#i was like halfway through class and I was trying to clean out a discord server that had a shit ton of unread messages

[sweet-herba-mystica-archive]

Accidentally joined Discord VC event one dead several injured.

[goldieballerina]

we made it to the midterm!! things i've learned since starting college

under the cut because it got really long

you're going to get locked out

you're going to forget your towel when you go to shower

make sure your professors know you -- office hours, emails, and answering questions during class are great ways of doing this

everyone says not to take 8ams. you might be able to. this is a personal thing

everyone told me i would learn to like coffee in college while pulling all nighters. i haven't had coffee and i haven't pulled an all-nighter.

homework may be assigned a week or so before it's due. if you start working on it the day it's assigned, you can stop and start when you get bored without worrying about having to power through to submit on time

^^ this is true for nearly every assignment format

if you have to write a paper or something, get your first draft down as soon as possible and then shut the document. open it the next day to start editing and refining

don't use easybib for bibliographies, they make you disable your adblocker and then it's like unusable (check if your school gives access to noodletools, and if not, gdocs has a fairly good citation thing under "tools")

clubs are fun and generally low-commitment! go to some! you can join halfway through the semester if you want! they can have nothing at all to do with your major and are a good way to unwind a little

sports games are similar! and i say this as someone who isn't a big sports fan, but see if you get free student tickets and check out a game (i watched my first hockey game last weekend and it was super cool)

you're going to have to download so many apps (some of them you will use all the time, some will be useless. download them all and then delete the ones that don't work)

same thing with discord servers

make sure you have some way of scanning things into pdfs

don't assume anything in your dorm room is clean until you've cleaned it yourself

get snack clips (i haven't done this and i need to)

your professors are human and are generally very understanding that sometimes Life happens and you can't make it to class, need to leave early, or miss an assignment deadline (they will likely be even more understanding if you have made yourself known to them and/or stayed on top of attendance and classwork)

don't skip class if you can help it (yes it will be tempting. no don't)

there are people there to help you academically, mentally, and physically -- use these resources!

i never work on calc homework alone anymore - i go to the tutoring center so that when i have a question i can put my hand up and get it answered instead of getting frustrated

if you type your notes keep them all in one doc so you can ctrl-f for keywords when studying easily (use heading to keep track of which days/topics they are)

you're going to make friends, it just kind of happens

check out what events might be happening where you can do cool things/get free stuff or food (my uni has therapy dogs come once a month and my friends and i always go)

if your school has a bus that goes off-campus, figure out where it stops and make use of it for things you need but can't get on-campus

eat vegetables (sometimes this gets away from me)

stay up to date on vaccinations

giving blood is a great way to get free food and sometimes other rewards

call the people you care about

figure out where you like to study

try to stay on speaking terms with your roommate

if you carry a reusable water bottle, wash it regularly

pick a random time you have free to do laundry (everyone wants to do it on sundays - figure out a time where you have a 2-3 block of free time and do it then)

don't go to parties alone and especially don't get drunk/high at parties alone

you can take a deep breath and shut your computer off if you need to

if you have a lofted bed get a shelf to clamp onto the side (especially if you have glasses and things you like to keep right next to your bed)

keep on top of washing your bedding and towels

you can say no to dates you don't want to go on

time flies, i know that's a cliche but it genuinely feels like i've blinked and made it here

you can do it

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

And we’re back! There’s definitely some themes that come up in this chapter that will be echoed going forward, so I’ll try to point them out and explain my thoughts on those a bit. Other than that, I think this is a two-part chapter, just based on an initial skim, and we’re technically in the second ‘arc’ of the series, according to the BNHA wiki - though I have chosen to shove everything before the USJ into the ‘opening arcs’ tag for ease of tagging, since it’s really all just character / setting introduction before getting into the action.

[No. 5 - Smashing Into Academia]

So we get to see most of the top ten scores - Katsuki in first place with all villain points, and Izuku in seventh with all rescue points. We also see some other familiar names: Kirishima (2nd) with 74 points, Ochako (3rd) with 73, Shiozaki (4th) with 68, Tenya (6th) with 61, Tetsu^4 (8th) with 59, and Tokoyami (9th) with 57. I think we’ll get to see the others later, but for now, I’ll just look them up for ease of confusion: Kendo (5th) with 65 points and Awase (10th) with 56 points. So yeah, talk about your high scores!

This raises a few interesting thoughts:

First off, I know that Horikoshi had initially intended to put Shiozaki in class 1a, but either forgot or ended up deciding she wasn’t suited for it, thus the reason we see her name here but don’t see her until the Sports Festival. Also, I like how he uses the cutoff of the 5th and 10th place in order to fit in more 1b students when he comes up with them - it’s not a trick I would have immediately thought of myself, but it makes sense, and gives a good sense that it’s not just 1a dominating in these sorts of events.

[Discord: its cuz her hair was a pain to draw, which like- mood]

...though that then leads to the question of how certain members of 1a and 1b got in with their quirks. Like, I appreciate all of them, but some of the kids just… yeah, I’m not entirely sure what they could do. I suppose that just makes them particularly clever for getting in, which isn’t a shock when the bar for entry is high. 

I… am also surprised Kaminari isn’t higher up there, considering his zappy zappy could take out a whole field of them… though possibly also the people nearby him if he wasn’t careful. I suppose with those scores all in the fifties to seventies, though, even if he took out like thirty or forty points worth, it still would only be enough to get him in, not as a high score.

...speaking of high scores, Ochako only got rescue points from saving Izuku, which is what got her third place overall despite not even hitting thirty villain points. With how high the first ten spots were, and with there only being thirty-six spots overall, there’s a chance she might have missed the cut entirely and have not gotten in if she hadn’t pushed herself to save the person who saved her.

This is a running theme that I’ve noticed about Izuku’s character and narrative effects - he’s not All Might, who makes people feel safe with his presence. He’s not a larger than life figure who stands between villains and the rest of the world. What he is is a plain, unassuming kid who will push himself to breaking in order to save someone, in order to win. And in doing so, we see him in turn inspire others to act, because if this plain, unassuming fanboy can do it, why not them as well? I mean, hell, that’s how he got his quirk!

Recall this? It’s something that we see again and again in the series, something that I think is the core of Izuku’s character development and something he needs to realize in order to really come into himself as a hero and as a person. His greatest strength - that capability to become ‘the strongest hero’ like he desires - isn’t in One For All or in his fighting prowess, but in his ability to inspire others to become better versions of themselves, to push themselves just a bit more, and in so, those ripples end up saving more people and improving the future, one person at a time.

Izuku grew up in a world where his greatest heroes were the Symbol of Peace and (his) Symbol of Victory. While it’s not a title I think he will ever take on in full - I think part of the endgame of the series will be to move on past reliance on a few Symbols to ward off evil and have everyone work together to build up a better world - I do believe he really encompasses the ideals that would make him a Symbol of Hope to Japan and the world. As Hope, he’d give others the belief that they could reach out and be given help, that someone would be there for them if they asked - and, I would like to think, he’d be able to make that world together with his friends and allies, once everything is said and done.

Anyways, I sort of. Got rambling there. Uh. How far are we? One panel? ...ehehehe…

So we get the next two panels, which is the staff discussing Katsuki and Izuku - opposite ends of the spectrum. One got in with only villain points, the other with only rescue points. They note that Katsuki was able to keep going for the whole ten minutes, where most other students were slowing down by halfway through. A true endurance monster. Izuku, on the other hand, is noted to be the first in a while to take out the gimmick, even if others have stood up to it before.

(Also, I love Mic’s ‘kid just makes me wanna go yeah!’ What a mood.)

Hah, they also note that his backlash is like a kid getting a first glimpse of his power, plus how in every other way he looks like a typical failure. However, Mic and… some other staff member (possibly Midnight, I want to say? It makes the most sense) just like Izuku and aren’t so worried about that, while Aizawa chills in the back and thinks they’re all being noisy.

We transitioned to Izuku and Toshinori, 8 pm the night Izuku got the acceptance letter. Izuku is crying as he basically shouts All Might’s name, and Toshinori spits blood and basically has Izuku cover his tracks since, surprise, there are now other human beings here! 

Toshinori that can’t be good for your health oh my god.

But yeah, apparently the news that day (or any point that week, probably) is that the beach was cleaned up by some mysterious do-gooder, so now it’s a good place to go on dates again. I know Izuku said no one came by there (chapter 2), but still, it feels weird to think no one noticed anything at all over the entire ten months Izuku and Toshinori (sometimes as All Might!) was there, especially since I think they were at other parts of the beach when Izuku was doing swimming training? 

I mean like, what about the people who were illegally dumping their trash there? The people who have to cut through there because it’s a shortcut to get home? The people who get lost and accidentally stumble across it? Random villains trying to use it as a hideout or stash for their loot while hiding from the police / heroes??

Ah whatever, it is what it is. Toshinori congratulates Izuku on passing and gives him a high five.

Fucking hell that’s so cute, I already have it saved as a reaction image I love it so damn much. But yeah, Toshinori hasn’t mentioned his relationship with Izuku to the school (though I know this isn’t true because Nezu and RG know… though that might not have been until after Izuku passed and he knew Izuku was going there.) 

Izuku appreciates not having to worry about favoritism, and is excited for Toshinori being a teacher at UA. He asks if that’s why they’re meeting at the beach despite All Might’s office being at a very precise address that Toshinori cuts off. Toshinori then says he couldn’t tell anyone until the school made it public knowledge, and that he’d take the job while looking for his successor.

Izuku remembers that Toshinori mentioned he’d been looking for a while, and that he’d have been looking among the students. Izuku thinks about all their amazing quirks and raw talents, and stares at his hands as he brings up how he broke after a single use of the quirk and that he can’t wield it. Poor boy, no self-worth or realization of how impressive his first use was…

Toshinori points out that of course it’s not an immediate success - if someone suddenly grew a tail, they wouldn’t be able to do tricks off the bat. Izuku asks if Toshinori knew this would happen, and Toshinori says there wasn’t enough time, but everything worked out all right… or, well, All Might. 

What a fucking dad, that was a dad joke, I am so done. Someone stop this man. 

Anyways, Toshinori bends down to pick up some empty spray-paint cans, which shows that while the beach is clean, there’s still a lot of small junk and broken glass and stuff left to clean up, which I imagine was either something Izuku did during the month and a half between the exams and the beginning of the new school year, or something the community ended up doing once they all were coming there. 

He tells Izuku that it’s all for nothing for now, but once Izuku figures out how to regulate it, he’ll be able to put out just what his body can handle - and that the more he temperes his vessel, the better he can control the power. All Might then crunches those cans in one fist, which he’s really lucky they’re empty, or else he’d have gotten paint everywhere. (Would have been hilarious to see, though.)

But yeah, All Might makes the comparison of passing on the Olympic flame, and how the new torch burns weakly at first, but that the trials to come will fan it. 

The same couple on the pier notice All Might and ask where he came from, and All Might panics, running off, with Izuku following confused yet dutifully.

God that running pose is fucking hilarious I am cackling. 

But yeah, he notes that his own flame will wither and die, with his duty fulfilled. I like how you can just see that couple trying to make their way from the pier to try and catch All Might. 

Anyways, a short post, but the next page gets into spring and the beginning of the new school year, so I figure it’s better to cut it off here. Besides, I spent a whole page and a half rambling about characterization and narrative echoes, so shoosh.

[lutrain2020]

Meet the Creator!

Introducing: Squido!

Commission:  I haven't and don't really intend to. I don't want to take anyone's hard-earned money. Just ask me to draw things and there's a good chance I will.

Social Media:  Tumblr: @sky-squido​ AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido/pseuds/sky_squido

Tell us a little bit about yourself!

Call me Squido! I love to draw and write but I'm also super extraverted and I love interacting with humans so always feel free to chat with me! Aside from drawing and writing, I just love being outside and have a tumblr sideblog dedicated exclusively to nature photos I take. I love mountains, the ocean, the sky, and just about everything else in this beautiful world of ours! If you ever feel like having an internet stranger give you a thousand word rant, ask me why my favorite color is blue and you will not be disappointed!

What got you into creating? what inspires you to keep creating?

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember and can't seem to stop, though I take long breaks sometimes I always seem to come back to it again. I try not to have anything in mind when I draw, but to start sketching and let the drawing happen. Sometimes I find that what I'm trying to draw is not what my drawing wants to be (if that makes any sense) and change what I'm making halfway through. It makes drawing a really relaxing and carefree therapeutic experience! Writing is different. I've always enjoyed writing, but I didn't write much and never shared my writing with anyone because I thought it was super pretentious. It wasn't until entering High School and joining the literature club and making a deal with a friend that we'd share our writing with each other that I actually gained any sort of confidence in my ability and sought to improve it. Being in that club and sharing my pieces at the open mics was a really encouraging experience! I invite everyone to share their writing, even if it's with some random internet stranger (I'm open anytime!) if they're unsure of their abilities. A little encouragement goes a long way! Now that I'm on Discord, ao3, and tumblr, I receive so much more feedback than I ever have before! It's been super encouraging! What inspires me most is definitely nature. Even if my ideas aren't directly related to the outdoors, I get my best ideas there. Fandoms are also a great idea generator. The sheer volume of headcanons and prompts is enough to make me dizzy with ideas!

What's your creative process like?

I love sketching. My favorite thing about drawing digitally is that I can sketch as much as I like and never worry about wasting materials! Often times my sketches turn themselves into drawings without permission and other times they stubbornly remain sketches for all eternity. I always dive right in because I have no patience and the idea I started out with generally isn't that great but in the process of pursuing it, it spirals out of control and sometimes the idea gets better and sometimes it gets worse but I just kinda roll with it. Creating is a really chill process for me and while I regularly scream stuff like "I'M DRAWING ON THE WRONG LAYER NONONONONONO" or "NO HECK FRICK SHOOT IT SMUDGED HECK HECK GET THE ERASER QUICK," the creative process is a great way for me to unwind. I'm the same way about writing. I never plan or outline and just kind of roll with things. I mean I generally have the basic jist in mind, but I try to not have a plan so I can keep the story driven by the characters and not force them into acting the way I wanted them to in the outline I made hours or even days ago. Creating is my opportunity to break free so I don't really see what good a plan or outline does me. I'm a pretty spontaneous person!

What kind of mediums do you like to use?

I like to take pictures, but it's not really my main focus. I've been mostly digitally drawing—I use my iPad Pro and Procreate—but lately I've been pencil sketching with just your average everyday mechanical pencil (I'd forgotten how nice the texture of paper was! Clearly I spent too much time drawing on my iPad!). I have these Stabilio chalk pastels I love to pieces, but have also spent a great deal of time with watercolors. Digital is my primary medium currently, though.

Is there a specific scene wrote that you are particularly proud of?

"Sky’s golden scales are glowing with reflected light from the sun while beneath them, the same pulsing blue in her mane runs like a river as her very skin is alive with electricity. The sun’s beginning to dip, fading through the color wheel from yellow to deep orange to scarlet and the world is bathed in watercolor and hue shifted through the rainbow until all that was blue becomes red. This new alien world begins to darken as red fades to deep purple-pink, the clouds catching last vestiges of gold in their pillowy folds, yet Sky continues rippling with lighting, the bright blue flowing like blood through her veins and the gold shimmering in the eerie azure glow. We weave through the winds and zephyrs and I close my eyes and let the breeze caress my hair and when I reopen them, I’m standing back on the ground again in a world long since darkened by night. I place my hand over my beating heart where Sky is still laughing with joy and smile because once you’ve awakened your dragon, you don’t need wings to fly anymore."

Is there someone who inspires you and your writing or art?

Every fanartist and fanfic writer that posts their stuff online is an inspiration to me. Even if their stuff isn't very good—especially if it isn't very good—it's a huge testament to the courage of the creator and their bravery in expressing themself! I sat on fanfic and fanart for years and never shared it and here were kids half my age putting out art that was their first experiment in a new medium and a little shaky but it was still out there and they were still being supported by the community and that really inspired me to reach out and stop lurking in fandom and actually get involved!

is there something that you struggled with that made you grow as a creator?

I feel like everyone has these periods where they were just gaining confidence in their artistic ability but suddenly everything they make is trash and they're not happy with any of it and they feel so down and worthless and "where did all of my hard-earned ability go? Will I ever get it back?" I think this is a pretty common experience and when I find myself there, I find it most helpful to share what I make anyway, even if I hate it, with someone who I know will give it to me straight because they'll point out the deeper problems—the root of the issue—that I hadn't even noticed and I can use that information to grow as an artist. Bad pieces are just as valuable as good ones. There was also a time where I had a lot of trouble developing a style. I did a lot of experimenting and never found anything I liked. What happened is I just kept drawing and whatever popped out eventually evolved into my style. I used to get frustrated that I couldn't draw anything without a reference, but after years and years of using references and drawing some of the same things over and over again, you won't need the references anymore. I mean, they're great and you should always feel free to use them, but over time, you won't need to look up a picture of every little thing you try to doodle.

What got you into writing or art?

My silly twitchy fingers can't ever seem to stop drawing! Same with writing. Words and ideas follow me around, little plot bunnies pestering me until they get written down somewhere. I was greatly inspired by the works of C.S. Lewis in my writing, especially his Cosmic Trilogy. My art style was aided by Hiromu Arakawa's Fullmetal Alchemist, which was a valuable stepping stone in developing my own style. Other than that, it was my own insatiable desire to MAKE THINGS that spurred me onwards. I don't think I could stop if I tried!

What's your favorite part of the creative process?

After you've got that first paragraph and you've found a flow and you've got a topic and you just GO. I get into the zone and the story starts happening on its own and I'm not an author anymore, I'm just a channel between the world of the piece and the page. That's my favorite. I love watching things take shape. I love shading a sketch for these same reasons. The whole drawing comes together and becomes A Thing and it's the most exciting time to be a creator. Something else inside you has taken over and you're just along for the ride. I have no idea if my experiences are common at all but this is what it's like for me!

What's your least favorite part of the creative process?

EDITING. I HAVE ZERO PATIENCE. THE THING IS DONE. WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP LOOKING AT IT. CAN I POST IT YET. This leaves me with a lot of holes in what I make and I can't do a very clean, super detailed drawing unless it's for an art class and I'm forced to keep working on it. I have a terrible habit of never proofreading my things!

What's your favorite type of scene to write?

AAH hard question! I love writing description and places where I can really let my inner 19th century romantic be unleashed but I also love a good emotional moment between two characters. Something tense. I like fight scenes, but I try to keep them brief and interesting. Sometimes I find scenes where I have no idea what's going on and I try to avoid that, but it's really hard sometimes.

What's the hardest for you to create?

I have so much trouble with endings. I can generally figure something out, but there's always a moment of panic before the end like "heck I wrote everything I wanted how do I wrap this up????" That's probably a byproduct of me planning nothing XD I sometimes have trouble with characterization and making sure everyone acts the way they actually would. The hardest part is continuing after you have an "oh heck what do I do now" moment that breaks you out of your zone and all of your ideas and plot threads turn invisible or evaporate or go wherever it is they go when you're looking for them.

What's your favorite genre to write?

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST. Wellll... scratch that. I love something adventure-y and plot driven with a lot of really meaningful character interactions. I've always had trouble putting my writing into genres, but I guess that kind of speaks for itself in a way.

What fandoms do you enjoy creating for?

Linked Universe is the fandom I have created and posted the most for by a LONG SHOT. I found LU shortly after making my tumblr and I joined the Discord shortly thereafter. Since then, it has been nonstop inspiration and creativity for me! I tend to get sucked into one fandom and it consumes me for a few months before I silently drift out of it and never think about it again. LU is the fandom I've been the most active in EVER though—and it's still going—so there's a good chance I'm never getting off this ride.

What's the work you are most proud of?

AAAAAAAAAAH MY BABIES. okay um here's the first and only fanfic I've ever posted anywhere but I'm really happy with: https://sky-squido.tumblr.com/post/618964544219463680/turn-back-time-a-linked-universe-fanfic I have a lot of other pieces kicking about, but they're not fandom so I haven't shared them yet. I probably will after I touch them up a bit.

Do you have any fics inspired by real life stories?

Not really? I don't really know where my ideas come from to be honest!

Where do you post your finished works?

my tumblr. I tag stuff #squido writes and #squido draws so you can find them easily. I also put them on the discord but they get lost in the stream of other works pretty quickly so stick to my tumblr. I also have an ao3 now! https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido

If you have any fun stories about the pieces you made, please do share!

Turn Back Time was actually live written in the Discord, but entirely unplanned and in the #angst channel! It was just a headcanon but then I started describing it and like 2 hours and 5k words later I'm sitting in the Discord like "what just happened??"

[chappedandfadedvds]

Oct 26th, Monday 08:17

He was late. 

Jens knew he was, as he passed around the corner through the school’s entrance. Having reached the school, he finally slowed down a little, catching his breath. His lungs were burning from his sprint up here from the bus station. 

He had overslept after staying up late yesterday cleaning off a broken glass bottle and the remaining pieces of a ceramic bowl, after his mother had accidently dropped them while doing dishes. 

It had been too heavy, she had said and apologised over and over and over again in tears, until he had accompanied her to bed, where he sat her down and treated the nasty cut on her inner palm. Thankfully Lotte seemed to not have woken up by the noises. He helped his mom change into her sleeping clothes as she cried, and finally tucked her in. 

He had believed her the moment she said it, when he rushed into the kitchen from his room upstairs, telling the guys something about his mom needing help. No specifics. 

It had been eleven at night, when he went down to sit on the floor for quite a while, staring at the shards in the bright lit room.

They had simply been too heavy.

Jens felt at fault just as much. He could have cleaned up after dinner, instead of excusing himself to play Among Us with Moyo and Aaron, chatting away over discord about random stuff. But then again, he was only seventeen, he should be allowed some time off, right? But on the other hand, he had spent most of the day over at Robbe’s being only back for dinner at 8. The least he could have done that day was cleaning the damn dishes.

It had been half past one, when he turned off the light next to his bed and finally caught some sleep.

Monday morning hadn’t started great either.

First he got up late. 

Second he rushed to get Lotte ready to drop her off at school, as they realised half way there that her science book was still on her desk at home. So Jens rushed back and got it and then hurried to catch his bus, after she barely made it to class on time.

And of course he missed this fucking bus too. The world truly was against him. He could have cried for these ten minutes he sat at the bus stop and stared down on the pavement, trying to calm his breathing.

But now that he finally made it all the way to school, he felt exhausted. So instead of going inside, why not skip first period, he thought. Surely he had done enough to deserved a break. Thus Jens settled to sit on one of the tables to his left, His back against the wall, he looked up into the sky for some minutes, breathing deep and slow. Until he heard a door open that startled him into motion. He quickly got to his feet, ready to greet and apologise to a teacher. The promise to immidiately find his class room was ready on his lips.

Monday morning maybe wasn’t as bad after all.

Jens was pretty sure the world stopped for just the tiniest moment, as his eyes settled on a boy who had left the building. He was pretty. Was the first thing he thought. Followed by: What the fuck, Jens? 

It took him a second longer to take his eyes of him and see Amber by his side, chatting gleefully away, pointing to whatever she explained to him. Jens certainly was impressed. He may show him the class rooms and cafeteria and be done with it. What else was there to talk about. It was a school. Surely they must have them in the Netherlands as well.

Though that implied that the boy, who had stolen all of Jens’s attention, also was indeed the new student. What was his name? Luc? No, that didn’t seem right. Shit, he should have memorised that name.

„Jens?“ Amber asked puzzled, as the two came to a stop infront of him. He hadn’t notice them getting closer, even now he still downright watched the boy shamelessly. He never knew he had a thing for colours, but looking into the blue eyes in front of him, Jens figured he may do have a favourite. It was all just very confusing how affected Jens was. The boy clearly didn’t get that. Thank god, that he wasn’t telepathic. So the new student quickly looked around and behind himself as if to figure out what Jens could be interested in. That at least woke him up and he focused on Amber.

„Sorry, I was just in thoughts. What’s up?“ Jens was quite proud how normal and relaxed he sounded after everything that had happend til now. But here he was not letting any of it show on his face, or in his voice for that matter. Acting was definitely going on his list of future occupations.

„I could ask you that as well. What are you doing here?“ Amber replied, sounding a bit worried.

„Oh, right. I didn’t hear my alarm, missed my bus and when I got here, I kinda thought, why even bother.“ Jens explained nonchalant and shrugged, with a grin on his face, showing his teeth.

The girl couldn’t help herself, so even as she shook her head, a smile graced her lips. And even better, the boy next to her actually snorted at that. He was very pleased with himself. If Jens could be or look any happier, in that moment he must have.

„You are so stupid.“ Amber sighed: „Well, do you wanna come with us then? We are halfway done, but I wanted to get to the gym, labs and cafeteria before making our way back to the secretary’s office. Maybe you two can compare your timetables as well, just to see where you can help him out, if he needs it?“

„Sure, sounds good. I don’t really had much planed anyway. Other than cloud watching, that is.“ Jens slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed suit. 

„Oh I’m Lucas by the way, nice to meet you...Jens, right?“ The boy introduced himself still smiling while looking back over his shoulder. He in fact even winked at him before he continued: „I guess we do the whole proper hand shake thing another time, huh?“

Jens really liked him. God no. Scared that his words would betray him, he simply nodded. Meanwhile Amber fell right back into her grand tourguide mode and began to talk about all the teachers Lucas would have in class.

The most surprising thing was, that Lucas actually seemed to listen to her. He even asked some questions and gave his opinion at the right times. So Jens just walked behind them and kept to himself, content to have an excellent excuse to watch the boy infront of him and forget about everything that had troubled his mind not even twenty minutes ago.

He decided that monday morning was perhaps not completely awful.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Seventy-One: Absolute Discord ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Like Magic ] [ AO3 Link ]

Take an internship at the Ministry, they said. It’ll be a learning experience, they said. You’ll have to beat future employers away with a stick, they told him!

Yeah, right.

Ministry work is dreadfully boring. Of course, Sasuke could have guessed as much. An institution revolving around keeping order in a world that has anything but order? Stressful, hectic...but still, in the long run, boring.

As an intern, he mostly just picks up any scrap of doing no one else wants to bother with that’s any step above custodial. Though they have a perfectly good messaging system, he’s often told to run and find so-and-so, and tell them this and that. Take these papers to what’s-his-name. Fetch me a fresh cup of tea!

He feels less like an employee, and more like a well-trained dog.

And he’s not the only one.

A handful of other students from his classes at Hogwarts have found work in the Ministry, too. Well...if you can really call it work. They’re hardly paid, especially considering the trouble they’re all put through. Most don’t stick it out for long, but one alongside himself has managed thus far.

Hinata Hyūga. Hufflepuff. He remembers her notoriety as an excellent student of herbology. What she’s doing in a place like this, he has no idea. But when it all comes down to it, he’s glad for the company. They run into each other (at times literally) more often than not as they scramble to keep up with their ‘work’. Elevator rides turn into brief flickers of harried conversation before they part again. And then eventually they start taking their lunches together. While they’d been acquaintances in school, Sasuke thinks he just might dare to call them friends, now.

At least, he likes her. She’s sort of cute in a small, soft way. Still, she’s clearly very determined, keeping pace with the best of them, including himself. Why she deems him passable to converse with given his introversion and perhaps...darker aesthetic compared to her light and bouncy one, he has no idea.

But, either way, she keeps finding reason to talk to him, so...he takes that as a good sign.

And everything is going swimmingly...until disaster strikes.

While it’s no secret that the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts department sees its share of odd and - at times - volatile cases, today seems to be shaping up to set a new record.

The pair are walking past a bit leisurely, in-between assignments, when a muffled report sounds out. And while not entirely unheard of on this floor, a kind of knowing stops them both in their tracks to listen.

Mistake.

After the groaning of straining wood builds to a peak, it suddenly snaps - literally - and the door of the office bursts apart. From within explode a plethora of flapping, and apparently angry, books.

Both light and dark eyes go wide, and - rather than try to confront the flock with magic - the pair take off down the corridor. In a matter of moments, the hall is in absolute discord. The sounds of flapping pages and snapping bindings are like a maelstrom of angry bird wings and beaks. Wizards and witches duck for cover, some attempting to fight back with petrifying spells, but to no avail. And more and more just keep pouring out of the office! It’s like they’re just...multiplying!

“Quick! I-in here!” Reaching for the nearest door, Hinata wrenches it open and whirls inside, Sasuke not far behind her. Pulling it closed (after shoving out a snapping tome), they both struggle to catch their breath. Even from in here, the sounds are raucous, each of them flinching as their coworkers squawk and scream in terror.

“What the bloody hell…?” Sasuke mutters, keeping a hand on the doorknob to make sure it doesn’t open again.

“I have no idea. Hopefully they find a way to stop them soon. It’s…”

Looking over his shoulder, Sasuke realizes that they’ve ended up in a closet. And a rather small one at that. So much so, he can barely turn around, and Hinata has to make herself small to keep from leaning on him.

“...a little crowded in here.”

“Er...yeah.” Pulling out his wand, Sasuke locks the door to keep it from being opened before those things are subdued. It’s not like anyone else looking for cover is going to be able to find it here, anyway. All they’d manage would be to let the terror tomes in.

He then turns around, leaning against the door as she does the same to an overstocked supply shelf. Even now, there’s only a few inches between them - half a foot at best.

...awkward.

Each clearly doing their best to look anywhere but at their companion, a standoffish silence blooms, and grows.

“I, er...didn’t even know this was a closet,” Sasuke eventually mutters, trying to break the atmosphere.

“I - I didn’t, either. It was just the first door I s-saw.”

“Well, a hell of a lot better than being stuck out there in that.” His head jerks over his shoulder. It doesn’t sound any calmer out there yet.

That earns a nervous giggle. “Y-yeah, true.” Hinata’s nose wrinkles a bit. “...still, it smells awfully dusty in here. I...doubt this even gets used.”

“Doesn’t seem that way. More like...someplace to shove anything you’ve no idea what else to do with.”

“It does! I mean...l-look at this junk…” She gestures to what looks to be a broken clock, springs and coils hanging loosely out of its smashed face. “Why is this still here…?”

“No idea. But next time someone refuses the documents I lug halfway across the Ministry to them, they’re going in here.”

The Hyūga giggles, lifting a hand to bury the sound in her sleeve.

A corner of Sasuke’s mouth twitches.

“I hope this doesn’t last too long...it’s almost lunch and I’m starving.”

Glancing over his shoulder and listening, he shakes his head. “Still sounds like a madhouse out there.”

“Lovely…” Shifting a bit, Hinata flinches.

“...you all right?”

“Yeah, just…” She half-turns, fiddling with some of the artefacts. “Something keeps poking me…”

“Want to trade places?”

“No, no...then you’d have it prodding you.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well, I can handle it too!”

Sasuke just snorts. “You could turn around.”

“It seems rude to turn my back on you. And then I’d have nothing to lean on…”

“...better than something jabbing you in the back?”

She just gives him a pout.

“Could lean on me, you know. I’m not thin enough to be bonier than a rack full of who-knows-what.”

Color flushes into Hinata cheeks. “I -! But I d-don’t want to impose, and -”

“How is it imposing if I’m the one proposing it?” Sasuke counters, giving her a look. “For Pete’s sake, Hyūga, just -”

“All right, all right!” Clearly still flustered, there’s a moment of hesitation before she does a half turn, leaning a shoulder against his chest and looking toward the back of the closet.

“There, see? No one’s dead.”

She just gives a small scoff, still pink-cheeked.

With that, they fall into an impasse. Sasuke keeps his head turned to the door to listen, and Hinata just...stands there. But slowly, her stiffened posture relaxes, and Sasuke even feels her nestle a bit more comfortably against him.

Then, finally, the shouts of spells start to overtake the flapping. Apparently someone’s found something that stops the bloody things. He feels her also turn her head, and then...glorious silence.

“...well, I think that’s done it,” he notes, ear still to the door.

“Ugh, finally…”

Sighing, Sasuke pauses, and then...realizes she’s not moving. And he...can’t really get up until she does. Giving her a glance, he finds her still reclined against his front. “Well, er...I guess we should get back to it…?”

“...yes, I suppose you’re right.” There’s a shy glance up to him, and then -

the door opens up behind them.

“Wha-?”

“Whoa!”

Tumbling to the floor, Hinata lands atop him with a grunt, the pair of them flat out from the closet and surrounded by the Ministry workers who - assumedly - put an end to the entire fiasco.

A throat clears.

Blooming red, Sasuke lets Hinata handle the scrambling to get up first, knowing he’d only make it harder with his own squirming. She dusts herself off as another wizard offers Sasuke a hand up.

“Well,” a rather staunch-looking witch offers, arms crossed and peering down her nose at them. “I see someone made use of a hiding place during this little distraction. How...fortuitous.”

“Oh, n-no!” Hinata insists, waving her hands. “We - w-we were just trying to get away, and then -”

“Spare me your explanations,” the elder woman sighs, waving a hand of her own dismissively. “You can help with the cleanup to make amends for ducking and covering while the rest of us dealt with problem.”

Clearly chastised, Hinata hangs her head as Sasuke looks over the battlefield. He’s never seen so many torn pieces of parchment in one room…

“The rest of you, please get back to your duties. Let the rookies handle the aftermath.” Giving a sniff, she leads the rest away, and the pair are left alone.

“...well, that was lovely,” Sasuke mutters. “What else were we supposed to do? Like anyone else wasn’t cowering in their office?”

“I’m sorry...I-I led you in there…”

“If it hadn’t have been you, it would have been me. It was the only sensible thing to do! They just saw how we were, and just assumed that - that we were -!”

Hinata glances aside, pink again. “...it...it d-did look rather...um...suggestive, didn’t it?”

He just scoffs. “Well sure, but -”

“Just...never mind it, Sasuke. Let’s get this cleaned up, and...pretend this never happened…”

Scowling for a moment longer, Sasuke still notices the slight downward lilt of her voice. “...are you all right?”

“I...I just...h-haven’t been in trouble yet, so…” Still she avoids his eyes, walking out into the paper massacre.

That is, until he grabs her wrist.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing’s wrong.” Hinata gives a small tug. “Please Sasuke…”

“Look, I’ll explain what happened to them - don’t worry about it. I’ll clear it up, and your reputation will be fine -”

“I’m not w-worried about my reputation!”

That balks him back slightly, losing his grip on her arm, which she hugs against herself with its pair.

“...I...I shouldn’t have done that.”

“...done what?”

Color gets darker in her cheeks. “T...touch you like, l-like that. It was...it was inappropriate.”

He blinks. “...Hyūga, nothing happened. We were just...standing there!”

Hinata’s form tenses a bit more, and...something seems to click. All her blushing. Not getting up when the books went quiet. Her embarrassment at the insinuation, but...no denial.

She…?

“...I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to m-make this into such a mess. I just...I couldn’t…” Hands cover her face.

“...hey.”

Nothing.

“Hey!”

A small peek.

“I’m not mad, Hinata. Really, I’m not.” A hand brushes back through his hair with a sigh, not bothering to correct his slip of names. “...if anything, I…” Not it’s his turn to flush across the bridge of his nose. “...I didn’t...mind.”

“...you…?”

“Maybe I was even a little glad. Because in all honesty? You’re the only reason I’m still here doing this bloody awful job.”

Surprise slackens her face, and her hands fall from her cheeks.

Staring stubbornly to one side, he admits, “...you make it bearable. Getting to talk to you, and walk with you...it’s been nice. I was glad you didn’t quit like the others. Cuz then...I would have too. I don’t need this job. Really, I don’t. But…” Sasuke risks a glance back. “...but...I do need you.”

...God that was sappy as hell, she’s going to -

Balking, Sasuke stumbles back half a step as she leaps and latches onto him tightly. Arms out for balance, it takes a moment to embrace her back, too surprised.

“...I-I feel the same way…!”

His expression lightens. “You…?”

Hinata laughs, letting him set her down. “...w-we’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

“...yeah. Guess we are.” He glances aside. “...idiots with a hell of a mess to -”

Smiling wryly, Hinata gives a wave of her wand from her pocket, and the parchment begins to sort itself out, other debris seeming to go backward in time as they right themselves.

“...I took a housekeeping class,” she sniffs at his look.

“...you’re brilliant, you know that?”

“Thank you.”

     Oh my gosh, this got...really long compared to most entries for this challenge, but I just...couldn't stop writing, I liked it too well xD      I don't cross Naruto and Harry Potter as much as I likely should. Though I loved HP growing up, it sort of...lost its spark for me as I got older (and JK got a bit more...ridiculous). So I'm not often inspired for it. But this phrase gave me this scene in my head, and I couldn't NOT write it. And then it got a bit fluffier than intended at the end, but that's never a bad thing!      They might find themselves stuffed in closets more often from now on ;3      Aaanyway, it's...very late, and I'm very tired, so that's all from me. Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!

[crimsonbluemoon]

Day 3: Fairies

Hello everyone! So this is something that my Discord server is doing for the lovely month of March. And though I’d a day late (because what is time?) I hope you still enjoy <3

Pairing: TerrorMoo

Day 3: Fairies

When Brock originally accepted the scholarship for the semester abroad program, he never thought about the drawbacks. Though going halfway across the world was a great way to try and shake up his mundane life, his personality hadn’t changed. While many of his classmates were exploring the wonders of Ireland between classes, Brock had only learned the inside of his dorm room. His introverted personality kept him studying, always with his nose in his book and his mind dreaming of being a little more impulsive. The first two weeks went by in a blink of an eye, and he was sure the rest of the semester would go by with nothing to write home about.

And then, his stomach grumbled.

“Oh, right.” Brown eyes glanced at the clock, realizing that it was 4pm and he hadn’t eaten. Food was always a second thought for the student, whose head was more focused on getting passing grades than making sure his stomach’s needs were met. One glance at the fridge made Brock sigh, knowing that he had neglected to go food shopping in order to finish his paper the night before. Now, his options for dinner were limited. His internal debate over what to do was short-lived, knowing that he’d have to order out. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d done it; his short excitement of being in a new location had allowed him to go out with his classmates the first two nights to try out the local food. And there had been one place that really had caught his attention enough to snag a menu, the corner pub close enough for the student to walk to.

He ordered a simple meal, a bacon burger and fries, before he snagged his scarf off the back of his chair and headed down the stairs of his dorm. Though it was March, the chill of the winter hadn’t fully washed away yet, and Brock hoped that the small walk to the pub wouldn’t be too chilly. His lips were buried under the soft fabric of his scarf as he walked down the quiet road, his eyes glancing around to admire the small town he was residing in. It was humble and quaint, a quality that Brock was starting to fall in love with despite only getting to spend one semester there. The people that he passed on the street were always friendly, giving a greeting to him despite not knowing his name or who he was. It was different than America, leaving a warmth in his chest when he finally scurried up the cobblestone steps of the pub. The heat of the bar hit his face instantly, the sweet and savory smells bringing Brock’s nose out of his scarf to take in the delicious aroma. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the ambiance that he first felt when stepping into the establishment weeks ago.

“Good evening!” A cheerful redhead caught Brock’s attention when he opened his eyes again. The woman cleaning one of the glasses behind the bar gave a friendly wave, not seeming to mind her own loud voice as she continued to chatter. “What are we drinking today?”

“Oh no, I’m just-” Feeling self-conscious about talking across the room (despite it being nearly deserted), Brock took a few hurried steps across the old wooden floor in order to explain himself. “I placed an order earlier, for Brock? I’m just here to pick it up.”

“Oh, right. Give me a second, I’ll go see if it’s done.” She disappeared behind the doors behind the bar, and Bock let out a quiet sigh of relief before grabbing his phone from his pocket. He opened up his text messages to Craig, one of the only friends he had managed to keep throughout the years. The British man would probably be proud of his lack of anxiety over conversing with the bartender. He was never the best at interacting with strangers, and despite taking the chance of opening up when accepting the semester abroad trip, Brock still had his introverted ways. He wondered for a moment if he’d ever learn to branch out a little more-

“Dibs!” The new voice entering the air made Brock jerk his attention from his phone, nearly dropping the device in shock. It was a louder voice with a thick Irish accent, and it took one quick scan of the room to locate where the noise came from. The only table being occupied was in the corner of the pub, a group of four sitting around glasses of beer that were drained. A pair of blue eyes were honed in on Brock, the handsome man not seeing ashamed or awkward when being caught by the exchange student. And though he was sure that someone that looked that good would never find interest in him, Brock felt his cheeks start to heat up from the attention.

“Brian, you stupid fock!” Another man, who was taller and much lankier than the friend watching Brock, smacked his fellow Irishman’s arm, his deeper accent ricocheting through the quiet pub. “Ya can’t just claim a person, ya focking shite.”

“Shut up, Nogla. It doesn’t look like he minds.” And as if the two had known each other for years, the man (now named Brian) gave a wink to Brock, his grin bright and sure to make stronger men than the college student swoon. “And if I don’t call dibs, one of you pricks will try and steal him.”

“I...w-what?” Brock’s stuttered response got a set of laughs from the table, and his embarrassment was quick to intertwine with shame. Too nervous to keep the eye contact, Brock glanced back to the phone, quick to type out a message to his friend thousands of miles away.

Brock: Some Irish guy just called ‘dibs’ on me in a pub; what do I do?!

Craig: Well, is he hot?

He should have been concerned about how quick his friend responded to the text, but he had learned a while ago that Craig was practically married to his phone. He managed to sneak another small glance over to Brian, who looked like he was getting scolded by one of his friends at the table. Despite the friend’s obvious irritation with Brian’s actions, the Irish man didn’t seem ashamed, giving a heart laugh and a smile that Brock was sure got the man out of trouble more often than not. His dimples were cute, barely covered by the sparse brunet beard peppering his cheeks. The soft brown hair adoring the handsome man’s face was styled to curl just over his forehead, showing he took care in his appearance. And his eyes...they were such a unique color of blue, nothing like the mundane brown that Brock looked at each time he faced a mirror. Feeling another sense of confusion over being cat-called by someone as attractive as the native, Brock dropped his gaze back to his phone.

Brock: Yes. He’s very handsome.

Craig: Then what are you doing talking to me for? Go get that shamrock dick!

“Jesus,” Brock muttered under his breath, face bright red when he closed out of the message. Why had he thought it was a good idea to go to Craig for advice; he had used corny pick-up lines and sheer determination to wear down his moody American boyfriend enough to score a date. That was not Brock’s style. Not that he really had one; the man hadn’t been on a date for two years, after his boyfriend had ended the relationship in ‘search of some adventure’.

The bitter memory made Brock shake his head, stuffing his phone into his jeans pocket before he fidgeted with his scarf to distract himself from the pair of eyes he could feel watching him again. Sure that his face matched the maroon-colored fabric wrapped around his neck, Brock was more than relieved to see the bartender from before return with his food. Money was exchanged with a speed that the student felt was impolite, but his anxiety of having to walk past the table was making his hands shake. The woman didn’t seem put off by his actions, her eyes and smile only showing kindness as she wished the men practically buried in his scarf a good night. Brock gave a short nod before he rushed through the pub, eyes downcasted onto the wood beneath his feet when he moved by the table where Brian was sitting.

He let out a gasp he hadn’t known he was holding when he pushed through the pub’s door, Brock having to pause in his steps on the sidewalk to catch his breath. Hands on his knees, Brock sucked in the crisp air, letting the slight burn in his lungs ground him. If he was being honest, he was flattered by the words that the other had said to him. Brock wasn’t someone that could be labeled an ‘eye-catcher’ and he tended to get boyfriends who fell for his ‘nurturing personality’ than his looks. So to have someone that looked like they belonged on the cover of a playgirl magazine…

“Hey, hold up!” Brock nearly dropped the plastic bag with his food at the voice, the Americain quick to straighten up into a standing position. His first instinct was to ignore the call and keep walking (maybe even running) in order to avoid the awkwardness of what had just happened in the pub. The only thing that made him turn toward the man now jogging down the pub’s front stairs and toward him was his manners, Brock already cringing at how he had treated the bartender. Now he felt frozen in his spot as Brian stopped in front of him, flashing the side grin that made Brock’s stomach flip in sudden interest. “I thought I was gonna have to chase you much further than this.”

“I, um, I live right down the street right now so…” Brock didn’t know why he let his voice trail off, his fingers nervously gripping the bad of food tighter while he waited for the other man to speak.

“Oh, really? Me and Nogla inhabit that bar all the time and I’ve never seen ya there.”

“W-Well I only moved into the dorms a few weeks ago-”

“Oh, you’re a student?” Brian’s eyes lit up at the information, and Brock was caught off guard by the other’s interest in him. Eye contact continued to be a struggle as he gave a weak laugh, hoping his introverted nature didn’t shine like a beacon as he gave a slight nod. The Irish man seemed to pick up on it, though, and the smile that had painted over his lips dimmed a bit when he spoke again. “Well, I just wanted to come out here and apologize for what I said back there. Us Irishmen aren’t the most modest of our intentions, and now that I know you’re not from around here-sorry for being a bit of a prick.”

“That’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Brock tried to give a smile that proved he wasn’t put off by Brian’s comment, feeling the sincerity in the other man’s apology. “I mean, Americans are kind of blunt too, but I’m just not used to that kind of attention.”

“It’s kind of hard to believe that people didn’t hit on someone as cute as you.” Brian’s blunt comment had Brock’s cheeks flaring in color again, eyes widening from how easily the other man dropped the compliment. Seeming to recognize the positive reaction, Brian grinned, not hesitating to continue. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“My name? Oh, I’m Brock.” And like the polite person he was, the student held his hand out to be shaken by the native Irish man. The palm was smooth against his own, gentle in its shake despite the obvious strength the other man possessed. Brock tried not to be affected by the notion that the newcomer was treating him softly after their initial brash meeting.

“Alright, Brocky.” But it was more difficult when the other dropped the nickname, the mischievous smile teasing the edges of his lips setting Brock on high alert. “I don’t want you to leave with a bad taste in your mouth for us Irish folk, so why don’t you let me show you the best part of Ireland’s charm?”

“Like a date?”

“A date sounds pretty nice,” Brian said, Brock’s heart increasing from the answer.

“You don’t have to do that,” was Brock’s quick reply, knowing the tips of his ears were tickled pink when realizing that Brian had yet to let go of his hand.

“I want to. Come on, live a little with me.”

The statement was one that Brock had heard more than once in his life. Even as a child, he was the reserved one in his family. Sometimes his friends would tease him, calling him the ‘mom’ of the group because of his lack of taking chances or wanting to play it safe. He never skipped school in high school, keeping away from things that required auditions or putting himself out there for others to judge. He was supportive of Craig or Evan in their moments of the limelight, but he kept himself hidden. Even in college, where he had several changes to spread his wings and do something out of his comfort zone, Brock stayed in his shell. The trip to Ireland had been his riskiest adventure yet, even if he stayed holed up in his dorm when out of the classroom.

Until now.

“Brocky?” The soft call from Brian made the student shake his head, focusing back on the worried gaze peering down at him. “If you’re busy or-”

“No!” Quickly Brock grasped tighter onto the other man’s hand, too worried about letting the opportunity pass to feel embarrassed about the needy motion. “I finished my homework earlier, and I don’t have class tomorrow, so I have the whole night!”

“You know, you shouldn’t make such a tempting offer to a man; we do have needs.” It was a flirty comment followed by a wink, Brian seeming to laugh at the stunned look now rushing over Brock’s face.

He couldn’t help it; the forward style of the other man wasn’t something he was used to. Were all Irish men like this, or was it something that was specific to Brian and Brock? Not wanting to know the truth, Brock simply smacked the other’s arm, making the Irish native laugh louder. The connection of their hands was lost for a moment, but Brock’s arm barely had a chance to let gravity pull it back to his side before Brian was snatching the palm against his own again, lacing their fingers. The touch felt so natural between the two, and Brock dipped his chin down so his scarf could cover the wobbly smile he made at the revelation.

“You ready?” Brian’s question made Brock glance up to his face, the answer coming out faster than he ever thought possible.

“Yes.”

~**~

The fact that Brock allowed Brian, a man he barely knew, to pull him to his car, was crazy. He couldn’t get swept up by this man he had only known for a few minutes! And yet he could only mumble a ‘thank you’ when the Irish native opened the passenger door for him, his newly appointed ‘tour guide’  leading him to a ‘surprise location’. His mind wandered when brown eyes glanced back down to their hands, which were still linked over the middle console of the car. Throughout his life, the student had only thought to date men that he had known for long periods of time. He was never the one to use a dating app, and even if he found someone attractive, he wanted to learn as much as humanly possible before thinking of them romantically. Craig always blamed it on his introverted nature, and encouraged him to try falling in love while getting to know the other person. Brock always felt unsettled at the thought and tried to keep space between the two paths. But with Brian...

“Oh my god.” Brock’s eyes couldn’t understand the beauty of the place that Brian was now leading him to. The drop of temperature in the air and sunlight didn’t take away from the breathtaking cliffs they were standing on, the sound of the ocean crashing against the rocky shores below them. The pair were hundreds of feet over the water, the sky looking enormous above them. The sun was slowly sinking in the sky, the appearance of stars starting to pepper the black canvas like warnings of the encroaching night. It was a little scary for the student, being so high up, but the ethereal feel to the location made his awe overshadow his nerves. The plastic bag with his food swayed from the ocean breeze, Brock’s wide gaze full of wonder as Brian gave a smug chuckle.

“So I’m guessing nobody’s shown you the Cliffs of Moher, eh?” Casual as a cat, the Irish man stretched his hands over his head, letting out a yawn as if bored by the sight that was stealing Brock’s breath. “Yup, this was one of my favorite places to hang out when I was a kid. Pretty awesome, right?”

“I’ve heard of this place before, but I never knew it was so close,” Brock explained, casting his eyes back to Brian when the other gave a snort.

“Because most people go to the tourist part of the cliffs; this is where the Irish like to hang out. It may be restricted, but they stop patrolling when the sun sets.”

“Wh-what?!” Brock’s instant need to follow the law made him tense at the information. Not only was he breaking the law, but it was in another country. If he got arrested, would the send him back to America? Would they kick him out of college? What if-

“Relax, Brocky. I won’t let you get in trouble.” The way he dropped the line made Brock wonder if he had dealt with the cops before, but Brian continued before he could ask. “Come on, lemme show you the best part of this place.”

“There’s more?” Though he should have been more concerned with the mention of police, Brock’s interest were swayed when the Irish man held out his hand again. It felt natural to hold Brian’s now, a childish sort of excitement flowing through his fingertips when the other led him along a dirt path parallel to the cliff’s edge. It was a little scary to be so close to something he knew could kill him, but the steady grasp of Brian’s hand made him feel safe. The whimsical man ahead of him looked proud when he pulled him across a dip in the ground before finally stopping, Brock’s eyes taking in the final destination. The ground was covered with soft looking grass, contrasting the rough, rocky terrain surrounding it. And like coming from an old Irish fairy tale, glimmers of yellow fireflies started to speckle the air.

“This is amazing, Brian.” Brock allowed his tour guide to lead him to the soft patch, and Brock didn’t hesitate to sit down next to the grinning Irish man now leaning back in the grass. His brown eyes watched a flurry of fireflies scurry into the darkening sky above them, his giggle quiet at the beautiful sight.

“It’s even better with you here.” The charmed statement drew Brock’s attention back to Brian, the man’s eyes showing no regret over the compliment. The student felt his cheeks warm when the native leaned closer, the hint of a smile edging his lips when he peered up into the other’s face. It felt intimate, like the two were sharing a moment that nobody could touch. He wasn’t sure how many tourists Brian had used this same tactic to sway, but Brock couldn’t help but notice how quick his heartbeat was now that the blue gaze was focused on him.

“Stop it, I’m not that great.” His dismissal of the other’s observation made Brian scowl, but before his tour guide could protest, Brock turned his eyes to the bag of food still waiting for him to eat. The second he popped open the styrofoam container, his stomach roared with hunger. It was embarrassing how loud the noise was, and he knew that Brian had heard it loud and clear by his snort and how quick he pushed to sit upright next to Brock.

“Hungry?” There was a tease to the Irish accent that Brock pretended to ignore with his eye roll.

“I would have eaten earlier, but some jerk tried to call dibs on me in a pub, and I lost my appetite.” He took a chance by glancing over to Brian, who made sure to show his theatrics with a hand pressed to his chest.

“You wound me, Brocky.”

“I think you’ll survive, though I can’t say the same for my fries.” To prove his point, the American lifted the cold processed potato out of the container, watching the once crispy side flop over itself in defeat. It didn’t deter him from popping the cold food into his mouth, his stomach humming in excitement over the introduced treat. He’d never tell Brian that he preferred his french fries cold, enjoying the small glimmer of guilt that now sparked through Brian’s once cocky composure. He tried making his sigh of dissatisfaction believable when picking up the second fry, letting this one wobble in his grasp. The moment of silence allowed a night breeze to sneak between them, Brock’s skin quick to cover in goosebumps. His scarf provided little cover, and the long sleeved shirt didn’t keep in the heat that was needed by the ocean side. He glanced up when there was shifting next to him, and Brock was stunned when he saw Brian starting to shrug off his own jacket. “W-wait a second-”

“I promise, this ain’t me trying to make a move on ya. You just look really cold and I’m the one who dragged you out here, so I feel bad. And my ma always taught me to treat my dates like royalty.” And from the gentle way that Brian draped the grey jacket over Brock’s shoulders, he could feel it wasn’t given with ulterior motives. The cinnamon scent that lingered on the collar of the jacket was comforting, and seemed to warm Brock from the inside out. And for a split second, Brock wondered what it’d feel like to have the attractive man a little less polite. Lost in his thoughts, the student nearly knocked the container of food over when a soft voice tickled the side of his ear. “Warm enough?”

“Oh, um, yes. Thank you,” Brock replied, his concern quick to take over his voice. “But you’re going to get cold now.”

“Me? Don’t worry about it, I’m used to this kind of weather.” Brian’s grin was glowing, but Brock wasn’t sure if it was from the faded sunset, the fireflies, or simply the man’s charm. He knew that he was staring, but it was hard not to. Brian was just...ethereal. The lingering stare seemed to catch Brian’s interest, the man’s smile lowering into a look of caution. Knowing his tour guide would question the stare, Brock snagged another fry before holding it up to Brian, his words rushed.

“Want some?” He wasn’t sure if offering cold food was polite or not, but Brian didn’t look insulted by the soggy fry. Instead, the Irish native grinned before leaning forward, not hesitating to eat the food from Brock’s warm fingers. Gentle lips brushed over Brock’s fingertips, the sensation sending warm tingles coursing through his veins. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done something so intimate with another person, but any thought of pulling back from the action was tossed over the cliff when Brian hummed in delight before nudging the hesitant fingers with his nose. The motion lacked any real direction, but Brock found himself dipping back into the container to grab another limp fry. As soon as he lifted the lackluster treat, Brian was taking his second bite of the night.

Their conversation came easier than the student could have expected between two strangers. He shared stories of America between bites of his burger, while Brian tossed in tales of Ireland and demands for more food. The comfort between them was unexplainable. Brian had no problem teasing Brock for following him out to the cliffs (“what if I was a serial killer?” “You’re too dumb for that”) while the American made sure to remind his date of the cheesy way he had tried to get Brock’s attention to begin with. Questions about their lives came with little thought, the answers even easier. It felt like talking to an old friend, until their eyes lingered too long on the other to be deemed ‘friendly’. By the time the food was gone, Brock was leaning his head against Brian’s shoulder, letting the Irish tilt of the other’s voice break down every barrier he kept around his introverted heart.

“You know, there’s an old myth about this place.”

“Yeah?” Brock didn’t realize his eyes had closed, his voice lacking any real volume when responding to the other man. His heart thumped into his ribcage when a gentle hand shifted through his hair, fingernails scraping pleasantly along his scalp when Brian hummed his confirmation.  

“The fairies of Moher. Legend says that fairies, disguised as beautiful women or handsome men, will trick gullible Irish folk up to the cliffs and seduce them with their charms. Then, once the human is tricked into sleep, the fairies will run off with their money or precious jewels. But even after being robbed, the folk don’t mind, because they got to spend a night with beautiful creature.”

“Then should I worry?” His words felt pulled from him by the slender fingers still massaging his scalp, though they paused after Brock’s question.

“Worry about what?”

“That you’re a fairy trying to seduce me.” He didn’t think about the sentence, or that it implied just how breathtaking Brock found his counterpart. But when he ran the sentence back in his head, Brock’s head shot up from its place on Brian’s shoulder, face as dark as the scarf he now buried it in. The damage was obviously done, Brian’s look of shock looked almost cute on the man, especially with the small edge of pink dusting the paler man’s cheeks. But then the look changed, and a smug grin only increasing Brock’s mortification.

“Ah, you’ve got me. I’m a fairy of Moher, and that’s why I had to chase after you in the pub; it’s a terrible insult to turn down a fairy’s offer, and it brings the worst luck to the human who ignores him.” Brock wondered if tossing himself off the cliff’s edge would end his humiliation, but he was sure that it’d follow him into the next life. It didn’t help that Brian was now leaning closer, his fingers reaching to curl the protective fabric away from Brock’s face. “It’s a terrible curse for any human to bear, and I know of only one way to reverse it.”

“What’s that?” He kept his voice close to a whisper, as Brian’s forehead was close enough to brush his own. Blue eyes shined with amusement, but if Brock took a closer look, he could see the slight shadow of hesitation just outlining Brian’s stare.

“Legend says if you can steal a kiss from a fairy, you’ll get good luck in love for the rest of your life.” The implication was easy to figure out, even if Brock’s mind was distracted by the way Brian’s lips moved fluidly through the sentence. If it had been the student, stutters and stammers would have broken up the offer, but his Irish guide didn’t look shy in his request. The night sky looked vast above Brian, the stars framing his face and making his blue gaze pop in color. His face was pale, looking soft enough to break down the strongest of men. If Brock believed in magic, Brian really could pass as a fairy. And could the American really take the chance of having bad luck for the rest of his life?

His lips were shy when they brushed Brian’s, not demanding or intrusive in their request to kiss. Brian’s mouth felt as soft as the student had imagined, easily following Brock’s gentle lead of the tender kiss. Hands that had been idle by Brian’s side seemed tired of being left out of the action, Brock’s warm cheeks held with care by the Irish man while allowing the student to deepen the kiss. Brock’s nerves were washed away with the cold night wind sweeping around them, his spine relaxing at the fire that sparked between their lips. It was more than he had anticipated, but not enough for the Americain to pull away from the alluring taste of Brian. His tongue took a daring brush against the lower lip of his date’s, and Brock let out a gasp when his world was tilted without warning.

His backdropped onto the soft grass behind them, the sturdy body of Brian slipping between his legs as their lips slowly pulled back from the kiss. It took Brock a moment to allow his eyes to flutter open, instantly transfixed by the blue that nearly glowed from the backdrop of black sky above them. The jacket that had been protecting him from the cold dropped back onto the ground, reintroducing Brock to the crisp air around them. Brian seemed to notice the shiver of the other, and Brock’s gaze closed again when a pair of hot lips leaned down to skim the exposed neck now presented to him. The movement made Brock’s stomach twist in want, hands grasping at the shoulders over him with a gasp.  

“Brian-”

“Let me warm you up again.” The low rumble of Brian’s voice pressed just under his ear was mind-numbing, and the student’s protest was quick to die on his lips. Brian’s hips pressed closer to his own, and Brock’s world melted when the Irishman whispered. “Let me seduce you with my fairy charm.”

And Brock’s resistance crumbled on the cliffs of Moher.

~**~

The ride back to his dormitory was quiet, though Brock wasn’t sure if it was because of the late time or because of the hickey that still burned against his neck. Thankful for bringing a scarf, Brock made sure the fabric was secure before he stepped out of the car now parked in front of his gate. He was surprised by the second door shutting, glancing to see Brian moving around the front of the car.

“This place is pretty nice.” Brian gave a slow whistle as he checked out the building past the little fence Brock now rested his hand on, the student giving a casual nod to hide his nerves. He wasn’t sure how to handle their conversations after...shaking his head to get rid of the memory, Brock pushed the gate open, listening to the quiet squeak of the cast iron before he glanced back up to Irish man now leaning on the side of the gate.

“I, um...thank you for tonight. It was fun. And I don’t mean-not just the sex part! That was great, but the talking was nice too-and I’m just going to...shut up now.” Brock’s foot felt snug being shoved into his mouth, his words once again proving how bad he was at talking with other people. But Brian didn’t seem bothered by the statement, looking proud before he stepped forward into the other’s personal space. A chaste kiss was pressed to Brock’s lips, the student surprised at the sign of affection from the handsome man looking down at him with a nervous smile.

“If a fairy wanted to meet you again, should they linger around pubs or…?” Brock was caught off guard by the lack of confidence from the other man. Earlier, Brian was proud and sure of each of his flirty tactics. But here, after knowing that Brock was interested in him, the handsome man seemed off his game. Did that mean that he wasn’t used to finding actual interest in other people? It was almost cute, seeing the once smug man shifting between his feet and trying his best to look intrigued by the intricate work of the iron fence. Using the moment for a boost of confidence, Brock ignored his inner introvert to respond.

“Hold that thought!” And then Brock was running up the steps of his dorm room, looking back twice to make sure the other wasn’t moving before entering the dorm. He was quick to grab the first piece of paper he could find, his writing sloppier than normal with how fast he was writing before he raced out of the room again. He felt out of breath when he stopped in front of the confused native, Brock holding out the small piece of paper. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s a spell.” He felt a little silly making the statement, but he refused to give up on the idea when seeing how interested the taller man was in the phone number he had written down. “When you wanna see me, just...use this spell to summon me. If I’m not in school, I’ll answer.”

“And here I thought I was the magical one.” Brian made the point to put the paper into his pocket, and they gave a quick goodbye (which may have involved more kissing) before Brock watched the other man drive away. His smile was wobbly as he touched his lips, only distracted when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He was quick to pull out the device, more than a little disappointed to see it wasn’t an unknown number.

Craig: Did you get the Shamrock dick or not?!

Brock: None of your business.

Craig: You did! I’m telling Tyler! We’re so proud of you. <3

“These are my friends.” Rolling his eyes, Brock shut off his phone, though he couldn’t feel the annoyance he wanted.

After all, he had just been blessed by a fairy.

And that's the end of that! Ugh this was a mess of a story, and I could totally change 1000 things, but it's late already so...I plan to eventually write what happened on the cliff with Brock and Brian, so keep an eye out for that -wink wink-. So as always, like, reblog, and tell me what you think! ^.^

[hamtarominecraft]

My person for the @falsettossecretsnowmen exchange this year was @officialwhizzer ! He asked for something domestic or involving Jason- I’ve never written anything domestic, so I hope it isn’t too horrible.

Here is a link to the oneshot I did on AO3, and I’ll put it under a cut!

I also drew this, which literally is just the last line of the fic (I think my computer might have killed the quality so I’ll probably send you it on like discord or smth too):

Oneshot under the cut, I hope you like it and have/had a good holiday season!!!

“I don’t know. He seems like he’s been bummed out ever since we picked him up from school yesterday.”

Marvin leaned against the kitchen counter, glancing across the room to Jason’s bedroom door. They’d all gotten up late today- it was already 11. Whizzer wasn’t wrong- normally, Jason was decently excitable, always filling his father and Whizzer in on the events of the past week. Marvin would have expected Jason to have been happier than normal, seeing as Friday had been an early dismissal day, but Jason barely talked on the drive home, even when prompted about the upcoming ball season or whether or not he thought he’d go on the class trip to the science museum. Jason had shrugged, shifted in his seat, and put his head against the window.

Marvin sighed. “You’re right. I’ll do something to cheer him up. He usually gets excited for movie night.”

“He gets excited for movie night as long as you aren’t the one picking the movie,” Whizzer corrected him, cracking an egg onto a pan. He glanced up at Marvin, a small smile on his face. “And I have to say that I’d agree with the kid on that front.”

Marvin scoffed lightly and bumped shoulders with Whizzer, turning when he heard the toaster ding. “Maybe he’d want to go for ice cream,” Marvin guessed as he started to butter the toast absentmindedly.

Whizzer wrinkles his nose a bit. “Isn’t it a bit cold out for ice cream?”

“He’s thirteen. I really don’t think he’d care.” A light creak offered a new sound in the conversation, and the two men turned to see a sleepy, somewhat disheveled-looking Jason, promptly taking his seat at the dining table. Marvin brushed the crumbs off his hands before folding his arms. “Morning, Jase.”

“Good morning, dad. Good morning, Whizzer.” Jason tugged on his shirt, playing with the salt shaker.

“Good morning, Jason,” Whizzer sent back in a cheery tone. He finished plating eggs as Marvin held out dishes for him, bringing his and Jason’s over to the table. “Long half day yesterday?” He asked, sliding Jason’s plate in front of him.

Jason took a bite, not bothering to swallow before responding. “I guess I didn’t sleep as much as I want. I have some homework I need to do, too.”

Whizzer swallowed his bite of toast and propped his chin on his hand, some of his bangs falling onto his face. “Middle school is rough. It’ll go by fast, though. Soon you’ll be in college for med, or law, or-“ he sipped a glass of water. “-or whatever brainiac field you end up going into. What’s the assignment?”

Marvin ate silently, watching the two converse. He was jealous of Whizzer; Jason and Marvin’s relationship had improved immensely, sure, but the two always seemed to have such a good, easy relationship, as if they were peers, rather than son-and-dad’s-boyfriend. If it wouldn’t have been for Jason’s partial semblance to Marvin, he’d be sure that Whizzer would be the one who looked like Jason’s dad.

“It’s an essay. Two and a half pages,” Jason muttered, as both the men chuckled at Jason’s disdain. He reached for the glass in front of him, downing a few gulps. “I’ve been trying to start it in my head since she told it to us, but I can’t.”

“How fun,” Marvin said, dully. “Well, how about this- after breakfast, we can go to the shops, and we can get things to have a movie night tonight.” Jason grinned, pushing another forkful into his mouth. “But, you have to work on the essay first. At least get it halfway done.”

Jason let out a little sigh. “Can we at least buy more popcorn?”

Marvin couldn’t help but feel a grin form on his face. “Yes, we can buy more popcorn.”

“Deal.”

—

“No, you hold the lid on-” Marvin lifted an eyebrow at Jason, who quickly reached back to the pot’s lid to secure it. “I swear, if it’s a repeat of last time-” Jason grinned, still thinking that the time he and Whizzer had both left the popcorn unattended while Marvin was in the other room was one of the funniest incidents. It would have been funnier if his dad hadn’t gotten so mad. Whizzer patted the kid on the shoulder, pushing himself up to sit on the counter.

“It’s only popcorn, Marv,” he teased. Marvin stopped in the doorway, turning and giving a half-agitated, half-amused look to Whizzer.

“You’re not the one who cleaned it up. Let me just do these faxes in peace.”

Jason snickered, cautiously moving the pot off its burner when the popcorn was done popping, turning off the stove. Whizzer immediately took its lid off, jolting a bit when there was one final pop and a few loose pieces bounced out. He gave Jason a it-could-be-worse look before scooping them up. “So how’s the essay coming along?”

Jason’s face showed disinterest as he reached into a cupboard, on his tiptoes, to grab a few bowls. “Fine, I guess.”

Whizzer nodded, not having much else to say as a response. He watched Jason pour popcorn into each of the bowls, miraculously not spilling any of it. Jason handed Whizzer one of them, and for a moment, the two just stayed in silence. “What’s it even about?” Whizzer finally asked, sifting through his bowl.

“Well, we just read this story that was about like family, or whatever,” Jason replied, and Whizzer snorted. “So we’re supposed to chose one person in our family and say how we’re like them and what we like the best about them or our favorite memory with them… that garbage.”

Whizzer grimaced. “I can see why you’ve been reluctant about it.”

“Well, no,” Jason sighed, sitting at the table. “It’s not because of all the dumb stuff. It’s not like I have to write about that.”

Whizzer huffed out a breath of air. Dumb stuff indeed, he thought. “Then what’s the issue?”

“I just don’t know who to choose for it. I don’t have any sisters or brothers so obviously I’d have to choose a parent, and there’s my mom but then I have three whole dads- and I know it’s really not that big of a deal I make it out to be, but-”

Whizzer glanced up at Jason, somewhat shocked. “Three?” he asked dully.

“Um, yeah?” Jason gave Whizzer a confused expression. “You, dad, and Mendel.”

Whizzer’s face softened. “I-” he stopped as he heard Marvin’s footsteps coming back. “Your dad’ll really like it if you chose him.”

“Are you only saying that ‘cause you love him?”

Whizzer couldn’t help but laugh as Marvin came back, VHS tapes in hand, looking tired as he always did after doing anything related to work. “What’s the laughing about?” Whizzer shook his head dismissively. “Do I get popcorn?” Jason pointed toward the bowl as Whizzer leaned across the counter to hold it up. Jason hopped up, snatching the movies from his dad’s hands and headed toward the living room, taking the liberty to start the movie on his own. Marvin scoffed, crossing the room to where Whizzer was perched on the counter. “What? What’s with that face?” Marvin asked, addressing the light in Whizzer’s eyes.

“Jason was telling me about his homework, he’s gotta write about family- and said that he had three options to chose for dads.” He set the half-eaten popcorn down, loosely looping his arms around Marvin’s neck. “Kid considers me a dad,” Whizzer said in a sweet tone. Even Marvin couldn’t help but smile dumbly, resting a hand on Whizzer’s knee. “I know!” Whizzer cooed in agreement to Marvin’s change in expression. “I figured that he was going to say something about Mendel, since he’s actually his step-dad-”

“Just because we can’t get legally get married doesn’t mean he wouldn’t consider you his step-dad, either.”

Whizzer sighed. “Well, I know, but-”

“And he’s a smart kid,” Marvin smiled at Whizzer. “Compassionate. He’s got his mind in the right place.”

“I know, but there’s all these awful people in the world. I guess you just assume everyone’s gonna be against you.”

Marvin gave Whizzer a confused look. “I thought that you didn’t care about homophobes.”

Whizzer rolled his eyes. “I mean, no, but you know what they say to kids, and I love Jason.”

Marvin nodding, not responding for a long minute. “And he loves you, too.”

They heard Jason call from the other room, “It’s starting without you guys!”

Marvin smiled, giving a sincere look to Whizzer. He made a small head movement toward the door. “Kid’s gonna get mad if we miss any of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Whizzer murmured, moving to hop off the counter, but accepting a kiss from Marvin first. “Coming!” He hollered back to Jason.

They slept soundly that night.

[pirequehideux-a-blog]

General Update

This turned into a huge novel to pretty much say “I’m really stressed and you guys aren’t going to notice much of a change but here’s what’s happening in my life- you might see more OOC on this blog for a while”.

This was originally just going to be an update on this morning’s fiasco ( in which our water heater stopped working like halfway through filling a bath, which I didn’t realise until I was already in the water along with a now wasted bath bomb full of glitter, and at the same time the dogs were apparently knocking glass all over the floor :,) ) and okay- update there, on that I ended up suffering through a freezing shower so as to at least get some of the glitter off ( I did not know!! There was glitter in the middle of it!! It looked safe!!! I’m still sparkly!! I make strippers look dull, and that’s after washing it off!! I’m like a giant walking sequin!!! ) and dressed and took care of the glass but honestly it was sort of the- uh. Breaking point I guess you could say because rn my stress levels are through the roof and my coping is hit or miss, because I am a person who needs order and stability and right now every week the rug is being pulled from under me in a new way.

I’m literally playing a horrible waiting game with college because I cannot pack or do SHIT until I at least have my housing assignment- and then I have 5 days to pack up my life and contact my new roommates to see who’s shelling out for a microwave, and then I have about 12 hours to move in on the 6th day. My family is causing problems, and my mother is suddenly backing out of helping me with things and I’m totally convinced I’m going to be on my own for actually getting to the dorms when the time comes. My boss is somehow expecting me to work my normal shifts even tough I have classes- oh, and I don’t get my class schedule until the day of orientation so I don’t know shit??? About what my year is going to look like?? And supposedly my mom is buying a house by March ( there’s some kind of ultimatum hanging over her head that she won’t tell me about, and if THAT isn’t scary.... ), And a lot of other things are changing that, on their own, wouldn’t be stressful to me at all but on top of all the other changes and stresses are causing me to lose my tiny mind.

And on top of actual stress my general mental health issues have been clawing at my mind and nagging in their nasty little voices, so when I do finally get myself in order enough to do something I end up staring at the screen going why am I doing this again? So. Idk I just- feel like I should explain why I’ve been so flaky lately. 

This isn’t a hiatus notice.

I’m not going anywhere, and my activity isn’t changing- I have. Basically no threads lmao because every time I go to start one those nasty voices I mentioned pipe in. What is changing is that I am going to lay out some projects for myself to hopefully help me feel like I have some control. I’m going to make use of the terabyte storage device I got for Christmas and hyper-organize the files on my computer and USBs. I’m going to clean up my bookmarks, since some pages have piled up. I’m going to go through and just- purge a lot of old art because frankly I want basically everything from before 2015 to die- and not just the art but like. Everything associated with it. Being sentimental about artwork made mostly for friends who turned out to be jackasses isn’t productive- it’s wasting space I don’t have. 

I’m going to make a schedule for myself, which will include a bedtime because I think a good portion of my problem is that I keep staying up until 2-3AM talking to folks who are mostly nocturnal and then waking up at 6-7 with a maximum of 5 hours sleep a night- and also. I’m taking after a friend here and acknowledging that while I may have friends and people to talk to on the internet- right now I’m not talking to them because I’m too stressed. I get online and I dally around and don’t do shit. So this schedule is going to restrict when I’m online outside of work, so that I’m not literally spending all day every day in front of a computer. I’m going to set aside time for reading actual books, going on walks ( even in the cold! I did it when I was younger I’ll do it now! ) , cooking proper meals, cleaning the house ( as I’m the only one between me, my mom, and her roommate/new favourite son that does... ) , and maybe playing videogames because honestly I miss Skyrim and I never uh? Finished Pokemon Moon, oops. I’m also gonna try and set up like... skin care routines because wow I didn’t know goddamn zits could be as painful as they have been the last 3 weeks.

I will probably post more OOC. It’s all tagged, so please blacklist it if it bothers you I just- need to run things my way and jot things down and while I know I’m probably shouting to the void when I post updates it makes me feel like someone is listening, without the anxiety of feeling like a burden and talking to someone directly. 

PLEASE don’t be afraid to IM me or poke me on discord, especially if we are mutuals.

I don’t want to just cut everyone off- that’s counter-productive. I just probably won’t be able to mange IC posting again for a bit. I need to make sure my brain’s organized enough for my own thoughts before pulling my muses into the mix.

[tonysinterested]

A thing I wrote

I play in a D&D Group that’s DMed @memegenre​. This is the backstory for one of my characters.

I didn’t actually write this for him. I run a writing group over discord, and the prompt they voted for that week really fit my birdlady cleric. So I wrote a bit on her.

I would normally never post this (especially since it’s not really polished, doesn’t go anywhere, and is overall kind of bad) but I’m tired as hell and I feel the need to prove that I can actually create content that’s not just stealing videos and turning them into gifs, even if the gifs are probably better.

Meirit touched down on the steps of her home and coughed, shaking some of the water out of her feathers. Flying in the rain was always awful, but today felt especially bad, the wind pounding frigid drops into her wings with surprising intensity. It would likely start hailing soon—good thing Temple had ended early.

   “Home early?” her mother asked, looking up from the pot she had on the small stone oven. Meirit could smell the subtle sweetness of her father’s favorite salmon soup. Mother must have finished her own sewing early today, if she had time to make that.

   “Yes,” Meirit said, curling a wing in front of her and using a hand to brush the moisture from the feathers. “Lady Bethani was concerned about the rain, I suppose.”

   “As she should be,” her mother murmured, stirring the soup. “I hope your father returns home soon.”

  The worry on her mother’s face was as obvious as it was unnecessary. Father had faced worse than a simple hailstorm, and, if worse came to worse, he carried enough human currency to buy himself a bed to wait out the storm. Then again, it was Mother’s right to worry. Perhaps even her obligation, it seemed, considering how the other women acted towards their husbands.

“He will be,” Meirit said, softly, staring down at her wing. It still dripped with water. She sighed. “I’m going to go and dry off.”

“Hurry now, dear,” Mother said, softly. “I need some help with the bread.”

Meirit nodded, then walked forward, crossing through the hallway to the room she shared with her sister. She dropped her leather pack on the floor and removed her hood, hanging it on a peg to dry. After retrieving a towel from their unstained oak dresser, she dried herself off, as best as she could.

Meirit sat down, after she was dry, and began to tend to her feathers, smoothing them back down. This took her several minutes. Mother was probably done with the bread, by now. Meirit sighed. Perhaps there was something else she could help with.

The Aarakocra was walking out of her room when something on her desk caught her eye—a neatly folded sheet of paper. Meirit blinked, tilting her head. The folds were too clean to be her sister’s work. A note from mother, perhaps, but why didn’t she mention it?

Meirit picked up the paper and unfolded it, and began to read:

Meirit,

I hope this letter finds you well. Sending it shall be a rather complicated endeavor, and I cannot guarantee my success in doing so. Before I continue further with the body of this post, I advise that you sit, before continuing to move onto the next paragraph.

Meirit rolled her eyes. Great. Probably some suitor, again. Perhaps Adlai, or Samuel, trying a new tactic. Then again, she wasn’t sure if either could read. Maybe they’d hired somebody to write this for them—the handwriting was feminine, for sure, and, now that she was thinking about it, very familiar. Perhaps one of the other girls in her Temple class.

Now, I know you well, so you’re likely standing. This is, again, a mistake, but I also know I cannot convince you to do otherwise, so we shall proceed without taking any precautions.

First, we must settle the matter of who I am—who is writing you. I’m afraid, however, that the answer to this question is, at best, confusing, for I am you. Or, rather, one possible version of you, some thirty years your senior, if you are receiving it when I intended.

Meirit was somewhat taken aback. On further inspection, the handwriting was indeed a reasonable approximation of hers—wobbly circles that formed ‘o’s, the dots on the ‘i’ a bit higher than they should be, all of the flaws her handwriting instructors had criticized her for. Whoever had created this forgery was quite good at what they did. She continued reading:

If you are reading this, I’m afraid I am dead.

Meirit felt her heart rate increase. Not by much, of course, but there was something strange about seeing those words in her own hand. This joke wasn’t funny. Already, she was creating the stern words for the prankster in her head, as she kept reading.

I cannot tell you how, or why. All I can do is send you this letter in an attempt to help you. To help us.

There is somebody in this world who, through either natural ability or arcane study, has uncovered a horrible secret: the ability to undo what has been done, to revise history as a sage changes the drafts of his stories. I know only little of how, and even less of who he is, but I am afraid I cannot even transmit this piddling information to you, at risk of causing further paradox. All I can say is that you shall find his face through history, if you look carefully.

Meirit. You must find him. Such magic was not intended to be possible, but some error has occurred in the laws of creation. I fear grave consequences if this error is further exploited. This wizard must be stopped, at all costs. You—myself—am the only person I can trust to do so.

Meirit sighed. In truth, she was somewhat excited to see where this was going, but this was simply too unbelievable. That, certainly, would have to be included in her scolding.

By way of proof, I can offer this only: your sister shall find her first developed feathers within a day, if my timing is accurate. I can offer you nothing else, but still, I implore you: find him. You must.

 - Meirit

  Meirit put down the letter, agitated, and was halfway out the door to ask her mother who had delivered such dribble when she saw something else on her desk.

   Below where the note had been, there were four feathers, longer than any of the ones she occasionally found clinging to her cloaks or bedsheets. These were the longer feathers that spread at the corners of an Aarakocra’s wings, granting them flight. And, somehow, they looked almost familiar.

     Meirit leaned down, slowly, and picked one up. She extended a wing forward, and held the feather up to it. The colors matched nearly-identically—the ones left were a bit darker, and a bit longer, but they were freakishly similar.

   Meirit suddenly found it harder to breathe. She couldn’t put a claw on why, exactly—her coloring wasn’t exactly unique, nor was her height—but the feathers unsettled her. Touching them felt... wrong.

   Meirit, for a moment, was lost, but then the lessons of her temple came to her. Silently, she closed her eyes and whispered for guidance. It took her a moment to decide on who, exactly, to ask, but soon the answer became clear: if she was uncertain of the truth of something, the goddess of knowledge would be the one to help her. Silently, she asked Visn for peace in the matter.

   “Mer-it!” a voice called. “Mer-it! Come look!”

  Meirit groaned, slightly annoyed. Her younger sister wasn’t even of temple age yet, so she couldn’t fault her, but she did have a rather bad habit of interrupting prayer.

   “Yes, dear!” her mother shouted afterwards. “Come look!”

  Meirit paused, for a moment, and felt dread bubbling within her stomach. If she told her mother that she was praying, she would likely have patience, but something deep within her told her that she needed to look. She stepped into the main sitting room, to see her mother leaning down on one knee, next to her sister. In her hands, held between two flour-covered talons, was a small, red feather. Her sister beamed up at her, beak held slightly open against the grey fluff of her face.

   “Is...” Meirit said, finding her voice constrained.

   “Your sister’s, yes!” her mouth said, voice too loud.

   Meirit swallowed. A flight feather. Surely a coincidence, but...

  “Oh, this calls for celebration!” her mother shouted. “We must make some pastry. Before your father gets home—Meirit, you shall help me, yes?”

   Help her Meirit did. She mixed flour and sugar, rolled out dough, placed berries in a careful pattern, tended to the oven. She put on a smile when her father returned, said her responses to the prayers, congratulated and hugged her little sister, read her a story to help her sleep. And, all the while, she was a thousand miles away, moving in a dream.

   At midnight, after her sister’s slumber was sound, Meirit left her room. She scribbled the words “At temple. Need to pray.” on a piece of paper, which she left on her bed. Then, she went to the front of their small house, took a deep breath, and jumped into the hail.

   Meirit made it to the holy site in a surprisingly short amount of time. The sisters who tended to the shrine said nothing as she entered, sopping wet, and fell on her knees. A small draft blew through the stone room, ruffling the silken curtain that covered the inner sanctum. Meirit slowly moved her mouth, at first whispering scriptures, then simply begging for any kind of answers. She, to her great regret, soon found them, a horribly certain anxiety at the core of her being.

   Meirit was retrieved by her father over a day later. She spent a week in bed, having caught a horrible cold from the chill of the night. A week after that, she began the process to commit herself in service to the gods, and, mercifully, her parents did not question why.

   A year later, as Meirit swore her vows, a single sentence danced in her head.

   The wizard must be stopped.