thanking him for being kind when he really shouldn't have been.

And so here he found himself scanning the room he was sitting in whilst Priestley produced the Caps.

"What'll happen to her?" Coop asked, ignoring the offered treasure.

Priestley's brows rose to his hairline. "Oh, you don't know. This will be exciting to explain. We are a cloning Vault at heart and speaking of hearts... That little ticker is meant for Brianette. I can't believe Y/N could steal Vault Tec property like that! She knew she was a stand in. Knew she was made to be the spare, we took her womb and a kidney not long befo-I don't know why she would run away. It's a glorious privilege to serve her."

"Excuse me?" Cooper drawled. "You're going to dissect her?"

"No, of course not." He gave Cooper an insulted glare. "That would imply she was dead."

The bullet left Coopers gun before his brain processed the movement. He had not registered pulling the trigger.

Where were you?

He needed to find you.

Cooper sprinted through the corridor and back towards where you parted ways but the corridors all looked the same and what was left was now right so he was getting himself all sorts of lost.

Cooper's chest heaved with dread exhaust as he ran down another corridor. He needed to find you.

Where the fuck were you?!

Cooper eventually found a set of doors which he couldn't access.

He must be getting close, right?

The Ghoul blasted the mechanics with his gun and the door stuttered open, just wide enough to to slip past.

Cooper kept on desperate to find you. He needed to find you!

There were identical men guarding one door when he bounced down the corridor. Bingo.

Coop made quick work with them before he pounded at the door, shooting it relentlessly.

That door unlocked and opened a fraction. Cooper had to yank at the metal and eventually it was suitable for him to squeeze his body through.

And there you were.

Laying naked in a pod, water was filling it and you were chained to the bottom. This must be a decontamination chamber.

Cooper stomped up to the pod and thrust the door open before the water rose to your nose.

You coughed as the water burst, drenching him as the door broke. "Ghoul?" The word was dazed.

"I'm here. We're leaving." He promised.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 374: Marisela's Project

“Hi sweetie..!” came the voice of Melissa Monroe, currently the Office Manager of what was Far Horizons Medical Associates. She had stepped back into the office just a few minutes ago after a long day of testing at Evolution Pharmaceuticals, where everyone seemed to have their panties in a bunch after seeing what she could do. Evening was dropping earlier these days, and the light coming in thru the windows of the staff offices was already red with the oncoming sunset.

“Hey,” replied Marisela Vazquez, as she turned around in her desk chair to face her supervisor...

She’d been working on, simultaneously, tracking the city police department’s investigations, a predictive model of product assimilation, and this weird little animation. She was happy for the break.

“Whatcha doin’?” came Melissa next, with a friendly smile and earnest interest. She was so happy she had girls like Marisela, Lakshmi, like Randi and Aubrey. They took care of the office when she had to be away.

“Working on this algorithm for the study and, uh, this…” Marisela answered, pushing her chair out of the way just enough so Melissa could see her screen.

With a few mouse clicks the animation sprung to life, filling a good part of her monitor’s 27-inch screen…

The rough, hand-drawn skit looped and looped, several times.

“Oooh! Cool!” Melissa sang, laughing as she watched the pencil-sketch woman outgrow the pencil-sketch man, over and over. Like it was doing to Marisela, stuff like this lit a secret little fire inside the beautiful, towering woman, and she felt herself wetten. How weird haha. “You’re such a good artist!”

“Thanks,” Marisela replied, somehow a bit bashful under the attention of this overgrown sexpot. The irony of her own reticence was not lost on her; she was shy when it came to her sketches, but had no problems with what she’d done last night, in the darkness of the city’s alleyways. She tucked a long lock of her straight, sable hair behind one ear, riddled with piercings, and ran her tongue over her eye teeth.

“You’re going to send this out to everyone, right?” Melissa urged, smiling broadly as of course she was picturing herself in place of the pencil-sketch woman. They’d all want to see this, and picture themselves there, too.

“I was, uh…considering it,” Marisela responded, squirming a little bit in her own chair. She’d gotten past the point of wondering how she, “Scary Mary” - once the office pariah for her acerbically prickly personality and dark sense of fashion - had come to relish sharing funny gifs with her coworkers. Now the thought of sending this out made her hot. “You don’t think he’d mind?”

“Haha no he’ll love it!” Melissa laughed, leaning down a bit to place her hand on Marisela’s shoulder as the young woman turned back to her screen.

The touch of Melissa’s strong but gentle grip sent shivers into Marisela. What the fuck is that? she shuddered. It was a nice feeling, a great feeling in fact. It made her feel good, strong, confident. It excited her. It brought back a rush similar to what she’d felt after what she’d done last night. Stringing that asshole rapist up above the alleyway, after she’d broken his spine and butchered his friend made her feel alive, just like this.

“Okay, if you insist,” Marisela chuckled, moving her cursor around, re-saving the animation in a new format, better for attaching to an intra-office e-mail. Her eyes sparkled as she did stuff like this; it’s like she could feel them twinkling, like two dark stars in her sockets. Between her everyday tasks at the office with patient care, her tech-support duties, her side-hustle working with the study data, and silly little projects like this animation, Marisela tried to keep herself busy to distract herself from her murderous cravings. They’d grown over time (like these goddamn tits), and now came to her all throughout the day, rather than just waiting for nightfall as they once did.

Melissa stood back up.

“Hey, so, is he still here?” she asked,  “I really want to see him.”

“I think so- he was in the procedure room, last I heard, working on the abscess on Mr. Burke’s right f-”

“Ew gross okay,” Melissa stopped her, “I’ll go find him.” She watched as the animation loop ran and ran on Marisela’s screen. She hesitated.There had been something she had been wanting to ask Marisela to do, but she never seemed to find the right moment. Now, she figured, was as good a time as any.

“Hey, so, sweetie,” Melissa began, “I have a project I’d like you to work on…”

================================================

big big thanks to friend-of-the-Basic Joshua67 for the animation and RiF again for his help with copy

[6okuto]

idk if ur reqs are open but I would love to hear your thoughts on Vere 👁️👁️ hes literally dominated my entire headspace I can’t go ten minutes w/o thinking ab how I want to bite his forearm

GENERAL VERE HCS

gn!reader | back 2 knocking these guys out of the park. also i realized these are shorter than my hq bf hcs so. if anyone wants a pt.2 for anybody.. u know what to do

i think u Should bite his arm. For Fun. vere w bite-y partner who he bites back. 'gently' considering he has fangs though

congratulations on being one of 2 people he'd let touch and brush his tail. sometimes he swishes it against your face and then pretends he didn't. "i have no idea what you're talking about," he says before making direct eye contact and doing it again

he likes drawing. ok. have we considered him drawing you. you ask him about it and he says he won't show you. you tease him and ask "what? did you draw sparkles and hearts surrounding me?" and he plays along, "yes, i even checked what i'd look like with your last name and drew us kissing."

It's actually quite a nice sketch of you though. like of you smiling or asleep or something because you fell aslep near him. oh man...

vere knows all the ins and outs of the city which means he can give you a personalized tour that caters to all your interests!! you can ask him to take you to his favourite spots too of course but he feels very accomplished watching you grin in the store he purposely walked by

shocked if you get him a gift. acts nonchalant and is good enough at accepting things but internally, especially if it's something he's been eyeing for a while or has sentimental value,, he . He....

like yeah okay vere...act all cool...as if your eyes don't flicker over whenever you walk past it...as if you don't catch yourself smiling subconsciously...whatever

definitely tries cooking your favourite meal. doesn't go very well, especially if it's something he's never had, but he'll keep practicing until he makes something decent. don't ask how many attempts he did because he won't tell you unless he somehow started a fire and even Then the truth is debatable

if YOU know how to cook it Please for the love of god teach him, or write down the recipe for both your sakes. for the kitchen. plea

everyone tells him/the both of you to shut the hell up whenever you start flirting back and forth/competing to see how many innuendos you can feasibly say. the both of you team up only to bully everyone else for being single before continuing

asshole if you played uno. i'm not competitive nor do i give two shits if i lose at uno but even i would lose it watching vere push for whatever stacking rule he needs to get someone a +20. watch your cards or he'll manage to look over at them. do not trust a single deal he tries. watch his ears and tail i'm sure he has a tell

really good at helping build confidence . what ais said about him being honest but also not trusting anything he says yeah well this is when he'd be completely honest. easily reminds you how capable you are of something, knows what makes you confident, etc etc. and you just ? know you can trust him? it's the vibe. how he says it so plainly as if it's obvious

don't try to lie to him about things. like if you're upset about something it is So obvious to him no matter how hard you try and he'd really appreciate it if you would tell him why or ask to talk about it later when you're ready.

^ as someone who wants to piss her pants at the thought of being direct or whatever,, he'd also be very good at knowing when to push or not. if you respond better to a lighter/gentle reminder i'm sure he would do so :heart:

i have a feeling this guy would be incredibly incredibly incredibly into you asking to post him on any socmed. do you want his face in it. do you want it to be a little spicy. should he pose. actually he probably pouts a little if you want a faceless pose but bro why does it matter if there is not a cm of space between us. why is your hand around my neck rn /lh You know the poses

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Curtis And Honey Autumn This Or That 🍂

Week Three: Journaling or Hiking

Summary- Short Drabble. Curtis x Plus!Sized Reader. Curtis keeps a journal of his life, the pages now a nice honey-gold color now.

This is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and shared! I appreciate how much you all embrace this couple and love them. Please make sure you vote on Fridays for next week's this or that activity. Happy Reading!

Curtis and Honey This or That Masterlist

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

The little leather bound book was usually held closed with a strip of rawhide wrapped around it, the creases in the binding threatening to break apart. But today it sat opened in the last bit of autumn grass, now loosing its luscious emerald color and turning gold in the last bit of the days sunlight. Scattered pages were flipping back and forth with the wind picking up, it crossed small sketches of wild birds in flight, species of wildflowers with color described along the edge of the petals, short snippets of words stringing together into some kind of unheard lyric, and traces of honey colored gold edging on some of those pages. 

Those honey colored golds were new words and sketches, something never added to this little book of its owners' adventures. Long before the entries were full of lost feelings, like a storm brewing on the pages that boomed with confusion in life. A lost young boy trying to figure out the circumstances of his existence. 

Why why why. I miss them, I never knew them. 

They weren’t always dark, not till he turned into a young man, those unanswered questions his loved ones couldn’t answer made him angry and upset. Black curled the pages, driving away his happiness till it took over too many pages and the written dates stopped for just a short time. 

Then those dark entries turned lighter, muted shades of color cutting through the darkness that brewed in his words. They were spring green with pride at his accomplishments, a baby girl pink the first time he held his niece who came fiercely into this world, a swirl of blue sadness as he once more had to make lasting memories for himself while having to watch age claim his grandparents. 

Now recent pages are rich gold fading the darkness to the narrow parts of his pages, discussions about how your laugh would make his heart race and crave for more, that the softest brush of fingertips can make him feel alive and able to tackle anything, how everything slowed down in his life, turned better, turned to a place he loved his life. 

Slow dances in the kitchen in between flipping a pancake, teasing and playing up the stairs to land in the bedroom, even heated words simmering between the two until the built walls get shattered and you two learn how to be together that much more.

Yeah that little leather bound book of Curtis’s had been filled with some moments in his life- it told the weeping story of his losses, the trials of having to grow up and find a place in this world, and now its the chapter of how he is finding peace and how to want someone just for himself. 

Curtis hopes for the next chapter of his journal will be what some might consider a happy ending, or in better words a happy beginning. For now he is satisfied with what he was writing in these pages. 

His pen dappled ink along those pages lazily today while watching you nearby in the old gardens you had spent the summer bringing to life. The golden hues of afternoon filtering around you as you said your silent goodbyes to the last of your bees while they prepared for their long winter. 

Curtis picked up his book, flipping to a new page as he sketched slowly, glancing up at you under a heavy brow. His pen took some hesitating strokes, but confidence grew as his image took life.

Later he would do it properly, but for now, he gave your form a sway across the page, small notes of the colors marked in place so he could maybe explore with paints… he always wanted to try paints. 

Maybe it was time to try. 

[byizoyas]

© byizoyas

AFTERNOON SUNGLOW kaveh x reader | academic friends -> drabble

when kaveh invited you to join him for studying a few days ago, you didn’t expect to end up surrounded by so many scholars.

the library was full; thank god you came early this morning and found a nice spot to study together. you were sitting on a bench, while kaveh was visibly uncomfortable on a wooden chair.

the fact he immediately let you sit on the comfy seat when you entered the area, confirmed what a good friend he was to you.

‘you okay ?’ you asked after seeing him letting out another long sigh. but no one could reproach it to him after he spent his last six hours sitting on the same position, working on the same exercise over and over again.

‘i’m not doing it right. and i feel like i’m not moving forward.’ he complained, but it felt more like he was scolding himself.

even thought he wouldn’t admit it, kaveh had an inferiority complex. perhaps it was because of his prodigy of a junior; or maybe he had always been like that.

to you, kaveh was the most brilliant architecture student. he always had innovative ideas, and worked hard to reach his goals. but he had difficulty finding a single good thing about himself.

he often told you about his idea and as much as you encouraged him; his sketches pretty much always ended up in the bin.

yeah; kaveh was always being too hard on himself. you barely saw his smile lately as he was stressed out by the upcoming exams.

‘kaveh.’ you called out for him. he hummed, but did not take his eyes off the multiple papers laying in front of him.

you put your hand on his, caressing it gently and calling out for him again. he looked up, and you finally got to stare into his red eyes. dark circles under his eyes did not take any of his beautify away.

‘you are enough. you are doing great, stop pushing yourself so much will you.’ the warm smile on your lips seemed to touch his heart when his face lightened.

‘thank you y/n.’

you didn’t add anything, neither did he, focusing back on his work. but you couldn’t focus on yours. you were staring at him. that man was either blind or really immersed in his own world because he didn’t notice how intensely your eyes were looking at him.

perhaps this is the moment you realized yourself that the way you love him, was nothing like friendship. of course, you still considered him such, and you would always consider him a friend.

but there was something else; you needed something more. and the butterflies in your stomach as you thought about walking back home together and inviting him to sleep over were confirming it.

⸻

‘y/n…’ a gentle voice kept on repeating softly, waking you up from your dreams. you usually didn’t like to be disturbed when having a nice nap, but the sight of kaveh caressing your hand while gently squeezing it was too good for you to be annoyed.

you rubbed your eyes. obviously, you were in a deep sleep.

‘where are we ?’ was the first question you asked him. kaveh chuckled, ‘we’re still at the library. you worked so hard that you ended up sleeping all over your math books.’ he said while closing the said things and putting them in your backpack.

his stuff were already on his own bag and he obviously chose to end the study session here. other students were still working around, but they were less numerous than earlier.

you got up while kaveh was kindly gathering your belongings together. these acts of service were so like him. you’ve known him for a moment now and he’s always been so nice to you. and kaveh was nice to everyone, but you felt something special between you, as if you’ve created a particular bond.

you followed him outside of the library and once you’ve stepped outside did you notice the sun was about to lay down.

the sky was mixed with pink and orange. golden hour it was called, and when kaveh turned back to you, his eyes closing and his lips curling up in a genuine smile, the sight was just gorgeous.

you were in love with him.

and the idea that he might not be in love with you, was really hard to handle.

‘what are you waiting for ? let’s go home.’ he said taking your hand to make you walk behind him. he was still holding your bag with his.

you kept on walking for a few twenty minutes, while talking about lots of things. your laugh was everything to him, that’s why he liked to make you, again and again.

after a moment you passed by a groceries store, which kaveh didn’t resist buying a few things and the two of you ended up with so many candies in your hands.

‘wait !’ you said, walking towards a group of children who were not far, and staring hard at your buying. you handed out a few lollipops to them, making their eyes full of sparkles.

kaveh observed from behind. he did not say anything on the moment, letting you enjoy your moment with the kids from the zone. seeing you so generous with people you didn’t even know, whether they were kids or not, did melt his heart once more today.

after talking a bit with them, you finally joined him. behind him was the sea. it smelt like it too and the sight mixed to the scent; it felt like you were in a vacation with him.

he looked at you. the slight wind made your hair a bit messy so kaveh out the two bags he was carrying on the bench he had been sitting on while you were with the children.

‘thanks.’ you only found yourself able to say, gulping when seeing his face all serious.

he had out your strands of hair back behind your ears already but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to step back and take off his hands of you. he brought his second hand to your cheeks, caressing it gently.

‘y/n’ he whispered so close to your face that you could slightly feel his breath against your skin.

‘what are you doing ?’ you only said. these were the first words coming up to your mind while he was dangerously approaching your lips.

‘you don’t like it ?’ kaveh asked you. he always cared about your feelings more than his. he respected you, and would never do anything against your will. even a chaste kiss needed your approval.

you mentally scolded yourself after your reply, and even more after his. you didn’t think. you simply panicked. you’ve been craving this for the whole day and now he was offering you a sweet torture; a delicious moment of tension under the afternoon sunglow. it was as if he read your mind.

‘i don’t want you to stop.’

‘but you don’t like it.’

‘fuck! kaveh, don’t make me say it.’

he giggled to your response as if it was exactly what he was searching with his actions. he slipped his hand under your chin, locking it in between two of his fingers, making you look up at him.

‘you’re gorgeous y/n’

he took your face between his two hands and kissed you all of a sudden. as if he couldn’t contain himself anymore. his tongue made its way into your mouth; flirting sensually with yours.

kisses sounds was all you two could hear. it was too good. feeling his lips pressed against yours as if you were the only two people left in the world. and the feeling that everything could burn around and he would never let go of your lips and your embrace was a magnificent one.

kaveh truly made you feel special in lots of ways. and he was making you feel like no one else before; as if he was made for you and you were made for him.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Four (Part 2)

The next day I’m late for life drawing class as usual, and everyone is already laying their sketchbooks out on the floor as I burst into the studio, already halfway out of my raincoat and gloves. Ida doesn’t say anything, she just glances around at me, pauses, and then keeps talking to the rest of the class, which is obviously a thousand times worse than a scolding. I hastily unzip my bag and wrench my sketchbook out of it, only slightly wet around the edges from the torrential rain soaking through the flimsy canvas of my bag. I race over to lay it on the floor amongst the others. 

Marnie shoves a sharp elbow into my ribs as I take my place beside her, and I glance at the side of her face to see her smirking. Yes. I want to hiss. I know I keep doing this, apparently I’m just completely unable to get my life together and be a functioning person, Okay?

“Like I was saying,” Says Ida, as it dawns on me that I have interrupted her, and instantly wish I was dead. “I wanted to see improvements from all of you in the anatomy of your figures last week, so I’m very interested to see what you’ve done for today.” She bends down and begins to slowly flip through the pages of one sketchbook. “What do we think about this work?” 

“Nice sense of movement.” Says one student. 

“Yeah, the sketches of the man with the glasses are very nice.” Says another, while I desperately rack my brains for something to say. What do I think? Do I have a single opinion in my head about anything? 

Ida moves from one sketchbook to the next, and everyone discusses their work. I watch who’s speaking, and slowly, one by one, everybody eventually speaks up. Except for me. I have nothing to say. I am blank. I bring my thumbnail to my mouth and chew on it anxiously, feeling tension and shame growing inside me like a lump in my gut. 

She reaches for a sketchbook full of dark, confident lines, and I know immediately who it belongs to. I watch as she flips through the pages, all moody sketches of silhouettes in windows, backlit by street lamps, a whole page filled with a scratchy portrait of a man in a jacket, hard lines and planes on his face. 

“They’re good.” I force myself to say, at last. My voice seems to echo extra loudly in the studio and I have never been more aware of myself but I push through the fear. “But I think they’re messy. The anatomy is lost among all the smudges. I wish they were done much neater.” I glance up to meet Dean Cullen’s eyes, and quirk my eyebrow at him. How do you like it? I want to tell him. Doesn’t feel that good, does it? 

Ida says my opinion is fair, and we spend some time discussing it, but I’m not really listening. I’m focussed on the way my body feels, the way the blood is coursing through me, the slight weakness in my legs from the adrenaline of speaking out for the first time in front of the class and taking Dean’s work down all in one fell-swoop. 

I never prepared for what would happen when we got to my sketchbook however, and as soon as Ida starts leafing through its soggy pages I find myself stricken with anxiety. I keep my eyes on Dean the whole time as the class discusses my work, waiting for him to come up with something, watching the gears in his head turn, formulating whatever unhelpful, unconstructive comment he’s about to spew. 

He finally opens his annoying little mouth. “Nice, as usual, but needs more refinement in the hands. Would have liked to have seen more detail.”

Doesn’t he know how hard hands are? I make a scoffing sound, out loud, and then immediately burn up with embarrassment as a few faces turn to stare at me. Dean is looking too, a questioning look on his face as though he doesn’t quite get my indignation. If Ida hears, however, she ignores it and starts telling me about how to draw hands in a more considered way, which I only half listen to, because I can’t keep my eyes from flitting back and forth between the sketchbook and Dean. I loathe him. I decide. He must be the most irritating man alive. 

During the afternoon in the computer lab I listen intently to our lecturer guiding us through the steps of creating an image from scratch in Photoshop, when I hear the sound of computer chair wheels glide towards me across the floor. I assume it’s Marnie, coming to start some conversation that’s not even loosely connected to the classwork, so I prepare to shrug her off immediately. All these menus have me confused enough, I don’t need to add some post she read on Tumblr to my mental load. 

“Can it wait until after?” I whisper tightly with eyes glued to the screen. Where the hell is the Modify menu? 

“Eh, not really.” Comes the response, and I’m immediately thrown by the male voice. My hand practically spasms off the mouse and I whirl around to face Dean, altogether too much into my personal space, slumped back in his chair and idly spinning himself from side to side. 

“Oh.” I say, then pause, unsure what to say. “Did you want something?”

“I’m lost.” He admits. “I’m not that great with, like, the tech stuff. I saw that you kind of looked like you knew what you were doing so I was hoping I could take the computer beside you and look in on your screen.”

“Well I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

“It seems like you know more than I do.” He wheels into the empty desk beside me and boots up the computer. I stare at him the whole time in bewilderment. Doesn’t he realise that we hate each other? Or is he just messing with me? 

I turn back to my screen and try to ignore him, but the lecturer is already talking about something else. Now I have to find the expand button. God damn it, where’s the expand button? What the hell does that do? The way that Dean clicks and clacks on his keyboard is about ten times louder than the way any normal person does it. And he sniffs really loudly. And his giant stretched out jumper smells like cigarettes and the inside of a charity shop. 

He leans over to me. “Where’s modify?”

“I don’t know.” I hiss. “I was trying to find it when you interrupted me.” 

He goes back to clicking for a few minutes, and when he nudges me gently with his elbow, I’m forced to look at him. He looks like a TV villain. No good hearted men have faces like that, or hair bleached that horrendous shade of Slim Shady blonde. He looks like he should be riding around town with his car windows down and his middle fingers up. “It’s in the select menu.” He advises. “You go Select > Modify > Expand.” 

“Thanks” I say, begrudgingly following his directions, which are tragically correct, and go back to following the lecturers demonstration, but it isn’t long before Dean starts talking again. 

“I like your drawing.” He whispers, nodding towards my digital line work of a girl floating in space with Saturn for a head, and his compliment makes my heckles rise. “Oh, do you actually?” I whisper back accusingly, which seems to take him aback. 

“Eh… Yes?” 

“Hm. Alright.”

“Why? Do you think it’s shit or something?”

“No, I’m just surprised you don’t have anything smart to say about it.” 

“I can say it’s shit if you want.”

“You might as well, sure you always say that about my other work.”

There is a long pause, where I can see from the corner of my eye that he’s turned to stare at me, but can’t bear to meet his gaze. I go on clicking around through all the menus so that I can look unbothered, and it seems like an age before he decides to speak again. “I think you must be talking about the life drawing critique sessions.” He leaves that statement hanging in the air as if he expects me to respond to it, but I just ignore him and drag my mouse through the colour wheel, trying to decide what shade of navy blue I should make the sky. I shouldn’t have to say anything. It’s obvious. 

He sighs. “You know it’s just critique, it’s not as if it’s a personal attack on you.”

“It’s more than a critique.” I bite back. “It’s rude. The way you talk about my work is rude, that’s just what I think and how it comes across to me.”

“Would you prefer if I said it was perfect?”

I turn to him to launch into a response, but the lecturer beats me to it. “Dean and Evelyn at the back there, please, if you want to continue your conversation can you please do it outside the classroom?” 

I snap my mouth shut and spin back around to my monitor. If I still had long hair, I would have flipped it over my shoulder right about now. He can rot. 

Prev // Next

[glitter-lisp]

Au game but I’m making you au your fandom into mine — give me a tangled dragon rider au (doesn’t have to Napoleonic wars related bc I’m a nice person)

jaylia this is so funny because literally in the last chapter of multiverse i sent them to a dragon rider world specifically with you in mind omg okay so this is less of a 5 fun facts and more of 1 setting and 4 character sketches ok SO

think typical high fantasy there are Kingdoms and the the Kingdoms have Magic and also some of the Kingdoms have Dragons and and the Dragons have Dragonriders and when a newborn Dragon picks a human to be their Dragonrider they are shipped off to a multination Dragon School Up In The Mountains To Learn How To Do It also worth noting for this world im stealing the eragon thing that dragons can choose their riders from inside the egg so if you touch a dragon egg sometimes that bitch will hatch on the spot for you and oops now you gotta deal with that. so anyways our cast of character in the ya novel i am dubbing the dragon thief:

hugo. the eponymous dragon thief. part of a thieves guild, stole a dragon egg in transport to sell to the highest bidder because that shit is EXPENSIVE if the sale went through he'd be set for life, except oh holy shit what the fuck it fucking HATCHED, and since dragon bonds are considered sacred across all nations (dragons are too Wise to choose random shitheels obviously) he's immediately pardoned of all crimes and shipped off to dragon school with his hatchling, but being pardoned of your crimes doesn't mean your fellow trainees have forgotten them and everyone at the school knows you once tried to kidnap and sell the baby dragon that is now bonded to you for life, and they treat you accordingly

nuru, a young princess who's descended from a long line of both nobility and dragonriders, but always like, yknow. the eldest daughters. the only-kind-of-joking family motto is "first on the throne, second in the saddle" and nuru is the fourth child so the best she could hope for was a decent dowry and a husband who let her keep studying astronomy, but then at her family's hatching ceremony the hatchling stumbled out of its egg and trotted right past all of nurus sisters and into her arms, so now her family is furious even though she really, really, really didn't mean to buck tradition and steal her sister's dragon, and all of her sister's friends who expected her there after the egg hatched are instead stuck with her pesky baby sister instead

yong. tiny baby child whose parents are trainers at the school, and was therefore raised on the property, and was therefore raised as much by dragons as people. is accidentally EXTREMELY magical by virtue of growing up around so much magical energy. his parents keep him the fuck away from any eggs because of that, for fear of him accidentally pulling an unhatched dragon into a bond because of his power instead of the dragon actually wanting to bond with him as a person. yong somehow manages to find, befriend, and bond with a young wild dragon ("young" by dragon standards at least) instead, leaving him half a decade younger than his mostly teenage and young adult classmates, and his dragon close to a century older than their hatchlings

varian. the first dragonrider trainee from his kingdom invited to study at the school. At least, the first in close to 30 years, since his uncle the king and his dragon were both defeated in battle a few years ago after waging war on the rest of the world for a quarter of a century. edmund is gone and his son eugene, varians older cousin, is doing what he can to fix the wreck of his own kingdom, make amends with their neighboring kingdoms, and restart the dragonrider corps in the dark kingdom, since edmund demanded all other dragons and riders be banished a few decades ago. varian never had anything to do with the war, never fought in it and barely knew his uncle or his dragon, but that doesn't stop people from treating him and his dragon like they're also going to go insane and start murdering people any second

soooooo yeah that's all i got band of misfits at magic school sticking together because everyone else hates them so they might as well

[lovelyinspiration1463]

Loki S2 E3 Spoilers Ahead!

My thoughts while watching the episode for the first time:

Is that him as a kid?

I considered for a hot second that Loki might be that horse.

There is never a moment too dire for Mobius to grab a snack, and I relate to that on a deep and personal level.

Boy, Marvel will do anything to plaster their name on screen as much as possible.

*science mumbo jumbo*

I think this variant has gotten himself electrocuted one too many times. 

I wouldn’t be standing right in front of that, my dude.

Well, yeah, now he’s giving off more ‘take over the world’ vibes. Proper Frankenstein over here.

Prototype? Yeah, no kidding. That thing let off a few bright sparks and then just died.

Mustache guy looked so scandalized, I can’t  😭😭😭

“Hornswoggler”? That is my new favorite word.

Is that an offer or a threat? Sounds more like a threat.

Where can I get myself a guy who will pass out money at the snap of my fingers???

I know it’s loud in there, but is no one else hearing the talking purse?

Nice cover, Mobius.

Oop. Old hornswoggler is back and wants a refund. I’m shocked. The machine looked so impressive just… fizzling the way that it did.

This has very quickly become a Charlie Chaplin sketch.

Okay, first of all, Mullet Hair, can you chill??? Killing the same dude over and over and over again is not gonna secure free will for people! Can we discuss? For even just a millisecond?! Are we able to think through our actions?

He ruined your life? Listen here, Sylvie; while you’ve been living it up at McDonalds, the universe has been falling apart! Think outside yourself for two seconds!

His face! 💀💀💀

Are these two seriously having a moment? Cease and desist immediately.

“A long time ago-“ in a galaxy far, far away. No, wait; wrong franchise.

That’s your biggest takeaway? Seriously?

“Rat bags”? Mustache Man is just full of zingers!

Did Loki literally just run in a circle??

Ooh, Miss Minutes is a bit snappy. She really wants everyone to know how clever she is.

Oh my gosh, they are not cramming another slapdash love story into the show 😫 I do not care about this! I came here to see Loki! Every second he’s not on screen, a little part of me dies…

Miss Minutes in the background: 😞

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

I have a feeling Renslayer is suddenly gonna be much more amenable to joining Loki and Mobius now.

All those mannequins are so creepy. 

A Rolodex? That’s his life’s work?

Okay… this just got weird on so many levels. 

OKAY THIS JUST GOT SUPER WEIRD! 🚩‼️🚨 IF SHE POSSESSES ONE OF THOSE MANNEQUINS I AM SO OUTTA HERE

🎶 People always told me, be careful of what you do, don't go around breaking young girls' hearts. And mother always told me, be careful of who you love.  And be careful of what you do, ‘cause the lie becomes the truth - hey hey!🎶

Dude, how did she even get here?

*dramatic entrance at the perfect time*

Mobius, look at her! I don’t think Ravonna is in the best headspace rn.

How many people are gonna barge in here??? Does he have any security at all? Even a single lock?

Also, are we really doing this again? This episode is bloated with will they/won’t they moments. It’s a “won’t” from me. I’ve decided.

The hair! 😍💯

So is Loki just gonna lie there and watch, or…?

So everyone gets free will but him? How do you know he won’t make better choices? He can’t be the one singular person in all of existence that is fated to be something specific!

Okay now I’m starting to feel a little bad for him.

“I can make my own choices.” That’s what I’m saying!

Who put Sylvie in charge? I’m sorry, but last time I checked, Loki doesn’t answer to you!

Seriously? You’re just abandoning her there??? Murder was a bad thing two seconds ago and now you’re both chill about it?

Aww, poor Sylvie. She really is the greatest victim in all this. How dare she be forced to decide to obsess over something 🙄

Yeah, I’m not sure sticking the two of them together is a good idea. I mean technically he’s dead, but what has that ever meant in the MCU?

Oooh, never mind - he’s dead dead. …Well, even so. Loki’s come back from worse.

Can any of these characters just pick a side?! Stop betraying each other so often; I can’t keep up! Who’s working with who???

[gaykarstaagforever]

Considering it has been in the public domain since 1962 (and for longer in the US), anyone and everyone can publish an edition of the Dracula novel. And since everyone is already familiar with it, you really don't have to worry about marketing it.

But also, like...there are HUNDREDS of editions of this book out there. Why would someone buy yours over another one? And also, vampires are cool.

All this taken together leads us to the amazing variation of covers for this book over the last 127 years.

(Some of these may be for strictly digital editions, or fanart. People who upload to Pinterest are garbage at providing accurate descriptions. But they're all going for the same cover-art vibe, so I've included them.)

(Also I tried to avoid comic book / children's illustrated adaptations, only because those aren't literally the same Stoker novel. ...But some of those are fun, so get bent, me.)

This will be more than one post. There are a lot of these. I'll cross-link them when I'm done.

The original 1897 edition, and still probably the best. LOOK at this. Blood red, narrow, imposing font on sickening yellow, the leg of the R dropping below the line as an ominous red fang, pointing to Stoker's name. Golden Age of novels, indeed. Just goddamn perfect. This is going to be hard to top, right out the gate.

Valiant effort. Just the original with roasted edges, with a stock photo of Castle Bran and a giant full moon draped over it. This castle + moon thing comes up a lot.

Also I have no idea what this sequel by "Dacre Stoker" is the hell about. This book is public domain so anyone can publish whatever fanfic / sequels they want about it.

...Dacre Stoker is apparently legit Bram's great-grandnephew, and is a gym teacher from Quebec who used to be an Olympic athlete and coach. Now he just writes or co-writes Dracula books. Good on him, I suppose.

Obviously an edition post the Coppola movie, what with the castle that is very nearly the one from the movie, and the field of impaled people at sunset. It's fine for what it's going for, I guess.

This is the one from the hardback edition I have, in that this is on the dust jacket I threw out because fuck those things. The actual book is black with a simple red title font.

I don't know what the legal status is of whoever using this Boris Vallejo painting for this. I assume they paid to use it. Especially since they edited the expected half-naked lady out of the original:

I love Vallejo, but using a desaturated, censored version of this kick-ass painting? Either use the original and rock the vibe, or fuck off. Lame.

...Blue? Crude sketch of a random castle? White font? I mean I know the text is free so you want to keep production costs low, but this is just lazy crap.

Nice 1960s theater poster vibe with this one. Good work.

When I think Dracula, I don't think "2010s gritty emo reboot of Red Riding Hood." Don't know why anyone would. But I'm sure the original emo / goth PC wallpaper you stole from 2006 made someone's Evangelical coworker slightly annoyed.

Simple, artful, story-relevant. Font is going a bit too hard with the Steampunk signage thing, but it's inoffensive.

This is...a choice. I mean, this IS a scene from the book, and the art is okay. Just a weird choice for the cover, especially with the obviously lazy lasso tool selection and cropping. This doesn't really represent the overall tone of the novel, which is not about old men being irritated. I guess it is certainly distinctive...?

[madsworld15]

Part 5 of still unnamed Asexual Spectrum AU (QAF)

The next day, Justin wore his best pair of jeans and a light blue button-down with his dark navy cable knit over it. This sweater was one of the few things he had left from his parents. It was Brooks Brothers. The only reason he knew that was because his mother made sure he knew it when she gifted it to him for Christmas his senior year. Justin knew the sweater probably made him seem pretentious, considering the event, but it was the only nice sweater he currently owned, and he wanted to look his best.

Justin had no expectations of selling any of his art. None of it was particularly spectacular or even meaningful to anyone outside of himself. Except maybe the one of Brian, but Lindsay was the only one who truly cared about it, and she wasn’t able to afford the price tag. She had told him as much yesterday when he had returned to the center with Emmett. Justin had already decided that if it didn’t sell today, he would gift the drawing to her. If anyone deserved to have it, it was her.

He was nervously standing in front of his section of the exhibit when he looked up and saw his mother enter the center. He hadn’t seen her in months. Not since the day his father handed him $2000 and told him that if he insisted on continuing with his disgusting lifestyle, he could leave. So, Justin had packed up a few of his things and left. That day, his mother hugged him and told him she loved him and that she would talk to his father. Nothing came of that, and so Justin and Mrs. Taylor hadn’t spoken since August. Five months of complete silence from the one person Justin had thought he could always count on.

“Mom?!” Justin accepted her hug, shock still evident on his face.

“Oh, my sweet boy!” His mother’s lavender scent permeated every cell in Justin’s body as they continued to embrace. “Daphne told me your art was going to be featured. I had to come and see.”

“Why haven’t you called me back? I tried calling you a couple times these last few months.” Justin asked, vulnerably barely above a whisper.

“Justin.” His mom’s voice held so much unsaid emotion, and he knew the response that was coming. “Your dad. He is adamant about his decision.”

“Then what are you doing here? How’d you explain it to him?” Justin steeled himself against the tears that threatened to fall.

“He’s in Aspen for the weekend. He says it's for work, but I know it’s not.” She looked away from Justin and toward the art on the wall behind him. “Oh, Justin! This is beautiful.” 

She stood before the sketch he had made of Molly at her dance recital. There was a sadness to her that Justin had never seen before. His mom had always been strong, stoic, and proud. But the woman before him was fragile and cracked. He knew that he was to blame for that. If he’d just stayed in the closet, his father wouldn’t have made her choose between her husband and her son.

“Yeah, I drew this right after her recital back in July. The last thing we did together as a family.” Justin stepped forward and silently forgave his mom for the sacrifices she had to make. “I miss her.”

“She misses you too.” Mrs. Taylor turned to her son and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “She asks me at least once a week when your father is going to let you come home.”

“I’m sorry. I caused everyone so much pain. That was never my intention.” Justin started to apologize but stopped when his mom moved her hand to his chest.

“We’re getting a divorce.” 

“What?” Justin shook his head slightly, trying to make sense of the news. “I can’t let you leave him because I messed up.”

“Oh, honey. I’m not leaving him because you messed up. He did. Your father was wrong to cut you off from us completely. I’m just sorry it took me this long to see it.” His mom pulled him into another hug. Justin could feel the tears escape before he had the chance to swipe them away.

They were still hugging when Brian walked over. Justin wasn’t even aware that he’d even come. But there he was in all his glory. It was the first time they were face to face since the night they kissed, right before Christmas. And here he was, crying. Justin pulled out of his mom’s embrace and quickly wiped his cheeks to divulge them of any tear tracks. 

He cleared his throat, “H-hello, Brian. Shocked to see you here.”

Brian gave his signature smirk and tucked his tongue into his cheek before he responded. “I heard that a local artist had drawn the likes of me. So, naturally, I had to come check it out.”

“Of course.” Justin tucked his lips between his teeth and softly chuckled.

Mrs. Taylor cleared her throat and gave Justin a pointed look. He took a deep breath in and then exhaled before he turned to Brian.

“Mom, this is Brian. Brian, this is my mom.”

“How do you know my son?” Justin’s mom asked as Brian shook her hand.

“He works at the diner. We all eat there from time to time. You get to know one another. It’s a small community.” He gave her his most charming smile, but when he looked over her shoulder to Justin, his look changed. There was something charged about the way his gaze bore into Justin’s eyes.

“Yeah. Brian works for a local ad agency. His best friend’s mom is my boss.” Justin let out the breath he’d been holding and added a bit more context.

“Like I said, small community,” Brian whispered and then ducked his head.

“So, Justin. Tell me about these other pieces.” Justin turned his attention away from Brian, who was now studying the sketch of himself, and back to his mom.

“This one here is called The Graveyard Shift. It’s of the diner where I work. My boss typically picks up that shift because no one else wants it. That’s here, there.” Justin pointed to the drawing positioned to the right of the one of Molly. 

“I had no idea you were working at a diner.” Mrs. Taylor whispered, her tone dripping with awe for the talent her son displayed in his art. “I figured you had to be working somewhere. I just never expected it to be a diner.”

“I needed to join the gay community here. For myself.” Justin took his mom’s hands in his and looked her in the eyes, begging her to understand.

“Of course.” Mrs. Taylor removed her hands from Justin’s only to wrap one of her arms around his shoulder and took in the next two drawings, his still lifes. “I’m so proud of you.”

Justin just smiled and didn’t say a word. Brian was still standing there staring at the drawing of himself and Gus, but Justin didn’t care if the man heard every word. It was important to him that his mom had shown up. At first, he was ready to murder Daphne, but now that they’d had a chance to talk, Justin could see she loved him. There was still so much they needed to talk through and work out if she ever wanted to be as big a part of Justin’s life as she used to be, but her showing up today was huge. She knew it, Justin knew it, and from the subtle smile on Brian’s face, he knew it as well.

“Justin!” He was pulled out of his thoughts by the breathless exclamation of his mom, who had just reached the drawing of Brian. Justin smiled to himself, knowing that she loved it as much as he did.

“I drew that a few weeks ago, right before Christmas.” Justin tried to nonchalantly shrug it off as no big deal. 

But then Brian did something unexpected. He wrapped himself around Justin from behind and muttered against his ear, but loud enough that Justin’s mom could hear, “You got every detail correct. All the way down to the expression on Gus’ face when he eats.”

“Is this you?” Mrs. Taylor addressed Brian. 

He didn’t let go of Justin, but his face pulled back a bit in order to respond. “Your son drew me and my son.”

“This truly is a work of art.” Mrs. Taylor turned back to stare at the drawing once more. 

Brian pulled Justin away from his mom and over to a corner of the room where barely anyone else stood. Justin wasn’t sure what Brian’s intentions were, and Justin didn’t know if he’d be able to stop him if the older man decided to kiss him again, especially not with what Brian was wearing. The man was dressed in a form-fitting black sweater and a pair of nice but tight slacks.

“Why do you look as though you are going to shit yourself?” Brian finally asked once they were alone. “I’ve been watching you since I arrived, and you’ve only become more distressed the more time passes.”

“What?” Justin was expecting any number of things to come out of Brian’s mouth, but concern for him was not one of them.

“Did I use any particularly hard-to-understand words?” Brian teased.

“You’ve been watching me?” Justin’s voice came out in a squeak.

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. “When you say it like that, I sound insane.”

“Well, I’m not the one watching people.”

“No, you’re just the one crying and looking distressed. Is it your mom?” Brian put a hand on Justin’s shoulder and looked him over critically. “Because I know how to handle crappy moms.”

“My mom is fine. We just…” Justin sighed, his throat closing up and tears forming in his eyes once more. “FUCK.”

Brian didn’t say anything or remove his hand from Justin’s shoulder. He just let the blonde process whatever emotions he needed to process in order to get the words out. Justin was grateful for that.

“In August, my dad kicked me out of the house with nothing but a small bag of clothes and things and a couple grand in cash. My mom tried to stop him, but he told her she had to choose.” Justin licked his lips, “She chose him. Until now. Now, she said she’s divorcing him and that she’s sorry.”

“Do you believe her?” Brian’s voice was calm, quiet, and gentle. Something Justin was still getting used to hearing from him.

“I want to.” The ‘but’ Justin wants to say remains unsaid.

“But her initial reaction and choice hurt you.” Brian finished his thought correctly.

“Yeah.”

Brian moved his hand to cup Justin’s cheek. He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Justin’s lips. “You have to do what brings you happiness. Who cares what anyone else thinks.” 

Their foreheads connected as Justin closed his eyes and tried to get his racing heart under control.

“I meant what I said a few weeks ago. I should be running away, but all I want to do is get closer to you.”

Justin took a few deep breaths before he responded. “And I meant what I said. I may never want sex.”

Justin pulled away from Brian entirely and headed over to chat with Debbie and Lindsay, who were by the drink station. He needed to clear his head. Being around Brian was never good for the logical side of his brain, which he needed for this event. 

“Hey, Sunshine!” Debbie greeted him with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s a very nice lady.”

“Yeah. She’s pretty great.” Justin shrugged his shoulders; he couldn’t hide anything from Debbie, so he decided that he didn’t even want to try.

“Justin,” Just then, his mom was there. Before he turned around to face her, Justin plastered a fake smile on his face. 

“I have to go pick up Molly from a playdate, but I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. Your art means something.” She wrapped him in a hug.

“Thanks, Mom,” Justin replied, letting her hug him tightly. He never wanted the safety and security he felt in her arms to go away, but as soon as they pulled apart, it did. To be replaced by the uncertainty her presence now brought.

After she was gone, Justin turned back to Debbie and Lindsay, who stood there in sympathetic silence. Then, he was wrapped up in Debbie’s arms once more. This time when the tears fell from his eyes, he let them.

“She came. That’s a big deal. Forget that she hasn’t spoken to you in months. She was here today, of all days, to support you. Remember that. She loves you.” Debbie whispered sagely.

Justin spent the next hour walking around and mingling with the other artists on display. He learned that the GLC offered free art courses in a studio from time to time, but that for more advanced artists, the time in class was better spent working on something else. Justin made a note to look into attending these free courses once school was on break for the summer. He had almost managed to make it through the rest of the show without another interaction with Brian when the man cornered him. 

It was ten minutes to the end, and Justin was back to standing near his art. Brian sidled up next to him with his signature mischievous smile on his lips.

“You know, I heard a tired old queen telling his friend that your art lacks a certain sex appeal.” Brian gently nudged Justin’s shoulder with his own.

“Did you now.” Justin smiled. The two stood side-by-side, not even making eye contact.

“Yes, but clearly, they hadn’t seen the drawing of me because I ooze sex appeal. Even in charcoal.”

Justin shook his head and laughed. “Never lose your self-entitlement.”

“Are you finally admitting you find me charming?” 

Justin didn’t respond. He didn’t have to because a moment later, Brian continued.

“Never lose your artistic eye. You see the world differently than most people. You always manage to find the nugget of goodness inside everyone.”

“It’s something that could get you any job you want once you graduate. Even in the art department at Ryder.” Brian finished, and then he was gone. 

Later, when Justin was taking down his art display, he was informed that someone bought his drawings of Molly and Brian. He couldn’t be sure who bought the one of Molly, but he’d bet big money that Brian was now the proud owner of his sketch of him and Gus.

[outeremissary]

9 People You Want to Know Better

Tagged by @arendaes, thanks :)

Three Ships

I feel like I always list the same stuff on this section, haha. Same time, I can't really seem to think of anything better right now when I'm trying. Maybe it's just my energy tonight. Uh, I can just list what I consider my main pairs in the last three games with romances I've played...? I guess?

Balthazar + Tristian. Or also with Vio. Doodling them a lot lately... I miss them.

Carmen + Arushalae. There's a Galfrey situation that intersects with this as well but I think living with someone goes a long way towards winning a love triangle. Whatever the hell winning means here. Tbh everyone loses

Asperia/Kasander + unfortunately, that archduke I really do want dead for real. Once wasn't enough.

Last Song

Catch Me If You Can - Jhariah (Spotify). Someone I drew something for on Art Fight had this listed as a character theme, so I've been looping it a lot... it's really good. I really should listen to more of Jhariah's music.

Last Movie

Hm. I.... don't know? I haven't been watching a lot of movies. I wanted to see I Saw the TV Glow, but before I knew it had left theaters. I'd like to watch movies again, I think.

Currently Reading

When I remember that I should be reading, Wuthering Heights. I've actually never read it before. I got bored halfway through Jane Eyre when I was 13 and lost all interest in gothic romances after that. ^^;;

Currently Watching

Akuma-kun! The 2023 one on Netflix. It's the show my friend and I are watching together right now. He insisted I had to watch it because it had an evil angel... we saw the angel today!! I'm happy. Homoerotic, fourteen year old fujoshi Emi would have totally lost it for this.

Currently Eating

Nothing. Getting hungry again though.

Currently Craving

I dunno... something fried? In the abstract, a little more self assurance.

Favorite Color

Blue. Deep blue. I've always been fond of the Copenhagen blue that I've used for Caina's scarf and one of Balthazar's coats, and the indigo I do a lot of my lines with.

Favorite Flavor

Chocolate.

Current Obsession

Anxiously checking the Art Fight website tbh. It's not good for me. I just keep getting worried that I've somehow made art that someone really hates of their character, or that I'm putting a lot into projects that no one will ever see. Haha.

Last Thing I Googled

.... well, now that we're at this point in this, it's Copenhagen blue. Because I wanted to check if it was a real name ^^;;

Favorite Season

Fall. It's got the best temperatures and most consistent weather. I like when the leaves change as well. The dry leaves on the ground are really comforting.... they make good sounds and are nice to lay in.

Skill I'd Like to Learn

Painting. Watercolors, ideally. Or digital art.

Best Advice

Jeez, I don't know a lot of life advice. I guess the best art advice I know is "draw whatever makes you want to keep drawing." Recently an artist I really respect also said something like "when you're starting out, just go ahead and copy whatever you like. Don't trace because you'll learn slower, but if there's something you like, try your best to imitate it." I think that can be good advice too. I guess my personal advice is also "Just do it however you know you can get it done." I used to get really hung up on doing things the "right" way in order to finish them, and because it took so long and I felt so pressured on the later steps I never finished anything. I hardly ever got to what I considered the halfway mark then. It didn't make me feel good about what I was doing. So I started doing things messier and more haphazard, whatever would get to the end I wanted to reach fastest. And I think I grew a lot more like that. I definitely drew a lot more art I was proud of and happy to show other people. I guess that also loops around to advice I've heard somewhere else though ^^;; Just to do the parts of the process that you want to finish. Your sketch can be your final lines if you hate doing line art, who cares. You can learn a way to do it like that.

We've hit the limit of how many times I can tag people on posts in a day without feeling very anxious unfortunately, so if anyone wants to be my guest etc. but I don't have it in me right now ^^;;

[middleearthpixie]

Better Days ~ Chapter Six

A/N: This is the follow up to Playing With Fire, but can be read as a standalone. I thought Frerin deserved a nice, steamy romp just like his older brother got with Leda, so this is his story. I know I’ve got like three other fics to update, but I thought maybe I’d throw this out there and see what everyone thought of it… 

Summary: Frerin Durin had the perfect life, until he found out his wife was cheating on him. Now, he’s navigating uncharted territory as an about-to-be divorced single dad. Dating is a mess, he’s dealing with the fallout where his kids are concerned, and really, he would just love a vacation away from all of it. 

Elena Madison is new to Sidleburg, and also navigating life as a newly single parent. The last thing she needed was for her daughter to come down sick, when she hasn’t even had time to unpack the moving boxes, never mind find a pediatrician. And the last thing she ever expected was to meet a man like Dr. Frerin Durin…

Neither Elena nor Frerin were looking for anything, but fate has a way of messing up even the best laid plans. However, both have been hurt and both aren't at all sure they trust themselves, never mind trusting someone else...

Pairings:  Modern!Frerin  x ofc Elena Madison

Characters:Frerin, Carol Kingsley, Ashley, Vanessa, Flynn, Maura, Jake

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.9k 

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep @court-jobi

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Frerin stared at his inbox as if it had personally insulted him. How did the paperwork double in the span of a day? It seemed like he no sooner beat the stack into submission before it sprouted up three more inches. A hydra of JCAHO, Medicare, Medicaid, and insurance forms, all needing to be filled out, reviewed, or signed and when he did, more would just reappear. It never ended. 

His pager went off as he reached for the first binder-clipped sheaf of papers. They went ignored as he glanced down at the number. Three-three-one-five. The ER. It was nearly three in the morning and things had been quiet, so he’d managed to plow through at lease some of the paperwork. But a page to the ER at that hour was never anything good. 

His chair squeaked as he rolled back from his desk and stood, hooking a finger in the neck of his lab coat to swing it around. His new pink stethoscope lay coiled on his desk, compliments of Jerry, who handled procurement, and he smiled as he picked it up to drape about his neck. It was Thursday night, well, technically early Friday morning, and he had about three hours left in his shift. He’d go home in time to get the kids ready to go to school, and then come tomorrow morning, they’d be going off with Toni for the weekend and he was not looking forward to it. As the week had progressed, Jake grew more and more insistent that he didn't want to go with his mother and as much as Frerin wished he could just let him stay home, he knew Toni would be on the phone with her lawyer so fast, his head would spin. 

Lawyers. Arguments. Court dates. Those were what filled his free time and while he’d sat in on meetings with the hospital lawyers for various reasons, he’d never had to keep one on retainer until last winter. He found that all things considered, he preferred when he didn't have a lawyer on speed dial.

The pediatric ward was quiet, the rooms all mostly dark, the nurses, doctors, orderlies all walked softly and spoke in hushed tones. The nurses had been busy decorating the floor with red and green garlands, a six foot tall blue spruce tree stood in the corner across from the desk, draped with paper chains he’d seen some of the kids in the pediatric unit gluing together earlier. Candy canes and colored balls of varying size hung from the branches and a menorah stood on the desk itself. 

“If anyone needs me,” he said, pausing by the desk, “I’ll be down in the ER.”

“Go with God, Dr. Durin,” Angela said. “It’s a zoo down there tonight. I bumped into Carol Kingsley earlier and she said they’ve got them stacked three deep in some areas. Christmas parties in addition to the bar mayhem.”

“I just hope none of them are kids,” he replied softly.

Angela’s eyes grew sympathetic. “They paged you down, Frerin. That can’t be good.”

“I know.” He rubbed his eyes and then rapped his knuckles lightly against the desk. “Keep your fingers crossed just the same.”

“Will do.”

Labor and Delivery and the Neo-Natal ICU were at the far end of the corridor and he passed by them on his was to the elevators. The walls in the Pedes ward were bright and festive, but down here, the colors were sedate and tranquil—mostly soft blue and pale dusty rose—and it was noisier as well. Especially in the NICU, where monitors and alarms went off seemingly nonstop. Labor and Delivery was quiet for the moment, but that could always change in the blink of an eye.

When his own kids were babies, Frerin had a hard time just looking at the NICU. Jake was six weeks premature and had spent some time there and Frerin remembered all too well how awful it felt to be in that small room, standing over his newborn son, helpless despite all of his medical knowledge and training to do anything more. 

There were two couples and one single woman doing just that over three separate hospital bassinets now and Frerin sighed softly as the NICU team swarmed around the single woman’s child, monitors blaring, a doctor gently—but firmly—moving the mother (Frerin assumed she was the mother) aside.

He tried not to think about it as the elevator doors opened and he stepped in, but as the doors began to slide shut, the woman looked over at him and her expression was a like a punch to the gut. He’d seen it before, more times than he’d cared to think about—pleading, resigned, and numb all in one exhausted face. 

The doors slid shut and he leaned against the back wall with a sigh. Sunday couldn't get here soon enough. He looked forward to seeing Elena again.

He looked forward to kissing her again. 

It had been a long time since the thought of a woman sent anticipation fluttering through him, but Elena did just that. He couldn't stop thinking about her—her laugh, her smile, the way her eyes sparkled, the feel of her against him. He wanted to feel that again. Soon. 

The doors opened into chaos. The ER always picked up when the bars closed at two AM and the holiday situation only made it worse. He stepped out into the hallway, and was promptly grabbed by a guy parked in the hallway.

“You a doc?”

“Yes, I am, but,” Frerin jerked his wrist free, “I’m not a grownup doctor.”

“So we’ve heard. What are you doing down here again?”

“Funny.” He looked over at Carol. “I was paged, where’s the kid?”

Carol shook her head as she snapped on a pair of gloves. “I don't know. I didn't page you.” 

The guy on the gurney grabbed for him again. “Hey, doc, you aren’t doing anything important, take a look at my foot, will you?”

“Pipe down, Tony,” Carol snapped, moving to the end of his gurney. “What did you do this time?”

“I put my foot through a fucking picture frame, that’s what.”

She sighed. “How did you manage that?”

“I dunno. I’m clumsy.”

This time, Tony reached for her, and Frerin snagged his wrist before he could grab her. “Enough. Let her look at it. Carol, if you need me to stitch it—”

“Mark’s coming. He’s dealing with another frequent flyer in Curtain Two, it won’t be long.”

“You touch Nurse Kingsley again,” Frerin turned to Tony, “and you go in restraints. Got it?”

“Yeah, man. I got it.”

“Good.” Frerin released him. “Carol, he gives you any more trouble—”

“Security isn’t far.” She smiled up at him as she peeled off Tony’s bloody sock. “Go.”

Frerin skirted them to make his way to the front desk. “Someone paged me?”

“Dr. D,” Ashley smiled up at him, “I did. We’ve got a nine year old in anaphylactic shock rolling up in five.”

“Do we know what caused it?”

“No. Collins didn't say.”

“Okay. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. Let me know when they get here.”

He crossed over to the lounge and sighed at the nearly-empty coffee pot left on the burner, which baked the last remnants of the previous pot into the glass. “Wonderful.”

He’d just put the pot in to soak when the door banged open and a nurse in dark green said, “Dr. Durin? Rig’s pulling up with your anaphylaxis kid.”

“What’s open?”

“Trauma One.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She bobbed her head and the door swung shut. He grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands, then hurried back out to Trauma One just as the paramedics wheeled in the nine year old. “Give me the bullet.”

“Max Gonzales,” the paramedic said, “nine years old, apparently allergic to cashews and only found out about half an hour ago. Mom and dad are on their way. His BP is—”

Frerin listened with one ear as he smiled down at the wheezing, dark-haired boy on the gurney. “Hi, Max. Can you understand me?”

Max nodded. 

“Good.” Frerin let his hand skim lightly along Max’s tousled dark hair. “I’m Dr. Durin and I know you’re having trouble breathing, but it’s going to be okay, all right? Your mom and dad will be here in a few minutes, but I’ve got you.”

“I—can’t—br—breathe…”

“I know. And I’m going to fix that for you, promise.” He looked over at the nurse who’d alerted him to the rig rolling up. She had to be new, because he had no idea who she was. “I’m sorry, I don't know your name.”

“Vanessa.”

“Vanessa, let’s start with point-three of epi, IM.”

She nodded. “On it.”

“Good.” He turned back to Max. “Hang in there, buddy. Medicine’s coming.”

Max reached for him, and Frerin smiled as he caught the boy’s hand. “It’s going to be okay, Max.”

Max’s fingers tightened about his as Vanessa administered the epinephrine, and within a few seconds, his breathing eased. Frerin eased his hand from Max’s and fit his stethoscope ear pieces in, then slid the diaphragm under the boy’s dinosaur pajama top. “Can you sit up for me, Max?”

“I think so.”

He did as Frerin asked, stiffening slightly when Frerin slid the stethoscope over his back. “I know, it’s a little cold and I’m sorry about that. It’ll warm up quickly.” He moved it from left to right, then down lightly and back to the left. 

“Sounds pretty good, buddy. Is breathing easier now?”

Max nodded. “A lot easier.”

“Good.” He looked up at Vanessa and bobbed his head. “Let’s put him on point-seven albuterol and move him into a quiet room for observation. Are his parents here yet?”

With that, the doors to the trauma room opened and Ashley said, “Dr. Durin, I’ve got Mr. And Mrs Gonzales.”

“Perfect timing.” Frerin pulled the earpiece free and draped the stethoscope about his neck. “I’m Dr. Durin. Did you know Max was allergic to cashews?”

“No. He’s never been allergic to anything,” Mrs. Gonzales replied, staring at her son with glinting eyes. “He’s a healthy kid.”

“What were you doing eating nuts in the middle of the night, kiddo?” Mr. Gonzales asked. “You were supposed to be sleeping.”

“I was hungry.”

“Well, next time, maybe have something else,” Frerin told him. “At least, have something you know you can eat. Mom, Dad, I think it’d be a good idea to set up an appointment with an allergist, so we don't have to do this again.”

Mrs. Gonzales looked from her son to him. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Don’t worry, we can give you a few names,” Vanessa assured her with a smile. 

“Thank you.” Mrs. Gonzales looked back at him and gestured to her son with one hand. “Can I touch him?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sure.” He stepped aside and gestured for her to come closer. “We’re just going to move him to a quieter room and keep an eye on him for a little while, but I don't think he’ll need to be admitted. Vanessa, would go with them?”

“Of course.” She smiled as one of the residents wheeled Max toward the doors. 

“Thank you, Dr. Durin,” Mr. Gonzales said softly, his hand at the small of his wife’s back. 

“I’ll come by in a bit to check on him. Vanessa, any changes, let me know at once.”

“Will do, doctor.”

The doors swung shut and the room was strangely quiet. He glanced up at the clock. Ten to four. Two more hours.

His pager went off and he sighed as he reached up to rub his eyes. NICU. Fuck.

The house was quiet and dark when he pulled into the driveway and as he killed the Infiniti’s engine, Frerin leaned his head back and let his eyes close. Working with kids was great most of the time, but like he told Elena, when it went south, it was horrible.

The human body was as fragile as it was resilient and some of the worst moments of his career were those when he had to pronounce an infant. Those moments aged him. When his kids were younger, he’d come off a shift like this one and just stand over their bassinet, their crib, their toddler bed, and silently thank whatever higher power was at work in making sure his children remained healthy and whole. 

They were older now, but his need to check on them hadn’t waned. He went inside, crept noiselessly up the main staircase, and began in Flynn’s room, which took a bit of navigational skill, as it often looked like a bomb had gone off in there. But, his firstborn was sound asleep, snoring like a buzzsaw, as Toni used to say about him.

Maura was next. Her room was far neater than her brother’s and definitely girlier, with its soft pink walls and sheer pink curtains dotted with silver sequins in a butterfly pattern. A salt lamp glowed from pink to blue to purple on the small wood and tile-top table she’d made the previous year in woodshop and she was sound asleep beneath the fluffy pink comforter that was part of the bedding set he and Toni had given her for Christmas the previous year.

He bent over to lightly kiss her forehead, smiling as she mumbled, “Go ’way,” and rolled over to offer him her back. 

He tugged the comforter up to her shoulder and crept from her room to Jake’s, at the end of the hall closest to the bedroom Frerin once shared with Toni. With a soft sigh, Frerin just gazed down at his baby. He was almost eleven years old, but to Frerin, he would always be his baby and asleep, as the others did, Jake looked even younger. 

Pulling Jake’s door by, Frerin stepped out into the hallway and sighed softly as he made his way to his own bedroom, where he unknotted his dark blue and silver swirled tie, and then unbuttoned his pale blue dress shirt. The tie went back on the rack in the closet, his belt on the hook alongside it, and as he came back out of the closet, he tossed the shirt and his socks into the laundry basket on the floor alongside his high chest of drawers. His trousers would go into the pile to go to the cleaners before work on Saturday, and clad in only his dark gray Calvin Klein boxer briefs, he padded into the bathroom and started the shower. 

He stood under the hot spray, eyes closed, water sluicing down along his temples, soaking into his beard, pounding over his shoulders. He made no move to reach for soap or shampoo, unable to get that NICU mom out of his mind. Her name was Amelia, she was seventeen years old, and her family disowned her because of the baby girl she’d given birth to not quite twenty-four weeks along. And there was nothing he could do for her daughter. Nothing the hospital could do. The only thing he could do was look up at the clock, pronounce her daughter’s time of death and offer his condolences. And when he did, she just stared up at him for a long moment and then whispered, “Is that it?”

He’d nodded. “I’m so sorry.”

She’d bobbed her head, her bottom lip quivering, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Then she’d bowed her head and one of the NICU nurses eased an arm about her shoulders, while he filled out the paperwork. When he’d finished, Amelia was on the phone, not crying, but she sounded almost dazed and when he’d passed by, she reached out to catch his wrist and thanked him.

Thanked him.

He did nothing to be thanked for and yet—

She’d thanked him.

“Fuck.” He reached for the shampoo.

When he emerged, in a cloud of steam, he felt more like himself and when he came down into the kitchen and heard Flynn and Maura arguing over who was the better goalie, Richter or Lundvist, he chimed in with, “Shesterkin has them both beat,” as he crossed to the Keurig.

“That’s what I said,” Jake broke in. “And they ignored me.”

“Well, he doesn’t have a cup,” Flynn said.

“Neither does Hank and you’re throwing his name out regardless,” Frerin tugged open the drawer below the counter, where the K-Cups were kept, and took out a Folger’s Black Silk pod. “And why are you fighting about hockey anyway? Did I miss something last night?”

“No. Boston kicked the shit out of the Rangers.”

“Flynn, mouth.”

He shook his longish dark hair out of his eyes. “Sorry, Dad. How was your shift?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Why? What happened?” This came from Maura, who set her spoon against the side of her bowl. “Did you lose someone, Dad?”

“Yeah. A micropreemie. But, I also saved a kid from anaphylaxis, so there’s that.”

“What’s anaphylaxis?” Jake asked.

“He was allergic to cashews and had trouble breathing. But, he got the ER in time and will go home with his parents later today.” Frerin took the cup from the tray on the Keurig and brought it up for a much needed sip. “Did you all get your homework done?”

“Yeah.” Maura sighed. “Flynn had to help me with my algebra homework. Why do I even have to learn this? When will I ever use it again?”

To Frerin’s surprise, Flynn nudged her shoulder with his. “You’ll get it. It’s just that Mrs. Henderson is old and a crappy teacher. Nobody who has her understands algebra because she’s a dinosaur who doesn’t remember how to teach it.”

“It’s still stupid. And I have a test on Monday. I’m never gonna pass it.”

“I’ll help you over the weekend. Bring your stuff when we go to Mom’s.”

Maura wrinkled her nose and Frerin braced himself as her blue eyes met his. “Do we have to go to Mom’s this weekend? We’re seeing her on Christmas, isn’t that enough? I can’t stand that stupid boyfriend of hers.”

“Yes, you do and no, it’s not. In that order.” Frerin lowered his cup. “And what’s wrong with him?”

She just shot him a look. “Are you serious, Dad?”

“Yeah. I’m dead serious.”

“Well, for starters, it’s just like the last time. He’s overly friendly, like he wants to prove he doesn’t hate us just for existing, but you just know he wishes Mom would just not want us to come over.” Maura flung herself against the back of her chair with enough force it rocked back slightly. “And he’s just so skeezy.”

That made Frerin straighten up. “Skeezy how?”

“He’s like a used car salesman,” Flynn broke in, “all big teeth, cheesy smile, and back slaps. I want to dick punch him. He’s just such an ass.”

Frerin bit back a smile. “Ignore him. Your mother is the one you’re there to see. And as long as he keeps his distance…”

“You know, Dad,” Maura grinned up at him, “you didn't tell us how your date went the other night and you were home by eleven. Was it that bad? Tell me it wasn’t that bad, please.”

“No,” he shook his head, moving to the table to sit across from them, “it wasn’t bad at all, but it also wasn't a date.”

“You went to dinner,” Jake told him pointedly. “Isn’t that a date?”

“We didn't go out to dinner. That’s this Sunday.”

“Mom’s gonna flip,” Maura chuckled. “She asks about you, you know.”

“Maur, don't even go there,” he told her softly, shaking his head. 

“I know, but she does. And are we going to get to meet this mystery woman?”

“In time, if things go well. But, I promise you, she is not a skeezy used car salesman type at all.” He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “You two should get going.”

“Yeah, I know,” Flynn signed as he shoved his chair away from the table and stood. “Dad, you cannot possibly do any worse than Mom has.”

“Well, that’s something.” Frerin grinned at his oldest. “Drive carefully and make sure Jake eats something besides Frosted Flakes for dinner tonight.”

“Dad, when do you go back on days?”

He looked over at Jake. “Not until after the New Year. It’s only a few more weeks.”

“I hate when you work nights.”

“Yeah, I’m not too crazy about it, either, but that’s being a grownup, bud. You sometimes have to work the overnight shift when you don't want to.”

“Just think,” Maura rose from her chair and deposited her cereal bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, “in a few years, you’ll be able to throw parties when Dad’s working graveyard.”

Jake’s eyes lit, but before he could say anything, Frerin broke in, “I’ll hire a night nanny for you if that’s a possibility.”

“You never let us have any fun.” Maura slung her backpack over her left shoulder. 

“I know. Mean Dad strikes again. Have a good day, both of you and Flynn—”

“I know,” he sighed, “I’ll drive carefully.”

“Humor your old man, okay?”

The two of them thudded out of the kitchen and a moment later, the front door slammed. Jake sighed softly, setting his spoon down. “I really do hate when you work nights.”

“I know. I really don't like it, either, but sometimes, I have to work the shifts no one else can. That’s what being the boss means.”

“I thought it meant telling everyone what to do.”

“Well, there’s that, but it’s also picking up the slack when no one else can, either. And right now, my department is understaffed.”

“Where are all the doctors?”

“That, Jake, is a good question. Budget cuts make hiring staff and keeping staff more difficult when private hospitals don't have that problem and can lure good doctors away.”

“Why don't you do that? Aren’t you a good doctor?”

Frerin grinned. “I hope I am, but I’m happy where I am. I like where I am.”

“Mom used to get mad when you did the overnights. Is that why she left?”

Frerin sighed. Jake didn't know and he wasn't about to tell him the real reason why he and Toni were divorcing. “No, it’s a lot more complicated than that. Your mother and I just can’t live together any more.”

Jake sighed softly. “I hate that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Frerin reached out to rumple his thick auburn hair. “But sometimes, life throws crappy stuff at you. This is one of those times.”

Jake looked up at him. “But, if Mom said she was sorry—”

“We’ve had this discussion,” Frerin broke in gently, “and that’s not going to happen, Jake. Like I’ve said, the day will come when you will understand and you’ll realize we did the right thing. It’s better for you and Maura and Flynn.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will.”

“One day, right?”

Frerin nodded. “One day, I promise.” He glanced up at the clock. “We should get you off to school, buddy. Go get your stuff.”

Jake slid down from his chair and strode out of the kitchen to head up to his room. As his footfalls sounded overhead, Frerin sank back in his chair and sighed. One day. 

It couldn't come soon enough.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

QTA: Queer Teacher Alliance

so, homophobia ft. queer teacher alliance? incredible fic, I have gone back and reread that thing at least five times becuase the comfort is immaculate 👌 anyway, becuase of that, I have returned with another lil request for u to consider! after the whole homophobic argument mess, virgil has to get his class switched, and surprise surprise, his new teacher for that period is one of the other sides! (idk which one, any would be chill) I was thinking a couple little snapshots (maybe a sort of 5+1 deal except I dont know what the +1 would be haha) of v in that class, possibly a little h/c sprinkled in becuase i am a weak man with a primal need for soft things :) thank u very much for considering! I love reading your works, and I geeked out a totally reasonable amount when u answered my last request <333 - vinbee631

Read on Ao3

Warnings: homophobia

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3666

Virgil doesn't really expect much to change

Virgil doesn't really expect much to change. Come on, it's high school, they don't do much to take care of you. He thinks he'll be lucky to get away with that one day of being slightly coddled by his surprisingly accommodating also gay teachers and then it'll be back to grind.

But he gets taken out of all the classes he has with that teacher, Kyle, and Leslie.

He still has all the same teachers, just at different times. It's…honestly?

That would've been enough.

But then this week happens.

It starts off with art class. Mr. Dagenheart's introducing a new unit that's supposed to be about 'identity' or something super vague that's basically just an excuse for people to do whatever they want and bullshit something at the end. Of course there are gonna be some try-hards and people that are actually good at art that are gonna be amazing, but Virgil's just looking to coast through this and not try too hard.

Then come the whispers.

Gossip in high school spreads like wildfire, so it's no surprise that everyone knows why Virgil was transferred out of the other class. Don't get him wrong, some people came up to him and were very much all that was shitty and fucked up and I'm sorry, tell me if anyone else does that and I'll kick their asses, which was nice, but this is still high school and his standards are practically nonexistent after everything.

So when 'identity' gets dropped as the new theme, he's not surprised in the slightest when people start giving him little looks.

Fuck. Is this where I have to embrace my identity as the Gay Kid? Am I expected to make some big thing about how my 'identity' is being gay and all that shit?

I don't even like rainbows that much.

Even so, when everyone splits up and starts brainstorming ideas for what sort of art piece they want to create, Virgil finds himself idly writing the words 'gay' and 'rainbow' down on his piece of paper as he starts randomly sketching something reminiscent of all the actual good pieces of art he's seen.

"Virgil?"

"Oh. Hey, Mr. Dagenheart."

He takes a seat on the stool next to him. "That looks cool."

"Thanks. Totally didn't steal the idea from something sick I saw on Instagram yesterday."

Mr. Dagenheart snorts. The scratch of Virgil's pencil occupies him for a little longer before he silently points to the two words. Virgil glances up to see a silent expression that definitely means are you sure?

Glancing around to make sure no one else is looking at them, he lowers his voice. "Aren't I…supposed to?"

"Supposed to what?" Virgil nods to the words. "No, Virgil. You're not 'supposed' to do anything. If that doesn't feel like you, don't do it. That's the whole point."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. This unit's supposed to be—well, it's supposed to help keep the art budget low—"

Virgil snorts.

"—but no, it's you. Whatever bits of you that you feel comfortable putting into the world and sharing in this classroom. There's no right way or wrong way to do it."

He glances around too and leans a bit closer.

"And there's no one way to be gay, V," he says quietly, "it's okay."

Virgil looks back down at the piece of paper and slowly erases the word rainbow, but leaves gay.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Mr. Dagenheart nudges him. "What medium do you think you wanna work with this time?"

"…not gonna lie, I'm really tempted by your suggestion of just throwing paint at a wall."

"Now you're speaking my language."

2.

But, sure. Mr. Dagenheart is Mr. Dagenheart. He's an art teacher, he can get away with being…well, himself.

But Mr. Mackenzie? Virgil expects it to be the whole 'we don't talk about this, we don't acknowledge it, we just be professional and don't concern ourselves which such things.'

So when quantum physics rolls around and Virgil's frantically trying to remember the difference between a quark and a lepton, he's really not expecting one of the other students to ask Mr. Mackenzie to make good on a promise.

"Come on, sir, you've been saying you'll explain why classical mechanics is heteronormative since we did constant acceleration!"

Hold up.

What now?

Mr. Mackenzie sighs, adjusting his glasses. "I did promise that, didn't I?"

A general clamor goes up around the classroom and he chuckles, raising his hands for quiet and moving through the presentation until he finds a slide on the double-slit experiment.

"Now," he says, "I cannot take credit for this idea or explanation. It belongs to an incredible person named Amrou al-Kadhi, who is also a drag performer under the name Glamrou."

"Go off."

"Oh, hell yes."

"I didn't have talking about drag queens on my science-class bingo card but I'm not complaining."

Virgil sits up a little more.

"But what the gist of their explanation is this: Newtonian physics—classical mechanics, is very strict and regulated. If I do A, B happens, and so forth. It's why I had you all study those formulae until you were sick of them." He smiles as a general grimace forms. "But once we get to subatomic particles, quantum physics, everything gets thrown out the window. It's why I told you to be prepared for me to make you angry when I explain how everything I just taught you was wrong."

He points to the slide.

"Now, we've just gone over this experiment, yes?"

A general 'yes' and Virgil nods.

"A key component of it is that electrons, which are particles, seem to behave like waves. Light behaves like both a particle and a wave depending on how it's examined. Classical mechanics tells us that it should go through either the left slit or the right slit but sometimes…" He gestures to the picture. "It goes through both, and we don't really understand why."

Something in his face softens.

"What al-Kadhi explains is that as queer people, we are constantly defying these sorts of regimented rules and 'laws,' so to speak. We question and search for answers in a world that doesn't want to make it easy for us to find them. So when you study quantum physics and find that the most fundamental of particles disrupt and disobey all the 'natural laws,' it can be somewhat comforting."

His eyes meet Virgil's for a moment and he almost smiles.

"Besides, I think it's far more interesting that explaining that if you push something off a bridge, it's going to hit the ground very hard."

The class laughs and Virgil laughs too. Huh…nonbinary physics…

"I definitely recommend looking up the video where they talk about it. It's an excellent understanding of a rather complex idea and they articulate it wonderfully."

"You should make that our next homework assignment."

"You know what, maybe I will."

3.

But...sure. Okay. Fine. It's just an explanation or a one-off thing, right? It isn't like they're actually being taught that it's queer, it's just, y'know, a cool way of thinking about it.

History class isn't Virgil's favorite class, but it isn't his least favorite either. Maybe 'cause Mr. Everheart has this way of explaining things that actually makes it seem like one, he understands what he's teaching and two, that he respects you enough as an adult to tell you the truth.

"If you study history, there will be times when you're uncomfortable. There will be times when you're outraged. There will be times where you really don't want to study the things that you're studying," he'd said once, "and if you never have any of those feelings, you probably aren't studying history."

They're talking about recent American history and they get onto the topic of Reagan. Virgil mentally wills himself not to whisper what the fuck every two seconds as they start going through things, and then someone says this:

"Why is everyone so upset about Reagan's presidency? I mean, we survived it, didn't we?"

Mr. Everheart gets quiet. He takes his glasses off and polishes the lenses before putting them back on.

"You're right," he says lowly, "people did survive Reagan's presidency. In fact, most people you hear about survived Reagan's presidency. But what have we repeatedly said about history?"

"It's written by the victors?"

"Yes, but also by the survivors."

He sits up a little more and nods to the syllabus in front of him.

"I was planning to wait until we got there to bring it up, but I suppose we can do a little bit now. How many of you know about the AIDS crisis?" A few hands go up. "How many of you know how bad it was?"

Some of the hands go down.

"How many of you know what AIDS used to be called?"

The two hands that had been raised are lowered slowly. Mr. Everheart hums.

"Who can tell me what AIDS stands for?"

"Uh," says one of them, "it's like, autoimmune deficiency syndrome?"

"Close. Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. This name came into popular use in 1982 when it was coined by the CDC. It went by a few names before then, but the most widely used—including by government officials and mass media outlets, was GRID. Any ideas as to what that stood for?"

A few people shook their heads. One person raised their hand. "General-Related Immune Deficiency?"

"No. Anyone else?"

When nothing follows, Virgil's grip on his pencil tightens.

"GRID stood for Gay-Related Immune Deficiency."

Shocked noises come from around the room and he holds up his hand.

"And because it mainly affected the queer community, people of color, and other disadvantaged socio-economic groups, almost no one took it seriously. The reason it still has the stigma it does is because of that. So we don't have a lot of that history because the people who would be a part of it, died."

Silence.

"Now, don't get me wrong. There are still people that lived and tell their histories. I encourage you to seek them out. I don't want to sound as if I'm saying that everything was lost, but I want you to think about why we don't hear about it. And why when we say we 'survived' things like Reagan's presidency, it's because the people who did, by and large, weren't at risk from it at all."

4.

By the time he gets to Mr. Prince's class, he's just waiting for it to happen.

One of his favorite things about learning with Mr. Prince is that the man will go on tangents that have absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with whatever he's supposed to be teaching them and then, fifteen minutes later, find some way to link it back to whatever they're studying and it is some kind of witchcraft. He also encourages people to just kind of talk at him when they think they've got something, which means everyone is taking notes from each other as much as they are from him.

But he wasn't exactly expecting it to come up like this.

"So," Mr. Prince says, "The Gay Gatsby—wait."

The whole class explodes into laughter as Mr. Prince pinches the bridge of his nose. Virgil can't help it, he joins in too, watching the shake of his head as he smiles sheepishly at them.

"Freudian Slip?"

"I mean," another student manages, "you're not wrong."

"No, I'm not. Matter of fact—how much time do we have left?"

"Like, ten minutes?"

"That's good enough. We're on schedule." He claps his hands and sits on the desk. "Gatsby: Gay or Not Gay? Discuss."

"Oh my god," Virgil's friend scoffs, "so gay."

"Pink suit? Fancy parties that he personally invites just Nick to? A weird compulsion to be with Daisy even though he obviously doesn't love her anymore?" Someone else throws their hands up. "That's a gay if I've ever seen one."

"Excuse you, this is disaster bisexual erasure and I will not stand for it."

"Also," another friend says, "are we gonna talk about how Nick and Jordan are gay-lesbian solidarity? They're both each other's beards."

"Wait, Nick's gay?"

Mr. Prince sighs. "Okay, honey, if you can give me a heterosexual explanation for whatever that missing scene is with Mr. McKee, I'll give you a 100 right now."

"No, no way, that's the most not-a-sex-scene sex scene I've ever read."

"Also, no straight man talks about another straight man like that."

"Isn't there a line where Jordan says that Nick looks like he's 'having a gay time' and then the next page is all about Gatsby's smile?"

"Putting aside the other use of the word 'gay,' yeah, no, this man is not straight."

"Pink suit, guys, pink. Suit."

"Also Tom hates him for some other reason."

"Wait, hang on." Virgil steeples his fingers in front of him. "Who's seen the movie?"

"Me."

"I have."

"Leonardo De Caprio's in it, of course I've seen it."

"Do you guys remember the scene with the party in New York with Tom and Myrtle and everything? You know that one line that Tom says about knowing Nick likes to watch and remembering that from college?"

"He says what?"

"Wait, wait, is that in the book?"

"No, it's not. They just put that in for the movie. What the f-heck was that all about?"

"Now, now," Mr. Prince says as the class starts to debate what implications that has, "let's cite our sources, shall we? Do we think this clip exists on YouTube?"

"Oh, it totally has to."

"Wait, can we watch it? Hell yes!"

5.

He's staying behind on a Friday again, just to finish up this last part of the art thing he's doing for Mr. Dagenheart, when he looks up to see the rest of them come in.

"Uh. Hi?"

"Virgil, yes, Remus said you'd still be here." Mr. Prince waves. "How's it coming along? It looks great!"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Are you working through lunch?" Mr. Mackenzie tilts his head. "Have you eaten already?"

"Well, no, but Mr. Dagenheart said it was okay if I—"

Of course, then said teacher bursts out of the supply closet and scares the hell out of him.

"You guys brought food, right?"

"It's your week, Re."

"Oh, shit."

"Language!"

"Virgil," Mr. Mackenzie says quietly, "would you mind if we ate in here while you work?"

"Uh, no, that's fine, I don't care. I can, um, I can leave if you—"

"No, no, you're working. We'll try to be as minimally disruptive as possible."

Mr. Prince snorts. "Speak for yourself."

Mr. DeLuca smacks his shoulder and Virgil quickly tries to focus on his work again.

This is fine. This is fine. This is so fine.

"Virgil," Mr. Dagenheart calls, "remember, you can work in here as long as you eat, so chomp, chomp over there, yeah?"

"I remember!"

"Good."

Sure, Virgil thinks as he gets politely mother-henned by his queer teachers into eating lunch and taking a break from his work, this might as well happen. This week's already been so goddamn weird.

+1.

Mr. DeLuca is fucking scary.

He doesn't get mad in the I'm-gonna-be-loud-and-shouty way but he gets really quiet and really serious and cold, like he's gonna rip you apart with just his words and death-stare. And he's currently shredding two of Virgil's classmates over throwing temper tantrums about the homework.

Just shut up. Don't look up. Don't fucking move. Just stare at the numbers. Just look at the numbers.

"I have yet to behold mature and reasonable students," the icy voice says, "what I see are petulant, rude, obnoxious, ill-behaved children."

He's not talking to you. Just shut up and don't move and he won't look at you.

"Now that didn't have to happen in front of all of your friends and peers, but it did. Because you had to make fools of yourselves. Now, I understand that you have some studying to catch up on and all of you—"

Virgil just manages not to flinch.

"—have a test next week. I presume I don't have to tell you that it is mandatory."

A few brave souls whisper 'no, sir,' and there's a faint rustling from people shaking their heads.

"Mm. I suggest you get to it, then. You two—" don't flinch, not you— "will go and speak with Mr. Johnson, and I will join you in half an hour. Virgil?"

What the fuck did I do? Did I do something wrong? Shit, fuck—

"Stay behind for a moment."

A few of his friends shoot him pitying looks as they flee from the classroom. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, sitting up straight as he puts away all of his math stuff. He's frantically running through his head of anything he could've done wrong—maybe his grades weren't as good as they should be, maybe he made a dumb mistake on the last homework—shit, was he talking too obviously in class? He was just trying to explain a thing—

He jumps when Mr. DeLuca sits down across from him.

"Did Mr. Everheart speak to you this morning?" Virgil nods. "So, you understand that the others are currently in a meeting with the Dean to discuss repercussions for the teacher who encouraged and participated in the homophobic bullying."

He nods again.

"What would you like to see happen?"

What? Excuse him? He doesn't fucking know. He shrugs.

Mr. DeLuca raises an eyebrow. "Conversations do work best when both participants speak."

"Sorry, I, um, I don't know, I—I didn't think anything would happen, so I, um, didn't think about it. Sorry. I don't know."

There's a pause, then he leans forward. "Are you alright, Virgil?"

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I'm good."

"Don't lie to me."

There's nothing in the world that could've stopped Virgil's flinch at that. He stares down at his hands. Fuck, fuck, what do I say? I can't tell the truth, what the fuck am I supposed to do? He's gonna fucking eviscerate me, he's gonna say I'm being dramatic, I can't—I can't—

The sudden scrape of a chair makes him flinch again, head jerking up to see Mr. DeLuca getting up and walking toward his desk. A hysterical part of Virgil's brain sees his hand flash near the ruler and truly panics, only for him to pick up a tissue box instead. He walks back over and places it on the table before crouching—crouching next to Virgil.

"What's wrong, sweetie," he asks in a soft voice that gives Virgil whiplash, "tell me?"

Don't cry. Don't fucking cry.

"I—I—um, I—"

"You look scared," he says when Virgil can't do anything more than stutter. Virgil nods shamefully. "Yeah? Is that it, you're just scared?"

Not much of a 'just' about it, but yeah.

"What's scaring you?"

Now, this is a trap. He has no idea what the actual fuck he's supposed to say, so he just stares at him. When Mr. DeLuca raises an eyebrow, he gestures feebly around at the classroom.

Confusion flickers across his face until Virgil sees him realize what he's so afraid of.

"Is it me," he asks quietly, "are you scared of me? Because of what just happened?"

Shame burns his face and he nods, trying to hide. Mr. DeLuca makes another one of those confusing soft noises and rests a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Virgil, I didn't mean to scare you. You're not in trouble, I'm not mad at you."

"I-I know." He sniffles and quickly wipes it away. "Sorry, I promise I'm not doing this on purpose. I'm not trying to be dramatic."

"I know, sweetie. It's okay." He nudges the tissue box closer. "If you need to cry, it's okay. Go ahead. Do you want a moment?"

"N-no, you can—you can stay."

And he does, gently rubbing Virgil's shoulder and letting him be a total fucking mess all over his table. It's weird and confusing and so at odds with the scary teacher who just humiliated two students for crying too and he's not gonna question it anymore.

"Listen," he murmurs when Virgil's all done with his meltdown, "I get mad when students throw fits and do things on purpose to try and get their way or draw attention to themselves. I do not get mad when people get upset and need to cry. And if anyone ever gives you a hard time or makes fun of you for needing to cry, you come and you tell me and I'll be scary at them, alright?"

"Okay."

He smiles and ruffles Virgil's hair. "Good. Why don't you and I sit here for a while and calm down, then we can talk?"

"…don't you need to go be scary?"

"You're more important right now. Mr. Johnson's used to handling those two. And, Virgil?"

"Yeah?"

Mr. DeLuca gives him a look. "I am happy to be scary for you if you ever need it."

Virgil frowns. "For me?"

"Yes, Virgil, if anyone ever decides to be an ignorant bigot, I am more than happy to be scary for you."

Okay. So.

Maybe things can get better after all.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[keefwho]

May 28 - 2024 Tuesday

10:23pm

5.5/10

This morning I took care of the dogs and showered like usual. I was a bit quicker than usual so that was nice. For breakfast I made Dinty Moore beef stew with some pasta in it. I actually got to take my time and eat it which I don't usually do. Then I had a cookie with my coffee and starting streaming.

I warmed up with a couple of Monster High doll studies and some normal human gestures. I only streamed for an hour since I had planned to move Sporticus's kennel into the fireplace and rearrange my bed. I mostly did commission sketches and worked on a YCH.

Afterwards I had to clean out the fireplace area which meant trying to scrub soot off the walls. Somehow I tore off the first layer of skin on the side of my finger which got tons of ash in it and then I decided I should be wearing gloves. I did improve the fireplace but it's still charred blank in some places in a way I cant just brush off. I got it clean enough to put her in there. Then I started putting all my bed stuff in the laundry to wash throughout the day.

I had planned a sort of meetup with TK a few days ago so we got in VRchat and hung out in this public Minecraft world the whole time. WX joined too. We talked about religion and kids and parents and a bunch of different stuff. I switched to desktop to make lunch while I hung out with everyone.

I started working in VRchat and did today's request which included mild gore, I kept it private. Then I tried working on this Opaline idea from fan idea requests and I barely made any progress like the last 3 weeks. Its getting very frustrating because I don't know why I cant get such a simple pose right. It didn't help I was mentally drained and had a headache. I decided to give up for the day.

I made the minor mistake of taking a tiny hit so I could take some time to enjoy myself. Or maybe it wasn't a mistake, I only consider it one because my loose rules tell me I shouldn't be smoking at all on weekdays. My self enjoyment time was okay but it started getting windy and thundering towards the end of it. It passed by quickly and then I started playing Roblox Toilet Tower Defense until DS was free.

She worked on her fursuit and I played Roblox for awhile. We watched a couple furry con vlogs and took a long look at old IKEA catalogues while reminiscing about furniture. She told me of a liminal place she remembers vividly relating to the IKEA play area from her childhood and I was very interesting in maybe turning it into a VRchat world with some cooperation. In bed we did our puzzles and I played a little Kerbal. It started thundering a lot after she went to sleep and I kept getting startled so I put on my earmuffs. While taking the dogs out, I stood atop the rock in the yard and was watching the lightning. It was very scary for me to do at first but I got used to it pretty quick. Then I started putting my bed together in it's new position but the blanket I use as my sheets had a big damp spot I missed so I have my fun blowing under it right now. It should be dry so I'm going to finish the job and go to bed.