#i did read all the books back in middle school but also promptly forgot everything about them

[kotaka-kun]

am i crazy or. would erik absolutely love twilight. unironically. calls it a romance for the ages. owns maybe an unhealthy amount of merch at some point.

because like 1.) erik is a dracula fanboy, it wouldnt be a stretch to say that it could extend to all vampires, and thats how it gets on his radar to begin with 2.) he would absolutely identify with edwards whole "im a monster" vibe (not to mention the killer part) 3.) there is no universe in which he doesnt yearn to be wanted as much as bella wants edward. to be pursued, wanted, loved, despite what he is... what could he wish for more than that?

[wicked-mind]

Soulmates: Part Four

Summary: Soulmates are connected on a deeper level emotionally and physically. They can feel what the other needs and wants. As hints, the universe grants tattoos on your skin to help you find your soulmate when you’re about to meet them. When Bucky’s soulmate tattoo appears out of the blue, he knows that she is about to come into his life, but the way she does is not what he was expecting.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Drinking, a bit of violence, traumatic family story of Y/N involving murder and awfulness, a bit of sexual tension.

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

Previously

Bucky kept his palms on the counter on either side of her legs, a crooked grin appearing on his features once they were alone. Being this close to her felt right, making his heart jump slightly. Everything about her in his eyes was perfect, even the infuriating bits where she pushed away their bond. It just made it more of a cat and mouse game for Bucky and he was determined to win. He didn’t need to respond to her words, he quickly placed his hands on her hips and swooped her up from the counter, leading her legs to wrap around his waist, “I think there’s more whiskey in my room.” He breathed into her neck while carrying her down the hall towards his room. The way her skin felt on his caused fire to corse through his body and he knew he was making Y/N feel the same way. He could feel everything she was feeling, all the desire and dare he say love?

Bucky steadied Y/N as she ripped off her jeans once they made it back to his room. He helped her slip on one of his t-shirts before pulling her into his bed. He didn’t want their first time to be when she was piss-drunk, even if she was teasingly kissing his shoulder non-stop once he removed his shirt. Bucky pulled her back against his chest, nuzzling his face into her soft hair. He could feel her breathing slow, slipping back into sleep. This was something Bucky never thought he would have, and even if the way she was around him wasn’t what he expected of a soulmate, he loved all the parts that made her Y/N. Even the ones that resisted him.

Chapter Four - Gemini

When rays of sunshine broke through Bucky’s window, Y/N blinked awake when the rays touched her face. He didn’t shut his curtains and she despised the brightness of the rising sun even if it made her warm. She pulled herself out of Bucky’s grip, standing and leaving his room quietly. She rubs the side of her head as she crosses the hall and returns to her own room, locking the door behind her. Y/N let out a deep breath of relief at the darkness of her room, the curtains blocking any light that would enter. It made her comfortable being in the dark, something that had developed from being a night owl in the line of business she was in. Being in the light felt too exposed, too comfortable and that wasn’t something that Y/N ever gave into to. She liked to stay hidden, on her toes at all times. Y/N collapsed onto her bed, welcoming the sleep that took over her body once again. She was tired and still a little drunk from all the whiskey she had drank and needed to sleep it off for a while.

Bucky had felt her leave him, but let her go even though his instincts told him to follow her, stay close to her. He knew she was the type that needed space. He could feel everything about her soul. She was wild, a free spirit that despised being trapped in one place. Bucky pulled himself out of bed once he heard her door close on the other side of the hallway, a smile set on his lips as he saw the imprint of her head on the pillow. Bucky went about his usual routine, going to train, showering, eating some lunch. He didn’t disturb Y/N, knowing she was still sleeping off all the whiskey she had consumed. Eventually Natasha came out of her room and floated into the living room to find Bucky sprawled out on the couch reading a book. He watched her rub her head as if she had a small hangover and chuckled, “Long night?”

Natasha’s eyes flicked to Bucky as he spoke, “I forgot how much she could drink.” She muttered out, taking drink from the water bottle in her hands, “I was just about to go check the decryption of the card if you want to come.” She said before disappearing up some stairs. Bucky was immediately following, curious of who had brought his soulmate into his life but also who was looking for information on him. Natasha scrolled through the tablet once she made it through the briefing room, scrolling through the information from the gold card Y/N had given them, bringing it up on the big screen. The letters kept switching until a name appeared on the screen, “Oh my god.” Natasha said suddenly as she stared at the screen.

“What?” Bucky asks, not recognizing the name on the screen. He looked at Natasha who was staring at the name, shaking her head and pursing her lips together, “Nat, who is it?”

Natasha slowly tore her eyes away from the screen to look at Bucky, “We can’t let Y/N know who it is.” She said in a steady tone, “She will snap and go on a crazy murder mission. We can’t let her know.”

“Not let me know what?” Y/N said, suddenly waltzing into the briefing room, a small smile across her lips. She had found them from knowing where Bucky was through their soulmate bond. She looked freshly showered and in clean black pants with a white tank top, “Oh, I’m sorry, is this like a secret super squad meeting?” Her eyes flicker between the two before resting on the name on the screen. Her features suddenly went emotionless at the name and she froze like she was stone.

Bucky observed Y/N. Even though her face remained like stone, what she was feeling was a different story and he could feel every ounce of the sudden pain, grief, and rage that was evolving inside of her due to the name on the screen, “Y/N.” He said gently as he walked towards her, wanting to comfort her and provide her safety, “Who is it?”

Y/N looked at Bucky slowly, tearing her eyes away from the screen. She still looked like stone, even though she knew he could feel everything she was at this moment, “I gotta go.” She told him before turning on her heels and quickly leaving the room.

Bucky turned to Natasha after Y/N left the room promptly, “Natasha, who is Gemini?” He asks again in a serious tone, walking towards her. He needed the information, needing to know what caused Y/N to feel the way she did.

Natasha swallowed hard, meeting Bucky’s gaze, “It’s the name Y/N’s twin brother uses for himself. She’s never told me his real name.” She told him, “I can’t tell you anymore, Barnes. I promised her I wouldn’t. But he is very dangerous psychopath. Just give her some time.”

Y/N immediately left the facility, walking out the door as she processed the information in her mind. Her own twin brother had hired her… And she had been looking for him ever since she left the Red Room Academy, trying to hunt him down for what he put her through. She went to the only safe place she knew, Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children. She practically slammed the door shut behind her, causing Weasel to hurry and grab a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and place it in her usual spot. Y/N took a seat and stared at the whiskey, her face twisting into one of anger.

“Where’s your super friends?” Weasel asks from across the bar to Y/N in a softer tone. Nobody in the bar needed to know Y/N was hanging our the good guys- that could cause some problems.

Y/N’s eyes snapped to Weasel in a glare, making him hold up his hands defensively. Her nose twitched slightly in anger, but didn’t answer his question, “Give me my key. Now!” She hissed out at him, taking the key that Weasel promptly handed to her. Y/N grabbed the bottle of whiskey and stomped up the stairs behind the bar, returning to the safe place of her room that no longer had any of her belongings. She slammed the door shut behind her, quickly locking it as well. She slipped down against the door, staring ahead into nothingness as she thought what her next moves would be to deal with her brother.

Even though Y/N had left the facility, Bucky could still feel everything she was feeling. He could feel the anger grow which made him want to be close to her to comfort her. When Y/N didn’t come back for hours, he decided he needed to track her down and he knew right where she would be. Whatever she was doing was about to be reckless and he needed to protect her. It was dark by the time he made it to Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children, and the sight he saw when he walked in wasn’t what he was expecting.

Y/N had came out of her room as darkness fell, bringing the bottle of whiskey with her. She felt herself in Bucky’s eye line, but didn’t look up to meet his gaze. She was a little busy picking fights in the bar. She was on the back of some guy twice the size of her who pried her off and slammed her onto the middle of the pool table. Y/N grabbed one of the pool cues and swung it to hit the man in the face, causing him to stumble back. She jumped off the pool table and took another swing at the man, hard enough to cause the cue to break in half and the man to fall over. Within seconds, Y/N was on top of him landing punch after punch to his face. Weasel came out from behind the bar and pried Y/N off the man before checking for a pulse, “Still alive… Not for lack of trying. No winner.” He said giving Y/N a look.

Y/N shrugged simply, “What? I wanted to win the dead pool.” She hissed out at Weasel before looking up to glance at Bucky who was leaning against the bar watching the whole ordeal with the bottle of her whiskey in his hand. She walks over and snatched the alcohol from his grasp, “What’re you doing here?” She asks him.

Bucky watched her, a small smile curving onto his lips as she spoke to him. He couldn’t help it, even when she was obviously angry it made him smile mischievously, “Figured I’d come check on you. What’s the dead pool?” He asks curiously, looking over to a chalk board that had names and odds next to it, frowning a little when he saw how many people bet against Y/N. He noted the small splatters of blood on her white tank top from the fight, causing his eyebrows to raise a little.

Y/N took a small sip from the bottle of whiskey, “It’s like a game. People make bets on who’s going to die next whether it be from a job or from just pissing somebody off.” She told him, “I’m always the one that gets bet on because I have a habit of pissing people off, but I’m still around.”

Bucky couldn’t help that his insides twisted a little at her words. Y/N played dangerous games, deadly games. She led a dangerous life and he wasn’t overly fond about it due to the fact he felt the need to protect her, “That is an awful game.” He said, taking the bottle from her and taking a swig of it.

Y/N shrugs, leaning her back against the bar, “Yeah but it’s fun. Keeps us occupied and on our toes.” She said with a small smile before looking at him, “So you’re checking-up on me? Did our soulmate bond make you do that?”

“No, doll.” Bucky replied, watching her closely, “Well, sort of. I could feel the anger and grief when you saw the name on the screen. Natasha wouldn’t tell me much other than it’s your twin brother and he’s apparently a psychopath. I’m getting the feeling he’s the one that left you that nasty scar on your hip and I wanted to see how I can help you.” He said honestly. He did want to help her, be there for there in any capacity she needed.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Bucky, feeling small bits of anger flooding through her veins as he spoke about her brother, “Yeah, I could feel you getting closer and I could also feel your curiosity.” She told him, “We are going to need more whiskey if we want to get into that story though.”

Bucky smiled at her a little, “I have a lot more bottles back at the facility, and you don’t have to pay for it.” He told her with a small lick of his lips, sneaking a hand around her waist. It was like he was the flirtatious guy he was in the 40’s, attempted to steal her heart.

“Please take her with you. She doesn’t pay for anything anyway but that’s the third fight she’s started in the last hour.” Weasel suddenly interrupted the two, “And I’m running out of pool cues.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Weasel, “I only started two. The first one was because Charlie sent me a blow job shot, so technically it’s also sort of your fault for serving it to me, Weasel. I thought you were smarter than that.” She told him, “And I’m taking this bottle with me.” She said, snatching the whiskey bottle from Bucky’s hand before looking at him, “Let’s go, lover boy.”

Bucky escorted Y/N back to the facility, promptly leading her into his room for some privacy with his hand on her waist. As they passed Natasha before going into the room, she gave Y/N a look to which Y/N gave a simple shrug. He watched as Y/N threw herself on the bed facing the ceiling, causing her shirt to rise a little enough for him to see a bit of large pink scar on her hip, “So, doll, want to talk about it?” He said, leaning against the bare desk in his room.

Y/N lifted her head to look at him, “No. But I have a feeling I probably should given he’s trying to steal information on you and how you became the Winter Soldier.” She saw him unevenly shift at the name, “Yeah, I know all about it. I read really fast and got as much information as I could when I was downloading your file.”

Bucky looked down to the floor, “Not my greatest moments. Still haunts me, keeps me up at night.” He admitted to her.

Y/N got up and passed him the whiskey bottle, “Drink.” She told him, watching him untwist the cap and taking a swig, “I know it haunts you. When my tattoo first showed up, I couldn’t sleep for days. Having nightmares that weren’t mine, feelings of guilt and dread. Something I have never felt before.” She told him honestly. After her soulmate tattoo showed up, she would have the same nightmares he had. She saw who he was as the Winter Soldier, a pawn in the middle of a war he didn’t want to be in the middle of.

“You’ve never felt guilty for the people you’ve hurt or killed?” Bucky asks curiously, wondering how that could be. He felt guilt every moment due to the hit-list Hydra made him go through and yet Y/N had never had a nightmare about the things she’s done to people when their names came across one of her gold cards.

Y/N took the whiskey bottle from him, stepping closer as she watched his face, “Nope. I was trained not to feel. Plus usually the people I’m hired to take out or threaten are really awful people. People who sex-traffic young girls, serial rapists, stalkers, political figures that are wrapped around evil’s finger. None of them are innocent and would do more harm than good without me.” She told him then took a small sip of the whiskey, “Plus most of the time it isn’t a kill job, just threaten and seriously injury so they get the message or steal information to make them fall.”

Bucky nodded slowly. She wasn’t just a straight up hitman for hire, she was taking jobs to take down the evil people. That was at least something that calmed his worries about the type of work she did, “Well, at least you take care of the bad people.” He muttered, snatching the bottle from her, “How’d you end up at the Red Room with Natasha?”

Y/N tilted her head at the question, looking around the room, “I lost everything to my twin brother when I was thirteen. Figured out a way to be trained to take care of him. That’s how I ended up there.” She said, leaving out the important details.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her short version of the story. He wanted to know her, know everything about her. Y/N brought out a protective side of him he didn’t know he had and also lit a wild side within his soul. He gently put the bottle down on the desk before placing each hand on her waist, pulling her closer to him. He lifts her shirt a little to look at the scar, “And this?” He asks softly, running his thumb against the scar.

Y/N couldn’t help the small smile on her lips at his touch, pulling her closer. She follows his gaze down to the large scar, “That is from my brother. Large hunting knife.” She informed, looking back up at his face and seeing the small amount of anger flash across his blue eyes. She sighed slightly, picking up the bottle and taking a large swig before placing it back down on the desk and meeting his curious gaze, “I used to like every other little girl. I went to school, had a big family that was full of love, even had little streamers on my bike and posters on my walls of boy bands.” She chuckles slightly at the memory, “But my twin brother, he was nothing like me. He would just stare and you could see the evil workings of his mind. There were a few accidents, as my parents liked to call them. He broke the wrist of my little sister, Brooke, when she was six and said they were playing too rough and it was an accident. He killed my cat with rat poison and blamed it on the neighbor. I could tell from the look in his eyes after each accident, he craved more violence. He never uttered an apology and looked at any of us with empathy. One night, he just snapped I guess. I could hear Brooke screaming, crying and then silence. I ran to get my parents for help but found my mom with her throat slit and my father, I don’t even know how he died. There was too much blood. I hid under their bed, listening to my little brother and older sister scream until they were silenced.” She paused, staring off as if she was stuck in the memory, “I saw the door slowly open from under the bed and held my breath, trying to be as quiet as possible. But it was like he knew I was there. He dragged me out from under the bed and I was able to get away for a moment until I fell down the stairs from running to fast. He caught up to me and stabbed me with our father’s hunting knife. I held my breath and stared at him until he thought I was dead. Then he left with a smile on his face.” She looked back to Bucky’s horrified face, “I was found by the neighbor the next morning, barely alive. I was taken to the hospital and talked to the sheriffs about what had happened and they never found him, nor believed a thirteen year old was capable of something so evil. After a few months in foster care, I ran away, not being able to take the abuse there. I was taken off the streets, kidnapped by a foreign couple that took me to the Red Room Academy and the rest you already know.”

Bucky stayed silent for a moment when she finished. Y/N had been betrayed by not only a member of her family, but her twin brother. His grip on her hips tightened in anger for her but also because he felt the need to protect her now more than ever. He leaned his head down on her shoulder, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He whispered against her skin.

Y/N bit her lip at his touch, feeling his anger and need to protect her from their bond. She lifts her hands to wrap around his shoulders and behind his neck instinctively, taking a deep breath. Nobody except Natasha knew the story but she knew she could trust Bucky with the truth, “Sometimes it still feels like I’m still laying there on the floor, watching the sun rise through the window and trying to stay awake and alive.” She whispers softly. This was a side of her she thought she lost the night her twin tried to kill her, the part that wanted to trust and be loved. Her soulmate bond to Bucky pulled the truth out of her, wanting to be honest with him. Let him see all the broken and torn up pieces inside her, “Sometimes it feels like the scar still burns, like it’s an open wound I can’t get rid of telling me I should’ve died. I hate it.”

Bucky frowned at her words against her neck, picking her up by her hips and moving to lay her on the bed. He crawled on top of Y/N, looking into her eyes with his stormy blue ones, “Darling, that scar proves you are a survivor.” He whispered down to her, lifting her shirt with one hand to expose the scar. He looked down it as he traced his flesh fingers along it, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin at his touch, “It’s a part of you, and it may be a dark part of you, but it’s still something that made you who you are. And as much as I hate that you went through that, I’m also grateful it made you a strong, bad-ass woman.” He smirks at her slightly, crawling down and brushing his lips over her scar, kissing the raised skin softly. He grinned when he heard a small whimper pass her lips, “My strong, bad-ass woman. And I will spend the rest of my life kissing this scar so when you look at it, you only think of me.”

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Taglist: @vibraniumqueen @thatoneperson5000 @dude-whatawave @buckypops

[isshuns]

the progression of things - discarded scenes

this is a dump post for scenes that were in the original draft, but never made it to final version of the fic. they bear no connection to the final version of "the progression of things”, but i liked them enough that i couldn’t bear just deleting these scenes (TPOT underwent a lot of editing and rewrites) ;_; they were part of the original premise where I wrote Miyano as ace/demisexual, but in the end it didn’t work out ;_;

click on the “read more” link if you’d like to read them, but take note, they’re were part of the rough draft, hence are extremely unpolished. 

Miyano remembers being fifteen, his school bag heavy on his shoulders, but his heart heavier in his chest. Every day he looks at the mirror in his bathroom and wonders why he was cursed with such feminine features, a smaller build than the rest of the boys in his school; everything on his face seemed wrong as though nature forgot to switch its genetic code back to “MASCULINE, MALE” when constructing his face.

He couldn’t blame his parents, they never had any say in what he’d look like when he was born, and his mother would be heartbroken to hear that her son, bearing such resemblance to her looks, actually hated his own.

But as slightly estranged as he was from his middle school classmates when his looks came up as a topic of conversation, Miyano still heard Things whispered amongst his peers, seen Things even, when his classmates included him in their weekly get-together to ogle at printed materials meant for a demographic way beyond their age.

In the flush of youth, where the boys in his class pondered over their body anatomy, fascinated with nature, and looked to adult magazines (stolen from their older sibling’s stash) for enjoyment, Miyano pondered over the harsh reality of his feminine features, upset but resigned with nature, and looked to fashion magazines (taken with permission from his mother’s collection) for pointers on how Not to appear even more like a girl.

(His father’s copies of Business Weekly helped a little too, even if only to remind Miyano how top businessmen in the country dressed for a business photoshoot with the press – suit, tie and expensive watch peeking from the cuffs.)

When the passage of time came and went and Miyano entered high school, he discovered the world of Boys Love manga and dedicated his free time to understanding the intricacies of this fascinating genre. Being a minor, the type of print he could obtain were fairly sweet and innocent, nothing too explicit save for some scenes that took place on a bed, the protagonists’ modesty preserved with a flimsily drawn blanket over their nude bodies.

Occasionally, a book or two with explicit content would make their way to his collection. The internet was also a place full of wonders and possibility, and once or twice Miyano would (secretly) look up the famous series promised with rave reviews, but somehow, Porn Without Plot never really stuck to his repertoire.

Even after becoming of age, Miyano still finds himself gravitating towards the safety that comes with the PG-13 books. There is a strange sort of comfort in consuming fiction that depicts love as something simple and uncomplicated, straightforward and representation that love– intimacy did not necessarily come hand in hand with sexual acts. Intimacy could exist with or without sexual acts and vice versa, whatever floats your boat, really.

For Miyano, it was always the build up leading to that ultimate confession scene (at the rooftop, under the cherry blossom tree by the school yard, the back of the school gym, endless options) that grabbed him by the feels and punted him into the sun. That’s where the highlight is!! He once told Sasaki, unable to hold back on his excitement that twinkled in his eyes.

And identifying all the event flags leading up to that very moment of their first kiss? Unparalleled. Truly the best of all scenes there is. Peak romance. The bedroom scenes (few and rare in his possession) are really just a bonus.

So, while his peers continued to chat about going through the motions in bed, the closest miyano could ever try to relate to during those conversations was the intimacy that came along with the idea of sexual intercourse.

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The moment Miyano is done with the last of his midterms and bids his notes goodbye (for now), Sasaki magically appears beside him and whisks him away to the nearby izakaya for a celebratory dinner.

“For getting through the first midterm week of your life~” His giant baby boyfriend coos, ever so sweet like the cakes he bakes.

Miyano pretends to be exasperated, shoulders dramatically slumping over the sticky izakaya table, but his heart knows better. It’s been one month since he’s started college (the one Sasaki also so happens to attend, not a coincidence at all), and the privilege of having more time to spend with one another makes Miyano giddy with happiness.

Gone are the days Miyano can only meet his favourite senpai for a handful of hours after club activities until the reality of their courseload slaps them in the face; gone are the days they have to rely on telephone calls and text messages, where the minutes and seconds flashing across the screen serve as an unforgiving reminder of the time they have left before they have to part ways.

It’s all gone now. Sasaki sits before him, in the flesh, and Miyano has always felt that seeing Sasaki’s smile in person would always be different from seeing it on screen. The grainy pixels on his phone can never do those handsome features justice, nor can it the warmth blooming behind his breastbone whenever Sasaki threads their fingers together and walks him all the way back to his dorm.

The freshmen all share a common dormitory block separate from the rest of the college students, something about building connections and getting to know each other better, so Sasaki insists on walking Miyano back to his room before he makes the trek all the way back to his own. The night is young, the dorms are peacefully quiet, and everyone is probably still out in town having a good time.

---------------------------

Loathe as he is to do so, Miyano makes the executive decision to drop by the bookstore one afternoon to try and consult a few adult BL manga. It’s the worst idea he could ever come up with, he hates comparing his own relationship to silly BL manga tropes, but nothing short of an apocalypse would push him to ask the people around him whether it’s normal to… not think about sex in a romantic relationship. While the internet is a wondrous place full of answers and possibilities, Miyano figures it probably wouldn’t hurt to take a peek at how society tackles his questions through the lens of BL manga.

Hurriedly, just before his date with Sasaki, he randomly picks up one of the highly rated R-18 series, heads over to the payment counter quickly, and bolts out of the store the moment the cashier bags his purchases. He makes sure to stuff the damned volumes deep beneath his bag, out of sight, before he heads over to the café to meet Sasaki for lunch.

And when he’s finally back in his own dorm later that night, his roommate blissfully unaware and asleep, Miyano retrieves the book from his bag, cautiously peels away the plastic wrap before he settles down for the night to take notes.

His efforts are all for naught. Halfway through the series – one Junjou Romantica ���, it takes Miyano all but 3 volumes before he calls it quits and and promptly closes the book. Guess there’s no way he can redeem his money now, unless Sasaki is into dubcon…? Well, that’s a thought for future Miyano to ponder on. Current Miyano just wants to sleep and wash the images out of his mind with bleach.

-------------------------------

he has no care for sex, but nothing compares to the tender happiness that comes along with partaking in something sasaki enjoys and yearns for. sasaki’s language of love has always been touch and spending time partaking in activities of common interest.

today, sasaki has picked a soothing lo-fi playlist as their background music. they’re seated on the bed, warmly nestled against each other as they browse through their respective manga

his eyes may be on inked pages, but his heart is long gone. he discreetly observes his boyfriend, the curve of his jaw, long lashes almost curling against the high of his cheekbones as his honey-gold eyes flit across pages and pages of content.

the fingers flipping through each page is steady, long, and miyano suddenly wonders how it would feel to have them splayed across his body, touching him in places his own hands have never ventured before.

“what’s wrong, myaa-chan?” sasaki smiles at him, eyes impossibly fond and kind.

well, fuck it, there’s no going back now.

“senpai, what do you think… about… BL with explicit content?”

sasaki blinks. miyano tampers down the urge to kiss those parted lips.

“you mean books with sex scenes in them?”

“yeah.”

“oh.” sasaki turns away, the hand that’s not rested on miyano’s shoulder has found a place on top of sasaki’s mouth. he’s embarrassed, miyano realizes, and somehow that makes him feel ten times more endearing than usual.

sensing that this was a topic his boyfriend wasn’t going to let go any time soon, sasaki clears his throat and returns miyano’s gaze head on.

“i’m fine with it. why do you ask?”

“i… well.” while miyano struggles for words, sasaki hand starts moving up and down his arm, soothing him.

“are you starting to read rated manga? it’s normal, at least, ogasawara’s girlfriend says so. so there’s no need to be shy, myaa-chan! if you want to recommend any, you know I’ll read anything you lend me. no judgment here.”

it should have been reassuring, but the thought that ogasawara’s girlfriend discussed with sasaki about explicit BL manga like it’s the fucking weather has miyano choking on his spit. what the actual fuck.

do people actually talk about these things? is miyano the abnormal one instead for never entertaining the thought of doing things with his significant other?! has he been missing out on some code of relationship couples ought to follow?! the BL mangas he read never said so!

“myaa-chan? are you okay?”

“you- you talk with ogasawara senpai about these things?”

sasaki’s cheeks colour a lovely shade of red. from his looks, he’s starting to catch up with where miyano wants the conversation to go. that’s a relief, because miyano honestly doesn’t know how to tactfully broach the topic without sounding like a dumb dumb about these things.

“yeah, i do.” sasaki admits, “but only once or twice, because ogasawara needed to vent about things. sorry, does that weird you out? i can stop. i don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“no, no, it’s fine. totally fine, senpai.” it must be a common boys topic that somehow eluded miyano and friends during high school. at this point, miyano’s face must be burning with the hot flames of embarrassment and shame, he’s pretty sure sasaki’s fingers can feel the heat all the way from where they are, stroking his cheek absently.

“what brought this on, if you don’t mind me asking?” sasaki asks a moment later, when the weight of silence in the room gets a little too much to bear.

“just… some friends talking about it the other day.”

“friends.”

“yeah… fine, classmates.”

“are you… thinking about it?”

at miyano’s surprised expression, sasaki backtracks immediately.

“forget i asked.”

“to be honest, i don’t know what to feel about it.”

“it’s okay, we don’t have to do what you don’t want to do.”

it’s so painfully awkward yet endearing at the same time.

“do you think about it, senpai? about us… doing those things?”

sasaki’s lack of an answer is extremely telling. the shade of red coloring his cheeks is probably bright enough to rival miyano’s own face.

“does it matter? i am happy with doing whatever myaa-chan wants to do.” sasaki finally says, but his eyes have shied away from miyano’s gaze, and something within miyano snaps.

“of course it matters. it’s you, sasaki-senpai. i want you to be happy too. i want to do things that you want to do too.”

something akin to hope blooms across sasaki’s eyes (surprisingly moist).

“thank you, myaa-chan. that thought alone makes me happy enough. let’s leave it here for now and let things progress as they naturally would, how about that? we don’t need to rush into anything. i’m really happy with where we are now.”

he knows that sasaki has caught on to his sexual orientation, no doubt. it’s been a year since he became of age, and yet the BL manga he still buys have never ventured into the explicit genre. briefly, he wonders if sasaki actually keeps his own stash of porn somewhere below his bed, like normal boys would do.

they aren’t in high school anymore. it’s been years, and yet until this point, the thought of doing something more than kissing and cuddling has never crossed miyano’s mind. he wants to cry at how respectful his boyfriend has been all this while.

“myaa-chan? myaa-chan? oh no, yoshikazu, don’t cry. i’m sorry if i said something wrong-”

oh fuck.

miyano has always been uncomfortable with displays of affection and attention, preferring to bask in the comforting arms of his daydreams and fantasies, but his love for sasaki burns greater and he will do anything he can to ensure that sasaki receives equal, if not more, affection and care than the amount his boyfriend showers him in.

scene ends with sasaki hugging miyano tightly, reassuring him and planting a kiss at the side of miyano’s temple. but it does nothing to seep away the frustration gnawing at his bones.

END

[paperlandings]

Footsteps

@natsume-ss gift for @polandspringz! I had a lot of fun writing this! I really related to what you said about liking the more subtle, emotional parts of the series as it pertains to Natsume’s feeling of belonging, and I hope I was able to capture that in this fic. Happy holidays and I hope you enjoy!

TW: implications of bullying, emotional manipulation, and child neglect.

Word count: 1784

When Takashi was five years old, footsteps meant that his father was coming to tuck him in.

The house was big, and old, and sometimes cold, but it didn’t matter because his father would always be there with a warm smile, a gentle voice, and kind hands. At night, there would always be a book tucked under his arm, and Takashi would sit up excitedly in his bed, eyes sparkling in anticipation.

“Read me a story!” he would say.

His father would chuckle and say that he would probably find the book boring.

“That’s okay,” Takashi would reply, scooting over to make space beside him.

His father would sit down, tipping the bed over ever so slightly, and open the book to whatever page he was on. Takashi didn’t always understand what was being read to him but the fact that his father was there, a warm presence next to him, was enough to lull him to sleep every night.

He vaguely remembered the feeling of a blanket being draped over him and the noise of a screen door sliding closed, and he would fall asleep to the soft thumping of his father walking away.

When Takashi was six years old, footsteps meant that the monster was coming.

There was a monster at the end of the hallway who was always following him. But the monster wasn’t real. Uncle and auntie had said so. So when there was knocking on his room door in the middle of the night, Takashi would jam his pillow over his head and ignore it.

But the monster was there. It followed Takashi around the house and knocked on his room door at night. It stood next to him at the table sometimes and called his name.

“What does it want?” they would ask.

“It wants me to draw it a mouth.”

And then they would laugh at him. And then the little girl who lived with him would glare at him. And then he would feel so, so alone.

Uncle and auntie didn’t mean anything bad, he knew that. But he also knew that they thought he was strange and stupid and had too wild of an imagination. They cared for him but they didn’t care about him.

His father would’ve understood though. His father would’ve held him and told him everything was going to be okay, and that they were going to get rid of the monster together. His father would’ve believed him.

He missed his father.

He wonders if uncle and auntie would miss him as he stepped into the car, watching his new home get smaller and smaller behind him.

When Takashi was eight years old, footsteps meant that someone was angry.

Then again, auntie was always angry. And when auntie was angry, his cousins got angry at him too. It didn’t matter that he didn’t do the things that he was accused of, they got angry at him anyway.

They said that he was the one who broke the vase in the hallway even though he had seen someone else do it. They said that he was the one who ate auntie’s cake in the fridge even though the crumbs were at the corners of their mouths. They said that he was the one who started that fight at school and they were only defending him because Takashi was weird and they were so nice. Nevermind that Takashi had never actually been anywhere near that fight.

Auntie’s sandals made a different sound than everyone else’s. They were louder, the slapping on the wood floor more sharp. They came with a decisiveness that he had never heard from anyone else. They made Takashi want to run away and hide in a place where they would never find him.

And when they sounded like that, they were always coming towards him.

Takashi thinks he might have preferred the monster.

When Takashi was thirteen years old, footsteps meant that he had to be very, very quiet.

Auntie always came home late. Uncle says it’s Takashi’s fault, and he thinks uncle might be right.

The first time auntie came home late, Takashi came to greet her at the door. He laid out her sandals for her, offered to make her tea, and tried his very best to make her like him. And then she looked at him, kicked the sandals aside, and blew past him and into her room.

She smelled strongly of alcohol, and Takashi pretended not to notice.

Auntie kept on coming home late. Takashi kept greeting her at the door and laying out her sandals. She kept on kicking them aside, harder and harder until one day they flew straight into his face.

“Just stay in your room so I can forget that you ruined my life!” she had yelled at him.

The next time auntie came home late, her sandals echoing in the empty hallway, Takashi stayed quiet in his room. Auntie came home late every day from then on.

He heard uncle yelling one night, telling auntie that she couldn’t keep on blowing their savings on alcohol, that they had Takashi to think about, that if people found out they weren’t taking proper care of Takashi they could get into very big trouble.

Auntie stormed off and slammed the door to Takashi’s room open, yelling at him that everything was hard because of him. That they could barely afford to live because of him. That she hated him. Takashi stayed quiet and hoped she would think he was asleep.

“He can’t hear you,” uncle said. “He’s sleeping. You’re wasting your breath.”

The door closed and Takashi let out a big, shuddering breath.

Tomorrow, he swore, he would learn to cut his own hair.

When Takashi was fifteen years old, footsteps meant the cold.

He could tell auntie and uncle didn’t like him much. He could tell they thought he was a dramatic troublemaker and a nuisance. But they were nice enough, and their son seemed to genuinely like him, and so he needed to stay with them.

He couldn’t make trouble. Even when auntie deliberately denied Takashi a scarf on cold days despite her son’s insistence. Even when uncle repeatedly forgot to think of Takashi when he brought home treats from work. Takashi wasn’t stupid. He could tell they hadn’t really wanted to take him in the first place. He had to be grateful that they did anyway and took care of him as best as they could bring themselves to. Besides, his new older brother was nice. He would sneak sweets into Takashi’s room when his parents weren’t looking, and loudly proclaimed that he didn’t like a certain shirt anymore and Takashi should have it even though they all knew that he had only bought it the week before. He would help Takashi with school work and insist on walking home with him when they saw each other on the way.

It wasn’t so bad, really, but Takashi was tired.

He was tired of people disliking him before even getting to know him. He was tired of having to be alone all the time. He was tired of going to live with a different person every half year, all of which never wanted him.

Which was why he had to stand down. He had to keep his head down and not do or say anything that would make them want to send him away because he needed to stay here.

He started going on runs at night to keep himself from going crazy. To let out all the pent up energy and emotion that he had to keep bottled up day after day. He focused on the sound of his footsteps on the asphalt and the bite of cold wind through his clothes and just runs until all he could think about was to go to sleep.

He’s grateful no one notices, but sometimes when he comes home to deafening silence and chilling darkness, he wished they did.

When Takashi is sixteen years old, footsteps meant kindness.

The first night he came home with Touko-san and Shigeru-san, they fussed over him until his ears rang. They asked him if his head was still hurting after his fall, what kind of food he liked to eat, what kind of clothing he needed, if he wanted a bed or a futon in his room.

Takashi’s head hurt. None of his previous guardians had ever asked him this many questions before. Especially not about his preferences. 

He apologized and told them he didn’t know, and when their faces fell, he frantically added that he liked manjuu.

The next morning, he found a box of manjuu with his name written on top on the kotatsu in the living room.

Every night after that, right before bed, he would always hear the soft thudding of his guardians’ footsteps coming towards his room. Either Touko-san or Shigeru-san or both would knock at his door, poke their head in, and ask him if he needed anything. Takashi always said no, until the night his body betrayed him and he sneezed right in Touko-san’s face.

She made a small sound of surprise and promptly ran out of his room. Takashi stared at his door in horror, thinking that was it. They were going to send him away. That had been so horribly rude of him and they were going to tell him tomorrow morning that they couldn’t keep him anymore.

And then Touko-san ran back into his room, an impressive pile of blankets in her arms, and proceeded to cover him in four layers of warmth before smoothing his hair back with a smile on her face and bidding him good night.

Takashi sweat like mad that night, but he never took any of his blankets off.

They didn’t send him away when he ruined one of Touko-san’s pans trying to make breakfast to thank her the next morning. They didn’t send him away when he ran home screaming and collapsed on the entryway. They didn’t send him away when he came home with a failing grade, or when he asked to keep the strange fat cat he had found in a shrine.

They were ecstatic when he brought friends with him for the first time. Touko-san fed them until they were full to bursting and Shigeru-san regaled them with tales of his most impressive fishing exploits.

And every night, without fail, they would still knock at his door, asking him if he needed anything. And Takashi would smile, thank them for their kindness, and fall asleep with his heart more full than it had ever been.

When Takashi is sixteen years old, footsteps meant that his family was coming.

[halorocks1214]

the law of rhythm

AO3 Link

Word Count: 5366

Summary: The Law of Rhythm states that everything vibrates and moves to certain rhythms. These rhythms establish seasons, cycles, stages of development, and patterns. Each cycle reflects the regularity of God’s universe. Masters know how to rise above negative parts of a cycle by never getting too excited or allowing negative things to penetrate their consciousness

Previous Parts (in order): Alan | You Are Here! | Gordon

just trucking along, toot de too de toooooo. ive also been sick for the past couple of days so thats been grEAT. thanks again to @gumnut-logic for the prompts. its giving me a challenge to write the stories i want to write but with a twist. that being using required words. its been fun. this time i used "I'm trying!" and hard

Warning for mentions of torture I guess

His mom used to say he needed to think of his emotions like playing the piano.

6-year-old Virgil just yelled at 5-year-old Gordon for breaking one of his favorite toys, leaving the strawberry blonde in a state of utter sorrow. While Jeff took the youngest to be consoled in another room, Lucy, nearly due with their surprise bundle, gently led Virgil over to their baby grand.

“You mentioned you wanted to know what this did, correct?”

Anger simmering below the surface, Virgil curtly nodded his head.

Lucy patted the place on the bench next to her, motherly smile working wonders on calming Virgil down. The black-haired boy reluctantly sat down next to his mom, staring at the white keys of the device he heard his mother sit at over the past couple of months. For a couple of seconds, she didn’t say anything, which prompted Virgil to look up at her face. Once she saw the chocolate eyes of her boy, she tilted her head toward the piano indicating that Virgil could touch it if he wanted to. Looking back at the mysterious object, Virgil lifted a finger and pressed down on a random place.

A ding came from the piano. Virgil would come to learn that it was Middle C.

Virgil jumped in shock while Lucy couldn’t stop her laughter. She remembered her reaction being very similar when she first touched a piano. Bringing her second-youngest child into her side, she brought her right arm around his shoulders and placed her right hand on the piano, “Here, watch this.”

Virgil’s eyes widened as his mommy pressed three keys in succession, the pitch on each going higher and higher. An arpeggio in the key of C major. Mouth open, Virgil tried repeating his mother’s actions. While he got the same pitches, the way he played the keys were much more jagged and jumpy, a slight pause in between each note signifying that the player double-checked to make sure their finger was in the right spot.

Crinkling his eyebrows in confusion, Virgil tried again more aggressively. It was the same notes, but it didn’t sound right. It didn’t sound like Mommy. Trying one more time with even more force, he was interrupted halfway through by mom’s hand gently gripping his with her whispering in his ear, “Shhh, sweetie, don’t play so hard. Just press, then let the piano do the rest.”

Nodding his head along to his mother’s words, Virgil looked back at the keys with newfound determination. With Mommy’s hand still laying over his, he took her advice to heart and let the piano do the rest. That time, the arpeggio that filled the room, while still not as polished, was much more legato than what Virgil was playing before.

Virgil was proud except for one thing, “But it’s…”

Lucille finished for him, “Quiet? That’s okay, just press a little harder.”

Virgil enthusiastically nodded his head and did as told. Once again he found himself aggressively pounding the keys with a little more force than necessary.

Lucy stopped him once more, “Virg, no--” she had to giggle a little bit, “It doesn’t take that much for a piano to be loud, honey, I promise.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. How could you be loud without being forceful? Regardless, his mommy was usually right, so he listened to her again. He played with only a little more force, but it still created a drastic change in volume. Virgil widened his eyes at the revelation.

Placing her hands on his sides and receiving childish giggles, Lucy explained in-depth what she was trying to get at, “See, Virg, think of life like playing the piano. More often than not you want to be “piano”, and while there will be times you need to be “forte,” even then, you don’t need to be so… hostile about it. The hardest blows are always delivered the softest. Soft but hard. You hear what I’m saying?”

Virgil was listening, he was, but… “How can I be the piano?”

Blinking, Lucy had to laugh once more. She was so caught up in the euphoria of her comparison, she forgot tiny Virgil didn’t know piano terminology just yet, “Oh no, sweetheart, “piano” is a term that means “quiet”, and “forte” means "loud". Those two come up a lot when learning how to play. It’s important in making your song sound even cooler.”

The stars were back in Virgil’s eyes, “Ooooooh, can I learn to play? How do I learn?”

Lucy looked at him with all the fondness she could muster, “Of course, my little black bean.”

She promptly tickled him into submission, followed quickly by happy tears. Later in the night, she would find her two youngest cuddling each other at the base of the bench, small grins indicating that there were no hard feelings leftover, and all was forgiven.

Virgil went to his first piano lesson two weeks after Alan Tracy was born.

---

Jeff was certain piano playing shouldn’t be happening at three in the morning.

Yet ringing throughout the house was the familiar Canon in D. Jeff couldn’t help but flinch at how the fast part got a little more aggressive than it probably should have. Virgil was always hit the hardest when something bad happened, yet he was always the calmest during the aftermath. Even more than Scott sometimes, which Jeff was pretty sure the eldest regretted a lot.

Around five notes were hit out of tune one after the other, followed by a groan of frustration and two hard objects hitting the keys. At the familiar clashy sound of, well, smacking the keys of a piano, Jeff went against his judgment and walked out to see his third eldest son. The engineer in question had his elbows on the piano and his head in his hands.

Stomping his feet in a way that would let Virgil know of his presence beforehand without scaring him, Jeff meandered up to the black-haired man and gently placed his hand on his shoulder, “Hey, Virg. Piano messing with you again?”

The watery chuckle from behind Virgil’s hands was a win in Jeff’s book. Virgil brought his hands away to look his father in the eyes, “You know it always does…” Virgil looked forlornly back at the shiny black of the grand.

The two men stood and sat in silence, both deep in thought and unsure of how to talk to one another. Clearly, any topic of conversation that wasn’t the obvious elephant in the room would sting, but even if they talked about the elephant all day and night, there still wouldn’t be anything for them to do about it.

Jeff needed to start somewhere, though, otherwise, he would scream, and he knew that would be bad for his body right now, “The power rack in the gym… you upgraded it?”

Virgil flinched before absorbing the question, “Oh, yeah, I decided to add some stability stuff and give it some colors. I use it the most, so I thought I could make it a little more personal. I can change it back if you--”

Jeff squeezed his son’s shoulder with a little bit of force, shutting him up, “Virg, no, that’s not why I brought it up. It’s just… why? You hated weight lifting. You were pretty determined to stay the beanpole of the family, and that’s saying something when you have a sibling like John.”

Virgil’s chuckles were more hearty that time, which meant Jeff still got it. Virgil sighed, “Yeah, you’re right, I originally wasn’t that thrilled at the prospect of getting beefy, but something happened, and I was more inclined towards the culture, in a way.”

Thinning his lips, Jeff thought he connected the dots. His son hated heavy-lifting, then, Jeff disappeared and came home to what was easily the strongest member of their family. At least it was a healthy way of dealing with grief, as long as Virgil didn’t strain himself in the process.

Virgil read his father’s thoughts loud and clear, “Dad, it wasn’t because of you going missing.” Jeff raised an eyebrow and Virgil cleared his throat, “Well, I guess a little bit of it was, but there was a different reason. It happened a couple of months after the Zero-X, I swear.”

Jeff sat down on the bench like Lucy used to and confidently spoke, “Believe me, Virgil, I have time.”

Virgil gritted his teeth. At least this was the conversation his dad was deadset on having, not anything else, “... Promise not to tell Scott or John?”

Oh no, “Uh, maybe?”

Virgil bit the bullet, “Weeelll, Scott and John weren’t taking it very well, none of us were, but they especially. Their reactions kind of hurt even more when I thought about you and how you, uh, reacted to grief… sorry.”

Jeff flinched but paid no mind. Virgil was shutting down and that’s the last thing Jeff wanted, “It’s okay, Virg, you’re not wrong. None of you boys can be wrong about those years after Luce left us.”

Taking a deep breath at the okay, Virgil started up again, “Scott had just left for the Air Force and also decided to stop calling, probably so he didn’t have to think about it, John was, actually, John was focusing on graduating high school early-- which he did, don’t let him downplay it when you talk to him about it.”

Jeff nodded and put the reminder in his back pocket.

Virgil continued to truck along, “And Grandma was out shopping, so that left me, a slightly depressed 15-year-old with a 14-year-old that didn’t want to swim anymore and a 9-year-old that stopped talking. Again.”

Jeff sharply inhaled. He would have to know more about his sons’ lives after the Zero-X, of course, but that didn’t make it easier to listen to how his sons essentially slowly self-destructed because of the man that was also causing them to self-destruct once more in the present.

Damn The Hood. When Jeff got his hands on him--

Virgil didn’t hear or sense his father’s wild emotions, too lost in his memories, “Gordon, who wanted something of yours because of obvious reasons, got Alan roped into it. Alan probably wanted something of yours too, especially since the three of us weren’t doing any comforting ourselves.”

Jeff was familiar with self-recrimination. This was slowly delving into self-hate, which was happening way more than the old father liked at the moment, “Son, from what it looks like, Scott and John and you eventually picked up the slack when you shouldn’t have needed to in the first place. Hell, you’re only a year older than Gordon! If you didn’t hold it against me, don’t hold it against yourself.”

A dark laugh came from Virgil like he didn’t believe his father. However, the way he held his eyebrows indicated he was more or less joking (hopefully), “Who says we don’t hold it against you, old man?”

Alright, Jeff had to laugh at that one. It hurt to see his boys so grown up without his help, but he couldn’t have been any more proud all the same.

Virgil then promptly soured the mood, “So, anyway, Gordon tried climbing to the top of your dresser in your study while Alan just stood right next to him. Two plus two equals two screaming brothers stuck under a dresser with only me as their savior.”

Jeff couldn’t quite stop the jump he made. Well damn, that wasn’t what he was expecting. Virgil clearly handled the situation, however, as both Gordon and Alan are-- well, were fine, plus, Scott and John apparently didn’t even know about it so there was that too.

Virgil had a grin on his face as he recounted the dark experience, “It was scary, but looking back, I can’t help but chuckle, just a little bit. Gordon full-on breaks down laughing at the memory anyway. His face had more annoyance on it than pain, really, and the squawks he let out, man, here I thought I was the potty mouth of the family.”

“Could you be any slower than a wheel-chair lift up a stairwell?!”

“I’m trying, asshole!”

Suddenly, Virgil’s laughter was dark again, “God, Alan’s account of it though, he was trapped underneath it in the other direction. His legs were incredibly still as I desperately tried getting the furniture off... I know he laughs about it now in his own, Alan-way, but… I’m pretty sure the kid experienced a pretty bad PTSD attack of... you know.”

Jeff inhaled slowly for a change. From what he’s albeit briefly heard, Alan loved snow nowadays, but for a while, the poor kid could barely go outside during the winter months. Jeff remembered finding out about it from a phone call from the school. Alan had thrown one hell of a tantrum when he refused to go outside with his peers. Jeff came and Alan jumped right from fury straight to panic and hastily explained how ”he just didn’t like it anymore.” He was worried Jeff would be disappointed in him for being scared.

Virgil’s grin was back to being cheerful, easing Jeff’s dark thoughts for the time being, “The kid wouldn’t let go of me all night, kind of how like we couldn’t get him to release Scott when we found them after the avalanche. Gordon joined in the fun just because Gordon,” Jeff snorted, “We all camped out in my room, blanket fort and all. Halfway through Back to the Future with Gordon snoring up a storm against my back and little Allie still snuggled into my “teddy bear arms” as he calls it, I realized… I wanted to protect them. I wanted to be a 'Scott' or a 'John' to the only two little brothers I had.”

Jeff felt his chest swell at the soft-spoken confession. Virgil continued with growing enthusiasm, “But I realized if I could barely lift a dresser off of them, how could I protect them from anything else? So, I worked on that and focused on more, er, “productive” means of helping someone, you know? I continued to study medical information, worked on becoming an engineer so I could fix things, getting physically stronger, et cetera. It made sense to me.”

Jeff just mindlessly nodded his head, proud of his son’s mature decision. He briefly closed his eyes to think about other eventualities, but then he abruptly opened them at the sound of Virgil starting to cry. Jeff could only keep his eyes wide as Virgil tried wiping away the damned liquid and chuckled in that way that stabbed a metaphorical knife through your heart, “I don’t think I did a good job of that recently.”

Jeff was verging on speechlessness, but not enough to where he couldn’t comfort his child, “Virg--”

It didn’t matter when the engineer didn’t even listen, “Why can’t we ever just be a full family again? Why does life hate us?”

Oh, this really was a mess.

One the father was determined to make right.

Jeff, with the sounds of cricks and cracks in his joints, stood up and firmly planted his hands on his son’s shoulders to get him to focus on his fatherly words. Pressing their foreheads together, Jeff stared intensely into those beautiful, brown eyes, “Virgil, I don’t care what that maniac said. I don't care if we have zero information to go on. We’re International Rescue. We’re getting him back.”

Virgil sighed, his breath shaky as he continued to wipe away tears, “I want to believe you, Dad, I do, but--”

Suddenly, a non-holographic voice spoke from the middle of the room gaining the two men’s attention. Looking over to where the couches were, both Jeff and Virgil full-bodily flinched at the sight.

John was anxiously standing in the living room.

Right next to an even more anxious Fuse.

“International Rescue, we… I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

---

John was fucking crazy.

On certain days when he was tired or exceptionally cranky, Virgil wondered why they put him up on ‘Five in the first place. Sure, John blew his temper the least out of all of them, and he knew how to calculate and strategize more than most computers Virgil came across, but that didn’t make him any less fucking crazy. Did Virgil even need to mention all of his insane plans before now? Sure, the man could pull them off, and he did it well, but trusting the Chaos Crew? Right now?

However, despite how much his brother could be stupid, Virgil was seeing the appeal as he hauled ass through this rickety compound containing a heat signal half the Chaos Crew gave them that was just the right kind of small to be their baby brother.

John was fucking crazy, crazy genius, and Virgil couldn’t physically love his older brother anymore right now without fear of bursting into a giant pile of pride confetti.

Scott and Gordon also were running through the compound somewhere. They knew that splitting up was the first thing the Scooby Gang did whenever they got into trouble, but they were already running on borrowed time. It was like a maze, no brother knew which route would be the fastest, and not even EOS could map it out for them. As soon as The Hood knew they were there, well, they didn’t even want to take the time to think about what Alan might have already gone through, God knows what could happen if The Hood realized he had been betrayed.

The Hood was a crime boss: crime bosses don’t take kindly to mutiny.

Frankly, that’s the least he deserved, Virgil thought darkly. The only sliver of luck the bald creep could potentially get is if the rest of the Tracys found Alan first. Soft but hard. If Virgil were to come across The Hood there were no promises to be made for what the plaid-wearing brother might d--

“---gil, Jesus, stop! You’re right next to the damn signal!”

Screeeech! Squeak! Bang! Pop! Smack-a-doodle-doo!

Surely one of those noises happened when Virgil dug his heels into the ground and smeared the bottom of his feet to stop running, but he wasn’t listening. He really couldn’t, not over the sound of the blood rushing to his ears after nothing but pure sprinting. He was right next to a doorway, some kind of storage closet with locks hastily added as an afterthought.

Leaning one arm against the wall and having one of his hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath, Virgil had all the time in the world to examine the makeshift cage. He knew it was kind of unhealthy, but dammit, he needed his adrenaline back. What better way to rebuild his levels than to aggressively glare at an inanimate object that made his blood boil more and more every second?

If anyone deserved to be treated like an animal, it was The Damn Hood.

“--ou be able to do this by yourself? If you want us there, we can pick up the pace.”

“Yeah, we’re all in this together!” Despite the severity, the aggressive humming of a familiar High School Musical song could be heard. Everyone knew who that had to be. They still let it go. Jokes were how Gordon got through negative emotion.

An example being violent anger.

Right, the problem at hand. Shit, Virgil was usually so good at listening to everything that happened over the comms. He was really dropping the ball tonight, “N-No, I’m fine. Sorry, I just needed to catch my breath. You two should keep mapping, actually, I don’t think either John or EOS have found a way to scan the entire place just yet.”

Virgil could feel the disappointment from two different comm lines. Not that he blamed them, but he was sure his brothers didn’t blame him either. Gordon still wanted to get something in, “Right, be sure to keep us updated. We’ll be listening carefully.”

Standing up straight, Virgil stood directly in front of the door, “Actually, I think I’m going to go dark for a while.”

Gordon objected, “WH--”

Scott interrupted, “Okay.”

Gordon double objected, “--AT?”

Virgil imagined Scott’s flinch as if the older brother were in front of him right now. Regardless, the field commander spoke confidently, “We don’t know what’s in that room. The comms could be more of a hindrance than not.”

John chimed in abruptly and out of nowhere like he always does. It was graciously welcomed just as usual, “Besides, it’s not like Virgil’s going off the radar. I may only be able to see parts of the compound you mapped, but I can still see you. I can always tell when my brothers are in trouble.”

The elder brothers spoke logic and safety, and Gordon’s heavy breathing calmed considerably, “Yeah, okay. Good luck, Virge. Bring our baby home.”

Despite its redundancy, Virgil nodded, “Of course.”

Virgil felt a little selfish, but the danger of having an open comm line was only partially why he wanted to go dark. He felt bad, but in reality, he wanted a little bit of Alan to himself. Virgil knew it would be smothering from all angles when they got Alan home (which they will get), and he could easily be patient and wait for his turn to be alone with the littlest when the time came, but…

He wanted it now. It felt like water slipping through his fingers, but if he gripped hard enough, he could save just a little bit that, with love and care, could become part of a giant puddle once more. Besides… Virgil could count on one hand the similarities he and Alan had. That wasn’t bad in any capacity, and if anything, it made their bond stronger in ways the bonds they had with the others would never understand, but it did make the time they hung out considerably smaller than time with, again, the others.

Virgil and Gordon were wingmen. Virgil and Scott were each others’ best friends. Virgil and John were the voices of reason. Alan and Gordon were partners in crime. Alan and Scott were the bread of the Tracy family. Alan and John were the space bros. Virgil and Alan?...

Were endlessly supportive of each other, sure, and Alan understood that Virgil was just as viable of an option to go to for help as the rest of his brothers, but they didn’t have anything special. They had love, laughter, and memories, but other than that, they were simply brothers. That was enough, yes, of course, but Virgil wanted more, to be more.

He wanted to help plan (even more) pranks, he wanted to help with college applications (geez, when did their little bro get so old?), he wanted to sign permission slips, he wanted to be more than just ‘one of Alan’s brothers’. He wanted to hold the world in his hands for Alan too, but he couldn’t do that without Alan there.

Virgil knew Alan also wanted more for his own, youngest-related reasons. Thank fuck the world granted them a second chance. Now Virgil just had to make sure he didn’t screw this up. Taking a deep breath, Virgil used his body mass to forcibly break open the door. That was iffy. Why was it so easy to break open? The Hood clearly didn’t want to give Alan back to them. Virgil was now on high alert, which did not help the rage building in his gut in the slightest.

His heightened senses allowed him to over-examine every detail in the room. It wasn’t the worst in terms of space, but it sure as hell wasn’t the best. The bed in the corner of the room was something akin to a wooden board nailed to the wall to be lying horizontal, and, Jesus, that wasn’t a blanket, that was a bunch of paper taped together to be a big sheet! Plus, there was no pillow, and even worse, no indication of how food got in and out--

Virgil choked on the air.

On the opposite side of the cage, not that far away from the bed (tiny space, soft but hard), sat a blonde-haired boy. Those freckles nearly made Virgil fall to his knees and cry from joy alone, but those precious, blue-eyes had something in them that kept Virgil vigilant. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t happiness. Shit, did Alan not think this was real?

Well, that response made sense. The kid looked like he had a hellish couple of weeks. There were no bruises or marks to indicate The Hood did anything physical, at least, none the family doctor could see (if The Hood did try and hide something though, hoo boy), but the eye bags he sported were veering off the edge of a cliff right into ‘Are those actually black eyes?’ Ville. Alan’s complexion had seen better days too with how closely he resembled a piece of printer paper. Trembles vaguely shook down the kid’s spine indicating a loose grip on reality. Alan was trying to hold it together, trying to convince himself not to get his hopes up.

Alright, Virgil could handle that. Time to step up and reassure the younger ones that everything was okay like the older ones always do.

Virgil moved forward.

Alan flinched because of it.

And time simply stopped.

Virgil heard his heart tear in half.

Alan.

Flinched.

The kid didn’t think this wasn’t real.

No, he knew it was real.

But he was scared because of it.

Virgil was going to throw up.

He was called “The Hood” because of his endless disguises…

No, the bastard wouldn’t-- didn’t--

Oh, he definitely did. Virgil bet ‘Two on it, pods and everything. There was no way The Fucking Hood, who had what could’ve been considered one of the most important things to the Tracy family, didn’t do something. He was an angry man out for revenge, a venomous snake, and what better way to poison Jeff than to sink his fangs into the one thing that shouldn’t have been near him in the first place.

Holy fuck.

Virgil put his hands together, placed them against his lips and inhaled sharply. Hokay, he needed to rationalize this. He wasn’t sure there was a way to logically think about a man torturing your teenage brother, but the way Virgil was originally clenching his fists at his sides in red hot, fiery anger was bringing said teenager to hysterics, so he needed a different approach.

Hands still against his mouth, Virgil slowly sunk to the floor to sit criss-cross-apple-sauce, his back stiff as a piece of metal. He was still taking calming deep breaths, but at this point, his eyes were closed and his eyebrows were scrunched together. Think, Virgil, think. Soft but hard.

With an exhale as gentle as the breeze, Virgil brought his hands to his lap and opened his eyes, both motions equally as lethargic. His grin was small and light. He remembered that one rescue in the Amazon where a rather frightened panther made its way onto ‘Two. Virgil was the only one who could calm it down before it attacked the families he was saving. It was funny in hindsight. Gordon asked if they could keep it.

Right now, Virgil really hated the irony in comparing Alan’s situation to being caged like an animal. It was poor foreshadowing on Virgil’s part. Remember the panther. Soft but hard, “You remember what you asked me for your 13th birthday? We haven’t used that racetrack in ages. You wanna help me clean it up? I worked hard on it, I’d hate for it to continue to go to waste.”

Once again, Alan flinched, but following the very well hidden swallowing of his anger, Virgil watched as the boy raised his eyebrows. It was half-confusion-half-’what kind of question was that?’ Of course, he remembered! After a grueling day of Virgil helping him with his math homework, the kid mentioned how he wanted a racecar. For his 13th birthday.

“Like, a toy?”

“No! I want a racecar!”

“So, a full-on car? One you can sit in the driver's seat and move around?”

“I want it bright red with shiny wheels and, ooh! I--”

Of course, everyone said no. Mainly because they had no place to put it, Alan’s age notwithstanding. But Virgil, who had seen John’s gift for the year, was determined to win for once. The 19-year-old had been meaning to test his engineering skills out anyway. He couldn’t make an actual car, but a go-kart, on the other hand…

The only problem, however, was that he literally had to do everything alone. Gordon was on the mainland for Olympics training, Virgil would’ve rather died than told John his plans, and he knew Scott would have said no, so, there was only uno.

He spent a week building the car, then the entire day beforehand carving out a makeshift racetrack in a part of the beach they never really went to. They never used it again after Alan’s birthday, but the look on all of his Virgil’s brothers’ faces that day was worth the exhaustion. They ranged from awe to disbelief to disproval with a hint of pride. At least Scooter gave him a hair ruffle later in the night.

Alan was so touched by it he started crying. Virgil apologized to a sobbing Alan at the same time the kid apologized from Scott’s arms. Virgil asked why. Alan just replied, “You wasted an entire day!”

Oh, Allie.

Virgil didn’t let Alan go from his arms for the rest of the day. Octopus hold was engaged, and Alan would never admit that those hugs were better than any physical gift he received.

They still are. Dammit, Alan wanted nothing more than one of Virgil’s hugs right now. Those broad shoulders could fix any problem in the world. The realization he would never get one again allowed Alan to shamelessly release one tear down his cheek.

Alan blinked a few times before realizing there was still someone else in the room. Oh shit, he was still with The Hood. Jumping out of his pants, Alan shoved himself against the wall, eyes wide and staring at the man. Alan felt sick looking at the asshole’s fake worry and concern.

Wait, it hit Alan… The Hood couldn’t have known about that story. Part of Alan’s paranoid mind was trying to convince him that the man could to prevent false hope (again), but… there was just no way. If there was anything his brothers were deadset on, it was making sure The Hood couldn’t ruin anything familial outside of the ‘Birds. Even the ‘Birds were aggressively protected as much as they physically could.

The Hood couldn’t steal memories, which meant that the person in front of him...

Virgil’s chest swelled at the recognition in his baby brother’s eyes, which were slowly getting wider and wider. Talk about holding the world in his hands. Letting out a watery chuckle, Virgil spoke at his normal volume, “Hey, bro, sight for sore eyes, much?”

Well, there was no holding back those tears now. Shakily getting up to his knees (Alan would’ve completely stood up if he could, but he was still a little weak), Alan leaped off of them into Virgil's waiting arms. Without even blinking, Virgil wrapped his muscular build all around Alan like a giant shield, shoving his face into that mop of blonde hair. Virgil inhaled the strands and trembled as he exhaled. He never thought he could do this again.

Neither could Alan, who shoved his nose into that broad shoulder and tried desperately to grab one of his wrists with his arms still around Virgil’s shoulders and failing because the middle child was just that wide. That got a laugh out of the youngest, who settled for just grabbing fistfuls of the IR uniform instead. The blue parts couldn’t be stained by tears, right?

Yeah, Virgil wasn’t sure how he could describe his and Alan’s relationship.

But whatever it was, it allowed tiny Alan to sit right in his big, teddy bear arms, and that was enough.

Soft but hard. Thanks, Mom.

[funtimebunnyblog]

Diamante d’Italia: Chapter 5

(Chapter 5: Another day in paradise)

Josuke grit his teeth, his chin resting in his hand as he held the phone slightly away from his ear, though the guffaw that continued to ring out from the speaker could still be very much heard.

He had already called his Mom to check in with her when he first woke up this morning and since he had the whole day ahead of him he waited until after a much needed shower to call his best friend.

That now seemed like a mistake after listening to him howl with laughter for almost five minutes now.

He winced as Crazy Diamonds hands ghosted over the mottled flesh of his back, sharp pinging following their careful movements as the stand dutifully patched him up.

He was just glad the bed made it easier to sit down with that one.

From what he saw in the bathroom mirror, where those junkies had kicked him in the back had left a bruise that was the size of a basket ball and it was as black and green as Rohans signature hair.

Spots of the same colours along with splotches of an ugly purple were also sprouting on his upper left arm and shoulder. Not to mention the particularly ugly one that was currently taking up residence on his thigh and.... a more unsavory place just slightly north of there.

He had definitely been right about hurting in the morning that's for sure because he practically yelped when rolling over, causing him to fall out of bed and onto the carpeted floor to add to it all.

Staring up into the face of Crazy Diamond looking down at him from where he laid half-whimpering and aching all over was not a way he would recommend starting your day.

The fan of the hotel room spun slowly above him from where he sat on the huge marshmallowy bed in only a towel, his damp pale skin starting to dry and chill beneath the breeze.

"--so-so... lemme get this straight-... you..." Josuke rolled his eyes as Okuyasu struggled to keep his giggles in check over the phone. "You get there..... and-... hehehe.... and- not even like 2 hours.... -and you get beat up?"

"Yes." He sighed.

"BWAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"--oh Josuke!" He wheezed into the receiver, dying down into giggles again. "--I'm so sorry buddy- but that's.... -that's funny.... oww... owww my stomach..."

Josuke grunted, pulling the phone away from his head to avoid going deaf in his right ear as more barking laughter rang out.

He could practically feel Crazy Diamonds own eyeroll as they continued their ministrations on his back.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He groaned. "Just don't tell Mom, I don't want her to worry about me."

"So what happened after? You must've gotten away somehow right? Did CD put them in their place?" His words were almost drowned out by the obnoxious crinkling of a bag in the background, followed by the unmistakable crunch of potato chips drilling into his eardrum.

"No. I didn't even think about it. It was all happening so fast all I could think of was to grab hold of my suitcase and not let go."

"Oh man, you didn't lose your luggage did you?" Okuyasu questioned after swallowing his mouthful of junkfood very quickly. "Your Mom would have a fit!"

A smile found its way to Josukes face, "No actually. Someone helped me, oh man you should've seen him! He put a run to them and he was really cool too!"

Josuke proceeded to tell Okuyasu all about the one and only Abbacchio and their time together along with meeting Bucciarati.

He spared no details in telling him all about the scrumptious meal he had devoured that night, he could practically hear the other teenager drooling all over the phone as he described the juicy details of prosciutto stuffed chicken breast.

Bruno looked very anxious and warned him it was very dangerous to wander the streets at night, most especially when he was a tourist carrying all his possessions that didn't know where to go.

After Josuke had eaten last night, Bruno asked him if he was staying somewhere and the teenager realized he had completely forgotten about finding a Hotel!

The streets by then were dark and it was late, they had talked for so long but the time had just flew right bye. Jouske had grabbed his bag and thanked the two men graciously for the food and their company, making sure he bowed deeply in respect as he done so, about to head out to find one before he was stopped.

More importantly, he wouldn't even be able to read any signs leading to a Hotel.

Josuke realized he had gotten ahead of himself and accepted the mans proposal to take him to the Hotel a few blocks away, which he did and Josuke had to say, the place was like paradise on Earth.

The building itself was huge! Not to mention high-class. The lobby had a chandelier that was the size of his Livingroom back home! And the fountain in the center of it was bigger than the one outside his School!

Bruno chuckled seeing the owlish expression on his face as they entered through the glass sliding doors, the reflection of the golden lights above them on the polished white marble floor made his baby blue eyes sparkle. Abbacchio simply opted for staying outside and smoking a much needed cigarette while his partner helped Josuke arrange a room.

"Oh man!" Okuyasu said through another mouthful of chips. "That sounds A-B-C-Delicious! I wanna eat that!"

"You'll have to bug Tonio about it if you're that eager." Josuke laughed. "Speaking of food, you've eaten a full meal today right?"

The crunching came to a sudden stop.

"Define--"

"As in you've eaten something cooked and not just junkfood." He interrupted, drumming his fingers on his knee, he already knew his answer however.

Silence... he could actually hear the sounds of Stray Cat (whom both boys had taken to aptly nicknaming 'Guns and Roses') purring along with the feint sound of the TV playing in the background.

"Okuyasu!"

"Sorry! I'll eat real food tomorrow!" He whined. "I just forgot is all!"

"I've actually just been binge watching this goofy tv series. I've heard about it for a while but I finally decided to get into it. Man, I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow, I've been sitting on my ass for so long!" He cackled.

Josuke huffed, however deciding to not press him further on the matter and take his word.

Okuyasu needed to take better care of himself and Josuke usually had to remind him of the importance of it, along with helping his friend pilot through all his emotional troubles.

"It's this Anime thing called 'Dodo's Wacky Quest'. It's pretty good!" There was a pause as a indignant 'meow' sounded close to the phone, followed by more rustling of the chip bag. Okuyasu grunted, the phone crackling  as he moved to hand the living plant a chip. "The series is pretty long though. But hopefully I'll have most of it done by the time you get back."

'Speak for yourself...' Josuke thought, shifting slightly on the bed to try and inevitably get more comfortable.

Crazy Diamond was almost finished with his back, the worst one was next.

"What series is it?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Huh," Josuke rubbed his chin, smiling. "I'll have to watch some of it with you."

"That'd be cool! Dodo kinda reminds me of you actually. I dunno if I've met any Jio in my life though, dude gives me the willies..."

Crazy Diamond leaned over him and tapped his leg, shooting him a look.

"I'd better go man. I'll try to talk to you tomorrow, remember your promise!" He said into the phone, turning away from his stand.

"Ok. Ok. I will. Jeeze..." the eyeroll he was getting was evident in the others voice. "Be safe JoJo!"

"I will. Bye."

He put the phone back in its cradle on the bedside stand and sighed, swatting away the phantom hands that pulled on the towel covering him and ignoring the exasperated 'Dora' as he shunted it aside himself.

'Lay on your stomach.' Came the telepathic order from Crazy Diamond. 'I can give you a massage after I'm done with the last bruise to help relax you further.'

He was just glad he didn't decide to tell Okuyasu about his last bruise, otherwise he would've probably passed out from laughter, resulting in Josuke to have to end the call promptly.

He'd never be able to live this down from his stand alone....

☆☆☆

There was so much he wanted to do, and so much he wanted to see. He decided to leave his suitcase behind within the safety of his room (not wanting a repeat of yesterday) carrying just his wallet, a disposable camera his Mom had given him to take pictures and his handy dandy comb of course.

Finally walking again and not shuffling along uncomfortably like an old man (as he had been doing earlier), Josuke strutted downstairs to the lobby without a hair out of place.

His precious mane had been properly lathered, rinsed, gelled, combed and hairsprayed and he was ready to tackle the day!

The golden charms adorning his uniform gleamed like his eyes and he walked with pep in his step, shoes shined and clicking on the polished marble floor.

He needed to tackle business first before he went about to getting some breakfast. He had already had a cup of strong instant coffee after the massage given to him by his stand, using the machine inside of his room (this Hotel really had everything).

"Hello." He greeted the lady at the desk in the lobby, a woman in her sixties with greying hair pulled back into a bun, maroon lipstick and matchig rectangular spectacles. "I was just wondering if I could pay for my nightly stay now and maybe pay for tomorrow too?"

"Can I have your name, dear?" She asked, already typing away on the keyboard of the large white box computer before her.

"Josuke Higashikata. J-O-S-U-K-E."

Her long black nails clicked and clacked away loudly on the keyboard, he watched in silence as her dark red lips pursed, her eyes scanning the screen.

"It says here you're already covered for your full stay."

'Embarrassing' wouldn't be a word he would use to describe a situation where he had to call his Nephew and demurely ask if he could get a lift home like a drunk teenager calling a half-alseep Parent in the middle of the night.

He blinked at her, raising both his eyebrows.

"Umm... I don't think that's right. I only booked the room last night..." he trailed off, feeling his heart starting to pound in his chest.

He prayed to God this somehow wouldn't end with him being in debt with no way home.

She hummed, "It says you're fully covered. You just need to inform the Hotel of the date you're departing and a direct deposit is already in order." She explained.

That answered absolutely none of his questions.

"How is that possible?" He asked, doing his best to keep his voice calm as he rubbed the back of his neck idly.

More typing and clicking.

"It says here that your stay has been covered by..... a Mr. Bruno Bucciarati. He arranged for the bill to be footed to him." Came her reply at last, turning in her chair to look at him.

It took the Highschooler a moment to process that, blinking like an idiot as she stared at him.

What.... when.... how did..... why did....?

"Oh.... uh.... I-I see. Thank you." He told the older woman at last, with a half-hearted wave goodbye as he left the lobby, out into the world of golden sunshine awaiting him outside.

Each question seemed to short-circuit in his brain, he couldn't decide on what to ask first.

Josuke finally realized he was lingering and staring as the old woman addressed him again, before averting his eyes, his face tinging a little pink.

Why on Earth would the man put himself through so much trouble? Paying out of his pocket for him at a Hotel where people who looked like they wiped their asses with dollar bills stayed there no less! It didn't make sense!

This Hotel seemed a little one the pricy side, he had actually been wary about staying here the night but didn't want to be rude and ask Bucciarati to take him to another Hotel, so he decided to risk it and see how much it was the next day (silently praying he wouldn't be dialing Jotaro Kujo afterwards with a speech prepared of course).

This however changed everything.

He was still a virtual stranger to Bruno and his partner, and he didn't feel like he had earned such a kind gesture. He didn't have a doubt in his mind that both men were wealthy but this just felt akin to stealing in Josukes eyes.

It was the least he could do. It's what he wanted to do. It's what he was raised to do.

Josuke leaned up against the stone wall of the Hotel, considering his options. He could tell the Hotel that wasn't necessary and to cancel that previous order and allow him to pay.

Or he could find Bucciarati again (it couldn't be that hard) and offer to pay him back, if not in money maybe he could do something in return for him.

That did it.

He took one last look at the Hotel to remember the name as he prepared to cross the street (he needed something to go off of if he was gonna find a way back afterall).

He had a new mission added onto today.

He was going to do some sight seeing, eat some more damn delicious food and keep his eyes open for either one of the men he dined with last night.

"Albergo brillante Diamante..." he murmured, absentmindedly scratching his cheek as he did his best to pronounce the words (in what he hoped was the correct manor).

"Hmm... wonder what that means."

All he truly knew was that he Josuke Higashikata, had a mission he was going to see through today.

...

He mentally added 'buying a dictionary' to his list today as he narrowly avoided a car coming in the street, yelling out a "Sorry!" To the driver laying on his horn (who wasn't supposed to have the right away).

[To be coninued... 》

[5hfanfiction]

Dope (Lauren/You) — Chapter 4: Inevitable

A/N: Very minor thing, but just remember Y/F/A means your favourite animal. Also if you’re reading this on tumblr a certain part may not make as much sense if the image doesn’t upload.

(Your POV)

My thoughts were screaming one thing solely: I needed to leave.

And that’s exactly what I did, I got in my car and kept driving. Not a single moment was spent hesitating or looking back. When I arrived home, my parents heard the door shut and a plain “I’m back” sufficed. I didn’t want them seeing me in this state, it would only make me cry ten times harder. Damp clothing and puffy eyes would be difficult to explain.

I didn’t have the energy to discuss tonight’s events.

I went through what seemed like a routine, one that would hopefully bring some sort of comfort. My brain ordered me around in steps. Go upstairs. Grab some dry clothing. Take a shower. Dry my hair. And last but not least, fall asleep.

I had the whole weekend to let my emotions boil back down, and to block out this embarrassing night. Compared to what’s happened to me before, this was nothing; in fact, it was trivial. But don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean I won’t hold a grudge.

It wouldn’t make much of a difference avoiding Lauren, it’s not like we talk on a regular basis. And strangely, I was grateful for that fact. I used to find myself wanting to start up a chat with her, yet now, I’d rather pretend we never talked.

Why did my school experience seem like a set of strategy plans? It was supposed to be a new beginning here. I was stupid for thinking like that. Not every person is genuine, and not everything is trouble free. I had learnt that quite a while back, but sometimes it slips my mind.

My bed was warmer than usual tonight, and it became the only good constant I had. My back moulded into the mattress while I snuggled my toy Y/F/A tightly. Quickly, my eyelids became heavy and began to flutter more frequently.  Tiredness tugged at my body as it lulled me into a steady breathing pattern. The comforting feeling of sleep had took over… I was exhausted.

* * *

*3 days later*

It was Monday, and I really felt like the weekend helped me feel better. I just needed a little while to get over it, that’s all. What worried me now was avoiding Lauren and praying she wouldn’t bring it up again. If I really have to, I won’t say a word to her. That would save the awkwardness for both of us.

I only had math class once today, which shouldn’t be too hard to endure. I slumped down in my seat near the back, flopping further into it like I usually do. Lauren wasn’t here yet, I realised. It wasn’t unusual though, she rarely arrived on time.

Five minutes later, she strolled through the doors as casually as ever. Today Lauren was sporting a light, rose pink hoodie, black ripped jeans, and dark combat boots to match. The hoodie was oversized, yet she still looked adorable in it.

Her eyes momentarily connected with my Y/E/C orbs when she made her way over to her seat. I looked away immediately, although I could have sworn I saw her smile at me in the corner of my eye. Regardless, it wasn’t returned.

My earphones were plugged in a few moments later, and the sound levels were put higher than my normal preference. It made me flinch a little, but I decided to keep them that way. I purposefully became accustomed to the high sounds; it served as a relaxation method as well as earplugs. Allowing the music occupy my thoughts, I started to disassociate from my environment.

For majority of the lesson I didn’t talk and only ever looked Lauren’s way a few times. Each time I glanced over she had an unreadable expression on her face, and her gaze was constantly locked on the desk. Maybe she had read my body language and realised I didn’t want to talk. Good. Something is finally going my way.

At last, the lesson was over and I could leave. With my bag in hand, I rose from my seat and advanced out the door. I could tell Lauren was close behind from her signature perfume, which smelled like gardenia, and I clenched my jaw. Why was I suddenly so nervous? I did nothing wrong. Her perfume became stronger, and I heard footsteps nearing me through the hallway.

“Y/N, can we talk?” she asked, trying to keep up with my pace.

I continued to look forward and sped up my tempo, not saying a word. If I walked any faster, it could be mistaken for jogging. She sighed audibly when I blatantly ignored her, and I made my way to lunch. After some time, Lauren gave up and slowed down, leaving her behind me.

I made my way to a lunch table that included three familiar faces. For two weeks I had been sitting at the same bench with a few people from English; they all seemed relatively nice and funny.

We weren’t best friends (after only a month, who would be?) but we all sat together in lesson. Since I joined this school at the start of the school year, it meant that the classes were all jumbled around. It was nice not feeling completely new.

Hallie, Evelyn and Lyla acknowledged me with various nods and smiles as I slid into a chair alongside the long haired brunette.

“Sup, loser,” Evelyn chimed, sticking her tongue out at me.

“Not much, weirdo,” I quipped back.

Lyla laughed along at our banter whilst she unscrewed her water bottle, and Hallie continued eating her food.

“How was that party on Friday?” the blonde questioned curiously.

“It was… eh.”

“Just eh? That bad, huh? Surely the cute guys would have made it more enjoyable,” the short haired girl said.

Yeah, there were cute guys, but I didn’t find myself wanting to spark a conversation with many of them. I only wanted to talk to Lauren at that party, she used to make me feel relaxed.

“I didn’t stay that long. It would have been better if you guys came, though,” I told them honestly.

“Well, we would have, trust me. But this one over here,” Lyla rolled her head slowly in Hallie’s direction, “wanted to have a horror movie marathon.”

Hallie looked up at her with a fry in her mouth and sent her a wide grin.

“Yeah, she basically forced us. But hey! You survived,” Evelyn joked. But in a way, she was right.

Hallie still hadn’t said a word which made her friend throw a scrunched up napkin her way, hitting her on the forehead.

“What was that for!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

“Woah, she actually speaks,” Evelyn announced over dramatically, followed by a fake gasp from Lyla.

“Leave me alone,” Hallie pouted, “I forgot to eat breakfast, and these fries are more important than you hoes.”

“Oh my bad, I forgot she turns into a mime when she hasn’t eaten,” the blonde began. “Food does crazy stuff to her, it’s been the same since middle school.”

I chuckled loudly at their interactions, and spent the rest of lunch discussing the party and what they got up to — except for the parts I wanted to leave out. Of course, they teased me about Luke, but I didn’t take it to heart. It wasn’t him who I was interested in.

I had only known them for a month, yet these three girls felt like the closest things I had to friends here. Each week that passed seemed like a month I had known them; there was no doubt we had clicked instantly.

Usually Monday lessons are a drag, but having English last made it pleasant. After lunch had ended, we made our way to lesson and took our seats next to each other. Evelyn was at my right side with the two other girls further down, and the seat to my left was empty.

Mrs. Banks greeted the students and was about to register everyone, but then another teacher knocked at the door.

“Sorry to interrupt. Can you step outside for a second?” the other teacher queried.

“Of course. Everybody, please get out your books while I’m outside. I’ll be back soon,” our teacher announced, dismissing herself promptly.

Shortly after she left, I felt my phone vibrate and whipped it out. I opened the group-chat notification to see Hallie sending sneaky mugshots, ones she had captured recently of Lyla. We all glanced over at each other and laughed whilst the blonde attempted to shield her face from Hallie.

Mrs. Banks walked back in as I tried hiding my phone under my desk, but I was still looking at the group-chat messages. Without looking up, I giggled to myself lightly.

“Everyone, we have a student who has changed to this class. Please make Lauren feel welcomed,” our teacher spoke up, directing her to the seat to my left.

My smile dropped instantaneously when I gazed up. Her intense, verdant eyes were already locked with mine, and she subtlety winked at me with a smirk on her face. You’ve got to be kidding me.

A/N: Hi again, so I think I’m finally getting the grasp of writing the amount I want. My Wattpad

Also, I changed the cover slightly but tried keeping it similar. Hopefully you like it better, idk. And I may or may not have added the picture of Lyla, Hallie, and Evelyn because I was too lazy to describe them… You’ll never know. (It’s bc I’m hecka lazy lol)

Thanks for reading if you did, love you. If you didn’t like this chapter then I’ll try make the next one better.

‘Til next time, stay well lovelies ❤️

[miraculous-nights]

Supervillians

Title: Chapter Five

Summary: Marinette was kidnapped when she was 6 and her cage was next to a boy in a similar situation. Tikki and Plagg renamed them to be Ladybug and Chat Noir, but they still don’t know who their companion really is. Suddenly, they are let loose into the world with no explanation.

Word Count: 2692

Rating: T

Note: This definitely is a short-ish chapter. Whoops, I posted this on both A03 and Fanfiction.net at school and forgot you wonderful people! So sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you waiting longer. I went through some writer’s block, so I think the next chapter will be up sooner.

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own Miraculous Ladybug or any of it’s characters…

“Lucky Charm!” Ladybug shouted for the first time since the current Tikki had used it a few weeks before a young girl named Marinette could be her only new friend.

A red paintbrush covered in black polka dots fell from above Ladybug’s raised fist and dropped into her other hand. There was white paint ready on the brush.

“You need to go home soon, so do the second half of the spell that fixes everything and then I’ll give you a bit of food before your dinner tonight,” Tikki said as Ladybug nodded.

“Miraculous Ladybug! How do I get out of this spandex?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. It’s called Spots Off!” Tikki began to get up and walk around for a minute while Ladybug rolled her shoulders.

“Spots Off!” A flash of pink light filled the room and Marinette collapsed to the floor. She sighed as her stomach growled.

“That’s it. Here’s some high protein granola bars. Up you go, keep hold of me and we can get back to the park very soon. Yes, we still have over twenty minutes until you have to be home, and guess what? It only takes ten minutes to get you home!”

“Okay,” Marinette mumbled as Tikki began to drag her towards the door. “I can walk, let me go,” she slurred before Tikki let her go. She promptly started to fall yet again before Tikki grabbed onto her once more.

“Nope. Eat your granola bar. It’s like you’re drunk and tired. If you puke on me, you are most definitely buying me new designer shoes. Maybe a Chanel purse.” Tikki said as she opened the packaging of one bar and stuffed multiple bars into her hands. After gaining back some strength that she had lost, Marinette unhooked herself from Tikki and rolled her neck.

“How long do I have until I have to be home?” Marinette asked Tikki as she grabbed onto her arm in order to disappear before they left Miraculous.

“Fifteen minutes, it takes ten to get you to the park and we originally had twenty if you hadn’t acted so stupidly,” Tikki snapped at her and set a brisk pace. She was annoyed, Marinette could find that out herself beut she didn’t understand the why. Then again, she had never understood the why from Tikki’s point of view. “Meet me at the park tomorrow night right after school.”

“Why?”

“Do you think I deserve to tell you my plans? I haven’t told you my plans for the past nine years.”

In the metro, Marinette almost let go of Tikki before realizing what that would ensue. Panic among the people around her, a girl showing up out of nowhere. Although she stepped out of a dark van that sped off quickly from a park that nobody cared about her.

In the train car, she let herself loose the time to the clicking of the tracks without being afraid of her magic taking over the sound. Tikki was right that her magic would be mostly blocked off as Marinette now, which wasn’t bad. Sitting in class with a pencil writing for her would be nice, but it might scare Alya, her only friend. Unless you counted Adrien and Nino, but Marinette thought she worried them because of her stumbling through words. It was just Adrien, really, that she was worried about. Adrien, whose golden head was nicer looking practically every period throughout the day.

He had a nice head, and cute eyes, she had decided. Sure they were very green, a pleasant reminder of her kitty. Chat always had to wear these weird contacts as he got older that made his eyes look like cat eyes. He hated them, but if he took them off Plagg would have done something worse to them that beatings. Plagg would have turned off the light. Plagg could have them separated and kept in different places, alone with or without lights. Being alone in the dark was the worst fear either of them had in that place.

Tikki let her off at the park and nobody noticed a girl magically appearing out of thin air. Tikki explained that anyone who saw her before she let go couldn’t see her until they saw her a second time. She was just a passing face between strangers to anyone.

Dinner was an interesting thing that night. Marinette was less hungry than she thought, and had already surprised her parents by taking so much food. It was delicious, but those protein bars that she ate had filled her up much more than she thought. Tom ate her leftovers, and he finished them quickly.

Retreating to her room after some awkward conversations between both parents about her day and appetite, she laid down on the chaise that still had dust in it. She figured it would probably stay there forever, woven into the fibers of the cloth. She ran fingers over the seams of it, and studied the embroidery. It was simple stitching, back and forth in the pattern by a machine.

She stood up and looked at the dress form she had. There was plenty of supplies to start learning and she had the computer her parents got. She looked up how to make dresses and started her first project.

After an hour, Marinette looked at what she had accomplished. It was decent, something between a dress and something unknown. The torso was there, but the sleeves were all scrunched up around where she had tried to connect them to the dress. A spot in the middle of the torso had also been messed up and was curled in on itself. She wasn’t sure how she did it, but attaching a brooch to the spot made it look intentional. Marinette didn’t know what to do with the sleeves, so she bunched up the collar and made it a bit wider to look like it went with the dress theme. Pleated sleeves and a pleated collar made it seem like a thing, but the pleats and brooch made it too much.

Pretending like the way she cut out the fabric wasn’t the issue, it was an okay attempt. Feeling happy with doing something, she put it into the corner and got ready for bed. Her homework was mostly finished, and she finished it up before climbing up to her bed.

Marinette was ready to fall asleep, but she stayed up thinking. It was hard not to contemplate the reasons behind Tikki’s methods of teaching her. To take her where Plagg was, to let her know what the place was called. She focused on Miraculous, the gym on the outside and secret… lair on the inside? If Tikki wasn’t lying about the mysterious Hawkmoth, then is the secret Miraculous still a secret lair? It looked more like a den where old friends that are the only ones able to see each other drink together.

She loved the studio, though. Everything about the studio was beautiful. The dust sitting in mid air, catching the light to make it glow silver. The wooden floor that was losing its polish and beginning to age, and the mirrors. The mirrors that lined up one wall that had her love from the moment she saw them. Beautiful things, mirrors were. Marinette liked the fancy ones as a child, and didn’t see them in the cage. Now, she understood that mirrors showed who she really was.

Mirrors carried her to sleep peacefully, but it was a nightmare that woke her up. She was in a room only made of mirrors. She stared in wonder that each mirror she focused on would lead to a fantastical world of myths, while mirrors around her showed her reflection. The mirrors started to break behind her until she turned, then the mirrors she had turned away from would break until there was nothing left but her and the mirror below her. Cracks formed before she woke.

She laid there until her breathing leveled out and she could sit up without a panic attack. Terrified about what it meant, she got up and went to her computer. The clock read 4:28 in the morning, and she opened up a search in Google and searched myths about mirrors. Her windows were beginning to let light through before she closed the tab and went to get ready for school. She looked at herself in the mirror and noticed a hairline crack in the mirror.

She arrived at school while the bell rang. Slipping quietly into her seat late, Mlle Bustier let it pass because of how good Marinette knew how to listen. She was lecturing on the last chapter they had to read in Les Miserables, just like the day before. The book started off quite boring, but Marinette was interested in what was going on in Fantine’s life before Jean Valjean had swept into her life. There was an american movie that she heard had cut out all of Fantine’s life before Cosette was in the innkeeper’s care, so she didn’t think she’d bother with the subtitles.

She listened to Mlle Bustier lecture endlessly, but really didn’t listen to the words. Marinette did what she did on the train that day. She took background sounds and focused on them alone, in order to pick out different sounds. There was a vent above her somewhere that was making a different sound than the day before, an almost breath as it blew air out of the ceiling. She quieted her own breaths, trying to make out sounds barely there.

It was just a game to her. An old game, actually. Her mom would have her sit on the ground as a child, and listen for the quietest things she could hear and describe them to her mother and see if she could find them. Then, her mother would repeat the game back to her until one of them couldn’t hear something that the other could. She played it with Chat when they were new friends and she had won most of the time.

She picked out the sounds hidden between the low whispers in the back of class and the paper rustling between page flips when students looked for a certain passage. She smiled at the sound that was just barely there, a sound she had picked out everywhere. When she was alone, eating dinner, in class, even on a busy street. A thrumming sound, beating like her heart. She had taken her pulse and measured the sound. It was faster than her heartbeat, and she had come to one conclusion. Her magic was a beast, beating with its power inside of her softer than a heartbeat, yet when she listened for it alone it could have been the only sound in the world.

She listened to the softer sound she had heard before in the classroom. I beat that was opposite her own magic. They beat in time, in turn. She didn’t always hear it, but she had recognized it before. She had heard both of those beats before, in a dark room with a single lightbulb.

It was distant from the fact that the beat wasn’t coming from her, but a person in the classroom. If he didn’t sit near to her, she probably wouldn’t have heard it. She had figured out who Chat Noir most likely was, but she wasn’t going to tell him or Tikki. Or Plagg, since she most likely see him wherever Tikki wanted to go tonight.

The bell rang, and she stood up with Alya, following her motions listlessly for a moment. Alya looked like she wanted to snap in front Marinette’s face before Marinette smiled at her friend. She wondered why Alya liked her so much, the girl who spaced out in class and could barely keep time in order.

“Alya, remind me that I need to ask my mom for a watch, would you? With my luck, I’ll forget before I even leave the next class,” she said before sighing.

“Girl, with your luck, we’ll be late for the next class!” Alya huffed before grabbing her arm and dragging her to Maths Class with Mme Mendeleiev.

They sat in class together, time dragging on yet again. Marinette listened to Mme Mendeleiev, and she took more notes than she expected to take. She stared at Adrien’s golden head nod up and down while he looked up to listen and look down to write down his own notes. Then, she looked at the teacher again, studying her expressions when she took a pause and gave a pursed look at some students in the back.

“Nathanael, do you have any idea what the answer to this problem is?” Mme Mendeleiev was seeking a student who would have the right answer, but nobody wanted to raise their hands. He quietly answered her, with the correct answer. It was a setup problem, just how to take each variable and number out of the word problem and put it into the equation they had.

“Good, good,” Mme Mendeleiev muttered while she turned to the board, “And these numbers all add up to… 273.8. That was the number we were looking for but if you would like a double check, take all of the numbers and cross check the original equation with the numbers we took from the original word problem.”

She turned to the students and moved aside for students on the edge of the classroom to be able to see the full problem. Nobody seemed impressed, but it was a school classroom.

“So class, now that we have all the examples finished, the homework is page 165, numbers three through fifteen. You have the rest of class to work on that, about twenty minutes.” Mme Mendeleiev went to her desk and started to check papers while the class started talking about the latest gossip.

“I heard that a girl was found, strung high from smoking, in her teacher’s closet. It was across Paris of course, Daddy wouldn’t let me go to such a disgusting school. There’s rumors that she was even having an affair with the teacher, or she was at least doing more than just smoking in that classroom,” Chloé said loudly as the chatter grew. “I can’t even believe it, it could make the news it was such a huge scandal. There was a scandal I read about that made super international news from America. Some nasty boys did things to their cooking class icing nastier than their personalities.”

Marinette tried to tune out Chloé, really. It was just so hard with her annoying voice that didn’t know what an inside volume was. She looked at the clock and pulled out a tangled pair of headphones to help her tune out the gossip table, surrounded by more and more people wanting to be included in Chloé’s elite circle.

With only five minutes left in the school day, Marinette fretted about what Tikki would want tonight. She didn’t have any homework that would take too long, so Tikki’s mystery activity would probably be her homework. She didn’t slip into her Ladybug persona anymore, it was helpful even if she had no access to magic without it.

She left the school and ran home, depositing her backpack in her room and telling her parents a white lie that she was hanging out with some friends. She said they decided on a place and she didn’t recognize the name. It wasn’t a total lie, but she still felt guilty.

Finally, Marinette went to the park to find Tikki. She looked around, but could only find a blonde boy with Plagg. She didn’t want to talk to Plagg, and she figured it was Chat. Chat Noir and her had never seen each other’s unpainted face, and they were threatened with beatings if they exchanged names. If they saw each other, Plagg would probably threaten to have Tikki snap both of their necks.

[cleverlydone]

hello! i recently came across your blog and am so in love with it! if you don't mind me asking, how did you study for your sat i and ii(s)? congrats on all of your perfect scores :D

hello there! first off, i am so sorry that this answer is so late—my studyblr activity is somewhat sporadic, & so i end up not checking my inbox as much. my intent was never to ignore you, you lovely soul! second, you are so so kind; it’s so heartwarming to know that someone as effortlessly good as you is enjoying this blog.

i’m going to preface this by saying my studying habits were definitely Not the Best for any of these tests, but i hope something here is instructive! under the cut because it got really, really long:

SAT I

i started studying for the sat i the summer after seventh grade (my mom wanted to start me early); completed the gruber prep book on my own & ended up getting a ~2100 on my first full practice test

sat prep was fairly sporadic for a few years after that—i worked on learning vocabulary as organically as i could (learning a few definitions at a time & then incorporating them into my conversations & writing), & i did a few practice timed essays, but only a few practices on actual questions here & there

i started in on more intensive prep with the college board’s official prep book the summer before sophomore year

i flipped through the beginning of all the test-taking strategy sections in the college board book & decided that they wouldn’t be helpful (@christina why), so i started taking full practice tests right away

the reason i recommend practicing with full tests is that i think people often underestimate the effect that working for hours will have on their focus—with full tests, you can work on developing ‘test stamina,’ so to speak

with the help of these full tests, i developed & refined my personal testing strategy for the sat (which is weird & gross but basically i do the section the first time through as fast as i possibly can, which usually leaves me one-half to two-thirds of the testing time to double-check & triple-check & quadruple-check everything)

i saw my scores jump up really quickly—high 2300s after a few weeks (i tried to take one full test a week)

i think the reason my practice scores improved so fast after i picked the prep material back up, even with sporadic prep in the interim, is because i started studying so early on & was able to spend so many years both consciously & unconsciously learning & internalizing the way the test makers thought (that’s also the reason why i chose to take the old sat even though i was a sophomore; i didn’t want all those years of prep to go to waste)

essentially, i developed all the foundational sat skills i needed to use with all the sats i ever took because my mom started me early on & forced me to do it completely independently with only the prep book material to guide me, & i think that served me well later

i wrote a ton of practice essays in the two weeks or so leading up to the tests; i found old prompts & did almost one per day (this helped me pinpoint how i could take whatever knowledge i had readily available & mold it to fit the prompt—i’m not exaggerating when i say that i somehow incorporated a body paragraph about fahrenheit 451 or lord of the flies into every single one of those practice essays, since those were books i’d read & analyzed ~3 times for lit classes anyhow)

i’ve found that for me at least, studying for the sat was less about trying to enhance my overall intelligence (whatever that really means) & more about just trying to find patterns & get into the test makers’ heads

SAT IIs

math

i actually forgot that i was taking this test until literally the week before, so that week was a blur of stress

i’d been taking pre-calc that year (soph year), so i figured i already had most of the actual math concepts down & got the barrons prep book to see what the test was like (i’d used barrons freshman year for ap stats with good results)

immediately started getting scores i did not like from barrons practice tests (like 600–700 range) & panicked; made an overarching study guide tailored to myself (math mistakes i make often, things i often forget to check, etc.) & read it repeatedly

my barrons practice scores never improved, which led to more stress

i ended up becoming incredibly focused during the test due to my stress & found that the barrons material was way harder than the actual test

this is the incident that led me to swear by barrons because although this approach definitely doesn’t work for everyone, overpreparing & heightening my stress when i was on a time crunch allowed me to be pleasantly surprised during the test, which made for a much more relaxed test-taking experience (i.e., i had the freedom to check things over, etc.)

however, i didn’t really use a lot of the test-taking strategies that the barrons book provides, since i’d already developed my own method of standardized-test-taking as outlined above

korean

first started prep on this in middle school, when i was given a very old sat korean prep book by my local korean school (which, as i found later, was actually fairly accurate to the actual test, if a little harder)

i’m reasonably fluent in korean (i’d say i have the proficiency of maybe a middle schooler living in korea), having learned it at home & at korean school for many years, so i thought the practice was easy & figured this one would be a breeze; promptly forgot about it

signed up to take it a few years later under the totally wrongheaded assumption i wouldn’t have to do any additional studying, then realized after a few practices in the weeks leading up to the test that my listening & reading comprehension & grammar were all fine but my vocab was a weak spot

spent the last few nights before the test reviewing list after list of vocab & memorizing whatever i could, took a deep breath, & went into the test

(test actually ended up having not much difficult vocab at all, but heightened focus in the weeks before + speaking korean at home + korean school in elementary / middle school years all helped a lot)

literature

i first started preparing for this the summer before freshman year with the barrons prep book—read it & took notes on it, did a few of the activities, then took a few practice tests & did not like the scores at all (low 600s)

i got incredibly discouraged, figured a high score would be impossible, & didn’t return to it for a while

i pulled the book back out the summer before junior year to see if anything had changed, which i needed because the literature was the only other sat ii i had the knowledge to take at that time

i did most of the same things except skipped the note-taking; read over my old notes as a refresher instead

i took a few practice tests and scored in the low to mid 700s; at this point i was more or less resigned to a score in that range

went into the test more than a little terrified, but then realized that at least half of the terms / devices that i’d memorized from the barrons book weren’t covered & the questions were much more straightforward / simplistic

again, using barrons ended up massively overpreparing me—the sat lit is actually much more similar to the old sat’s critical reading section than i thought

& again, i didn’t really use many of the test-taking strategies that the barrons book suggests

i don’t regret using barrons, though; i learned several new literary terms (i’m a nerd & i love this stuff) & again, benefited a lot from the overpreparation factor

[muggle-writes]

10 Questions Tag

I genuinely don’t recall seeing this tag game come in, but either I missed it or I didn’t tag my responses. Either way, I found it again today, so @elizabethsyson thanks for the tag, here’s my answers

1. What book/s made you want to write?

I don’t think it was a book necessarily. Fanfiction inspired me to write and publish fanfiction of my own, but previously, I would just concoct something equivalent to fanfiction even though I didn’t know it had a name, entertain myself with it without ever writing it down, and then eventually forget and move on to something else. But I’ve always used those same unwritten (though still primarily verbal) creative endeavors as a way to process emotions. Later, writing (original fiction that was more individual scenes with no plot resolution) served the same purpose, and now fanfiction serves the dual purpose of being an emotional outlet (those don’t necessarily ever get published) and being a fun and social thing to share with other fans.

On the other hand, I’ve got so many memories of having written stories above and beyond what a school assignment would call for, going at least as far back as second or third grade, so who knows, maybe one book in particular did inspire me to write. But if so, I don’t remember what that original inspiration was.

Also there’s one book in particular that’s just... Awful. I bought it at a dollar store and honestly no wonder it was only selling there. Worst book I’ve ever read. And sometimes I’m writing out of spite because if something with that many plot holes and “plot twists” that ignore any foreshadowing the author set up and come out of literally nowhere can get published, then I’m also definitely good enough to get published if I ever wanted to.

2. What is your favourite genre to write in?

Fanfiction is totally its own genre, right? Besides that, the gray area where fantasy, urban fantasy, and realistic contemporary fiction all meet. I tend towards realism, even when I write magic, but I love to write in universes where mythical creatures can be real, too. It’s my favorite genre to write in because it’s where I’m comfortable writing, and also because those tend to be the stories I enjoy reading and therefore know how my own contributions compare. Also because I love worldbuilding, and being in a fantasy universe not so different from our own gives me plenty of space to explore exactly what’s the same or different and why.

3. What is your favourite genre to read?

Fanfiction again, because I can explore an arbitrary character through hundreds of different lenses and poke at all the facets of their identity almost indefinitely, and it’s not restricted to what happens to be plot relevant, or even to scenarios that are all compatible with a single timeline, and it’s so character driven. It’s by far my favorite thing. Fantasy, primarily in two different flavors. On one hand, fuzzy rules of magic where everything goes as long as the magic user is powerful or creative enough, as a backdrop to an allegorical, easily divided black and white morality story is a category I almost always love. Magic can do basically anything, and it’s easy to know what’s right and wrong, and who to root for. On the other hand, I love what Brandon Sanderson would call “hard magic” fantasy, where magic is just as structured, and nearly as understood, as science, which I enjoy combined with a plot in which the characters have as much nuance and shades of gray as in the real world. I tend to prefer things at one of those extremes, but I’ll read almost any fantasy story.

4. How do you think your reading habits have influenced your writing style?

I mean it's just like verbal language: whatever I surround myself is going to shape the ideas and phrases and slang that come back out of my brain. Likewise, if I’m creating a magic system “from scratch” it’s inevitably shaped by things I read or watched young(ish), including but not limited to the Belgariad, and Star Wars and Pern (so basically, strongly connected to the mind and limited mainly by what you can imagine) (the Dresden Files and Good Omens seem to have pretty similar ideas about magic, but I ingested those much later)

on the other hand I think that my habit of primarily reading, even over watching shows or movies, has contributed to how little I ever actually think about what a character looks like, except occasionally when introductions get delayed for some reason and I can't use names in narration. So characters I only know from reading, I have zero idea what they look like. For example, I only remember that Sabriel is deathly pale as her default state because I reread the beginning of the book recently on Libby (a library app) while debating whether to check it out and reread the whole series in order to potentially write a crossover fanfiction. Her appearance was mentioned once or twice in the first few chapters and then never again, and it wasn’t something other characters often remarked upon, so I promptly forgot. Even though it’s absolutely fitting. Idk I’m just really not a visual thinker apparently, and always having character names to reference only reinforces that because why do I need to know what someone looks like if I know who they are?

5. What is your go-to cure when you get writer’s block or can’t focus?

Focus is easier. I make sure I’ve eaten, and I put on music so I’m not distracted by the silence or by the sound of my own typing. Plus I'll keep something cold and caffeinated in arms reach to sip on when I'm tempted to relinquish focus.

Writer’s block is harder to overcome and usually ties in with depression, so I’ll sometimes go months without writing and come back when I have energy for anything again... But in terms of actual strategies, sometimes rereading what I’ve already written will kickstart my unblocked writing, which is why I try very hard to only stop writing at “stopping points” if it’s genuinely the end of the story. Because when I come back later, it’s so much easier to read a partial chapter, get into the swing of it, and remember where it was going, than to start carving a new chapter out of nothing. Another thing that helps chip away at writer’s block is to talk to someone who is enthusiastic about my stories, or who is willing to let me infodump. Those are the only two things I can really control that have helped. Occasionally other things will help, like getting the book review style comments on fics (when I also have time to sit down and write while the comment is still new enough to make me surprised-and-happy over it), or if I can find the right balance of “obligation to someone else” and “not so much pressure I implode” (like, for example, I submitted a half-baked WIP to the recent WIP Blind Date event, and the afternoon after we got our assignments I started getting motivated to add to what I’ve posted about it to have something “worth” sharing for the event, and even though I didn’t get the momentum going enough to make progress until after I’d already been reviewed, I made a large amount of progress on that fic just because there was some amount of external pressure.... But that only works if I only do it to myself occasionally. Too often and I’m just annoying everyone by asking them to expect something from me and never following through.)

6. Why did you decide to start writing?

I think I got the right amount of compliments and encouragement when I was in elementary school, on writing assignments and challenges, then I was proud of the original stories I was writing in middle school, and then in high school I figured out that I could create barely-not-me characters and put them through things I wished (or feared) would happen to me and explore the consequences... My depression started getting bad around then, and with it came executive dysfunction and I started having to focus only on schoolwork and still barely finished everything I needed to. I might have stopped writing for longer but then I started publishing fanfiction. initially because my brain was generating it anyway, and I was in a shitty living situation with nothing else to do with my free time that I spent hidden away in my room besides actually type it up, but I kept at it because I was proud of my stories again, and because of the social aspect. And now I continue writing because I love the excuse to explore characters, or just because I can put characters I already love into new and interesting situations.

I might eventually write my own original novel, just because being on writeblr and seeing everyone else writing original works is super motivating, but that requires I have ideas for a setting and a plot and for characters all at once and I’m trying not to force it.

7. Pick a character you’ve written/are writing. What personality trait of theirs defines them most?

I’m going to cheat and peek a bit in the future to when I’m actually writing that fic featuring Julie Kwan, because I ought to have a better handle on her before I get too much further. She’s got a very sharp mind, very good at logical deductions (even if they involve magic before she really knows magic is real) and she’s also fairly good at reading other people. She’s also not afraid to confront people, whether they’re people who are literally threatening her and her friends, or whether they’re her friends and they’re not taking care of themselves sufficiently, or anything in between.

8. What is their primary language? Do they speak it natively? Do they speak any other languages?

...I'm not actually sure. English is her primary language, as she has grown up in the USA. If Julie speaks other languages, Mandarin would be fitting (because that’s Wei’s primary language, and I know Kate also speaks it, so that could add to team unity if over half of them all speak the same non-English language), or maybe Korean depending on her family (since Kwan is usually a Korean name.) Regardless, if she speaks any other languages, then I suspect she also speaks Klingon. @davetheshady can you confirm?

9. What does the character value the most in their life?

Julie is very focused on academia, she’s accomplished and rightfully proud of herself. She wants to be respected, (she’s so tired of being disrespected in academic circles just because she’s neither white nor a man), but she also very much values her friends.

10. If they met you, what would they have to say to you?

I think she would make fun of me for quoting her so often but she makes so many pop culture references, I don’t think she has room to complain. She would probably also encourage me to pursue graduate degrees no matter how “impractical” other people find the subject.

[irltrexxx]

wwoof day 1

oof what a day! it is officially my first day as a wwoofer.

i am currently laying in the bed of a bedroom that looks like it hasn’t changed since 2002. there are stacks of burned metallica and slipknot cds next to me and behind me is a shelf full of scifi and adventure novels in italian. there are posters for independence day, lost world (forgot about that movie), scream 2, and armageddon. i’m in the middle of the woods an hour outside of siena. i tried to find myself on google maps but i just got an error saying “can not determine your location.”

i arrived at podere campliano at about 6 pm today. my hosts are maddalena e claudio, husband and wife who run a small cheese farm. here they make 8 kinds of cheeses, including a few different types of pecorino, tomino, ricotta, and stracchino. maddalena told me on the drive here that they have about 60-70 sardinian sheep, and claudio told me at dinner that they sell at local markets, in local stores, and even supply one local restaurant.

to flash back to the beginning of my journey today:

i did not sleep well at all last night! it was a combination of nerves (livin with strangers in such close quarters is definitely going to be the hardest part of the trip for me) and loud noises that were all over my florence apartment (loud clock ticks, heater clicks, everything). so i woke up pretty sleepy and cleaned and packed. i had leftover salami for breakfast and a cup of coffee from the moka pot. i left the apartment at 10, check out time, and walked to santa maria novella. i figured i would go ahead and get to siena even if mattias (maddalena e claudio’s oldest son) wasn’t set to pick me up until 5:30. my backpacks aren’t very fun to carry around, and there wasn’t anything i felt like i still needed to see in florence. so i took a 11:10 train to siena and arrived there at 12:30.

i spent from 12:30-5:15 in the mall. it was good people watching, plus free wifi and charging stations! the mall is directly across from the main entrance of the train station, and next to a university for foreigners in siena (literal translation of name). on the first floor there were some shitty women’s clothing stores and cellphone kiosks, as well as a pam local supermarket. second floor was a sporting goods store, men’s clothing store, jewelry store, and prefumeria. third floor was food court: sushi, old west steakhouse (second i have seen), and piadineria. four floor was a set of crazy escalators and walkways that led to the outskirts of siena. i wandered up there to take a peek—probably the oddest escalator experience i have ever had!

so after exploring the mall i decided my best option for passing time was to grab some snacks at the grocery store and camp out. i bought a bresola, mozzarella, valerian green sandwich. i’ve never seen valerian greens eaten until this trip. tastes like baby spinach to me! the sandwich was what you would expect from a refrigerator section grocery store sandwich. i also splurged on a coke (i’ll be sippin this baby all week at the rate i’m drinking) and a bar of dark chocolate. i ate my sandwich in the sun outside and then joined in on the group competition to find a comfortable chair somewhere warm with an outlet next to it. i tried a few separate spots before settling down on the second floor by the profumeria. oh, also there’s a salon. so i watched people get their hair cut, read man in the high castle, and watched students from the foreigners school. this mall is definitely the hang out. i was by far not the only person to sit in that lobby for five hours. when i left to wait for mattias at the station i saw the same table of old men sitting in the same spot as when i walked in.

so i got outside at the prearranged time, and mattias promptly picked me up at 5:15. mattias works as a general electrician at a pharmaceutical company that is in siena (actually located across the street from the mall). he used to work as an appliance repair man for electrolux but he said it wasn’t worth all of the physical labor and driving to continue in that field. now he works for okay money from 9-5. he told me that unemployment and under employment are huge problems for youth in italy and he feels lucky to have the job he does. he rents an apartment in a VERY small village ~20 minutes from siena with his girlfriend. i know mattias is in his late 30s...girlfriend looks maybe 22? she works as a receptionist at a hotel 8/12 months a year. mattias little brother (whose bed i’m in, can’t remember his name) is a jack of all trades and his girlfriend is a yoga teacher who makes the rounds through all the small towns outside of siena.

anywho first we hit up mattias apartment because his mom had gone there to meet me half way. we had some tea and cake prepared by girlfriend, who i will get to spend more time with on wednesday. then we headed to maddalena and claudio’s house, which was probably another 25 minutes out. the drive was DARK and half of it was on an unpaved road. the nearest town is 15km away (don’t think i’ll be doing that walk often) and nearest neighbor is 5km away. two families live at the farm, although i haven’t met the other family. maddalena said right now the forest is full of wild boar, deer, and wolves 🐺🐗🦌.

when i got to the house maddalena gave me some slippers and told me to rest, so i went through all this guys books and cds. at 7:30 she served dinner: lentil and black kale soup. i was also given a sampler plate of 3 cheeses claudio makes and asked to tell them which was my favorite. it felt like a test! i was served a fresh pecorino that tastes very grassy and almost tart like lemons, a hard pecorino that was salty, and a tomino that i just googled today—it’s a piemontese cheese that’s small, creamy, and spreadable. i voted #1 tomino, #2 fresca, #3 duro. not sure if i passed claudio’s test. to drink i got to try some wine that their neighbors make, a red. it was very nice!

then we talked about how trump is dumb and the environment is changing and how italy is used to embarrassing politicians. we cleaned up a bit post dinner. their sink is incredible! i will have to get a photo. i think i offended everyone a bit when they told me not to wash dishes because they had a dishwasher and i said “WOW!” like they are country bumpkins but we are in the deep deep country. they said they don’t have wifi because none of the companies service their area.

then we sat around the fireplace and listened to leonard cohen while maddalena knitted, i read, and claudio rolled and smoked a cigarette and did the crossword puzzle. italians seem to really like crossword puzzles. then i decided to hit the hay so i could post this.

had a minor freak out because none of my adapters fit into these wall plugs, but found a third adapter to plug into my frankenstein chain of adapters so i can charge phone and tablet. it’s probably not very safe.

as mentioned in gurls group, photos will have to wait until i get to better wifi as being in the sticks is eating up my data!

it sounds like tomorrow our day will start at 8 (leisurely) with breakfast and then i will clean the caseficio (dairy) to prepare for wednesday’s cheese making. i also get to meet the sheep tomorrow!

until then 👋🏼