#i know ive been absent for like a week sorry! As the semester comes to a close life is a lil bit more crazy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lemonietrinket · 4 years ago

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summertime is for us ||| felix x reader

summary: it’s been months since you’ve seen your boyfriend felix in person, and you can’t wait to finally see him again genre: fluff, a bit of angst wordcount: 1618 music: ambience; ambience an: i wrote this suddenly in a daze as a break from the longer rq ive been working on—my long-awaiting, ever-patient anon, i hope youre ready, your rq is going to be a monster...!

gender neutral reader

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

the breeze wove gently between the windchimes, ringing delicately across the hill where you lay in the grass. nestled in a bed of brilliant green, clusters of daisies gazing up at the sun by your arm, you kept your breath slow as you let the afternoon warm your face. you waited patiently, half in a daze, half on the edge of sleep, for the familiar footsteps to arrive. he was late again, and you would’ve rolled your eyes with a quiet laugh if you hadn’t been so lethargic.

your ears pricked up at a light, quiet thud in the twigs just beyond by the tree. you turned your body gradually towards it, casting a shadow from your shoulder across your face, and peaked through the waltzing dandelions, the silvery fairies taking off from their homes to dance higher and higher until they disappeared into the sky. it was a small bird. skipping across the ground, its freckled brown tail feathers perked up inquisitively, as it picked between the twigs and grass blades taller than its own head. after a moment it jumped upon a branch, small and hidden amongst the untamed valley. it briefly sang a call—to a friend, a love, the world, you didn’t know—but a smile slipped onto your face nonetheless. it seemed so small in the world, so normal, and yet it sang and made everything seem just that little bit brighter. as what would a peaceful afternoon be without birdsong?

“yn!”

the deep singsong call of your friend came from the top of the hill, mixing with the windchimes and causing the bird to turn on its tail and return to the tree canopy. you sat up on your elbow, shielding your eyes and searched the crest of the hill for the one you were waiting for. a few seconds later, he appeared and began shuffling down the slope to you, minding the flowers as he went. and then moments later he was steps away, slinging his bag off at the foot of the tree, smile brighter than the sun itself.

“felix! you’re—oof!”

giggling, he practically flung himself into your arms, leaving you to yelp as you fell onto your back, arms naturally wrapping round his waist and pulling him into you. “jesus, i missed you too!”

the semester alone had felt longer than any school year you’d been through, you’d ended up messaging him every moment you could, missing his presence every night when the nights got cold. you’d hadn’t needed a second blanket for two years, and the trek to go retrieve one from your drawer only made the room feel emptier.

but he was here now, and the summer was all yours.

felix pressed a kiss into your neck, before levering himself up and straddling you to sit more comfortably. his dark eyes met yours, glistening with his smile and longing finally ended. “sorry i’m late.” he didn’t seem that sorry at all, beaming at you, his nose scrunching before he gave in and planted a kiss on your forehead, but it was hardly like you minded.

“apology accepted,” you rushed, stroking his hair as the two of you looked at each other properly for the first time in months. he’d had a haircut, you knew that, and though you’d already seen it, now it had grown out more, leaving soft waves to frame the face that taken your breath away the first time you saw it. it caught the sun above and gifted him a halo,like you were sure he deserved. and how it felt different beneath your fingertips. you could spend an evening just thinking about that alone. same for how he had grown. so far apart, even photos and video calls couldn’t show the smallest of details, the things you cherished the most, leaving you surprisingly startled at the boy you once knew, now seeming even more of a man than he had done last winter. it looked good on him, as pretty much everything did—despite your shock that you got to look upon something so beautiful—but it was also tinged with a bittersweetness. all those days he had grown and you hadn’t been there to see them for yourself, even after knowing him for so long. all those minutes between the times when you were younger and you used to count his freckles like a child. the curse of the childhood sweetheart. it only made you long to see every day with him even more.

felix meanwhile was also stuck in this wordless awe, thumb stroking your cheek as he stared, precious lips parted absently. lucky for you, you had come to your senses before him. with a coy grin you murmured, “is there something on my face?”

however, he answered too fast for your own heart’s good. “too much pretty, that’s what.”

“oh ew, blegh, too much cheese, blegh—”

he rolled his eyes before he hushed you, dipping in to take your lips into his. you’d forgotten how soft his lips were, how powerful his touch was. you instantly melted into him, your hand slipping to his temple as his wove through your hair. “god, i missed you so much...” he whispered into your lips, immediately welcoming your lips once again.

“me too... i don’t know how i’m going to do it again...”

he pulled away slowly, eyes saddening. “i know, but we’ve got to.”

feeling the energy dip, you were about to apologise for ruining the joy so soon—you had weeks before you needed to even worry about that at all—but felix continued before you could.

“and i’m going to be further away than i was before,” he said.

searching his gaze for any sign of what he meant, you eventually asked, “what do you mean?”

he smiled then, small and conflicted. “i got in on the GLTA scheme.”

your eyes widened as you sat up suddenly. “you got in?!” as soon as he nodded excitedly, you gasped and threw your arms around his neck. “oh my god, baby, congrats! you did it, oh my god—!”

he mumbled a thank you into your shirt as you held him tightly, as if your subconscious knew what this meant.

“where are you going to go?”

“south korea.”

you held him at arm’s length, a proud grin on your lips, but your hands still tense as you ran them across his arms. “you got into—?! i told you you’re a genius, felix, i told you! god i’m so proud of you!”

he chuckled, but his eyes were already begin to trail away from yours, even as you cupped his cheeks. your elation quickly cooled. “baby, what’s wrong?”

it took a few moments for him to work up the courage to speak, but after he’d settled next to you, you resting on your side to face him, he spoke, “aren’t you... i won’t be able to come back over the winter...”

you couldn’t hide the disappointment that began to gnaw at your stomach, a small sigh leaving you before you could stop it, but you shook your head. “felix, baby, i’ll miss you, so much, but...” you shifted closer resting your cheek on his shoulder, brushing a leaf off his shirt, “there’s no way you can’t take this opportunity, it’s something you’ve always wanted, and i wouldn’t stop you for anything.”

relaxing, he leant back into the grass with a sigh, pulling you into his side happily. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too,” you whispered, closing your eyes once again to listen to the sound of the birds and his heartbeat. “there’s always next summer.”

“there’s always next summer,” he agreed. the two of you dozed in the sun, felix’s slow, rhythmic trace of his fingertips against your shoulder lulling you into sleep. when you awoke it was to the amber hues of sunset, painting the sky a masterpiece as the breeze picked up, flurrying goosebumps across your arms. the birds had quietened down, their song echoing from further down the hill, crickets taking their place. it wouldn’t be long before night finally fell.

you hauled yourself up and stretched, ignoring the ache in your leg which had been curled up at an odd angle for a bit too long. rubbing the sleep from your eyes you glanced down at felix to find he was still fast asleep. his brow furrowed for a split second ,before his hand twitched and he turned his head, relaxing once again. resisting the urge to coo, your eyes wandered over to his bag in the stretching shadow of the tree. and soon, your body followed, tiptoeing through the grass, to have a rummage through his over-packed rucksack. and, to your luck, there was his hoodie: enough warmth to stay out for just that little bit longer.

you returned to him as you pulled the baggy black over your head before joining him in the grass. you shimmied your hands up into the sleeves for added coziness while you rested your head in the grass besides his. with your sweater-paw carefully shifting his fringe out of his face, you allowed yourself to finally take in every little detail you had missed, both the old and the new, cast in the golden hues of the dying afternoon.

“one...” you began in a whisper, smile shy and subdued. “two...”

in the embers of the sun, you found yourself counting his freckles, just like you had in your very first summer together. and as the sky turned violet and darkened, the sun lost behind the forest canopy, you finally found the exact same number as the last time you had counted. even with the world constantly spinning around you, he hadn’t changed at all.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

an: hope its not too bad. i wont read it for the next month so i wont know :))))

also my knitting needles turned up!!

masterlist

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krisdreaming · 4 years ago

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A/N: Today is a special day because it’s Em’s birthday, @imaginethathaikyuu!!! Em is such an amazing writer and a warm & caring person, and I’m so glad that I’ve had the chance to get to know her. This is my humble birthday offering, I hope you enjoy!

This is a college AU!

Here’s the 4+1 masterlist

Four times Keiji thinks he loves you, and the one time he finally says it out loud

When Keiji gets to your dorm, you immediately pull him inside, closing the door quickly behind him. “I’m sorry,” You’re already apologizing, “I didn’t know who else to call.” You lead him to your bed, and there, in a shoe box laying on top of a folded towel, is a tiny kitten. It’s laying eerily still, and he can hear a slight wheezing sound every time it’s small chest rises and falls.

“I found him on my way back from class, he was laying all curled up by the sidewalk. I couldn’t just leave him there. He needs help.” You reach into the box and ever so gently caress the top of the kitten’s head with your fingertip.

He’s silent for a few moments, looking into the box and turning the situation over in his head. “I’m pretty sure there’s an emergency vet in town,” He says finally, “I can drive us there.”

You look at him, and there’s a relieved smile breaking across your face. “Really?” You breathe, “Keiji, thank you! You don’t have to do this,” You add quickly, looking back to the frail kitten. If he’s not mistaken, there’s a sheen of tears in your eyes.

“I want to,” He says firmly. You’re bustling around your dorm to grab a jacket and an extra blanket to swaddle the kitten, wondering aloud if your parents will let you keep the kitten at home if he recovers, but he’s completely still, just watching you.

It’s not the first time he’s caught a glimpse of your big heart. He knows how much you care, it’s part of what drew him to you in the first place. It’s just that now, especially, something is swelling up inside his chest, and it feels an awful lot like I love you. It’s the first time he’s felt it so clearly, and he can’t help the small smile that finds its way onto his face.

ii.

Keiji rests his head on his arms and closes his eyes, just for the few minutes until class starts. He’s lucky if he got three hours of sleep last night, and he hopes he’d studied enough. This midterm is a huge part of his grade, and despite the hours he’d spent in the past week preparing for it, he still doesn’t feel too confident.

He feels a gentle touch on his arm. “Keiji,” at the sound of your voice he looks up, surprised to see you standing by his desk. You aren’t supposed to be here - you have your own class starting in about five minutes. “I thought you might need this,” You laugh softly, and he finally notices the cup in your hand when you set it down on the corner of his desk. It looks like the largest cup of coffee the campus has to offer. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Thank you,” He wraps his fingers around it, pulling it closer to himself, but he doesn’t take a sip yet. He’s still looking at you. “This is perfect,” He smiles.

“Good,” You smile back, even bigger. “Good luck today, Keiji. You’ll do great.” You lean in and press the quickest peck to his cheek. The feeling of your lips lingers even after you pull away.

“Thank you,” He says again, because he isn’t quite sure what else to say. “You should get to class too, right? I’ll see you after.”

“Yup! You’ve got this!” You grin before you lift your hand in a quick wave and duck out of the classroom. He watches the door even after you disappear from view, his hand resting absently on his cheek at the spot where you’d placed your kiss.

he muses that it’s probably a good thing you hadn’t stuck around any longer. Something like the words I love you might have slipped out past his sleep-deprived brain.

iii.

Keiji glances from his spot on the court to the place he knows you’ll be in the stands. When you see him looking your way, you immediately lift both both hands above your head in an exaggerated wave. He waves back at you, quickly, before the next volley starts.

Even though he’s only on the intramural team and the stands are rarely packed, you still show up at every single one of his matches. Even though this is nothing like the Black Jackals match he took you to once, no roaring crowd or big, bright stadium lights or fancy official uniforms with sponsor patches, you’re always telling him how exciting it is to watch him play. You mean it, too. He can tell.

“You don’t have to come every time, you know,” He says, afterwards, as he walks you back to your dorm. “It’s nothing special, so I don’t expect you to always be there.”

“I want to be there, silly.” You shove your shoulder against his, and he uses it as an excuse to reach for your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. “You love volleyball, and I love watching you play. If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me.” You’re important to me. I love you. He thinks it, but somehow he can’t make himself say it out loud. Instead, he gives your hand a squeeze and tugs you a little closer.

“Thanks,” He says, stopping just for a moment to press a quick kiss to your lips.

You giggle softly. “What was that for?”

He shakes his head, a small smile playing across his lips. “Nothing in particular.”

iv.

Keiji is trying very hard not to move. The train is jostling enough as it is, and you had fallen asleep on his shoulder almost as soon as the train had started moving. He can’t blame you. It had been a long day, and you’d done a lot of walking.

He can just make out your face in the reflection on the train window. It looks so soft and peaceful. Your lips are slightly parted, and you let out the softest sigh. Something washes over him, then - an overwhelming desire to protect you, to keep you safe, to stay by your side for as long as you’ll have him. He’s not sure where it came from.

While he’s still lost in thought, your stop comes up. Gently, he nudges you awake, and you blink at him blearily, confusion on your face for a few moments before you remember where you are.

“Oh, sorry,” You murmur, “Didn’t mean to fall asleep. You could’ve woken me.” You rub some sleep from your eyes, and he gives your cheek the softest pinch. You scrunch your nose at that, standing to exit the train.

“Nah, you looked so peaceful. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” He rests his hand at the small of your back for a fraction of a second as you step off the train, and when you’re on the platform, you turn to him and grin.

“Oh?” You ask cheekily, a teasing glint in your eyes.

He nods, then quickly changes the subject. “Okay, let’s go. We need to get you to bed.”

This day is definitely not turning out the way Keiji had envisioned it. When he woke up to the patter of rain hitting the windowpanes, his heart sank. He’s been planning this romantic little picnic for a few weeks now, as a way of celebrating your six month anniversary and, as a bonus, the perfect time to finally, finally tell you what he’s been feeling for so long. And now it’s raining. Even if it stops raining, the cute little park near campus is going to be soaked.

“We can do it some other time,” You say over the phone, and he sighs. Who knows when ‘some other time’ could end up being? The end of the semester is getting closer, and he’d been lucky this weekend had worked out for both of your schedules. He lets the gears turn in his head for a few moments before responding.

“No. Come to my dorm. We can still hang out.” He looks around the room, already figuring out what he’ll do to make the place look even a little bit nicer. All he’ll have to do is make sure his roommate keeps himself scarce, and it could work.

“Okay,” You say, and he can hear the smile in your voice, “I’ll be over around noon?”

“Perfect,” He agrees. It gives him just a little more than two hours to make some preparations.

When you get to his dorm, he watches the way your expression changes when you walk into the room. You look from the blanket and pillows spread out on the ground, to the candles he’d lit (and paid his roommate 2,000 yen not to tell anyone about), and to the big bouquet of flowers. Your lips form a small, surprised O, and he pats the spot on the blanket next to him, inviting you to join him.

“Keiji,” You breathe as you sink down, still taking everything in, “This is beautiful. Honestly.”

“For a dorm room,” He chuckles, handing you a bottle of your favorite drink. “Would’ve been better in the park, but...” He shrugs and gestures to the window, where you can see the rain outside still falling.

“This is so cozy, though!” You murmur happily, scooting in a little closer so you’re just leaning against him. He shifts so that the arm bracing him up is also resting against your back. “All this, just for six months.” You laugh softly.

“Of course,” He says, his nose just brushing your cheek when he turns to see your face better, “These last six months have been wonderful. Truly. I’m really glad that I could spend them with you.”

“Keiji,” Your voice is almost a squeak, “So am I. It’s been perfect.”

“Yeah,” He agrees, turning so you’re practically face to face and reaching for your hand, holding it loosely and brushing his thumb across the back of it. Your smile drops off and you study his face, then, almost as though you’re waiting for something. He’s been waiting too.

“Y/N,” His voice drops lower and softer, “You’re incredible. I’m amazed by you, every day. Sometimes I don’t know why you’d want to be with me,” He chuckles softly at the frown that puckers your brow at that, “But I’m glad you do. And... I love you, Y/N. So much. And I will keep on loving you for as long as you’ll let me.” For a few moments, the only sound is the rain falling outside as his words sink in. Then, all at once, you close the distance between you and throw your arms around his neck.

“Keiji,” Your words are muffled against the skin of his neck, “I love you too. Oh my god, I love you so much.” You pull back, then, and with the way you’re looking at him, like he’s the only person in the world, he can’t help himself. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you like he means it, because he does. More than anything.

4+1 taglist (let me know if you want to be added!):

@luna-barnes14, @herow1n, @disgruntled-gay

#happy birthday Em!!!#i hope ur day's wonderful!#Haikyuu #Haikyuu imagines #Akaashi Keiji #Akaashi Keiji x reader #Akaashi x reader #Haikyuu x reader #queued

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goosewhisker · 4 years ago

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russetfur vs. the entirety of skyclan || ch. 3

read this on ao3 || read this on fanfiction.net

chapter one

chapter two

summary: After enduring months of Turtlekit and Kitekit’s abuse, Rootkit finally snaps and accidentally awakens his powers. This has the unfortunate side effect of reviving the ghost of an angry Shadowclan warrior who: 1) is personally offended by Skyclan’s existence, and 2) has magnanimously taken it upon herself to relieve the world of that burden. Or something

okay so its been a minute since i posted. a lot of things happened, i got a kitten, a job, a new fandom, and i speedran a full semester of calculus in like the past four weeks. im sorry about how late this is and i cant promise when the next one will be up but its half written already so uh hope springs eternal. anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk

also shoutout to @turquoise-tulip for reminding me that ive had this chapter in my drafts for half a year now this ones for you im sorry its so stupid

Chapter Three: In Which Rootkit Practices the Art of Blackmail

The morning after is quiet.

...is what Rootkit would like to say. Actually, he gets woken up by Tree at what his mom likes to call 'the butt-crack of dawn' to go talk to Leafstar, thereby ruining his chances of being a normal warrior forever.

When they get to the leader's den, Violetshine is already there. Rootkit discovers this by walking into her while his eyes are closed in the middle of a yawn.

"See, he's about to fall asleep on his paws," his mom points out, sounding pretty close to yawning herself. "It's too early for this. Morning, kid."

Rootkit mumbles something that's unintelligible even to himself and falls asleep on his mother's paws. A few minutes later, he's woken by gentle paws on his back.

"Hey, kid. Kiddo. You gotta get up."

Rootkit hums absently, still mostly asleep, before realizing abruptly where he is. Mouse dung! Suddenly, he's completely awake. He jerks his head up, almost colliding with Tree's jaw before he pulls out of the way. Rootkit, too busy panicking, doesn't notice. He just fell asleep in Leafstar's den! After she'd brought him over to talk specifically to him! After seeing this humiliating display of incompetence, she'll really never make him a warrior, and Kitekit and Turtlekit will-

"Rootkit." The single word cuts through the panic. Rootkit looks up to see Leafstar, looking very serious with only a hint of amusement seeping through. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes!" The answer bursts out of him before he really thinks it through. And, well, it's not entirely true, but it's not entirely untrue either. Either way, he's up for answering any questions, which is probably what she's asking.

Leafstar looks at him just long enough for him to start fidgeting before she begins. "I've already spoken to your parents, Rootkit, so I know most of the story. I just need to know your side. What happened yesterday with the ghost?"

Rootkit looks at his paws, then back to Leafstar's calming gaze. "It started when I was at the grave. I was just- just talking, and then Kitekit found me..."

He tells her the whole, stupid story. How he'd lost it at Kitekit and Turtlekit and turned around to find a ghost looming over him; how he'd asked Tree for help, only for her to disappear; how she'd attacked him and Tree, announced her intentions, and vanished. At last, the story runs dry and he falls silent to watch her expression change.

Leafstar hums thoughtfully. She turns to Tree. "Do you think she's likely to hurt someone?"

Tree shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "If she's serious, yes. Most ghosts can't touch the living. Those who can - like this one - usually died violently or thinking they were wronged. And angry ghosts tend to be... volatile."

"Ah." Leafstar considers this.

"If it comes to that, what'll you do?" Violetshine asks. "Will you be able to stop her?"

Rootkit watches Tree watch his mom, and something in his dad's eyes soften. He leans over to swipe a tongue over her ear. "You want to help her, don't you?" he says quietly. "Because she's Shadowclan?"

Violetshine flushes, but she doesn't back down. "Many of them weren't kind to me," she says, "But Shadowclan was still my home once. I can't just forget that."

Tree purrs and winds his tail with hers. "That's why I love you," he whispers.

Rootkit sticks his tongue out in disgust. Bleh. Grownups!

"To answer your question," Tree adds, "I don't know what I'll do. I suppose-" he pauses, eyes tight with worry. "I've never exorcised a ghost who didn't want to move on before. I don't know if I even can. This may be something of an experiment."

The grownups look at each other for a long moment. "I will do whatever it takes to keep my clan safe," Leafstar says. There's something like a warning in her voice that makes Rootkit shiver.

"What should I do?" he asks. All three adults look at him like they've forgotten he's there.

After a moment, Leafstar's face breaks into a smile. "Tell you what. You can help by keeping an eye out for this Russetfur and letting one of us know when she's nearby. But listen, Rootkit," and her voice goes stern. "You must stay away from her. Russetfur is dangerous, and she may hurt you to get what she wants. Do you understand me, Rootkit?"

Rootkit looks into Leafstar's amber eyes - warm and worried and burning with a fierce, protective fire - and knows what he has to do. "I understand, Leafstar," he says, and just like that, his mission clicks into place.

From somewhere else in the camp - probably the warriors' den - someone screams, followed by Russetfur's haunting cackles.

Rootkit ignores it.

As he double checks his supplies, Rootkit runs through a mental checklist. He's talked to the ghost - check. He's figured out what she wants - check. He's given her what she wants - well... no. Tree's three-step-plan hadn't exactly accounted for what happened if what the ghost wanted was unobtainable.

Well, it doesn't really matter now. This plan is sure to work.

"Are you sure this is gonna work," Needlekit says again.

"Yes, I am, Starclan above will you stop nagging me," Rootkit says.

His sister makes a disgruntled noise and hauls the next bramble into place with a particularly vicious tug. "I'm just concerned you have no idea what you're doing, is all."

"I know exactly what I'm doing."

Rootkit doesn't have any idea what he's doing.

"Hmm." Needlekit seems thoroughly unconvinced, but she gets on with the task anyway. The trailing brambles she's weaving into place will form a turtle-shell-shaped cage laced with warding herbs over the grave when they're done. The plan is more or less to summon Russetfur into a cage she can't phase through, leaving her unable to escape. In Rootkit's opinion, it's a pretty solid plan for someone who has no idea what he's doing. "Why're you so set on doing this, anyway? Didn't Leafstar tell you not to mess with Gingerpelt?"

"Russetfur," Rootkit corrects her automatically. "And, well, yes, but..." he hesitates. "It's just... you know. I was the one who set her free in the first place, and..."

"Yes?" Needlekit prompts him. She's given up on the brambles and moved to stuffing moss and bracken into the gaps.

Rootkit fidgets uncomfortably for a second before the truth bursts out of him. "And now Russetfur's running wild everywhere and it's all my fault, and what if Leafstar decides not to make me an apprentice? If I don't become an apprentice, I can't be a warrior! And if I can't be a warrior-" he cuts himself off. He can't repeat what Kitekit and Turtlekit had said; even saying the words aloud seems like tempting fate... and he can't burden Needlekit with that, anyway.

Needlekit looks at him, though, and her gaze goes soft. "And being a warrior is your dream," she says, and starts stuffing the gaps with renewed vigor. "Well, come on, then! If we can trap Scarletfuzz then Leafstar will have to make us both apprentices! I can't be an apprentice without you; then I'd have to share the den with just Kitekit and Turtlekit. Can you imagine?" She pulls a disgusted face that has Rootkit giggling despite himself.

"Alright, alright," he says. "While you're doing that..." He shoves aside the piles of bracken they'd collected and settles down on the dirt. In his stories, Tree had never really talked about summoning ghosts - his work had been more about getting them to leave - but Rootkit is pretty confident about his ability to summon her again if necessary. More importantly, one or two of his stories had been about things the average, non-ghost-seeing cat could do to ward off spirits.

Rootkit spreads out his supplies, most of which had been scavenged from the medicine cats through a combination of tag-teaming and white lies. The herbs really are going to help his mom, just not in the way Fidgetflake thinks.

Thistledown. Rosemary. Lavender. Thyme. All plants that either attract or repel spirits, according to Tree (from what Rootkit can remember, anyway). Plus a lot of spiderweb.

"Hey, are you sure that's right?" Needlekit asks, leaning over his shoulder. "I thought we were gonna get some sage. And why'd you pick up the thistle?"

Rootkit frowns. "Well, Fidgetflake was coming back too soon and I panicked, alright? If you've got a problem you can get some more yourself."

Needlekit snickers and prods the massive pile of spiderwebs. "No thanks. I think you could've gotten a little more spiderweb, Frecklewish might still have some left over... yeesh, alright, I'll leave off the sarcasm. You don't have to glare at me."

Rootkit rolls his eyes. The immaturity of some cats. "Maybe I went a little overboard, but we need it. Frecklewish can just send the 'paws out to find some more. Now help me apply it; we need to cover the entire cage so there's no chance of getting out."

It's the work of a few minutes to paste it over with cobwebs, and the work of a few more to weave in all the protecting herbs. With luck, they'll prevent her from just phasing through. By the time they're done, it's so dense that a living cat would find it impossible to escape; Rootkit can only hope that the same goes for a dead one.

"Alright, fire 'er up!" Needlekit commands.

Rootkit closes his eyes to focus, trying to recall the feeling of power rushing through his being. Once, Tree had told them of a time when he'd jumped onto a wire fence and been struck by something he'd called electricity- what lightning is made of, apparently. Rootkit imagines it feels something like that.

The power lying dormant in his veins leaps forth eagerly at his call. It swells like a crescendo of sound, rushing out through his paws into the ground.

Rootkit focuses on the grave with every fiber of his being and wills it to summon its spirit. "Russetfur!" he cries out.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then, something shifts.

It's like a hole is briefly torn through space; instinctively, Rootkit reaches in, grabs something, and drags it through.

Beside him, Needlekit gasps. "What the heck was that?"

But her voice is wavy, distorted. Rootkit opens an eye and finds his world is tilted sideways. Needlekit makes a high pitched noise that scrapes its claws across the most inner parts of Rootkit's ears.

"M'fine," Rootkit mumbles. His words are slurred, he realizes distantly, because half his face is pressed into the dirt.

Needlekit jabs him. "This is no time for sleeping, Rootkit. Did it work?"

Rootkit blinks. For a moment, he has absolutely no idea what she's talking about; then, the memories start to flood back. He narrows his eyes, remembering the feeling of hooking a soul on his clawtips like a fish. "I think-"

He's interrupted by an infuriated caterwaul that drowns out whatever he was going to say.

"What is this?"

The cage shakes as its captive throws her entire weight against the wall, but it holds steady. The herbs have done their job; even a ghost can't pass through.

Needlekit laughs triumphantly. "It's bad kitty jail for bad kitties!"

Russetfur snarls back something absolutely obscene and proceeds to attack the inside of the cage with a ferocious determination. At least, Rootkit thinks she is; it's kind of hard to tell since they can't actually see her.

"Can she get out?" Rootkit wonders.

"No," Needlekit says at the same time Russetfur snaps, "You bet your kittypet hide I will."

Rootkit blinks.

"Literally," Russetfur adds. "Because I'll strip it off your back to line my nest."

"Oh." Rootkit drops his head back on the ground. The dirt here is very comfy, he realizes. Maybe he should just sleep here from now on. "Yeah. That was kind of unclear."

"It'll become very clear in a few minutes, runt. I'll even give you a demonstration."

Needlekit leans against the cage with a smirk that probably would have been infuriating, if Russetfur could actually see it. "Don't worry, Redpelt, you're clear as crystal."

Rootkit freezes. Even the scraping sounds coming from inside the cage cut off. "What was that," Russetfur says suspiciously. "Did you just-"

"Keep your spirits up," Needlekit says. "I'm sure you'll be back to your old haunting grounds in no time."

Rootkit tries to slam his head into the ground and discovers that it's really much harder to do when you're already lying on it.

Russetfur doesn't say anything.

"What's wrong, ghostie? You're as silent as the dead in there."

Then a translucent ear rises out of the ground right next to Rootkit's face and he screams loud enough to be heard halfway to Riverclan, probably, and scrambles out of the way. Needlekit screams, too, and then Russetfur is climbing out of the ground like a corpse emerging from its grave.

She shakes herself off and grins down at them with more teeth than a cat should rightfully have. "You forgot to ward the bottom," she says. Rootkit makes a very small sound that definitely qualifies as a whimper. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

All the fur on Needlekit's body has bushed out so she looks twice her size - which, compared to the full-grown warrior before them, is almost nothing. She's shaking like a leaf, but undaunted, she spits at Russetfur's feet. "Drop dead!"

Rootkit could kill her.

In a blur of movement, Russetfur pins Needlekit to the cage wall with one paw. "I admire your spirit, kit," she hisses. "But if you want to sass me, you're digging your own grave."

That's it. Rootkit has had enough. That is the final stars-damned straw. "Shut up with the stupid ghost puns, I swear to Starclan," Rootkit screams.

The wind rustles gently in the treetops as the two she-cats stare at him.

"The next person to make a single stars-cursed ghost pun, I am going to snap your fleabitten neck. Is that clear?"

Needlekit makes a stifled noise muted by the heavy paw slowly crushing her windpipe.

"Ah." Russetfur looks to be considering it. "Would you say we're dead m-"

Rootkit makes a very aggressive series of throat-slitting gestures.

"...you've got your father's spirit in you, I see."

"I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it," Rootkit snarls.

That gets her attention. Russetfur's eyes widen, then narrow. "Oh?" Her voice is considerably less friendly.

This is where it gets tricky. Rootkit's at a disadvantage - he's just seriously ticked off a relatively powerful ghost with a grudge against his relatively powerless clan, she's got his sister by the throat, and his only bargaining chip is a bluff. But there's an opportunity somewhere here; he just has to navigate a very prickly, very dangerous minefield and pray he doesn't blow them all up.

Time to channel his inner Tree. "Look," Rootkit says, in his best diplomat voice. "Clearly, we both want something here, something that we can provide for each other. What do you say we make a deal?"

Russetfur narrows her eyes and tightens her grip on Needlekit. "I don't think you're in a position to bargain, here," she says.

"On the contrary." Rootkit raises a paw. "I am in every position to offer a deal... as you just experienced yourself."

Russetfur scoffs. "What could you possibly have to offer me?"

"Your life."

That gives her pause. "If you could exorcise me, you'd have done it already."

Rootkit gives his best imitation of her knife-sharp smile and proceeds to lie through his teeth. "What do you think we were doing just now?"

The ghost narrows her eyes and says nothing.

Rootkit seizes his opportunity and plows onward. "You don't want to be exorcised, and we don't want you in our camp. So here's the deal - you leave and we don't follow." The last few words are growled out, like Leafstar whenever someone threatens the clan.

It's very intimidating, in his opinion, but it doesn't seem to have an effect in Russetfur. If anything, it only seems to make her angrier. "I won't sacrifice my honor as a Shadowclan cat to run from a bunch of kittypets," Russetfur snarls, leaning closer. "Even if you kill me again, I'd sooner die fighting for my clan than kowtow to some coddled housepets."

Rootkit grits his teeth. She hasn't called his bluff, but they can't have her running loose and hurting people. Think, Rootkit! "Another deal, then," he says. "If you won't leave the camp, then you just can't hurt anybody."

"No deal," Russetfur snaps.

"That's the final offer," Rootkit says coldly. "Under no circumstances are you allowed to hurt or injure any Skyclan cats. I'm not going to compromise on that point. And you can't really afford to bargain, anyway," he adds with a shrug. His heart is pounding so loudly he's almost sure Russetfur can hear it. "If you don't, I'll just summon you into the cage again and exorcise you for good. Or who knows? Maybe we'll leave you in there for a while. And this time we'll cover the bottom." He finishes with the nastiest, most hateful smile he can muster - which isn't particularly difficult, right now.

Russetfur goes silent. He can practically hear the gears in her brain ticking as she weighs her options. There's clearly only one real option here; he just hopes she isn't too prideful to take it.

"Fine," Russetfur growls, voice so low he has to strain to hear it. "Fine. I agree to your terms." The hatred seeping from her voice is almost palpable.

Well, the feeling is absolutely mutual. Rootkit dips into a little bow and bares his fangs in a farce of a smile. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Russetfur disappears into the air, leaving Needlekit to slump to the ground, wheezing. Rootkit waits until he's certain the ghost is gone before sinking onto the ground himself, body shaking with all the fear he couldn't allow himself to show before. Holy crap.

"Are you," Needlekit begins, then cuts herself off with a raucous bout of coughs that makes him wince. "Are you... okay?" she whispers hoarsely.

Rootkit makes a high-pitched, keening noise before breaking into nervous laughter. "No, no, not even a little bit. Oh, Starclan, I can't believe I'm alive, I thought she was going to kill us both. Oh stars..." he trails off with a giggle and buries his face in the dirt.

They lie there for a couple minutes, the silence broken only by Needlekit's wheezing and Rootkit's trembling.

"I want Mom and Dad," Needlekit whispers.

Rootkit couldn't agree more.

#warrior cats #warriors fanfiction #wc #wc fanfiction #warriors #rootspring #needleclaw #russetfur #tree #leafstar #violetshine #now that the general premise is done #everything from here on out is stupid ghost shenanigans #you know #if i ever get around to writing them

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myheartmightexplode · 5 years ago

Text

Tarsus iv

Summary

Big, black holographic letters before a plain white wall. A name seared into his memory like a fresh burn scar that itched, stung and roared when touched, followed by the most bullshitty question he had ever heard, in neat, 20 % transparent letters:

TARSUS IV - Were Kodos' actions defendable?

Anyone who has ever been in a class, has usually met that one guy.

'That one guy' is the guy who, without fail, doesn't arrive a second before he has to. And after a week or so of finding the barely-in-time arrival annoying, you just get used to it, and stop paying it attention altogether.

Therefore, no student really cared when one infamous James T. Kirk deftly slid into the auditorium to the beep of an attendance card and the hiss of the doors sealing shut behind him. This was also why his best friend, Leonard "Bones" McCoy, didn't have to follow his eye roll up with any kind of comment; as Interspecies Ethics 241 approached its end, any snide comments he could come up with had all been said once or twice before.

Neither he, nor Spock - a vulcan exchange student that decided to stay behind on Earth after his semester was up, and also the only of Jim's bedroom encounters with aliens that stayed tangled in the sheets - started when blonde hair and a cheerful grin climbed not as much as leaned over the two back rows of the auditorium and shoved them apart, to press an out-of-breath kiss to green-tinged lips.

"C'mon, Bones, move over."

Bones let out a snort. "If you wanna sit with the cool kids, you gotta be on time." Jim opened his mouth to complain, but was cut off with a sharp, "it's full, Jim! Go sit in the back."

Respect and discipline was two values which Starfleet Academy held highly, so when the guest lecturer started speaking, Jim merely gave his friend an ugly look and struggled himself into the back row, splitting up a couple of friends.

He hadn't unpacked his bag or sunk into his not-nearly-cushioned-enough-but-apparently-ergonomic seat before the lecturer announced the theme of his lecture, and in the same breath, captured Jim's attention like no teacher could ever hope to do.

TARSUS IV - Were Kodos' actions defendable?

He stood, and gestured for the girl next to him to stand. When she didn't react, merely cast a look at him that asked him how stupid he was or what he was on, he grit his teeth and shoved past her, probably painfully crashing into knees and stepping on toes and backpacks on the way, but with a numbing anger, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Affronted, their teacher rose from her seat next to the controls to the holo, hissing an accusing "Cadet!" as the door next to her opened with the internal override.

Not turning away from the lecturer, who busily continued as if nothing had happened, Bones scoffed at the vague shape in the corner of his eye of a fellow student flipping the bird on their way out. Some people just had to make a scene.

When the class ended, Bones turned to see that Jim had run ahead of them, which, though uncharacteristic of him, wasn't surprising. Bones knew better than to expect Jim to act a certain way; the guy always ended up doing the exact opposite. Whether it was because he liked to fuck with people's heads, or it was just in his nature to be unpredictable, Bones had yet to find out.

Spock didn't talk a lot unless prompted to do so by Jim, so the walk to the absolutely packed cantina was a silent one. Traveling through Monday morning hallways was a game of pinball with not-quite-awake latecomers and last minute crammers reading up on whatever subject their test would be on, which meant that securing a table was a privilege of the students quick to exit class. Neither Spock nor Bones rushed needlessly, so the discovery that Jim had secured a table for the three of them was a welcome one.

How Jim had already acquired lunch as well, though, was a bit of a mystery. That Bones got an avoidance rather than an answer when he asked as much was even more of one.

"Sorry. Just had to run ahead," he answered, attempting to fit half a sandwich in his mouth and not chewing thoroughly before gulping the chunk down in a manner similar to a bird of prey in a hurry. "I skipped breakfast this morning, so I was— I'm—" Jim cut himself off with an odd expression in favor of shoving more food into his oral cavity.

Bones stared expectantly. "Starving, Jim. You can say it if you try hard enough," he teased. Spock, as per usual, misunderstood him, and saw his chance to demonstrate his knowledge to his inferior human companions.

"Indeed, it is not a word considered 'taboo' amongst humans, especially since a famine has not occurred since late 21st century, due to advanced—"

"The fuck it hasn't. Just because Vulcan and Earth has a limitless food supply, it doesn't mean that the rest of the universe is as lucky."

Spock didn't appear offended, but something about his face made it clear that he didn't appreciate much being interrupted and belittled in the same sentence. Leonard assumed that his own face was just as expressive.

"'The hell, Jim? We're talking about Earth, not the rest of the universe. What crawled up your ass and died?" He would probably be amused that Jim had managed to eat half his lunch with an impressive three bites, but was a bit too busy feeling secondhand offense from Spock when all Jim saw fit to answer with was a scoff. "Don't get all touchy over Tarsus IV. 'S only a week long subject."

Spock suppressed an instinctual wince as James' metal chair scraped over the stone floor, creating a noise that cut painfully into his ears.

"I forgot my PADD in the classroom," he stated, abandoning his lunch as he collected his jacket and bag, throwing over his shoulder as he went: "See you in Nonverbal Communication."

Spock had, and suspected McCoy had as well, seen his beloved store away his PADD in his bag as they were approaching his acquired table, and therefore immediately revealed the statement to be invalid. What reason Jim would have to make the untruthful statement, however, Spock didn't know. He decided to voice as much. "I am struggling to understand the human tendency of 'lying white.'"

"White lies, Spock. It's 'white lies.'" Bones was torn between wanting to laugh at the vulcan, and buy him an educational book on FSE expressions, but thoughts of Jim distracted him. He sighed. "Yeah, me neither."

The day after, Jim was wholly absent from class. Spock would easily admit that he did not understand this sudden behavior of James'. While his 'boyfriend' might certainly not be the most logical of humans, he could always be trusted to do his very best in every situation, and always 'come out on top.' While often absentminded, always listening. While perpetually late, never did he skip class. Unless he was not feeling well?

Jim had taken up the habit of always calling Spock sometime between 23:48 and 00.07 every evening, which meant they had half an hour for talking before Spock begun his meditation. Their nightly conversations were illogical, as they rarely had anything of importance to discuss that could not be discussed at another more favorable time, but most nights, they provided Spock with a sense of calm, which aided him in his meditation later, and he felt himself growing fond of them in a way that surely was not vulcan.

There had been no such call the previous night, and as Jim always was the one to start the conversations, Spock had taken this as a need for privacy, and refrained from calling Jim himself.

Now that the classroom doors sealed shut, preventing latecomers from disturbing the rest of the class, Spock was left unsettled. McCoy, beside him in the same seats as the previous day, looked around the room, restlessly.

Seeming not to find what he was searching for, he settled down with notes from the previous lesson in front of him. "Probably slept in," he mumbled, as the lecturer started speaking.

Unsure of how to put words to his 'gut feelings,' Spock kept quiet.

Tarsus IV was an uncomfortable topic, and also one of the reasons that Bones wasn't all that fond of the big, black, star spangled silence up there. After all, Earth was a very safe place to live, with everything you needed at least somewhere nearby, and a lot of safety nets if something should go wrong. Serving on a star ship, or at a base somewhere on a barren planet several lightyears away from civilization, you had no safety nets. Limited supplies and death in all directions.

And still, the only place he truly belonged.

Even if Tarsus IV reminded him just where he was going and how bad an idea it really was, he kept a straight face and his fingers steady when they broke up in groups for discussions, listened to witness descriptions and took notes during the lengthy lecture on theories and controversies on and around the still touchy subject. The lecturer treated the whole topic tastefully, theorizing rather then concluding, which was a rare find, as most people seeking to comment on the incident either were theorists who painted it as a cruel massacre and wholeheartedly believed Starfleet to be behind the whole thing and Kodos still alive, or professors who had found proof that everything had gone to plan, and no innocent life had been stolen.

Bones did find the guest lecturer interesting, but not half as much as Spock, it seemed. He had attempted to mock the vulcan for it, but black eyes had turned to him sharply, and merely stated that "the conflict between logic and ethics is extremely fascinating, and Dr. Durmeg seems to have conducted thorough research, with valuable findings that may be the most relevant information pertaining to the discussion of Tarsus IV ethics." Sometimes Bones wondered why he bothered.

The walk towards the lunch hall was less obstructed on a late tuesday, and for once, Spock elected to talk during the whole walk. Bones didn't know if the vulcan brain allowed vulcans to process more information at one time than the human brain did, or if it was just Spock, but the young man had come up with some 'extremely fascinating' theories that had Bones wondering if he shouldn't be right up there beside the lecturer.

He wasn't done talking when he reached the table that Jim - mysteriously - had captured a second day in a row. Gracefully sliding down into the chair opposite his boyfriend, Spock busied himself with his brought, vegetarian, lunch.

"It is most unfortunate that you missed this class," he said as he released the smell of a vulcan salad from its container. It seemed to smell pleasing to him, but Bones felt mildly nauseated by the odor. Unaware of his friend's discomfort, Spock elaborated: "The Dr. Durmeg expressed interesting and valuable viewpoints on the Tarsus IV crisis."

Jim's vague hum seemed to confirm the statement, and discourage rather than encourage an elaboration, but the tone was either lost on or ignored by Spock.

"Indeed, he made some quite convincing arguments that Kodos' action were entirely justifiable—"

"Nothing about Kodos is justifiable."

Spock seemed to consider the statement for a second, tilting his head. "Had you attended class—"

"We're through."

"I beg your pardon?"

Jim stood, locking his PADD and putting it away. "We're over, Spock."

And in the next second, Jim was gone.

Spock tried, futilely, to grab onto a sensible thought that would explain these actions. He turned to McCoy.

"I am not entirely sure that I understand the full meaning of this particular human—"

"He…" Bones narrowed his eyes at the hallway where Jim had disappeared. "He just broke up with you."

He hadn’t slept for days, hunger gnawing at his insides as if his body could eat itself inside out and survive that way, dull teeth scraping at his nerve endings as he felt as if he had a black hole inside of him that was pulling at him, rendering him immobile and whimpering.

Tara had fallen to her death, slipped somewhere she should’ve been safe but wasn’t because she was sluggish and blinded by the gnawing, and Yvonne had fallen asleep, but not woken up the next morning or the one after, and now they were down to ten, ten almost- and just-barely teenagers, nine who should’ve been safe in their beds maybe even with their parents by their sides if they were lucky and hadn’t decided to throw away the fact that they were so blessed as to be chosen for the sake of saving one single blind passenger, save him for nothing because now they were all going to die, all alone and hopeless, now that the darkness came and stole him away, as he passed out because he was too hungry and too cold and too hurting to fall asleep but his body couldn’t take anymore and—

Jim didn’t awake with screams and moans anymore, mainly because the nightmares didn’t plague him any longer, but also because they weren’t as much nightmares as bad memories, and if there was one thing Jim didn’t do, it was linger on the past. However, the experiences left him shaking, cold and with a wave of nausea washing over him as he stretched out under the sheets, just to feel the soft cotton all around him, just to forget the sensation of wet, dirty, sandy clothes clinging to his body.

The room was completely dark, but the window let in a slight shimmer of blue light that caressed his desk, the spines of the books in the book shelf, the night stand and the empty right side of the bed. With a shaking breath, he reached for his cell phone, ignoring the glaring numbers of the display in favor of thumbing through his programmed contacts, not trusting his voice to carry the voice commands correctly.

It wasn’t until his thumb rested over the name so dear to him, that he realized what he had actually done not too many hours previous.

Releasing the device with a sigh, he curled back up under the cold sheets, staring at the insides of his eyelids. Spock wouldn’t be mad, Spock would probably understand and brush it away as emotional human behavior, and act as if nothing had happened, but the sudden realization that he had broken up with Spock left him inexplicably shaken, to the core, and feeling alone and very small and like he didn’t belong.

If he didn’t cry himself to sleep, it wasn’t because the black hole in his chest didn’t hurt.

"I don’t think I’ve seen you worried before."

The observation wasn't anything but that: An observation. Interestingly enough, seeing as almost every reference McCoy made to his behavior came in the form of an insulting attempt to, presumably, elicit an emotional response.

In the same fashion, Spock voiced his observations on Jim's behavior, and the questions it had raised within him.

" I don't delude myself as to think I have gotten him pinned down, but as I've for a while studied Jim's behavioral nature, this sudden 'breaking up' seems to me unmotivated and uncharacteristically not thought through. Additionally, I have come to the conclusion that this could be related to the current lecture subject and our discussions of it, which leaves me 'puzzled.'"

Leonard cringed visibly from the strange, if not audibly painful mixture of informal and formal federation standard english. "Keep working on your colloquial english, Spock. Anyway, would've thought vulcans didn't worry."

Spock opened his mouth, to answer one remark or the other, Bones assumed, but was interrupted by the lecturer's arrival. He thought he might've caught a glimmer of disappointment in those expressionless eyes as Spock sat down next to him, swiftly entering vulcan notes into his PADD ("quite logically, seeing as the experience would not only ensure easier and more correct recalling of the lesson, while simultaneously provide exercise in FSE to GV translation.")

The belated beep of the attendance card distracted him, though, and he turned in his seat to face his romantic partner - his boyfriend - who again had arrived barely on time, his appearance speaking of an insufficient amount of sleep. Beautiful blue eyes sought his, and Jim sent him a tight smile.

When Spock returned his smile (or what he hoped came across as one) with a slight nod and warm eyes, Jim could finally breathe out, and try a happier expression. He sunk into an end seat in the back, and drew out his PADD.

He didn't particularly want to be there, but then again, he didn't particularly want to be single any longer than he had to, (although he was pretty sure Spock had no idea what "we're through" meant anyways.) So he tuned out everything else, and started drafting up an explanation that wouldn't set off Spock's internal lie-detector, or leave anything for his vulcan curiosity to latch onto.

An hour passed by without making itself known as Jim debated family problems, insomnia, existential crisis, hell, even male PMS, and he had a good thousand words worth of half-assed stories when he became aware of the silence. Not break-silence with co-student chattering, not lecture-silence with the lecturer mumbling to himself during stops in his presentation, not note-taking silence with tap-tap-tapping on PADDs. Just silence.

Worrying that he might have been asked a question he wouldn't have the faintest idea of an answer to, he drew a breath, and looked up.

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't the gazes of a hundred and fifty six students, one guest lecturer and one teacher simultaneously directed at him.

He sent a look at Spock and Bones, fully intending to have them explain what was going on via eye contact, but the sad, pitying? look on Bones' face, and Spock's suddenly calculating eyes made him wary.

Turning his eyes to the front of the auditorium, his mouth went dry, and the black hole returned.

Spock returned his eyes to the hologram that had put a stop to the lesson.

Younger, thinner, paler, more haunted, hair dirtied by dust or dirt and with barely discernible tear tracks burrowing their way down a blank face, stood his boyfriend by a rescue shuttle, the Platon, the first shuttle to touch down on Tarsus IV after the Kodos incident.

The hologram was highly pixelated and taken from a low angle, and this, along with the folds of clothing that obscured the motive, suggested that a compact device had been used in secrecy, to obtain the picture. Had anyone seen it be taken, the photographer would likely be reprimanded, and the picture deleted. It should have been deleted, even if it was not discovered while it was being shot. Wouldn't there be witness protection? Wouldn't someone be hired to ensure that any picture of such nature was deleted from—

Opening classroom doors spurred him from his somewhat hysterical inner debate, and before he really was aware of his actions, he had packed up and went out the door, chasing Jim's hastily retreating back.

Leonard, on the other hand, was rooted by the sudden revelation, and didn't retrieve control of his limbs until the doors swished shut behind Spock.

Swearing under his breath, he, too, rose from his seat. Every step he made towards the door and every number on the override code felt incredibly awkward and loud in the silent room, but awkwardness wasn't really what was on his mind at the moment.

Sinking down into a corner of the fire evacuation staircase, Jim didn't really feel much. There was the insane, pressing pain in his chest and burning in his eyes, and maybe he twisted his ankle on the way here, but it felt as if his mind was just a floating mass, incapable of holding a thought, resulting in a buzz, like a wrongly configured communicator. He became aware of an arm snaking around his shoulders, uncharacteristic of Spock, and a warm hand massaging his shoulder, very characteristic of Bones, and maybe it relieved the pain a bit, or maybe it didn't.

He let out a puff of laughter. "I drafted like…" He did a headcount. "Fourteen different lies to tell you."

Spock needed no further explanation. He cocked his head "I think the appropriate expression is: 'Truth will out.'"

Jim neither corrected or laughed at the erroneous use of the saying, and instead snorted out a quick "maybe."

Leonard ground his teeth, rubbing his best friend's shoulder in what he hoped was a soothing manner, while he tried to sort out his thoughts before his mouth could spew something that went unchecked by his brain. 'I'm sorry' were the most pressing words, but they were lame, and Jim would probably appreciate them as much as he appreciated a fucking hologram that confirmed him as one of the nine Tarsus IV survivors being stretched out over the holoscreen in front of a whole class of starfleet cadets.

It wasn't very surprising that Jim was the first one to speak, because there wasn't a whole lot to say. The words surprised all of them though. Including Jim himself.

"I wasn't supposed to be on Tarsus IV," he confessed, grabbing a random thought out of his head and pulling it out of his mouth. And when he started talking, everything else came detached, easily:

"I snuck onto a ship to get over there. I was just so sick of Frank and Winona and Iowa that I figured I'd go somewhere they couldn't get to me. Somewhere they couldn't just… Go act all worried in front of the police and get them to haul my ass back into the house when I wanted to be alone."

He blinked repeatedly to clear his vision again, and dared a glance up at the two best people in the world. They radiated endless patience and comfort, and something that the black hole didn't take, blossomed in his chest.

"Uh… I was in eight or ninth grade, and there was this summer camp, or school, I guess, over at Tarsus IV. An advanced academical course for kids and language courses for parents and guardians, and everyone would live in really cramped houses. I was bored out of my mind with regular school, so I really wanted to go, but Winona wouldn't take me, and hell would freeze over before I took Frank, and I obviously couldn't go alone, so I snuck aboard the ship."

The three of them were all sitting down now, and even if he leaned a little heavily into the arm that was still slung awkwardly around his shoulders (he appreciated the gesture too much to shake it off, even if it felt strange,) it felt like they were just hanging out, talking about whatever crossed their mind. Even now that there was only really one thing on their minds.

"I hid in the room of my classmates on the ship over, and hacked into their databases while they were still unprotected to put my name into the class. I still had to hide in Thomas' closet when we got to Tarsus, though, because I couldn't figure out a way to assign myself some sort of housing, but you know. It just became a kid's game. Hiding from the parents, unless I wanted to be sent back home. Class was challenging, but that's what I went there for, so I had a really great time.

"I guess you know what happened next." He shrugged. "Food went bad, communication lines went down and Kodos decided it was time to play god. Fuck, he had like, a screen to relay public announcements on, and at first, we thought it was really funny in a very pretentious way, but…"

Jim didn't realize he was crying until a salty tear ran down into his mouth, and when the taste hit his tongue, his throat started tightening up. "Just, seeing a huge face of some guy who you really, really trusted before, because he was the fucking governor of the colony, saying that you and you and you have to kindly go die…

"This guy in my class, Kevin Riley, his parents were on the dead list. What kind of monster kills the parents of a kid, and expects the kid to go on fine?

"…When they rounded up the people who were going to die because their 'existence represented a threat to the well-being of society,' it was kind of obvious that he favored kids over adults. I have no idea what he was trying to do. Build his own society, I guess. I think he just wanted to see what he could make us do.

"Anyway, they made all the people on the dead-list gather together, and people were holding onto each other and kids were trying to get through the energy field when they managed to separate all of them. And then, in one second, they were all there, and in the next, everybody had just disappeared. Not a trace there'd been anyone there. I guess we were all in shock, because no one started screaming or anything, and I was just thinking that I was really lucky that I wasn't on the living-list, because it meant I'd sure as hell not be put on the death-list."

Jim chucked darkly. "God, I'd just thought the thought, and the moment after, the peace keeping forces, peace keeping, yeah right, they point their phaser rifles at us, and Kodos isn't looking nice anymore, and he just says that 'there are some blind passenger on Tarsus IV,' and my blood just froze. I was sure they knew who I was and where I was, and I had no idea what to do. He started saying something about how even one more person alive would mean 'slow death to the more valued members of society,' and we kids just panicked. I don't know how many of us there were, but someone pulled me along, and half my class started running for anywhere else. I can't even remember where we hid, I just remember trying so hard not to get caught.

"We had to hide away for one and a half weeks. They fed the 'valued members of society' in a closed area, and no one got to bring any food out, so we tried to find food elsewhere, but it just wasn't ever enough, and god, I thought a day without food was bad, but that was just hell. Freddie from our class gave up after a while and ran to Kodos' soldiers to get some food, but I don't know what Kodos told them, that they had to obey him or something unless he'd kill them, maybe, but they just took him somewhere, and he never came back.

"We hid around the housing area for another half week and I thought we were going to die that one day, but suddenly, someone got the communication back up working, and they signaled starfleet to come and rescue us, and I guess Kodos heard about that, because the soldiers just started firing away at everybody, so we just, we ran away as far as possible from any building we could see, so we hid in some unfinished buildings, and Tara fell off the top of the building and died, and Yvonne and Mark just stopped waking up after a couple of days of hiding."

Suddenly, his words came like a rush, as if he couldn't get them away from him, out of him, fast enough. They tasted like poison on his tongue.

"They found us, two soldiers, or three I guess, and they fired at random into the building, so we found some crates to hide in and under and behind, but Linn wasn't fast enough and she disappeared, and Thomas was just barely, by a hair fast enough to only get half his face blown away when we ducked. We hid away for three hours just holding our breath and not making noises, and then we had to take off our t-shirts to press them against Thomas' face so he wouldn't bleed to death. I have no idea why we didn't just let him bleed out, because it was just naïve and stupid to think that anyone would come to our rescue after all that time, but they did, they did, and…"

He doubled over with a choked sob, and both Spock and Bones were there to catch him, embrace him, rub at him and warm up his shaking, inexplicably cold body.

"I don't know why I'm crying," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm over this. I left it behind. It's so, so long ago."

"Bullshit," mumbled Bones right back. "You'd have to be made outta titanium to just leave behind something like this."

"Sharing worries and 'venting emotions' seem to be an effective way of dealing with such problems, Jim. There is no shame in attempting to relieve your pain."

He shook his head. "Four people died because of me. Possibly five."

Warm lips pressed to his temple. "And I grieve with thee, Jim, but--"

The warmth in his chest was back, and the black hole felt as if it had lost it's strength. Even as he untangled himself from the unbelievably emotional display, he felt comforted. He smiled, mainly to himself. "No one's ever told me that before."

"'Bout time we did, then." Bones stood, and offered a hand, which Jim took.

"Let's get to lunch," he said, patting his friends' backs decisively. "Let's count the stares I get when we get to the cafeteria."

Bones thought Spock looked vaguely amused, and saved the visual for future reference. However: "Your face is all red and puffed, by the way."

Jim started rubbing furiously at his face, which probably wouldn't help at all. "Shut up, Bones. Your face is red and puffy. What happened to 'you did a great job, Jim?'"

"I'm a doctor, not a psychologist. I've dashed out enough comfort today," he snorted. "Time to get you to act more like Jim always-arriving-late Kirk and less like a wuss."

"Hey, I don't always arrive late."

"Yeah, you really do, actually. You're gonna be late for your own funeral, someday."

"You're like the worst friend ever. Spock, tell Bones that he's the worst friend ever."

"As I have not yet befriended every person 'ever,' as you say, I cannot ascertain that he is the worst friend ever."

"Spock, you're the worst boyfriend ever."

Spock merely raised an eyebrow at the accusation, tuning out the inevitable jab at Jim's 'taste in men' that Bones was very likely to make. Instead, it seemed impossible to tear his eyes away from the wide grin that spoke warmly of the human trait of getting through anything anyone 'threw their way.'

#star trek #spock #kirk #sprik #tarsus iv #fic

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ris-harp · 4 years ago

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The Rest is Silence: A Deaf Hamlet Story. Chapter 2

This was the first board meeting where Hamilton didn’t sit next to his father. His father wasn’t there. He was dead.

When he lived, his father used these meetings to train Hamilton and teach him how to lead the company. He had always ensured his successor could see all the important mouths, but the new CEO didn’t even give him a seat at the table. His change in status as the chief executive step-son earned him a chair in the corner of the room staring at the dandruff-dusted shoulders of Mr. Paulard’s ill-fitted blazer. Hamilton’s fingers itched to spell out one last secret message to his father about Old Man Paulard.

At the head of the table, Klaus, the new leader of Dane Enterprises, leaned on his elbows listening to the noise coming from the star-shaped phone in the middle of the table. Beside Klaus sat Hamilton’s mother. They held hands. No decency. This was a board meeting, not a honeymoon. Hamilton’s fists tightened. Klaus’s thumb caressed the glittering diamond on his mother’s finger.

He forced himself to look at Klaus’s lips instead of his offending hands. “So if you — — message to your guys in Norway, Valdez, tha — — great.” Klaus’s stare was firm and cold to offset the seeming gentleness of his hand.

The speakerphone garbled a reply, but Hamilton didn’t understand any of it. It probably went something like “Yes Mr. Danes. We will, Mr. Danes. Your boots are delicious, Mr. Danes.”

When he was alive, the true Mr. Danes had an imposing shape and stature. He was over six feet tall with broad shoulders and bulky arms like a pit bull. Though his build could incite fear, his eyes only reflected loyalty and love. This villainous imposter inhabited a similar body but had deep-set deathly eyes that tried to instill fear in everyone they glared at. Hamilton wasn’t afraid. He saw the bug-eyed chihuahua that yapped and trembled within the hulking body.

The chihuahua yipped again. “Laurence, did you have something to — —?”

Laurence Paulard. Old Man Paulard’s son. His purple silk vest shimmered as he stood up beside his snow-capped father. Hamilton ground his teeth and craned his neck to see Laurence’s lips.

“Yes, Mr. Danes.”

« Mr. Danes? Not here. » Hamilton signed with a flat expression. Klaus scowled. He didn’t know a word of sign language, so Hamilton had grown accustomed to his confusion.

Laurence continued. “I’d like to be in charge of the Paris project.”

Hamilton didn’t look to Klaus to read his reply. He just waited for Laurence to respond.

“Well as you well know, I’ve spent a significant amount of time in Paris—.”

« Well as you well know... » Hamilton mocked in sign language before switching off his hearing aid and melting into his seat.

In blissful silence, he fidgeted with the band of father’s old golden watch. It had belonged to his great grandfather, Hamilton Danes I. He pictured his forefathers. Black and white. Glaring into the flash of an ancient camera bulb. The second hand ticked with the rhythm of his bouncing leg. After a minute, he fell still, becoming one with the chair. Senseless furniture blessed with the ignorance of non-existence.

Thump thump.

The floor vibrated under his feet.

Hamilton looked up to see his mother and Klaus staring at him from the head of the table. The meeting had ended, and the three of them sat in a nearly vacant boardroom.

Klaus’s mouth gaped open and closed in silent shouts, “Hamilton, I asked you—.” Klaus took in a breath. “Why you’re still acting like this.”

« That doesn’t help. You know that, right? » Hamilton arched an eyebrow. « Still deaf as hell. »

“Gertrude, darling, what is he saying?”

She didn’t interpret. Hamilton wasn’t sure she could.

“Ham, sweetheart,” she spoke slowly and clearly. “You really should try to be happier.” Her hands brushed her chest to sign « happy » without rhythm or confidence. “These black clothes, gloomy attitude all the time. I don’t think I’ve seen you eat since you came home.” She signed « eat » and « no ».

She was right. He hadn’t had a full meal since his father’s death. It wasn’t because he hadn’t tried, but his stomach felt like it was made entirely of knives. Every time he sat down to eat proper food, they stabbed him until he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

“And you’re picking at your nails again.” She pretended to groom her pink plastic claws with lowered eyebrows and pursed lips.

He wiped a spot of blood off his index finger and went back to playing with his watch band.

“— — worried about you, sweetheart.” She leaned in, eyes glistening like she was an actress on Absent in the Spring.

“You’re a dutiful son.” Klaus put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “— — honoured by your dedication — — to my dear brother’s memory — —.”

Hamilton fought back a snarl. His dear brother hadn’t even been in the ground for two months, and he had already married his widow.

As for his mother? Hamilton was incredulous.

A memory burst to the forefront of his mind. Hamilton watched his parents lean against the railing of an observation platform as Verona Falls surged below them. Wind gusted. Hair and water whipped at his mother’s face. With a gentle touch, his father tucked a rogue strand behind her ear. Their eyes crinkled and their lips curled. He pulled her into an embrace and kissed the top of her head.

There had been so much love there. It was the kind of love that grew and strengthened every day. How could she have fallen for this poor replica of his father?

He rubbed his eyes, desperate to stop violent grief from clouding his vision as Klaus continued to shout.

“— — when your grandfather died. I — — sad. I don’t think I left the house for a week afterwards. And when his father died — —”

This man didn’t love her. Not like she was used to. Not like she deserved.

“It’s time — — normal life, lad.”

She floated to her feet and over to Hamilton. “You should stay with us, sweetheart. At least while you’re not feeling well.” She signed « sick ».

Sick? Is that what this was? A cold virus?

Kneeling in front of him, she placed her silky hand on his. “Maybe take a semester off.” « Please ». Her eyebrows rose and the corners of her mouth tucked in.

A whiff of spiced rum assaulted Hamilton’s nose. Klaus’s lunchtime drink of choice. Hamilton pulled his hand away.

He watched his mother’s heart break. Her eyes grew wide as she reached after his hand.

Hamilton’s heart cracked, too.

He sighed. « If it will make you happy, I will consider it. » He nodded and mouthed the words for her as he signed them.

A tear fell down her cheek as her eyes squinted with the hint of a smile.

As angry as Hamilton was with her, he loved to see that smile. If his staying would make her happy, maybe it would be worth the extra time spent in close proximity to his uncle.

Klaus came over and offered his hand to Hamilton’s mother. She took it and stood.

“I’m glad you’re home. I hope you’ll decide to stay.”

She leaned in and kissed Hamilton’s forehead.

Without another word his mother and her new husband walked away hand in hand, leaving Hamilton alone in the meeting room.

He closed his eyes and saw a bolt of lightning burning through the skylight above him. Molten glass rained down as a jolt of electric power buzzed through his body, burning his life away. Hunger, fatigue, sorrow, anger, and hatred gone with a single well-aimed lightning strike. Was that too much to ask?

Thunder, like an answered prayer rumbled through the floor.

His eyes popped open to see a dashing gentleman in a three piece suit stomping in the corridor. Not god’s divine mercy. Hamilton’s closest friend.

Horatio stepped through the doorway with a flourish and a bow.

« My most noble Lord Hamilton Harold Wilhelm Danes IV! » Horatio’s hands moved like a gentle breeze on a shadeless summer day.

Hamilton smiled. « Please. Call me Hamilton. »

« Of course. Ham it is then. » Instead of Hamilton’s proper name, Horatio used the sign for pig.

Hamilton groaned. He hated that nickname. Thankfully, only his mother and Horatio were brave enough to use it in his presence.

« Always I am your humble servant. » Horatio bowed again, smirking.

« You don’t know how good you have it. »

Horatio cocked his head and furrowed his brow.

« It's good to see you, Rato. » Hamilton retaliated with Horatio’s own hated nickname. « Real. I haven’t had a real conversation since I got here. »

They embraced, and a wave of reassuring calm trickled down from his head to his toes as he shared a breath with his friend.

With a heavy sigh, Hamilton held Horatio at arm’s length. « You’re here in Elsinore why? What the hell? »

« Sometimes the big city is too much. You have to leave. Go to the bountiful remote lands of the wealthy elite. You know? »

« Your law degree. What about that? Are you still trying to finish? »

« What? I’m skipping classes. You know, because I’m a total hardcore badass. »

« Bullshit. » Hamilton chuckled as he hopped up onto the boardroom table and took a seat.

« You’re right. It’s fall break. » Horatio shrugged and took a breath. « Why am I really here? I came as soon as I heard about your father. Sorry I missed the funeral. »

« It’s okay. Did you make it in time for my mother’s wedding? » Hamilton rolled his eyes so hard his vision blurred.

Horatio sneered. « That did happen really fast. »

Shrugging, Hamilton proposed, « Maybe they were just being thrifty?»

« What? »

« The leftover mini-sandwiches from the funeral probably tasted great at the wedding. »

Barely holding back a smile, Horatio pursed his lips.

His friend’s smirk warmed Hamilton almost as much as the imaginary lightning bolt, but he remained silent and still. He sighed. « Sometimes I see him. »

« Who? »

« Father. »

« What? Where? » Horatio’s gaze darted around the room like he expected the walls to close in.

« Anywhere. Everywhere. He’s in my head. When I look at Klaus, I see a cheap knock-off version of him. I see him in the shadows. I see him in the mirror. I hardly recognise myself, but I see him. He’s everywhere. And at the same time, I know I’ll never see anyone like him ever again. » Rubbing his temples with his thumbs, Hamilton tried to erase his father’s image from his mind.

Horatio regained Hamilton’s attention with a wave. « I saw him last night. »

« What? »

« Mr. Danes. »

« Save your jokes for Frank and Bernie. »

Hamilton turned his attention back to his watch.

The table thumped as Horatio pounded on it with a fist.

« I’m telling you, Ham. I saw him. Last night. »

« Stop. For real. I’m not in the mood. »

Horatio grimaced. « I didn’t believe it either. Not until I saw it. »

« Ok. » An angry lump rose in Hamilton’s throat. He ground his teeth and waited for his friend to continue.

Horatio leaned in. « Last night, I went out to the gate with Frank. At first, I thought he was full of shit. But after a few minutes, there he was. »

« Bull. » Hamilton rolled his eyes, but a strange hopeful disgust germinated in the depth of his soul.

« I’m not joking! » Horatio insisted.

Sincerity glinted in Horatio’s eyes.

« He saw you? »

Horatio nodded.

« Did he talk to you? »

« I tried. He didn’t talk. Stood there. Pale. Like he was made of gas.»

Hamilton tried to imagine his father’s spirit. He remembered Halloween when he was only ten. His father popped out from behind the hedge with a white sheet over his head. A terrified Hamilton stabbed him with his costume pirate sword.

« But he was different. »

« What do you mean ? » Hamilton arched an eyebrow.

« Imposing. Desperate. »

« Very interesting. I’m sorry I missed it. »

« I don’t think you missed it. » Horatio shook his head.

Hamilton raised an eyebrow.

« He’s appeared every night this week. » Horatio continued. « Frank and Bernie have both seen him. There’s a good chance you could see him tonight. »

His father. The ghost of him. He had told Hamilton once that ghosts were ungodly abominations. His jaw clenched. He rubbed his thumb on the crystal of his watch.

« Fine. Take me to him. Is Frank on duty tonight? »

Horatio nodded with a snarl.

« Damn. That guy’s a tool. »

« True business. »

Hamilton contemplated his watch’s golden second hand. He would give anything to see his father again. But the ungodly abomination of him? He looked up and arched an eyebrow at Horatio. « You will come with me? »

« Obviously. » Horatio signed while looking at his watch. « First I’m going to get some food before. Want to come ? »

Knives slashed through his rumbling stomach. « No thanks. I’ve already eaten. »

Horatio glanced at Hamilton’s midsection and raised an eyebrow. Thankfully, he didn’t press for the truth. « You will probably want a coat. »

He turned and left Hamilton alone in the boardroom.

The second hand ticked in an endless loop.

#deaf #asl #american sign language #hard of hearing #deaftlent #hamlet #shakespeare #william shakespeare #fanfic #fiction #fantasy #writer #author #writing #sign language #the rest is silence

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thenarcolepticone · 6 years ago

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The Problem We All Live With

By TheNarcolepticOne

Day 3: Festival ( @aphfallfandomweek )

(AO3)

Summary: It’s almost the end of the Summer semester into the Fall, and every time Ivan minds his own business, there’s always someone to ruin his quiet hours and relaxation time. Always. Hogwarts!AU. RusAme.

Pairings: RusAme

Warnings: None

A/N: So since I’ve gotten my life back together after about a whole year of financial planning, I’ve finally just decided to post this fic that is LONG OVERDUE by literally 365 days. I know it’s been a while since I’ve even written anything really for anyone but I only just hope that you’ll forgive me, @trueshun , for being so late to the exchange for the @rusame-secret-santa-2017. I had a lot of money problems during the first half of this year, and I only hope that posting this can be my apology to you for such an incredibly long wait. I want this to be a kick off a start to the fall by being able to finally get everything I’ve owed to others done, starting with you.

Hogwarts around the semester break usually indicated a significantly reduced amount of students and faculty; a perfect time, in Ivan’s opinion. The count had only become noticeable only a week before the end of the semester and Ivan had honestly preferred the rest of the silence that followed that trend instead of having to deal with idle chatter.

He was not a talkative guy, and he was thankful for the fact that his somewhat foreboding appearance made him a less than likely target for most conversation starters. It stemmed from the fact that in between being the awkward Russian exchange student and English as his second language, he’s also a bit on the shy side. Socially, might he add. But academically? Ivan figured he could make Arthur Kirkland shut his annoyingly ‘smart aleck’ sounding voice and make him sit his ass down with a 10 minute lecture on runes. Ivan was very forward when it came to defending his knowledge on what he studies, given the chance and motivation. (Ivan liked to think toleration of the stupid population as ‘conserving mental energy’)

“What the heck are you doing?”

The stray voice caught Ivan entirely off guard, and he overshot the stitch he had planned, with the needle going straight into his thumb in a single motion.

Ivan cursed loudly, immediately pulling the sharp object out of his thumb and putting the wound right into his mouth to try and prevent it from dripping onto his clothes. It was a stupid mistake, of course, and not that being pricked by a needle was the worst thing to happen in the middle of knitting.

But what sets the icing on the cake for today is the gaze Ivan meets: the illustrious Alfred F. Jones of Slytherin peering down at him from halfway down the stairs and not at all really caring too much about the suddenness of his entrance.

Ivan seethed privately when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching him. Ivan doesn’t look up again when he looks down, hoping perhaps he could instead just scare Alfred off with pure, obvious irritation. He takes the thumb out of his mouth, wiping it absently on his robes before going back to continuing the rest of what he started. It’s only about the length of an arm and a half, but Ivan had planned to finish the rest of the yarn by the end of the year. It’s supposed to be winter, but there’s still leaves present all over the ground. A new scarf was in order.

“I’m talkin’ to you, buddy.”

Well, that plan quickly didn’t work. Alfred sat next to him without much mind to anything else around him other than what Ivan was holding. He seemed to just keep his gaze on Ivan, with that aura of his that reeked of extreme obnoxiousness.

How Alfred managed to appear alone the way he is, without his posse, is a sight that is rare to catch and unnatural to witness. Ivan sighed.

“What do you want, Jones? I would rather not have to deal with any tricks you plan to pull.”

Alfred immediately put his hands up, as if he was trying to show that he had nothing up his sleeves.

“Hey man, listen. I’m not here to play any tricks, okay? M’just dyin’ to start a conversation with literally anyone here.” Alfred crossed his arms. “Place is empty. And the only person other than that loopy cat dude is you.”

Ivan raises an eyebrow. Hercules was not a bad person to talk to, in Ivan’s opinion anyway. Ivan was a lot worse with conversations.

“I will take that as a compliment? But even still, I would not rather be the speaking partner of someone who sees me as a convenience.”

“Ouch,” Alfred winced. “Given, that’s kinda half true. But can’t it kill for you to open up once and awhile?”

The two were different. At least, in Ivan’s eyes. For instance, it was entirely normal to catch Ivan alone in the corridors or working by himself in the library or sitting in the Grand Hall eating his meals. But Alfred is his opposite in every aspect; Alfred was welcoming and approachable with a grand smile on his face that was infectious. Meanwhile, Ivan was timid and reserved. Alfred was the Slytherin house Seeker while Ivan was well known for his exceptional grades in all of his classes (particularly in herbology).

If the two of them were ever caught together in any context, it would bring to mind the infamous first year rumor, where in which, it was discussed that Ivan being placed in Hufflepuff and Alfred being placed in Slytherin was the result of a botched prediction from the Sorting Hat.

Ivan came off as brooding often times, which was a Slytherin trait, but it didn’t quite mean that he was always with the intention of wanting to intimidate everyone (though, Ivan admitted, this did come in handy on multiple occasions). And Alfred being the charismatic people’s spokesman wasn’t characteristic of someone who would fit under the stereotypical ‘Slytherin’ student. But the two were similar in that way, Ivan supposed. Outcasts of their own houses.

Alfred’s voice nudged him out of his thoughts.

“So. I asked what you were doing. Looks like you’re making something.”

Ivan gave a big sigh. He finally relented to this conversation.

“A scarf. My old one is falling apart.”

“Huh,” Alfred looked at the yarn. “You’re knitting it?”

“Yes. You are also sitting on the string.”

“Oh sorry.”

Alfred stood up briefly to correct himself, just as Ivan took the opportunity to just continue working on his scarf. He’s started the yellow again after finishing the black. And Alfred just seems to be engrossed into the movements of the needles, quietly watching as he adjusted his glasses. Another rare moment that Ivan counts.

“This is kinda long wait for just making one scarf,” says Alfred after a while, still watching. Ivan didn’t not stop. And Alfred didn’t shut up either.

“Magic is faster. I don’t really see why you’d want to continue working on it with the way you’re doing it. I can get why a muggle would need to be able to knit like this, but you’re a wizard.”

Ivan stopped and met Alfred’s wide, sky blue gaze. It’s not a phrase meant to insult, it seemed. But Ivan turned to see his expression now; it was a phrase meant to stem out of Alfred’s own genuine curiosity. Tactless. But honest.

Ivan exhaled slowly. “I am a half-blood. And just because I am half does not mean that I necessarily do this because my mother is a muggle.”

“... then why do you do it then?” Alfred pressed. He scooted closer. “If that’s not the reason?”

Ivan feels like he’s being choked by the questions. They’re ignorant ones. And Ivan doesn’t know if he wants to hold in the rest of his colorful vocabulary or just continue on with this passive stigma. He felt his heart pound, and his frown deepen. Ivan opened his mouth to try and speak before immediately stopping.

Then again, Ivan realized. Another valid reason for this lack of knowledge might come from parents who could be pure-blood conformists. Not that Ivan like assumptions. But Ivan didn’t believe that Alfred could have bad intentions for asking, despite being that blunt with his comment.

“It is...well,” Ivan cleared his throat, trying to think of the best way to formulate it. “Magic is faster. But sometimes, when you complete tasks very quickly, you do not see the… true magic behind it.”

Alfred snorted. “It’s not magic though.”

“No. Not that kind of ‘magic’,” Ivan explained, glancing back at his work. “I mean, the magic of work. When you feel the calluses on your fingers. The strain of having to make sure everything is perfect from beginning to end for a week. And the feeling of… completion when you finish. I do not think your wand can make you feel the same way.”

Alfred furrowed his brows. “I still don’t get it.”

“I would not expect you to. You are not the kind of person with patience.”

“True that. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t wanna get it.”

To this, Ivan to looked at him. Alfred only shrugged

“So why are you still here during the semester break? Because if you are trying to sympathize with me, it is not working.”

“Nah,” Alfred laughed. “I don’t got time for that. I’m only here because my parents don’t normally have the free time. We don’t hang on my sem breaks, and not even in the summer. They’re always workin’ hard. The ‘don’t come home for the holidays’ kinda.”

“Oh,” Ivan frowns. “I am sorry.”

“Hey, just cause I got time for your sympathy doesn’t mean that I’m taking it.” Alfred huffed as he rolls his eyes. “Why are you here? Family afraid of you or somethin’?”

Ivan feels his heart clench at that, and he almost drops the half completed scarf as he glares at Alfred. Alfred winced when he sees Ivan’s expression.

“Too far?”

“You should leave.”

“Well, I mean I would but,”

“You should leave.”

“Iv,” Alfred insisted again. Ivan is fed up at this point, but he has no energy to continue asking Alfred. Ivan instead begins to pack his things, regretting that he should have just stayed in the Hufflepuff common room instead of the library.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Alfred said hastily, standing up with Ivan. “I-I didn’t mean to be like that. I’m an idiot sometimes. But I’m just really...I’m just curious.” God, Ivan wasn’t sure if Alfred’s tone was genuine or that he had mastered the art of vocal genuineness. “You’re always by yourself when you’re not around your sisters. I’m just…well.”

“Your point?” Ivan snapped.

“Don’t you get lonely?” Alfred prodded. “You know? I… I’m not sure how you could be okay with that, I mean. You’re just always by yourself. And even when people try to talk to you, you don’t want to be around them. I just don’t get it.”

Ivan raises an eyebrow. “That’s two things you do not get.”

“Shut up. You know what I mean. I just wanna be friends is all. You’re pretty cool, according to Toris. I wanted to see that myself.”

Compliments were the last thing he expected from Alfred. But Ivan just exhaled loudly through his nose instead.

“Hogsmeade has a mini festival today,” Alfred said, trying to convince him. Which wasn’t working really, but Ivan couldn’t help but now become curious himself.

“And why bring me?”

“Dunno,” Alfred said with a grin. “Maybe it’s because you’re running out of yarn.”

Ivan looked back at his stash. And in fact, Alfred was right. He hated Alfred being right.

“Fine then,” Ivan sighed. “I’ll come with you. But you owe me for making me prick my finger.”

“Okay, yeah. Maybe I spooked you enough,” He offered a hand to him, smiling again. “But I mean. I just want to spend some time at least. I wanna know more about the guy who was supposed to be a future Slytherin.”

Ivan smiled wryly at that. “And I would like to know more about the Hufflepuff reject.”

“Okay, rude.” Alfred laughed. “But whatever. I’ll meet you at 4:00pm in the Grand Hall.”

And as Alfred headed for the stairs (he noticed the boy skipping childishly like he had asked his crush out on a date), Ivan thought to himself to start buying more yarn in green.

#my fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #hetalia #rusame #rusame-secret-santa-2017

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dgst395blog · 7 years ago

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12.13 - final reflection

(Please note that there are hyperlinks in my blog posts to my slideshows/posters/etc.)

Well, there's another year gone by. This was my final semester here at UMW, and I was super excited to get to be in a DGST class. Although I'm an English major, the digital world is one that I love and consumed me during my college career.

I took DGST 395 because I loved 101 so much. I touched on this in class when talking about grading/class structure, but I wish we had done more hands-on stuff like we did in DGST 101. I think the main difference was that we were more group-oriented and student-lead discussions this year.

While sometimes it's fun to teach the class, I honestly found my classmates to be rather unreliable. At the beginning of the year, half of my table didn't even have the book we were reading. I'll admit I skipped a few chapters, but I always made sure I knew what I was talking about on days I had to present.

(1: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/165365821388/week-2-904-908-i-taught-my-first-lesson-on

2: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/165365825793/week-3-911-915-i-taught-my-second-lesson-on

3: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/165851272068/week-4-918-922).

I also had paper copies of my notes that I read off of during class. I would scan these in, but honestly I recycled them earlier in the year, not even thinking about doing a reflection. Sorry, but I promise I had them! However, even the people at my table that read the book didn't understand what was going on most the time, and while class discussion helped, I think the novel may have been better as a non-introduction piece.

When we started talking about programming, I once again was disappointed in my group. I made slideshows for all my presentations

(1: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/166291775518/week-7-1009-1013-this-week-i-taught-my-first

2: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/167085349113/week-9-1023-27

3: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/167085363513/week-10-1030-1103)

and uploaded posters on time, but I really just didn't feel that my group cared. My first presentation on Strings, I only had Dr. Whalen and one student. And that student reviewed me as the wrong Stephanie (even though I spelled my name on the slide...) I also noticed that when I was teaching, I felt like my table was more interested in their laptops. When I taught one of my subjects, a girl at my table was assigned to do the same one and asked me to go first. I did, but then she didn't teach anything and said, "Oh, you covered it all."

It was also super stressful to be "taught" with no visuals. The people who just briefly talked about their subject really taught me nothing. When learning about programming, I think it's really important to at least try examples or show an example. I also felt that some people didn't even read their chapters and just relied on YouTube. I also noticed that some people at my table didn't buy the book. Again, this was stressful because I knew they didn't know the material, but I was also peeved because I paid for the book and they always just wanted to use mine.

I really enjoyed making my presentations and felt that I included enough examples and supplementary details that my group understood what I was talking about. I earned mostly 5′s on my reviews (https://airtable.com/shreouhcFrTIF5XOJ), so I feel like I did explain my material well. I just feel like I didn't learn much from most of the other students. I mentioned it in class, but some of these presentations were probably lackluster because there was no real accountability for these people. Teaching my project was fun, and I had another table come to my table for it. I actually really enjoyed this, because the other table asked me questions and I felt like they were actually engaged with my tutorial, whereas my table had their heads in their laptops. (https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/168257196383/week-14-1127-1201-this-week-i-presented-on). Some of the other people in the class had really nice presentations too, but I was kind of disappointed in how serious some were vs. others. Maybe I took on too much for my project (as I feel like it's never ending), but all some people did was make a Snapchat filter.. I liked the idea Dr. Whalen mentioned in class that everyone should have done a portfolio. I would have enjoyed that, and for some reason never even thought about it during the course.

Breakdown:

(As the syllabus says, my notes are in bold)

The Big Project (35% of total)

Since you're designing this project, you'll also define the criteria for evaluating your efforts and ultimately the success or failure of the project. At a minimum, your evaluation criteria must recognize and assign value to at least these four components:

Proposal // Turned in on time (https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/166350737223/project-proposal-for-my-big-project-i-would-really)

Progress Report 1 // Turned in on time (https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/166710174158/progress-report-1-what-are-you-working-on-ive)

Progress Report 2 // Turned in on time (https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/167194403348/progress-report-2-1-what-are-you-working-on-ive)

Final Reflection // Turned in on time (this post)

(There’s no mention of Progress Report 3 in the criteria, but here it is, also turned in on time)

I would honestly give myself a B/B+ on my big project. It's a BIG project. I've been working on it for months and there's still no way I've mapped every verified Twitter user. Although I know the project is due at 11am today, I'll probably continue to edit this thing until the end of time. I literally have a folder full of data I still need to process digitally. But I love this project, so I want to complete it, but I don't even know how many verified users exist. I tried to Google it, but couldn't find anything finite and I've hit my 5,000 following limit on two accounts, so I know there must be over 10,000.. I'm not even sure how much data Kumu can hold, but I'd really like to keep pursuing this project. I almost wish I had picked something finite, but this is truly something I'm passionate about (I have no idea why, but I am), so I'm glad this was what I went with. Big Project Blog: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/168502991938/the-big-project-text-challenges-text Big Project: https://www.kumu.io/stephcookie/twitter-map#twitter-map

Teaching (40% of total) You'll do this eight times in total, so each of those teaching days is worth 5% of your overall grade. Your grade for each individual teaching session will be determined in a self-evaluation informed by feedback from your peers.

I think I 100% deserve an A in this section. I planned all of my lessons in advance, showed up for my lessons, and taught everyone in a way I felt was fully comprehensible. (According to Cnavas, we only did this 7 times, not 8?) 1: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/165365821388/week-2-904-908-i-taught-my-first-lesson-on 2: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/165365825793/week-3-911-915-i-taught-my-second-lesson-on 3: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/165851272068/week-4-918-922 4: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/166291775518/week-7-1009-1013-this-week-i-taught-my-first and https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1LQO8p-QO9V_GmwUgwHSF3l4LESiy7Ti_umpwDox_5mg/edit?usp=sharing 5: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/167085349113/week-9-1023-27 and https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1zH69MSGWh-Rh8rtZ2zHFWpP_vc05KwBQFGe_VyCdYss/edit?usp=sharing 6: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/167085363513/week-10-1030-1103 and https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1-be2e49rC7auv8yPh0NEnLxJEsQ854-0kQxxDlgIvLw/edit?usp=sharing 7: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/168257196383/week-14-1127-1201-this-week-i-presented-on and https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1XmKouhkoKQTHtptUUroz_AQH9IMbUEnL_JPr9GWCKYE/edit?usp=sharing

Programming Manifesto (10% of total) This is a statement you'll prepare (in text, gif, video, or whatever format you prefer) as we set out to learn some programming together. You'll revisit and revise this manifesto a few weeks later.

I also belive I deserve an A in this section. I did both the manifesto and re: manifesto on time and I feel I reflected on the original very well in the second version. Manifesto: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/165971153533/manifesto Re: Manifesto: https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/post/167510475728/re-manifesto-after-working-closely-with-the-book

Learning Journal (7.5% of total) Somewhere public (like a blog) or private (like a Google Doc), keep a weekly reflection of your work for this class and your learning processes as you navigate the various challenges that will come up.

I believe I earned an A in this section as well. While some blog entries are longer than others, I kept track of what we did all year, and did it in an organized manner. While I didn't build a new blog and design all the html myself, I still maintained a public blog for this class, even it was a tumblr (they’re just so easy to use!, and I could blog right from my phone after class). https://dgst395blog.tumblr.com/

Participation (7.5% of total) Work with and encourage your peers, both in person and online. Give them helpful feedback on their teaching, and provide supportive critique on their projects.

I'd say this is another category I'd give myself an A- or a B+ in. I did miss a few classes, but never on the days that I was meant to teach or present. I Slack messaged Dr. Whalen once or twice about being absent, but I never got a reply and someone at my table said they never did either, so I just asked my table what we did on each day that I missed. The only classes I remember missing substantially was the Monday and Wednesday(?) of Fall Break, as I was in New York, but I did mention this to my table and Dr. Whalen in advance.

I felt that I was active during group discussions. I feel like I raised my hand and contributed at least once each time whenever we had a big group discussion. I also checked Slack constantly, having notifications on my phone. I commented on people's posts when it felt relevant, and I feel like I was a good tablemate and offered valuable feedback throughout the semester to my peers.

So overall, I think that I deserve a B+-ish. I feel like my big project took on too much, but I want it to succeed so bad. No matter how I tweak it, it feels incomplete and scattered, but I have so much data, I can't let it fail. The data contained in the map now has so much effort in it, with dozens of hyperlinks in every description. I just need infinity time to map every relationship.

However, I definitely think I was one of the most prepared teachers in the classroom. Or at least compared to my table. I can't say it enough that I was disappointed in my table's performance regarding teaching. I don't want to call anyone out, but reading the book as you're presenting is a horrible sign that you have no idea what you're talking about. I think my participation could have been a little better, but I feel like I definitely had an established presence in the class and felt like I was giving good feedback to people when they needed it.

Thank you for the course, Dr. Whalen. I really do enjoy digital studies and while I wish some things had worked differently within the class, I enjoyed the course overall.

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