#i would usually call it critical but i am straight up just complaining without giving tips so.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gh0st-patr0l · 4 years ago

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ADHD in DSMP

So about a week back, I made a post about Karl Jacobs (a bit of a passive aggressive one, I’ll admit, but I think it was justified), complaining that a lot of the ‘criticism’ I see about Karl is actually rather insensitive towards his ADHD. I got a lot of responses to that post, and the most common sources of confusion I saw were:

People not understanding what I was saying they should avoid being judgmental of, or-

People who didn’t know that Karl had ADHD or didn’t understand which behaviors were caused by it.

First of all, Karl has confirmed that he has ADHD.

(NOTE: Yes, I know he said ADD. ADD and ADHD used to be categorized as separate disorders, but in the most recent edition of the DSM, it was decided that they are both simply subtypes of the same disorder- ADHD is the correct technical term. ADD is still sometimes used as shorthand by some practitioners to diagnose primarily-inattentive ADHD, but it's a bit outdated.)

Secondly, that original post made me realize that a lot of people who may be well-meaning may genuinely not fully understand ADHD and its symptoms as well as they want to or think they might. If you aren’t aware, Karl isn’t the only one in the DSMP with ADHD- to my understanding, both Technoblade and Dream have confirmed that they have it as well. So, I thought it would be helpful to put together a comprehensive crash-course on ADHD symptoms and how they effect people’s behavior!

Now, before we go further, I want to address something- as I said earlier, I saw some people unsure of whether certain behaviors are ADHD or “just his personality”. I feel the need to point this out above the read more so people will see it. To answer this question, as someone with ADHD;

A lot of times, it’s both. ADHD is a neurodevelopmental disorder, meaning that it’s caused by the way your brain developed from birth. A lot of the symptoms and effects of ADHD are extremely influential towards the way we think, act, and behave, to the point where “symptoms” and “normal behavior” really don’t have a clean differentiation. This is why it’s technically classified as a ‘disorder’, instead of an illness. While certain aspects of it can require treatment, the condition itself as a whole is not something to be mitigated or eliminated- it’s a part of who we are as a person. This is also why sometimes, even if you don’t have ADHD, you’ll look at certain specific behaviors or experiences and go “Oh, but I do that too!”. A lot of ADHD ‘symptoms’ are just a bunch of normal traits or behaviors, but in combination with each other and some actually problematic aspects, form the appearance of the disorder.

So, what are you allowed to nitpick about it? Well, there’s no real ‘authority’ on this, and even if there was it certainly wouldn’t be me. But if you want my opinion? Nothing.

See, here’s the thing- what I was trying to say when I made that post was not that you can’t be critical of Karl. If you want to say something about his Actions, his Ideals, or the content he creates- sure, go for it, that’s fair. I will agree that there are some very valid and constructive points to be made. But when you post ‘criticism’ about the way he speaks, his interests or preoccupations, his personal behaviors? That’s not criticism. That’s just judging someone.

And you’re allowed to think that stuff! Nobody can control what annoys or bothers them. It doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person. But you don’t need to be vocal about it. You can keep your mean thoughts to yourself. And if you do make posts or communities or whatever about judging someone for things they can’t change about themselves, don’t call it “criticism” or try to morally justify it. It’s not productive or righteous, it’s just rude. Nothing else.

Anyway. Back to Education!

The following will be a descriptive list of visible ADHD behaviors, using Karl’s behavior as examples.

I feel the need to add a disclaimer here- I am not a mental health professional. However! I have ADHD myself, I have taken some psychology courses and done a Lot of research into this stuff, and I’m the daughter of a therapist with access to a DSM. While I’m not an expert, I’d like to think I’m fairly well versed and knowledgeable on at least ADHD. (That being said, if by chance anyone who Is a professional sees this post and notices mistakes, by all means let me know and I’ll fix it!!)

WHAT IS ADHD?

You’re here for the behaviors more than the science, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. ADHD is Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (Known in the past as Attention Deficit Disorder). Despite its name, the root problem of ADHD is not in the person’s ability to pay attention, but their brain’s capability to manage itself. In simple terms, people with ADHD have a lot less control over what their brain does and wants. This results in some behavioral differences along with some personal challenges, namely a difficulty with attentiveness and self-discipline.

Now, onto the symptoms!

ATTENTION

This is perhaps the most visible and pervasive of the ADHD symptoms, hence why it’s the namesake. Inattention is a lack of focus and an inability to stay present and occupied with certain tasks or thoughts.

Because ADHD impairs self-management of the brain, people with it have an extremely hard time directing themselves anywhere but where their brain instinctively wants to go. This results in inattentiveness and the easiness of distraction that is often mocked or stereotyped for people with ADHD.

Here are some examples of how Karl can sometimes display his inattentiveness;

When he has an idea that he seems passionate about, only to drop it or switch to something totally different without warning soon after (either forgetting or getting bored of his original idea).

When he sets out to do something like a build, works on it for a short amount of time, and then immediately gives up or gets someone else to do it.

When someone else is talking and he totally zones out. (NOTE: While I wont make a whole section for it because it’s not easily observable, maladaptive (constant and intrusive) daydreaming is a common ADHD symptom as well!)

It’s important to remember that the whole problem with ADHD is that we can’t control when or what we focus on. When someone with ADHD zones out during a conversation or activity, it doesn’t mean they’re doing it on purpose, and they likely don’t mean any offense! We often are trying our best to listen or participate, but our brain just wont cooperate.

However, inattention is not the only way ADHD effects our focus. There’s also what’s called hyperfocus or hyperfixation, which is when we are so absorbed into a single subject, task, or idea that it is extremely difficult to get us to think about or do anything else. This is usually because our brains have found something that is getting those satisfaction chemicals flowing, and it’s clinging to that with everything it’s got.

People with ADHD will often experience brief periods of hyperfocus. Think of how Karl talks about spending hours straight working on a build or project without eating or drinking, or how he’ll sit down to play a game with someone and end up going six hours without even noticing.

There are also hyperfixations, where someone with ADHD becomes extremely preoccupied with a certain subject, topic, etc. for a period of time. These can be short term- personally, my hyperfixation can sometimes change as quickly as a couple weeks at a time. However, it can also be long term. Karl has been obsessed with Survivor since the second grade- not to mention his memorabilia, rambling, and constant references to Kingdom Hearts.

HYPERACTIVITY/STIMMING

This is a BIG one for Karl. I should clarify; ‘stimming’ is not a technical term, and in professional situations these behaviors are just referred to as Hyperactivity. However, I personally like the term stimming much more and find it far more accurate to what the behaviors actually are, so I’ll be using that instead for this post.

If you’re not already familiar, ‘stimming’ (derived from ‘stimulation’) is an unofficial term used to describe consistent and abnormal patterns of physical and vocal behavior typically expressed by people with ADHD and ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). This includes things that people usually call fidgets or tics.

(NOTE: There are differences in how people with those two disorders stim. This post will explain stimming specifically from an ADHD perspective! ASD stimming is caused by very different factors and presents itself in much different ways. Do your own research if you’re curious!)

There are two major observable forms of stimming- physical and vocal. Karl expresses both VERY often! I’ll use examples for each type;

Physical Stims: Flapping his hands/arms, jumping up and down when he’s excited, twisting around into odd positions in his chair, throwing, hitting, or tapping things, standing up and pacing around when he’s hyped up or laughing, twisting his rings, etc.

Vocal Stims: When he gets excited and repeats a certain phrase incessantly (Think any variation of “I’m popping off”), making certain repetitive noises while he’s focused on something or bored (”la la la”, the meow-noises, the weird heart-beat noise, etc.), singing or humming, tongue clicking.

It should be noted here that it’s pretty common for people with ADHD to get “stuck” on certain phrases or noises, and be unable to stop repeating them (reminiscent of echolalia, a symptom of ASD, but not the same thing). Think of how Karl might sometimes keep making a weird noise for an extended period of time even though it’s not that funny, or that one time he was physically struggling to keep himself from singing the Bakugan theme. These repetitions are completely impulsive and trust me, we usually know how annoying it is while we’re doing it, but we physically cannot stop.

ADHD stims are caused by the fact that the barrier between our brain and body is much weaker than a normal person’s. Because of this, most ADHD stims are actually very positive expressions of joy, excitement, or enthusiasm! Y’know how when you get excited, you feel like you wanna jump or dance? The ‘hyperactivity’ of ADHD is basically just that, but we don’t have the self-control to Not do it.

Stims can be caused by negative feelings like overstimulation, but in ADHD this is not nearly as common. Usually, the most negative reason we’ll stim is when we’re bored- in that case, our brain isn’t getting the Constant Stimulation that it naturally wants, so stimming is a way to make our own.

Whatever the cause, stimming is natural and impulsive. While different people experience it to varying degrees, those who regularly stim typically have little to no control over it. Suppressing stims is very hard and very frustrating to do.

Besides that, like I said- ADHD stims are often an expression of joy, excitement, or enthusiasm. They’re a beautiful thing that shouldn’t be seen as shameful or annoying!

BEHAVIORAL DIFFICULTIES

ADHD is a disorder which causes a lack of self-control. Naturally, this means that people with ADHD are inherently reckless, impulsive, and struggle with a lack of self-discipline that they cannot fix.

Of course, people with ADHD do still have some level of self-control, and they are still responsible for conscious, long-term behavioral patterns and decisions. However, in regards to most things, they are much, much less capable of controlling themselves than an average neurotypical person is.

These are some examples of how this will often present itself in Karl;

Excessive rambling, dragging on a joke or conversation when it could and should probably have been dropped, etc.

Speaking over or interrupting other people (NOTE: As someone with ADHD- THIS IS ALMOST ALWAYS UNINTENTIONAL. I know it can seem rude or annoying but I promise, 90% of the time if someone with ADHD talks over you, they either didn’t realize or physically couldn’t help it. Please try to be patient!)

Lack of awareness towards social cues (NOTE: Unlike ASD, in which the person is incapable of/has problems fully understanding social cues, ADHD results in a lack of awareness. For whatever reason, we’re often just not paying close enough attention to pick up on things like body language, tone of speech, and facial expression as well as we would normally.)

Indecisiveness and overthinking

Bluntness, lack of subtlety

Unintentional dismissiveness, accidentally ignoring things/people (NOTE: Again, this behavior is purely accidental. In this case, it’s usually just the person genuinely not hearing or processing things.)

Making noises, speaking, joking, etc. at inappropriate times

There’s probably more, but I think you get the idea by now. A lot of the time, behavior which results from ADHD can be seen as rude, lazy, dismissive, or otherwise intentionally harmful. In reality, we just aren’t wired to navigate common social interaction with grace.

In Karl’s case, he’s clearly an incredibly sweet, empathetic, and kind-hearted person, if the various close friends who have talked about him are to be believed. Just because he talks over people or makes a poorly timed joke, that doesn’t mean he meant any harm.

I think that’s about it for how much I wanted to point out! You can do more research if you’re curious, but I feel like this post should be enough to tell you what to keep in mind and be understanding about when talking about/making judgements on Karl, and other people with ADHD.

#sorry if this is longwinded but I had a lot to say so [shrug]#karl jacobs #dsmp #dream smp #dreamwastaken #ghost.txt

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admiringlove · 4 years ago

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doubt

+pairing: tsukishima kei x reader

+synopsis: tsukki, the boy you’re desperately in love with. the boy who holds your hand softly as the two of you walk home together from school. the only question is, does the boy love you back just as much as you love him?

+genre: angst; fluff.

+word count: 1.6k

+warnings: none.

+author’s notes: this is an older fic, please note that my writing style has gotten better and i am producing newer fics that are better than this one. not that this fic is necessarily bad(it’s good i hope) but just my style has improved much more.

— request.

HIYA! I saw the request were open so I just wanted a full angsty Tsukki imagine. Do anything you want, I want that ANGST :DD

You and Tsukki had been dating for the past few months. Yamaguchi, being the neutral friend of the group, would always come to the rescue if the two of you had a fight or need help in talking to one another.

However, tonight was different. The dusk comes as a promise of starlight, of those eminent pearls of the twilight that sit as if cushioned upon pure black velvet. The heat of the day has ebbed to a soothing warmth. The sunshine has lost its luster, and the colors of the atmosphere are softened.

You, a teenager who had just gotten a 76-percent in Physics, was itching to find some comfort. You had pulled countless all-nighters for these exams. You had stayed up so many nights studying the reflecting rays and the incident rays and the formulas that you were just disappointed in yourself. You were in a bad mood already; expecting some calming words from Tadashi or Kei, you walk towards the volleyball gymnasium to find Tsukki, who looked so concentrated on the practice match being played.

The boys were practicing in so much perspiration and purpose, that you felt like simply watching them excel from afar. You sighed as Sugawara and Daichi greeted you before ending practice ten minutes earlier than usual, as everyone seemed drained. You waited patiently as the boys went to get changed, Hinata giving you a high-five and complimenting you before leaving.

"I'll walk you home after changing, will you wait for me?" Kei says as he picks up his bag and slings it over his shoulder. You nod, "Sure thing, Kei."

The blond walks over to the club room with everyone else, and you notice that Kei had left a shirt in the gym.

You headed to pick up Tsukishima's shirt that he had left behind. And as you headed up the stairs of the club room, you could overhear Tsukishima and Yamaguchi talking.

Talking about... you?

"Tsukki, shush. They're your [S/O]," Yamaguchi mumbles with paranoia evident in his tone. Tsukishima scoffs halfheartedly, looking away. He rolls his amber eyes in ignorance and continues, "They lied saying they studied for the Physics exam. Why would they want to lie about studying? It's them that got the lowest grade of the class, not me."

You hide next to the half-open door—heart breaking into pieces as you hear Tsukki say those words—and Yamaguchi gasps slightly when he sees you. You gesture him to keep quiet as you wanted to hear what Kei had to say about you. Truth is, you felt as if he was slowly falling out of love with you. He never gave you any song recommendations anymore, he never walked home with you, he never even bothered to talk to you, which was what pained you even more.

“Tsukishima, why would you say that about your own partner?” Suga asked to lighten the mood a little, but Tsukishima only replied, “I don’t like it when people lie to me.”

And then, the boy continued.

"It's annoying to even be with them, at this point. They're clingy, and—"

You clutch the shirt in your palm tightly, walking away. You didn't want to hear anymore. Rapidly blinking to stop the tears brimming at the corner of your eyes, you sped up your pace. Your shoulders dropped in resignation as you tightened your chapped lips in a straight line. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, as you grabbed your backpack and began the walk towards your home. What could you do, anyway? Beg him to stay with you a little longer? Obviously not, that would make you look desperate.

But what could you do, anyway? You didn't want to admit it, but you were desperate. You were desperately in love with the sarcastic remarks, the signature smirk, the teasing eyes, the nonchalant "good morning, [Y/N]-chan", the recommendations of songs that would blow your mind, the sweet midnight trips to your house just because he was bored, the small lingering kisses that would make you want more, and what else? There was so much about Tsukishima Kei that you were in love with. You couldn't put it into words even if you tried. You imagined a future with him even though the two of you were high-school freshmen.

You were alone, walking the empty streets as tears welled up from deep inside your heart and coursed down your cheeks. Like a warm waterfall in the middle of autumn. You were being killed by your own unruly thoughts that were getting the best of you. How was he going to break up with you? Was this it? Was he simply never going to talk to you again?

You finally got home, shrugging your mother off saying that you weren't in the mood for dinner as you wiped your tears and ran up the stairs.

You avoided Tsukishima for the whole week. After all, what good does a clingy [S/O] do other than annoying their partner?

"[Y/N]!" you hear Tadashi's voice echo through the corridor just as you're about to leave. You stayed behind for a couple of extra minutes because you liked the soothing silence your school provided. The bell ringing, the leaves of the trees rustling, the smell of books and chalk, the nostalgic feeling overwhelming you of memories buried deep.

The school was a safe place without anyone around.

"Ah, Tadashi!" you grinned, you grabbed your belongings and rushed over to the boy, greeting him once again. He rubs the back of his neck nervously as he asks, "You haven't talked to Tsukki all week, have you?"

"Oh, I haven't? I didn't notice," you chuckle nervously, obviously knowing that Yamaguchi was concerned about you since the day he had seen you overhear his conversation.

What you didn't know, was that Tsukishima was standing merely five feet away, hidden inside a classroom. He was quizzically standing there, not moving an inch so he could hear what you had to say. Did you want to break up with him? Was that why you hadn't initiated a single conversation with him? Was that why you would leave your home earlier than usual so you could walk without him? Was that why you wouldn't even bother to look at his message(even though he had only tried to contact you twice—one text, and one call)?

"[Y/N], I know you heard when Tsukki complained about your grade in the Physics exam," Tadashi grimaced, gritting his teeth as he tried to look away from you. You widened your eyes as you tried to find a suitable explanation that would fix the problem in front of you.

Tsukishima, on the other hand, was shocked. He didn’t know you were there that day. His hands were in his hair as he slowly sunk to his knees. His breathing becoming more rigid, more uneven as his mind went frantic. You had heard him call you clingy. You had heard him openly criticize you in front of the whole team. You had heard him say such mean things about you.

He couldn't fathom what you were feeling.

"It's not like I care about Physics anyway," you giggle, trying to lighten the mood, "Even if I got a low score, I still passed."

"Can you not joke around?" Yamaguchi asked in a deadpan tone that made you get goosebumps. You sighed, looking at him right in the eye, and claimed, "The other option is I cry and face my overwhelming sadness that my own boyfriend called me clingy and dumb even though I try so hard to be a person he deserves, so no."

To say that Tadashi was taken aback, was an understatement. You smiled as you let out a dry chuckle, and walked away.

That night, Tsukishima Kei was the one crying himself to sleep.

"Good morning, [Y/N]-chan," you heard an all-too-familiar voice behind you as you walked out to buy groceries. You stopped in your tracks, [E/C] eyes widening as you let out an unintentional hum.

"Can we talk?" he asked. You turned around hesitantly to see that his features no longer displayed the desultory expression he used to display. His forbearance was dying by the passing minute—he was worried as he stepped toward you, but stopped as he witnessed you take a step back.

His amber eyes searched for some comfort in yours, but he couldn't find himself to look at your face—as if your hurt expression would break him down even more. He never meant to hurt you with his snarky laid-back words. He didn't even mean most of them.

"I'm sorry if I have been a clingy or annoying [S/O], Tsukishima," you mumble, kicking a pebble lightly. It doesn't even pain you to say it anymore—your voice is calm and emollient as if you didn't mind saying these words. He grimaced at the fact that you didn’t call him “Kei” as his guilt uproared even more.

Your tone caused him to wince as he looked up at your face. There was no sign of apathy, like your tone. Instead, your eyes were shut tightly, as if you were trying to stop yourself from having a breakdown right there. He stepped closer to you, hoping that you wouldn't walk away this time, as he placed a palm on your head—gently fiddling with the strands of your [H/C] hair. His touch is like embrocation; the sudden relief of all pain cast inside has been let out along with a single tear taking its course on your cheek.

Your furtive façade breaking down slowly as he held you in his long, yet firm arms. You were like a gossamer—so delicate, that Kei was scared he'd break you.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I shouldn’t have ignored you," he mumbled into your hair as he embraced you tightly. You shook your head in disagreement as you muffled out a reply, "I was the one that didn't do well. It's my fault."

"You did your best," he mused. You hummed indulgently, as he held your hand in his, "I'm walking you to wherever you're headed."

"You don't even know where I'm going," you chuckled out, as the boy smiled down at you, "So? I meant it when I said I’d follow you anywhere when we began dating.”

#tsukishima kei #tsukki #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyuu angst #haikyu x reader #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima imagine #tsukki angst #tsukishima angst

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orphic-osamu · 4 years ago

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Hello can I request “You bake when you're stressed and sometimes you give me cookies, but recently you're giving me whole baskets each day, now I'm not complaining but are you okay?" au w/Akutagawa? Congrats on 800 🎉🎉😊!

title > fresh cookies

genre > fluff

wc > 1.3k

song > out like a light ii

a/n > hello i’m so sorry i took so long. few things about this: imo it’s vv sloppy n frankly i think i shouldn’t have posted this but i didn’t wanna keep this sitting in my inbox for longer. akutagawa is ooc here? bc ngl don’t feel like doing a whole mafioso vibe for him rn, so he’s a soft boy here. i will fix the template of this post tomorrow

�� AKUTAGAWA RYUUNOSUKE —

when akutagawa first made cookies, they were quite horrible. some pieces were burnt, some tasted like rocks, and some had hardened into a weird, melted shape. he’s never cooked or baked, let alone make a full batch of cookies. however after meeting you, the cute baker across the street, he figured he’d try it out to impress you. the first try made him scowl for days after gin giggled and told him that they were barely edible.

the second time akutagawa made cookies, gin had invited you over without him knowing. you caught him in the midst of trying the treat fresh from the oven. his face twisted in disgust and he rushed to spit out the remnants of the cookie. he didn’t even see you reaching to grab one off the tray. when he realized, it was too late. grimace was written all over your face as an awkward hello slipped out of your mouth. akutagawa flushed red. how was he supposed to impress you now?

“i don’t think you put sugar, akutagawa-san.”

from across the room, gin laughed at your comment. “he’s been trying to bake cookies over and over again, he just can’t get it right.”

akutagawa wished that the ground would open up and swallow him whole right then and there. he was already so embarrassed and gin just loved to make it worse. he expected you to laugh at him, call him stupid for not being able to make such a simple delicacy.

“would you like me to teach you?”

there was visible surprise struck across his face at your suggestion. his fingers pulled on the edge of his sleeve as he fiddled with it back and forth.

“o-okay,” he stammered.

the third time akutagawa tried to bake cookies was the morning after his embarrassing encounter with you. he stood anxiously by the kitchen counter, his fingers dancing around to ease his distress.

“where’s your apron?” you asked, reaching into your bag to wear your own.

“apron..?”

akutagawa couldn’t bring himself to say he didn’t have one. you smiled knowingly at him, pulling out an extra you had. “it’s not like you have to wear one, but it puts you in the spirit, y’know?”

he wasn’t sure if he agreed. especially when the one you gave him was frilly, streaked with red and white flowers. nonetheless, he wore it. perhaps the apron was the secret to making a successful batch of cookies.

“do i look silly?” he asked, seeing your grin turn teasing more than assuring.

“mm, a little, but you still look good.”

his body flared red. admittedly, it was flustering, but if it meant seeing you smile, he supposed it was worth the trouble.

you hovered over his shoulder throughout the entire baking process, helping out here and there (like saving him from switching up the salt and sugar). until finally, all that was left was to leave them in the oven to bake.

“so, why’d you suddenly go on a cookie craze?” you leaned against the counter, trying to rest your body whilst waiting for the timer to go off. the boy fussed around with the straps of the apron, itching to take it off.

“uh, it just seems like a fun thing to do.” it wasn’t entirely true, but it’s not like he could openly say he wanted to make you a batch and pose as an expert baker to possibly strike up a conversation with you. though after you taught him, he decided that baking was enjoyable, and was definitely something he’d do again.

after that, you two settled into comfortable conversation. drowning in laughter and stories to the point where you hardly heard the timer going off. the cookies looked decent and akutagawa could only hope they tasted decent as he watched you take a bite. your eyes lit up in excitement, taking more and more bites off the cookie.

“is it good?”

you nodded, pushing him to try it too.

the next time akutagawa baked, he did it to take his mind off work. his blood was boiling and taking it out with the use of violence didn’t seem to help. his movements were harsh and rushed as he mixed the ingredients. his mind was clouded with red and he barely stopped himself from pouring an entire bowl of salt into the mix. once he caught himself, he sighed and pushed everything aside.

his eyes shut as he took deep breaths to calm himself. he already learned how to make this exact same recipe from you, he didn’t want to mess up again. his mind drifted of into thoughts of you. the way you teased him by making him wear such a girly apron, to the soft tone in your voice as you reminded him to put sugar instead of salt.

feeling the haze clear up, he picked up the spatula and resumed, movements more relaxed and calm.

the fourth, fifth, sixth time akutagawa baked, was for the same reason as the last. with every time going almost exactly the same. rage making his hands tremble until he thinks about the sweetness in your aura when you helped him. and for every time, you and gin were the only people he gave the cookies too. with every batch came a conversation with you. and soon you learned the pattern.

whenever he’d have a rough day, he’d come and give you a freshly baked batch of cookies. pretty soon he begun baking other sweets. cakes, donuts and the list goes on. and you were there to try everything, to provide him with constructive criticism.

you didn’t mind at all. if this was his way of relieving stress, then so be it. not only did you get treats from it, but you also got the baker behind them to come and talk to you. it’d happen at least once a week, usually on a sunday when he’s finished for the week. thus, you’ve learned to keep your sundays free just for when he comes by.

however one day, he baked a cake for you. and it wouldn’t be a problem if the following six days he didn’t come to give all sorts of things. he hardly noticed how drained he looked, and he would’ve gone baking for weeks straight if you didn’t ask him about it.

“are you alright? i know you use baking to cope, but you’ve been giving me so much every single day.”

“i am?”

the frown on your face tugged on his heart. you invited him in to sit down and relax for a bit, to talk about anything that was bothering him. but when he sat down, he couldn’t find the words. having you near him made everything dissipate into thin air, and suddenly nothing was wrong in the world.

“so? what’s wrong?”

he shrugged with a sheepish smile, “don’t quite remember.”

you sighed and shook your head. “but it helps when you bake, right?”

he nodded before averting his gaze from yours. all it once it hit him how close you were, and how he was sitting on your couch, in your cozy little place. his cheeks were painted red in embarrassment, causing him to shuffle away from you.

“and you don’t wanna talk about anything? you just wanna bake?”

he nodded again. another sigh left your lips. you tugged him off the couch and into the kitchen.

“well then, what are you waiting for? let’s bake. hmm, i saw this recipe and i wanted to try it out...” your words trailed off as he looked at you admiringly.

god forbid he say anything now. but maybe one day he’ll tell you. he’ll tell you about how baking isn’t so much of a reliever, and instead it’s the memory of you baking with him that came with it. maybe one day he’ll tell you that it wasn’t about making cookies, but rather seeing you get excited after he gives you a batch. that it wasn’t about learning new things, and more about the time he got to spend with you.

#bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bsd akutagawa #bsd ryuunosuke #bsd ryunosuke #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungosd #bungou stray dogs akutagawa #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs scenarios #bungou stray dogs #akutagawa x you #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke

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little-igit · 4 years ago

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Crimson Roses

A/N: This is based on a dream I had. No matter how hard we try some things just won't make sense. Feel free to ask questions about me, the dream, or the book. constructive criticism is always welcome as well as tips and ideas!

Here is a little key you might need before you start!

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Little Sisters Name(If you are an only child make one up!)

H/C - Your Hair Color

Summary: You make a last minute decision to let your sister go alone to a summer camp. After a week of no contact from her you decide to go on a rescue missing and bring your sister home.

Warnings Of The Chapter: Anxiety

Three pale figures: One with green hair, one with blonde, and the last with red and white stand in a darkly lit room talking about something in hushed voices. As if they are afraid that the wind will carry their words somewhere they do not want them to be.

“So she's supposed to be coming, right?” Green curls bounce against each other as a head tilts to the side giving the peppermint haired one a questioning glance, accusing him of a lie he has not yet told.

“Of course you damn nerd!” Spikey blond hair is thrown in front of the green-haired figure and yells.

Emerald eyes roll in their sockets, a sigh soon following, more sassy than angry, “Shut up Kacchan…”

“Stop arguing and don’t worry, she's supposed to arrive at some point this evening.” The one that had kept his silence up until now finally speaks his mind. His voice was smooth and quiet, he doesn’t seem to be a very expressive person.

“Are you absolutely sure? There’s no possible way something could keep her from being here? We need her, you know. If something keeps her from coming we can’t waste time we need her…to live. We might not be able to keep ourselves together if she arrives too late. We would be too hung-” His rant of worries and woes is cut short by someone else.

“Just, shut up already!” Kacchan takes a threatening step towards the greenette with furrowed brows which seems to effectively quiet him.

“What did I just say, Bakugou?” The calmer figure scolded.

“Whatever half and half!” ‘Kacchan’, now known as Bakugou, screamed at him.

The figure with green hair spoke in a monotone voice, “Todoroki, are you positive she's coming?”

“Yes Midoriya, I am as certain as ever,” Todoroki states as if it’s set in stone.

It might as well be with all of the thought and effort they put into this.

---

H/C hairs wisp around under the gust of the cool air coming from the air conditioning system of the airport. A girl looks out upon a sea of small heads, all of them hugging and saying their goodbyes to their mothers and families. That is if they happen to be lucky enough to have them all there. The pace of her heartbeat quickens as she starts to realize she would be the only one her age going to this camp. The feeling of her heartbeat trying to beat out of her chest isn't new to her. She's felt like that a lot lately, not to mention having anxiety doesn't help either.

Tears spring to her eyes and she turns around to cling to her mother in one last goodbye. Something about this summer camp seems wrong, the whole thing gives her the creeps. She can't tell if she's being rational, though she's never liked being in an unfamiliar place for more than a night or two, this is meant to last all summer. Not to mention that this is Japan that she would be going to. It's not like she could just drive home.

She feels tears spring into her eyes, but before she starts to cry in front of the entire plane she pulls away. She holds onto the sleeve of her mother's arm, and with a quivering voice she speaks, “I don't want to go anymore!” An unstable breath trails behind the words that leave her lips. It feels like a weight has been lifted from her with just a simple sentence.

Her mother simply looks at her for a moment, and for that short time, she is afraid of what her mom will say. She's always been quick to call out her daughter when she's being irrational or dumb, even when she isn't. Though, this time, it seems as though she understands the girl. “But you were so excited. Did something happen?” She was questioning her. Of course, she was questioning her but her voice was softer than it usually would be, maybe she sensed how uncomfortable her child was.

Y/N shakes her head, “No. I don't know what it is. I just don't think I should go.”

Her mother is confused, but at least she's trying to understand. “I won't make you go,” She said,” but what about S/N? Won't she be on her own?” The woman’s eyes flicker over to a small girl, barely eleven, with long brown hair sitting in one of the chairs, waiting for the flight. She had already said her goodbyes.

She feels heavy guilt again for leaving her sister alone. “She'll be alright…She's a little social butterfly compared to me. She'll make friends, I'm sure of that. She has her phone, she'll be able to call us if she needs to. If she doesn't I'll be sure to kick her butt when she gets back.” She softly smiles at her last statement. She had always been very passive-aggressive towards her little sister but would claim to fight anyone who would dare be even half as mean as she was to the girl. She cared about her a lot.

Her mom smiles too, giving a nod. Something still doesn't sit right with her when she thinks about the fact that she's letting her sister go alone. Especially when she suckered her way out of things because she has a bad feeling. Her sister is strong though, she has faith that she'll be alright.

She lets out an emotionally frustrated puff of air, some of her immediate distress and anxiety leaving her. At least it does for the moment. At least she wouldn't be the only eighteen-year-old on the trip anymore. She would have been the oldest going by far.

She looks at her mom again, letting go of her sleeve now, “I'm gonna go let S/N know I won't be joining her…” It takes a second of bracing herself before she walks over to her sister, seating herself in the chair next to her. “Hey…”

S/N looks up at her, “Hey??” She was puzzled, that is obvious enough. Probably because Y/N is speaking to her instead of waiting with their mom until the absolute last minute as she does at any social event. “Is there something wrong?”

She shakes her head, “No, not really…I'm not gonna be able to come with you though…I'm not feeling too great about all this.”

For some reason, whatever it is, S/N doesn't seem surprised at all. “Oh…Alright. Is there a particular reason?”

She shakes her head again, there wasn't, at least not that she could figure out.

Their conversation was cut short by the echoing ding from the speakers above them, “Flight number N571A now ready for boarding.”

The two give brief comforting smiles to each other as S/N stands, grabbing her carry on bag, and walks away into the never to be a straight line of other passengers. Her worries remain ever-present in her mind, she tries to ignore them for now burry them away, and be happy for her sister. She is happy for her, just worried.

She must be sitting there for a while watching the line because the next thing she knows, her mom is placing a hand on her shoulder, and motioning for her to get up. Calming circles are rubbed into her back as her mom seems to sense her nerves still. She knows her mom must feel nervous as well, she's never liked crowds at all.

The two wait until they are sure S/N had to have gotten on the plane safely. Her mom's voice, calm, but not comforting as it was before rings out to break the comfortable silence between the two, “Ready to go?”

Y/N nods before standing, sticking close to her mom as she starts to guide her away. The children had been told that they wouldn't need more than a carry on bag, everything that they couldn't fit would be provided for them. She didn't need to worry about needing to retrieve a suitcase thanks to that. Her mom would have made her go if losing her luggage was a part of backing out. As they walk she starts to notice how unnaturally dark the airport seems to be. She writes off though, it's probably just her imagination.

She exits the building right behind her mom thanks to the automatic doors, they hadn't had to go through security twice thank god. That was a relief at least. She covers her eyes from the burning bright sun of early morning as the pair make their way to the parking garage in which they had parked. The only reason Y/N was even awake at this time was due to the early hour of the flight. She could sleep till noon and beyond if given the chance.

The garage was close and luckily they had been on the lowest floor. No one was really up this early. Neither she nor her mom says a word as they hop in the car. It's a silence they're used to. Y/N plugs her white earbuds into her phone, opening Spotify. Not wanting to listen to anything specific she chooses to listen to her liked songs playlist. She knew full well she was going to try and fall asleep during the drive anyways so what she listened to didn't matter as long as it wasn't screaming in her ear.

She reflects a little as she tries to fall asleep. Her mom letting her come home like this isn't normal. She thought she would have to put up a fight. Especially since travel isn't cheap, though, Y/N has a close friend whose mom was able to get them deals on their tickets. Maybe that's why she didn't complain about the cost.

She hums deciding that was enough overthinking for now.

---

The week passes by slowly. Much slower what she ever would have imagined. The bad feelings she had stuffed away about the flight grew. They festered inside of her since the very first day.

Two days passed without contact from her sister. She and her mom sat in the living room eating their dinner. Her dad was at work, he worked nights frequently ever since she was little. Thankfully he gets to choose his schedule.

Y/N scrolls through Tiktok on her phone, checking her messages every few minutes. Her mom is watching some dumb movie on the hallmark channel. She's praying she gets a message from S/N soon. It's been two days of silence since she left. That isn't normal, not for S/N.

Maybe she doesn't get service where she's at but there should be wifi. It doesn't make sense for her to just not answer.

Y/N knows her mom is worried by now too, S/N usually messages her first and she hasn't done that either. She hasn't shown any nerves though.

---

By the third day, Y/N has panicked. She called her friend and asked her to get another deal on tickets. She hadn't seemed too surprised. After she had made sure the tickets were taken care of and that she would have a flight-ready she started to pack. She didn't plan to stay for long so she didn't pack much other than necessities. She stuffed it with anything else that she could.

She was going to bring S/N home with her. That's the plan, she should have made her stay back with her in the first place but she would have felt bad if she did.

One week after the original departure she found herself driving back to the airport. She was alone this time, her mom hadn't been able to take another day off of work and her dad was asleep from his late night. Her phone was connected to the stereo of the car instead of her earbuds, which were tucked away into her carry on bag. She let her liked songs playlist play again, she couldn’t pick and choose now as it would be too risky to do while she's driving. She didn't want to wreck the only car she has, not to mention how angry her parents would be with her.

It takes around an hour for her to get to the airport. She parks at the same garage her mom had parked in one of the upper floors this time. Her flight wasn't as early as it was last time so the bottom-most floors were filled. She disconnected her phone from the car before turning the key and taking it out.

The trunk pops open with the click of a button. She drags the suitcase with her items out of the car, throwing her carry on over her shoulder. She reaches up, pulling the trunk shut. There's a moment of her fumbling around with her keys before she locks the car.

It took an unusually long time to pass security, granted everything was taking unusually long this week. It takes her a good while to find the desk to check in her bags, the process itself was a normal time. She walks and wanders, making sure she knows where her boarding area is beforehand. She was looking through a nearby store when the echoing ding from before rings out again, “Flight N295EV ready to board.”

Next Chapter

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neostriatum · 3 years ago

Text

Restoring Force

[AO3]

In physics, the restoring force is a force which acts to bring a body to its equilibrium position. The restoring force is a function only of position of the mass or particle, and it is always directed back toward the equilibrium position of the system. The restoring force is often referred to in simple harmonic motion. The force which is responsible to restore original size and shape is called restoring force.

- Wikipedia

"See also: Response amplitude operator"

He stepped out of the room, aware of the vague humming that indicated Ziggy processing- what, he didn’t know, but his gut told him it was shock. Me, too, Ziggy, he thought, still registering the Fermi suit that clung and shifted to his skin, almost abrasive with how electrified he still felt.

His heart still thudded at a rapid pace, almost concerning if not for the hyperawareness as he cast his eyes over every crevice of his surroundings. The bright white of the Waiting Room shifted to comparative darkness, and it took a moment for the cheery, almost pixelated lights of Ziggy’s interfacing platform to speak through the darkness.

The room was empty, though he guessed not for long, and he curled his fingers inward as if anticipating stiffness from his long time away. The blur of his life was slowly gaining definition, slotting into place subtly with each disoriented step. He exhaled harshly, coming to lean against the operating center.

“Ziggy,” he asked, voice hoarse as it adjusted to being used by him - and not others - again, “Could you- could you tell me the date? Please?”

The humming stopped, a brief stagger, before it resumed at a different pitch that he always associated with the careful cataloguing required of a request. “It is Wednesday, May 5th, 1993, Dr. Beckett.”

He nodded, feeling the edge of one of the command cubes digging into his ribs. Sighing, one of his hands drifted to his temple, pressing a hand there in an attempt to ward off the vertigo and headache that was fluctuating as he recovered from his many years of leaping as his life slotted back into place. “Thank you, Ziggy."

“You’re welcome, Dr. Beckett.”

Something still sounded… off, about Ziggy. He frowned, hand falling away to lever support against the brightly-colored table. “Are you alright?”

A pause. “I am a computer, Dr. Beckett.”

He huffed, amused despite the nagging unease that followed the edges of his thoughts, “I’m aware, Ziggy. But humor me, will you? Are you alright?”

The emphasis of a sigh, modulated through static, “Are you Dr. Beckett?”

He blinked, inhaling as if to answer with a reflexive ‘of course’, but then stopped. It was a fair question, and Ziggy had helped him through many tumultuous events while he was stuck Leaping.

“Where’s Al?”

It wasn’t the question he had intended to ask - in fact, he had intended to rally Ziggy into asking questions of her own, so as to confirm his identity - but his mind was still sluggish, still processing this new data of merging his mind to his own body. Al was always here - Al always reminded him he was Leaping.

If Al wasn’t here - if this wasn’t a Leap - then where was he?

This, apparently, seemed to amuse Ziggy, given the sultry chuckle that answered him. “On the other side of the door, Dr. Beckett.” He answered, “I needed to be sure it was you. … No offense.”

“None taken,” He replied in good humor. His breath still caught in his throat, and he couldn’t ascertain if it was because of nerves, or exhaustion, or both. He squeezed his hand on the console, anyway, in a bid to draw strength from Ziggy’s presence as he stood up on shaky legs.

It took a moment, to regain his breath, and he ignored the intuition that told him Ziggy was closely observing his heartbeat and respiration in order to straighten his posture into some semblance of order.

“Mind unlocking the door, Ziggy?”

“... Of course, Dr. Beckett.”

It seemed not a moment later that Al was careening into the room with all of his usual energy, swearing up a storm at Ziggy and ostensibly followed by the entirety of PQL on his heels.

The entire entourage stopped on a dime as Al caught sight of him, virulent Italian stopped mid-syllable. A breath in, one the same tenuous beat as each other, before Al shuddered, looking like he wasn’t sure if he should make another step forward.

“Are- Wha-” Al marshalled his thoughts, exhaling with a tentative, “... Sam?”

“Yes,” He responded, breathless and suddenly giddy as he cracked a grin, trembling finely with the spurt of adrenaline just seeing his friend incited, “Hi, Al.”

“Oh my god,” Al clapped a hand over his mouth, not moving despite the bustling of Verbena around him to make a beeline straight toward Sam.

“Al-” He found that he didn’t know what to say, how to respond, too busy staring at the north star that had guided him so fervently across time and space. He stood idly as Verbena lifted one of his hands, fingers pressing over his wrist to time his pulse.

“You’re shaking,” She murmured, looking concerned, “Are you alright, Dr. Beckett?”

That seemed to snap Al out of his, and Sam thought wistfully that any injury or slight of his would be enough to rouse the man into action. He glanced at Verbena, the fond smile on his face waxing assuring as he mustered up the energy to place his other hand over hers, “Just fine, Verbena. I’m just tired, is all.”

“I’ll say,” She said, amused. “You’re going to be put on strict bedrest as soon as I get the paperwork through.”

“I know you will,” He said, smile widening at the pace he knew she would take to reassure herself that it was, truly, Sam Beckett in her charge, and not other people wearing his face.

It must have been exhausting, he thought suddenly, feeling a pang of pity for the pain that must have put so many people through. Always seeing the face of Dr. Beckett, but never really the man himself.

Al was still rooted to the spot, ashen and mute, while Tina tried to rouse him, her voice pitched into concern. “Al, honey, are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

There was no observable response, nothing clicking from the man beneath the shattered mask, and Sam took an instinctive step forward. Verbena’s grasp loosened with a gentle, trailing touch, her own concern evident by how she hovered at his elbow in case of collapse.

He found he couldn’t dredge up annoyance at the action - or anything else, at all - too concerned was he with bridging the remaining gap between him and Al. Silence enveloped them, everyone watching his progress with a critical, concerned eye.

For all that it seemed an eternity, it must have only been a few moments, and the flutter of joy and relief that he could hear Al’s stuttered breathing and smell the clinging wafts of cigar smoke from his clothes almost made him stumble. Here before him was the man who had never abandoned him, and the strain of it showed in the paleness of his face, feather-thin wrinkles he knew intrinsically were borne of stress - a match to the increased smattering of grey and white in Al’s hair.

“Al,” He said, quietly, intensely. It seemed to breathe life back into the other, for Al grabbed Tina’s arm with the strength of a man recently washed ashore. The physical reflection of his own mood felt like a mirror, casting back at him the same rigor that had chased him from Leap to Leap.

He couldn’t raise his voice above a murmur, “I’m here now, Al. It’s all right.”

“It’s all right,” Al repeated faintly. He blinked, nodded, a faint sheen to his eyes as he gazed up at Sam. “It’s all right.”

Abruptly, he grabbed for Sam, and Sam grabbed back, their forearms entangled in a dying man’s grip. He felt a sob bubble up, mixed in with a disbelieving laugh - none of it felt real, had felt real, not without confirming for himself that Al was there in flesh and blood on the same plane of reality as he was.

“Al,” He repeated, if only for the joy in saying the man’s name without needing to hide it under his breath, or pretending through a phone.

He was wrapped in a hug, and oh, he would never complain about the suffocating fugue of cigar smoke again, not if it meant he could feel the iron grip of his friend’s arms around him, fingers digging into his back as the suit was twisted in Al’s grasp. Never again, he thought he could hear, Never, ever again.

“Sam,” And there was his name, so brokenly said, and yet it slotted right into the gaps that his heart was cracking apart without. “Sam, dear God…”

He grinned, well and truly despite the tears filming over his eyes and rendering everything a staccato bluster of color, gripping back with equal strength. For Al- for Al, he would fight over the lassitude of his body, to give back even a single gram of the solidarity that the man had given to him.

The swung, for a moment, stuck in time as they catalogued each adjustment to this new reality, no mere hologram or warping of space-time making a mockery of their existence to each other. He didn’t know when he had tucked Al’s head into the crook of his shoulder, but the steady wetting of his suit made it seem like the right decision as he stood steadfast for this indescribably loyal friend.

He wouldn’t break apart, not now, not when he had the pieces of the puzzle put together despite the quicksand of physics leaching away the horrors of Leaping. He clung to Al as he clung to those memories, not wanting to leave his friend alone for either.

“Sam,” Al said, a tremble to his voice that said he wasn’t done grieving - and, Sam reflected sorrowfully, would likely not be done for many years yet. “Sam, how…? How are you back?”

He inhaled, turning the things he could say over in his mind. No one had been in the room, which indicated that no retrieval program was being run at the time of his reappearance. This return was of his own doing, and it sent a remembrance of exhaustion through him, threatening to take the both of them tumbling down to the floor.

“I suppose it was just time for me to come back home,” He murmured instead, and in the heart of it, that seemed to ring true. Al didn’t let go, and Sam didn’t make any move to shove him aside, continuing on with a voice that felt the need to deliver his speculations gently, “I think I’m needed here more, now.”

That caused a hiccupped breath to echo out from Al to the others, an unexpected unwinding of tension that must have kept them ticking away for the miles of years he was absent for. It sent a pang through his heart, the fleeting misery that he couldn’t take all of them in his arms to soothe them.

But the pain was quickly absolved with the satisfaction that he, at last, was able to help Al in the way Al had so frequently helped him. It was no encouraging word to dust himself off and work towards his release from that Samaritan purgatory, but it was exactly what he knew Al preferred - the physical reassurance that all was right in the world.

He couldn’t change the past - their lives had their own struggles reflected in the broken glass of innocent dreams - but what was here now was an ample bounty unto its own. Shifting his grip, he brought a hand up to cradle Al’s head, protective of the terrific mind housed within it.

The action broke some reticence on the other man’s end, and he slumped into Sam’s arms, heedless of the respectful quiet the others were granting them. “You can rest, now, Al,” He said, dropping the words close to the man’s ear, “I’m here, I’m not leaving.”

“Don’t do that again,” Al mumbled, taking remorseless advantage of the sanctuary Sam was offering him.

He chuckled, giving in to the temptation to drop a kiss to his friend’s temple, “I think I’ve had my fill of it.”

“You’d better!” Tina interjected, voice overlapping Gooshie’s. They glanced at each other, flustered.

No time was given for either to cede, for Ziggy smoothly interrupted, “Perhaps now Admiral Calavicci will rest properly.”

Verbena hummed in vehement agreement, “I expect the both of you to head straight to bed.”

He felt the slim smile that broke through Al’s demeanour as he laughed, “Yes, ma’am.”

They kept close, a huddle of people surrounding them as they were fairly escorted to the room the project’s doctor led them to. The chamber was small, and the bed singular, but the exhaustion that rattled through Sam’s bones made him gratefully compliant as he led Al into the room.

“Sleep well, Dr. Beckett, Admiral Calavicci.” Ziggy bid the both of them, flicking off lights until only the dim, yellow lamp kept them company. It was signal enough, and a yawn broke through Sam, rippling over to Al.

The man looked nearly sickly in the low light, its muted shade drawing shadows over the divots of his skin. He looked up at Sam, the lingering effects of shock on his face piling age into his features. It wasn’t the youthfulness that Sam had gotten to know over the course of building the array of Quantum Leap machines, and it tugged at his heart as he reached down to grasp Al’s hands.

“How are you, really?” He asked softly, thumbs brushing absently over the warm skin.

Al seemed transfixed by the sight, and Sam believed it, knowing this tangible intersection of selves would take time - so much of it, now! - to settle in. He didn’t remove his hands, despite the tug of weariness that made his eyelids slip lower in anticipation of a proper sleep.

“I am…” Al’s voice was rough, as if unused, and Sam knew that to be a lie with how often his ear was chatted off with meandering gossip and helpful advice alike. He squeezed the other’s hands in encouragement, waiting out the startled inhale at the reminder that he was really here, “I- don’t know.”

The wounded undertones made Al seem small, miniscule in comparison to the impact he’s had in Sam’s life for so long. “That’s alright,” He murmured, “I’ll be here, anyway.”

That rattled another would-be sob into existence, from deep in the pit of Al’s stomach. Sam caught sight of the tears that wavered on the edge now, and how Al dragged his hands away to brush them away. He beat him to it, though, cupping the man’s face as he thumbed away the tears as they spilled over.

Once upon a time - probably at the very beginning of this mess - Sam probably looked up at Al with the same look of lost despondency that was directed up at him now. He wondered if Al felt the same brokenheartedness as he did, the same instinctive reaction to soothe and comfort. His friend was pretty terrific, and he didn’t doubt that urge to right the world resided in the same spot as it did in his own heart.

He pressed his forehead against Al’s, abruptly wishing for the urge to be closer. Mindless shushing noises spilled forth from him, accepting the frantic grasping that let Al know this was real. God only knew that he needed his own grounding in reality, listening to the sobs shaking through both of them as he wiped away tear after tear.

“I- I thought,” Al wept, “Thought you would never come- come back.”

“You prayed for me,” He murmured, remembering his guise as a priest and the grieving Al tried so hard to fix, words tumbling forth as they did now, “I’m here, you’ve got me.”

His legs were straining with fatigue, an unpleasant after-effect of merging with his own body after so long, and Al instinctively caught him despite his own turmoil, breath stopping entirely until Sam was righted. It paralleled their lives from the Leaping so closely that he couldn’t help but press forth, reassuring Al that he was here, that he was safe, that Al didn’t fail him like he so feared to do.

They were an unstable tangle, difficult to tell who was which in this superposition of keeping each other anchored. His lips upon Al’s were like the quantization of states, a resonance of softness that lulled each other into stability, something less frenetic and more an induced calm. He swiped his lips across Al’s, gently, taking care to memorize the electrification of nerve endings that overlapped with the salt of tears.

“I’m here,” He murmured, pressing the words in the space between their lips, hands encapsulating Al’s face and providing the end points of his care as he repeated his affections, his gratitude, into the waiting gasp before him, “I’m here, I’m here.”

They slowed, eventually, an easing of momentum that rang outward from their trembling selves to the breath between them. It was difficult to tell the edges of each kiss, or who pressed back against the other, a sharing of sweetness that was their own celebration of equilibrium unto stillness.

He felt each whisper of inhale, the oxygen that must be circulating through Al’s blood, and felt, for a moment, that it trespassed back to him, a reciprocation of the lifeline they had relied on so intensely. His fingers had curled at the edges of Al’s hair, tickling at the tips where he had slipped across the edges of his jaw to cradle the man’s head to succor comfort unto his mouth.

Reluctantly, he withdrew, gladly staying within the boundaries of Al’s arms as he was held close in an embrace that held all the familiar protectiveness he had once enjoyed only in words. They did not move, nor speak, content to savor the moment.

He felt a smile pool across his face, euphoria bubbling up. Al matched it, quick as he ever was, a laugh tumbling between them. It seemed to settle the last echoes of stress between them, and a yawn cracked open from him, breaking the whispers of yearning that grief had threatened to eclipse.

In its place swept exhaustion, and though Al looked more lively than earlier, the deep bags under his eyes couldn’t be missed. He dragged his fingers from Al’s hair, down the man’s neck and across his shoulders, watching the shiver that reverberated through him, finely tuned and deeply-wrought.

“Let us sleep, Al,” He murmured.

Al nodded, pressing his fingers more firmly from where they were comfortably lodged in the shallow curve of his waist before they left with reluctance. He stayed close by, anyway, thigh touching thigh as Al unlaced and slipped off his shoes.

The sigh that echoed forth from that action was deep, already limned in sleep’s catching thrall, and they settled upon the bed side-by-side, arms thrown over each other and legs entangled as they drifted off.

Today may be done, but tomorrow was another day, and one they needn’t race to catch up to.

Author's Notes

In the field of ship design and design of other floating structures, a response amplitude operator (RAO) is an engineering statistic, or set of such statistics, that are used to determine the likely behavior of a ship when operating at sea. Known by the acronym of RAO, response amplitude operators are usually obtained from models of proposed ship designs tested in a model basin, or from running specialized CFD computer programs, often both. RAOs are usually calculated for all ship motions and for all wave headings.

- Wikipedia

Pertinent notes:

Original timeline in the sense of Donna Eleese not marrying Sam, nor Beth Calavicci staying married to Al

Although not canon, I kept to the idea of Sam's mind leaping rather than mind + body out of a sense of technical issues that could arise out of our current understanding of physics (i.e. the compression of matter that would deal with the details of "how would Sam fit into everyone's clothes" and the practical consideration of "how would Sam be able to recall his original positioning in the space-time field for an accurate Leap back home")

Quite a lot of the physics and narration is directly influenced by the theory of quantum entanglement

The date Ziggy tells Sam is the premier airing date of "Mirror Image"

#quantum leap #sam beckett/al calavicci #sam beckett #al calavicci #my story

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arcticdementor · 3 years ago

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There are a lot of complaints these days about white men, particularly online where confrontations are much less threatening. People make those complaints in lieu of gathering actual power, which is hard and takes time away from endlessly refreshing Twitter. These categorical claims about white men are existentially harmless no matter where they arise - who gives a shit? - but they are also quite weird when they come from white men. And boy, do woke white men love to complain about white men! Let’s check in with Dr. Grist.

…

Much could be said here! First and foremost is the fact that “ideas don’t arise from specific individual minds but from the flow of history and our contingent place within that history” is just a crude approximation of Marxism, a philosophy developed by a couple of white men and which famously has a lot of white male admirers. Or, if you squint a different way, you could maybe call this thinking a simplistic consequence of French poststructuralism, an intellectual tradition developed almost exclusively by white men. Etc. Honestly the entirety of 20th century philosophical development points squarely in the direction that Roberts is arguing, so his claim that it would appear deeply threatening to the vast population of white men seems a little odd. I am almost charmed by all of this, in the sense that Roberts has expressed a profoundly undergraduate vision of the history of ideas, one that ham-handedly mirrors more sophisticated and forceful versions developed by white men, and then posits it as both somehow novel and uniquely threatening to white men. Almost charmed, that is, because such a desperate play for the approval of other people (most of them white) dressed up as truth-telling can’t be genuinely charming.

It should go without saying that what Roberts is saying is utterly self-undermining. If Roberts believes that the opinions of white men are inherently suspect because they arise from a situated and contingent position within history, then his own position is inherently suspect because Dave Roberts is a white man. If, on the other hand, Roberts’s point is merely that white male opinions exist within the same contingent and uncertain epistemic status as everyone else’s, then that means that there is no reason to trust white men more but also no reason to trust us less. It’s just the interplay of different ideas, all arising from the inherent confusion of history. Which would mean that the ideas that should and will rule are those that arise from the interchange of ideas, from combat between them… in other words, from the processes of Reason1, which Roberts dismisses here with his usual mixture of confidence and confusion.

…

I am kind of fascinated by the “I hate white dudes” white dudes. Take Will Stancil. I don’t really know what a Will Stancil is or does, other than that Will Stancil fucking loves to complain about white men on Twitter.

…

Or take Will Wilkinson, who turned on an absolute fucking dime from snide Cato Institute libertarian to weepy woke white man when the political wind changed direction. I don’t generally take cues on how to be progressive from guys whose lives were subsidized by the Koch brothers for years and years, but I especially don’t when it’s those who so obviously “read the room” and realized that a career in media was going to take a lot of performative sneering about white guys.

…

You guys, seriously - if criticizing white men can have any valence at all, it cannot admit exceptions; if you admit exceptions, you are necessarily not really critiquing white men. By the very nature of making these critiques publicly, you are inherently asking the people reading them to see you as the exception. You are, all of you, saying “I am the good white man,” which puts you in the company of literally millions of other aging white guys who have gotten very worried about their place in the world and see a market opportunity in making themselves out to be unlike other white men. Which, you know, fine. Hustle on, player. The problem is that the it renders the substance of your critique totally incoherent. Dave Roberts is asking us all, with a straight face, to take seriously that he has a very low opinion of white men in a way specifically designed to improve our opinion of him, a white man. And so is Will Stancil and Will Wilkinson and Noah Blatarsky and dozens upon dozens of other white dudes I could name. The want to earn credit for being willing to critique their own identity category but cannot help but exempt themselves from that critique!

I find this all untoward. I find it cynical and gross to go through the motions of pretending to indict yourself when doing so is really just a strategy to elevate yourselves above others. It’s like religious types who self-flagellate specifically to appear more holy than others, a pantomime of humility driven by hubris. It’s a special kind of hypocrisy. These are the kinds of guys who loudly mock “not all men,” but their entire careers amount to one long performance of “not all men.”

#freddie deboer #substack

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kamilah-the-bloodqueen · 4 years ago

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Remember Me (1/?)

I am sorry because I don’t think I did good but I know you guys will let me know how I did. Before anyone thinks I’m ignoring people I promise I saw all the asks and this was so requested in my inbox I had to spoil you guys. I have an outline with the first 12 chapters already planned out and I’m so excited to write this. I want to thank the ANON WHO HAD THE CANON IDEA for letting me write this series because I love it.

Pairing: Adrian x MC (as of this chapter) ;)

Warnings: Amnesia, Fatal Car Accident

Word Count: 1424 (Short because it’s an introduction chapter)

Tags: Not a soul at the moment but if you would like to be tagged for THIS SERIES let me know and I’ll be happy to add you here :)

Amy softly stirred, feeling strong arms wrapped around her as she let her eyes flutter open. She rolled over, cupping Adrian’s face in her hands as she placed a soft kiss to his forehead before standing to shower. She grabbed a towel and a change of clothes and headed for the apartment's bathroom- the apartment she had become so familiar with the past months after defeating Rheya. The set the towel down on the marble counter, slowly undressing herself before turning the warm water on.

A few minutes later she emerged with wet hair, putting it up as she wiped herself down and began her daily routine. She put her bra and lingerie on, putting her suit on for the day shortly after. She ran cold water and washed her face, gasping as she felt arms around her waist again. She looked up to the mirror, Adrian behind her with a warm smile as she turned to face him.

“Good morning Adrian.” Amy wrapped her arms around his shoulders, gazing into his perfect brown eyes. He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, pulling her incredibly close before whispering back.

“Good morning, what time can I take you out to dinner, let’s say Ocean Prime?” Adrian smirked, as usual he always insisted on a nice dinner at least once a week.

“How about 19:00? I’ll be finished, I’ll meet you there?” Amy smiled as she turned back to the mirror, putting a small amount of lip gloss on.

“Perfect,” Adrian leaned closer, his eyes playful before he backed away, “it’s a date.” He placed the towel down, nothing Amy hadn’t seen and nothing she was complaining about either. He stepped into the shower as she left the bathroom, shouting as she left for work.

“I love you Adrian!”

“I love you-ah shampoo! I mean you, I love you Amy!”

Amy laughed as she shut the door, a smile on her face as she thought of nothing but dinner and what would come afterwards. She hopped into a cab as she scrolled through her text messages with Adrian, smiling at a picture of him at Coney Island with a big stick of cotton candy. She made it to her desk and sat down, letting time fly by as she waited for 18:00.

----Skipping to 18:00 because writing about Amy at work is just not.the.move----

Amy smiled as she glanced up from her computer screen, reading the time to herself before packing her bags and heading towards the elevator. She stopped in the bathroom before fixing her makeup and her suit in the mirror before heading outside to hail a cab. She stepped inside, giving the driver the route to Oceans Prime as she texted Adrian.

On my way!

Perfect, I’m already seated!

Love you!

I love you too!

Amy smiled as they navigated the less-than-usually busy streets of New York, as they hoped onto 695. Amy glanced back at her phone before looking up and seeing a car headed straight towards the cab, she screamed as they hit straight on.

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

*Buzz Buzz*

Adrian silenced his phone as he let the call go to voicemail as he waited for Amy. He reached into his pocket and held a small velvet box, his heart thumping as he thought of Amy, who he hoped would become his fiance.

*Buzz Buzz*

Adrian scoffed, answering the phone as the sirens nearly deafened him. He furrowed his brows as he stepped outside of the restaurant.

“This is Adrian Raines speaking how can-”

“You are urgently needed at the hospital, there’s been an accident involving Amy something.” Adrian dropped the phone onto the pavement, running to his car and starting the engine as he blared off to the hospital. He parked on the side, immediately rushing in towards the desk, frantic to find Amy.

“I’m looking for Amy-”

“Mr.Raines, right this way.” The nurse stood and led Adrian to a hospital room at the end of the hall, she stopped before letting him inside. “She’s in critical condition, the doctor will be out shortly to talk with you.” Adrian huffed before nodding, only wanting Amy to be in the best hands.

“What happened to her?” Adrian’s palms grew sweaty as the nurse shook her head, Adrian wanted to demand and answer but this was not the time.

“The-the doctor will brief you shortly.” She walked away quickly, making Adrian nervous. He sat on the bench outside, nervously shaking his leg as he dialed Kamilah.

“Adrian-”

“Amy’s been hurt, come to the hospital.”

“I’m on my way.”

Adrian waited patiently, wanting nothing more but to see and comfort Amy as he waited for Kamilah. He stood up as he heard footsteps approaching, the same nurse leading Kamilah, Lily and Jax to him as their faces bred concern.

“What happened Adrian?” Lily asked as she let a tear fall from her face.

“The doctor hasn’t come out yet.” Adrian sighed, leaning against the wall as Kamilah placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Jax clenched his fist before letting a deep breath out, lowering his shoulders as he took a spot on the bench. A few minutes later the door to the room broke the silence, a tall, grey-haired doctor with a clipboard stepping out as he held a finger to his lips. All four of the vampires stood up, crowding the doctor as he shook his head, closing the door. He turned to Adrian, a frown on his face as he began to read the diagnosis.

“Mr.Raines, I am here...I am here to inform you that Amy Smith has been involved in a fatal car accident due to a drunk driver on 695...” The doctor paused, taking a deep breath as Lily began to cry, leaning into Jax’s shoulder as he lowered his head. Adrian clenched his fist as he shut his eyes, trying not to cry as the doctor composed himself. “Although she was not killed, she suffered extreme physical trauma.” The group let out a sigh, knowing Amy could be healed over time with medicine and care. The doctor placed a hand on Adrian’s shoulder, looking him in the eye before finishing the brief. “The physical trauma includes: a fractured rib, a broken forearm, and a broken leg plus internal bleeding. Luckily her rib did not puncture her lungs, therefore she should be able to make a full recovery...physically.”

“What do you mean physically?” Adrian inquired as Kamilah met his gaze, he shook his head as the doctor stared into the floor.

“Unfortunately because of the incident, Amy Smith suffered extreme amnesia…not recollection of the past 5 years.” The doctor’s voice softened as he turned to the entire group, their faces pale as Lily and Jax sobbed softly. “I..I’m really sorry. We did everything we could…the door’s open...don’t overwhelm her too much...one at a time...” He walked away as Kamilah thanked him before rushing to hold Adrian as he cried.

“Amnesia?!? That means-” Lily sobbed, falling into the chair as Jax held her, heartbreaking at the news too. He gently stroked Lily back as he clenched his jaw, before wiping his own eyes.

“She doesn’t remember us…she doesn’t remember me…” Lily cried as Kamilah stood in front of them with her arms crossed as she bowed her head.

Adrian stood up, clenching and unclenching his fist before reaching in for the velvet box, caressing the fur of it as he let it go and opened the door. Kamilah reached for his hand, looking him in the eyes as she let a tear fall.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay in there alone? Kamilah whispered, as she peered into the room, not spotting Amy. Adrian nodded softly, as Kamilah, Lily and Jax took a seat on the bench, all of them in a tight embrace as they let their tears flow.

Adrian carefully stepped into the room, analyzing the windows and immediately turning to the bed with Amy’s figure resting in it. He slowly walked over to her as she stirred awake, meeting his eyes but without the loving gaze he was so accustomed to.

“Amy-” Adrian sat down next to her, his eyes slowly watering as she took him in. He smiled at her but she just stared at him, confused at his presence. Adrian felt his heart speed up, as he gently took her hand, she pulled it away as her eyes narrowed at him before angrily whispering at him.

“Who are you? I don’t know you.”

#adrian x mc #kamilah sayeed #am i allowed to tag Lily and Jax???#They're in the main plot but it's not circulating around them??#its fine anyways #adrian raines #kamilah the bloodqueen post #memory loss series #I am sorry because this sucks #I promise I have requests done #I just don't want to spam the tags and get tag-blocked #this was also requested A LOT in my inbox and I will show you if you need proof

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the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers · 4 years ago

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An Actual FFXV S/I!

Believe it or not but I do enjoy inserting myself into the universes of my f/os! The only thing is they’re fighters, soldiers if you will, and I’m not. I can’t even really picture myself as one since that’s not who I am and that SUCKS when I’m trying to read inserts and they’re like “Oh you met F/O in a battle, you spar together as dates, etc...” because no, I AM A SMALL SQUISHY BEAN! I don’t even run unless I have to or I want to...

But anyways I’ve finally figured out a way to insert myself into FFXV! This takes place around FFXV: Brotherhood Here we go! Picrew: [Here]

Name: Rebecca Grace Stinheart Nickname: Becca or Ms. Grace (in semi-professional settings) Age: 18 Occupation: Full-time student part time paper writer Clothing Style: Wears anything from a classic oversized hoodie and jeans to flowy dresses covered in lace. It really just depends on what she feels like on a certain day. Where To Find Her: If it’s any time between 3pm and 7am you can usually find her in her little corner of the castle either typing up homework of her own, royal documents, or sleeping at her keyboard since it’s become more of her home than where her family is. Otherwise she’s at school or out and about with personal friends of hers. She may take breaks in the gardens or where the Crownsguard members train to do yoga or exercises that her Physical Therapist recommends.

Backstory: “Are you a college student stuck with a term paper or a person in business who needs to create a proper presentation? Well, whatever your position may be if writing is what worries you, then leave it to me! I’m more than happy to make essays exuberant and speeches truly spectacular, for a fee, of course!”

This was a snippet of the advert that Rebecca had posted online in order to earn some quick cash after a friend insisted that they pay her for helping with an English essay that they had. Writing was what she was good at and hoped to make a career with, so she figured why not dip her toes in the career pool even if it was under the table. She needed some way to keep the lights on since she couldn’t trust her parents to do so.

Sure, ghostwriting for other’s grades wasn’t the most credible, but there was a market for it and she knew it. Even if she just took on the role of a tutor to help the client with details and staying on task, she didn’t care as long as she got a good ten to twenty bucks for turning a few notes into five pages.

She knew of the royal family, heard of the popular Crownsguard, and even saw prince Noctis in school since he was a grade or two above her; but none of that ever interested her. Politics were politics and the system they had created never helped her or her family. But little did she knew that her work spread quickly by word of mouth to those she’d never dream to meet.

She had ended up writing a few essays for a sunshine boy both in hair color and personality named Prompto. He was sweet, compliant in giving her the material needed, and paid well enough. Her work got him A’s in his classes and one B+ since the teacher was a stickler, but after that they seemingly parted ways. That is until a few weeks later when this happy-go-lucky guy came back and introduced her to his good pal Noct.

She was surprised but not unwilling to take his work! This could be what she needed to really get herself out there, not to mention that she could make enough money from this one job than she could in a month of jobs... If she played her cards right. As she told the two young men straight up, “I’m a miracle worker, not a charity case.”

And a miracle worker she seemingly was since the prince’s grades perked up and he became quite the regular to her business. That is until a slightly older, spectacled royal advisor named Ignis caught wind of their trades and stopped it with a light scolding to the prince. Yet to Rebecca he proposed that instead of writing as a ghost, they make things official. Rebecca should become Noctis’ royal tutor and speech writer when the advisor had to tend to other matters. Not only would that give her the credibility she wanted, but she’d receive a much more stable paycheck since she’d be a part of the royal staff.

So she took the job and with how much she was helping the prince and growing friendly with him and his friends, it wasn’t long until she met the other royals and castle staff. Though just like her original business, word of mouth spread quickly and if the matter wasn’t too sensitive but had to do with writing, Rebecca was the one castle staff would go to. This was because she was the most available and easiest to find most of the time, since she had made her office more like her home away from home.

Yet she didn’t meet the final member of the Prince’s posse, his Shield named Gladio, until she had settled down into her work. She was done for the evening and decided to take a break in the gardens, to rest, reorganize herself, and work out the countless cricks knotted through her body. Her mind was finally at peace until a gruff voice called out and critiqued her yoga pose. This startled her so much that her Downward Dog became a Crashing Child since she fell flat on her stomach. Gladio was going to criticize her more for complaining about her soreness, until he realized she wasn’t one of the Crownsguard he trained with but a new young face he’d only see in passing. Rebecca made that abundantly clear when he finally snapped out of it and went to help her up. When she explained that she wasn’t Crownsguard but the Prince’s royal tutor that Gladio had heard about from the others, he admired her drive and efficiency to get the younger men to work while helping everyone she could out. He also felt kind of bad as she explained that she was self-taught and was doing the best she could without hurting herself.

Rebecca then avoided Gladio like the plague for a good few weeks since if she wanted to be judged on her physical abilities and lack thereof all she had to do was attend P.E. class. This sucked for Gladio since not only was she getting closer with Noctis, Prompto, and Ignis, but she was also getting close to his sister Iris as well since they shared a fashion class together. It took a few more weeks but Gladio finally got Rebecca in a place where he could explain himself at the very least. Rebecca begrudgingly forgave him but soon found that other than their differences in physical abilities, they shared quite a few interests especially in literature. He’s actually become her strongest advocate in the castle. Some say that it’s because Rebecca handed him his ass verbally, while others gossip that there’s something more to his admiration...

None of them know the full story of Rebecca’s life other than the snippets that slip out in conversation, yet they all look out for her in their own way.

Ignis makes sure she eats, helps her with chores, and helps her try to maintain a decent sleep schedule.

Prompto and Noctis usually take her out to goof off when she’s in need of a break. Prompto also brings her snacks and new earbuds for back-ups.

Gladio forces her to stay hydrated, will carry her to bed when he finds her asleep at her desk, and takes time out of his day to go out for walks or do yoga together where he actually guides her through it

#ship: the storyteller and her shield #selfship #oc x canon #self insert #self shipping community #selfship community #self insert community #self ship community #selfinsert community #s/i reference #s/i x canon

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ramblings-of-a-foolish-mortal · 4 years ago

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Constellations in Your Soul C3

/// Thank you so much, @aristotleisdead, I really appreciate your comment on C2. This chapter has Remus suffering from some Sensory Overload, mostly Auditory. I’m sorry it took so long to get this one written, but I appreciate anyone who’s reading what I put out. As always; comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism are welcome, just please be respectful to each other and myself.///

The weeks passed slowly, though not slow enough for Remus, not slow enough for him to think about everything running through his head. Days passed where Sirius would hide pained expressions behind smiles and push his feelings behind jokes, other days Sirius appeared to actually be doing okay. Feelings of unease at Sirius’ mental state ran in circles within Remus’ mind while screaming at each other about which one of them might be correct. Remus had an easy enough time telling when something was off about Sirius, that came with practice (which he unfortunately had a lot of), but being able to discern why was a whole other issue. There was very little Remus could do to reason out why Sirius would be upset on a specific occasion because of the simple abundance of chances and circumstances that worked together to beat him down. There were a lot of words that could describe Sirius (most notably rambunctious and quick-tempered) but no one could call him weak. Not only was it untrue by his most fundamental traits, but Remus would also beat anyone who tried to say so.

No doubt he would say I’m incorrect. Convincing him that he has value will definitely take a long time…

Remus stared up at the ceiling while contemplating how to best help Sirius. He’d initially woken up from the rain outside, and now that he’d woken up, he couldn’t get back to sleep with the sounds of his friends quietly breathing and shifting around. Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have annoyed him so much, but today it sounded like they were breathing next to his face from two beds over. Covering his head in pillows didn’t help, humming was worse, and there were few other noises aside from the rain outside that could drown out the incessant whistle every time Peter inhaled.

Remus stared at the ceiling, resigned to a day of hell. It’s not even down to two days before the full moon, I still have at least 4 days until then. Why am I already so sensitive? Remus let out a quiet whine, mentally complaining about how intense his senses had already become while his body prepared for the full moon.

His thoughts halted as he heard James breathing change and the sheets shift. After a moment, Remus looked over to James, who was propping himself up on an arm. James let out a booming yawn and Remus flinched away. Ow… James turned his head towards Remus, then sat up with pajamas scraping against the sheets again.

“Morning Rem-” James spoke at almost full volume, crashing into Remus’ ears as he flinched. James stopped talking as soon as he saw Remus almost move to cover his ears. His voice immediately dropped to a quiet almost mutter. “Morning Remus, how are you feeling.” Remus silently thanked him, able to hear without much more discomfort than what was normal.

“I’m alright James,” Remus offered a small smile and moved to sit cross legged on his bed. “It’s just loud in here.”

James looked at Remus apologetically, then started getting dressed for the day. By 7 everyone in their dorm room was up and ready or in the process. Remus stepped out as soon as he could, right behind James. Sirius was still getting ready, but made time to give Remus a thumbs up and a smile on his way out. James was kind and led the way to the Great Hall, breaking the crowd for Remus to walk behind him with minimal physical contact from the other students. As they neared the Great Hall, Remus could hear the hoards of students inside, their voices banded together like a waterfall roaring. The closer they got to the Great Hall, the more convinced Remus became that he wouldn’t be able to do anything once in there, assuming he could get in there at all. Once he stepped into the room, the sound seemed to double, coming from all sides. Combine that with the sight of everyone moving around, grabbing food, and knocking into their friends… It made him want to crawl to the nearest cave and stay there for a few decades. It was just so loud. Remus forced himself to stare at James’ back as he moved through students and found their seats. Remus followed close behind, grateful that James didn’t get too far ahead while moving through the hoard. He didn’t say anything nearly all of breakfast. Sirius and Peter had joined a few minutes after James and Remus had sat down, talking quieter than they normally did. Remus could tell they were making an effort, and he appreciated it, but he couldn’t focus on anything they were saying over the roar of all the other students.

Remus kept his eyes on his plate, slowly eating oatmeal while trying to tune out the students like white noise but the sounds they made were too varied, and too unstable for him to tune out. He couldn’t think with all this noise. He might be lucky enough to form half a thought before his brain whipped his attention around to someone talking or to movement caught in the peripheral of his vision. He couldn’t focus long enough for even a single thought to finish. Remus quickly grew frustrated, trying to consider his tasks for the day but unable to even start. I’ve got to turn in- What word did she just- Why is it so Loud I can’t- did he say fork or- What did they just shove in their robes-

Remus didn’t realize he was curling in on himself until Sirius gently laid down a hand where he could see on the table. Remus stared at Sirius’ hand as he grew aware that he was hunched over the table with his hands balled into fists on his pants.

“Remus,” James spoke loud enough to be heard, but not too loud, luckily. Remus was so on edge he might hit someone if they startled him. “Can we take you to the library?” Remus looked up just enough to see James robes and shirt, not wanting to uncurl enough to meet his eyes. After almost a minute he replied.

“Yeah. That’d be… good.” Remus followed James from his side of the table, Sirius and Peter mirrored them on the other side, merging with them at the end of the table near the door. Sirius stood behind Remus, and Peter stood on his side. James led from slightly to Remus’ right, slightly ahead. The halls were much quieter than the Great Hall, but they still weren’t quiet. As they entered the library, Sirius made sure to open and close the door quietly. Once they all sat down, Remus was able to calm down, lowering his head to the table and closing his eyes. He sat there for a long time, feeling his heartbeat in his neck and chest, forcefully breathing slower.. I didn’t even realize I’d started to hyperventilate until I was able to start calming down…

“Remus, are you doing any better?” Sirius was careful to speak quietly, though his voice was rough, almost like he’d been crying or screaming. Remus sat up, smiling tiredly at his friends.

“Yeah, I’m doing better. Today is going to be a long day though… “ Remus looked to Sirius, Peter, and James individually. His eyes lingered on Sirius a little bit longer, noticing the tightness in his smile and the way his eyes looked tired. He doesn’t look so good…

“It’s still 4 days away, if you’re feeling this bad now then maybe you shouldn’t go to class tomorrow.” Sirius gave a worried expression, eyebrows scrunching upwards on his face. He was right, Remus probably shouldn’t go to class for the next few days, but that would mean he had to catch up, and class usually wasn’t so bad. Most people were quiet. I might just avoid the classes I know will be too much… His mind immediately went to potions class with all those mixing smells and all the headaches.

“That… might be a good idea. But we’ll see how I’m feeling tomorrow. This might just be because I didn’t sleep well last night.” Remus offered up his alternate cause, hoping to take some of their worry away. No one really understood much about werewolves or how the cycles work other than that the cycles exist, so everything was all speculation. But that said, Remus knew this was abnormal for him, and that meant something had changed. That change could easily be his stress levels, it could also be attributed to sleep deprivation, or dreams, or some kind of sickness. Unfortunately, similar to knowledge on the cycles, this was all speculation to him. Remus glanced between his friends, trying to figure out what each was feeling. It was easy to see that Sirius wasn’t doing well, but how exactly and why was a mystery to him. James had all of his attention on Remus, trying to figure out if he was lying about being okay, no doubt. James was pretty good at telling when his friends were lying (and it was quite frustrating when trying to plan something for him. But that was beside the point.)

When Remus moved his eyes to look at Peter, he saw the shorter friend sitting up straight with his eyes locked on Remus, studying him the same way he was studying Peter. They exchanged momentary glances before breaking eye contact, there was really no point trying to find what someone was feeling while they were so intently focused on you (little else but concentration tends to show on their face.)

“Thank you for taking me out of the Great Hall, guys. I… Thanks.” Remus ran a hand through his hair for a moment, sweeping it a little to the side and out of his face. “I think I’ll stay here a little while, once I feel like leaving I might go to class. I might just go to the dorms.” He glanced at the clock, silently hoping for a reason to be alone. The universe took mercy on him. “You guys should go, class starts in a little under 5 minutes.”

Both James and Peter looked over to the clock, eyes widening when they saw the time. Sirius’ gaze lingered on Remus for a few moments longer before grabbing his bags. James, Peter, and Sirius all quietly told Remus to let them know if he needed them before exiting the library. Remus sat in the quiet of the library, finally able to breathe easily with no one close enough to him for him to hear their breathing. The sight of the peeling paint over a bookcase unfocussed and focussed again every so often as he drifted in thought. The extra look from Sirius didn’t go unnoticed by Remus, but he also tried not to linger too much on it. Sirius’ gaze could pierce you to the core if you hadn’t built a tolerance to it, and even with being as used to it as Remus was, he was still a little shaken by the intensity of it. It’d felt like those eyes were boring into him, searching for every possible discomfort or change in demeanor. God those eyes…

He spent nearly an hour contemplating Sirius’ eyes in the library before he was startled out of an almost-trance by a book clapping onto the floor. Remus nearly jumped out of his chair at the sudden loud noise, knocking over another book from the table. He quickly picked up the book, grimacing at the way his clothes shifted, before quickly walking out of the library and towards the Gryffindor Common Room. Maybe I can try to sleep now that it should be empty. At least then I won’t be so grumpy when they get back. He turned and climbed through the porthole after muttering the password, trudged up the stairs to the boys dormitory, and gently laid down on top of his neatly made covers.

His thoughts tended to swim when he was alone, especially if he was stressed, but right now all he could think of was Sirius’ eyes. A scowl appeared on his face at the realization. I’m not a bloody romance novel… And in truth, it wasn’t all that similar to the cliche. Yes, he was thinking about Sirius’ eyes, but he wasn’t pondering on the “mysterious deepness” or fawning over how one might consider them “dark swirling pools” (in fact, the idea that someone might consider Sirius’ eyes that way was faintly amusing) but rather the simple warmth in them. They were comforting because they were Sirius’, not because of the millions of different shades of brown that came out in good lighting or because they were truthfully gorgeous (though that didn’t hurt). Remus’ scowl turned to a faint smile as he turned on his side, eyes closing.

His last thought before sleep took him was a faint notion that he wanted those eyes, Sirius’ eyes, to look at him and be filled with more warmth and happiness.

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bigskydreaming · 4 years ago

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Thank you again and still for all the help and support! I really truly can not imagine making it through the past couple days without it, considering I spent most of it awake and in the bathroom puking from the constant migraines that come with your head not being happy about its bones not being in the right place. Stress aggravates them, or at least my awareness of them, and because of how little work there is currently and how expensive being broke and disabled in LA is, let’s just say, there’s been stress, lol.

I’m feeling a bit better today, or at least I’m making myself pretend that and act like that since I’ve got another appointment at that clinic where I get my juicy and tasty IV bags of nutrients pumped into me since I barely even CAN eat, physically, which combined with the lack of sleep and the nausea, like, also not a great combination.

So, I mean it when I say your donations and support have absolutely been invaluable, everything from a couple dollars to an anonymous message, like, its all amazing and appreciated and invaluable. Yeah. I already said that, whoops, anyway, BUT I DIGRESS.

That’s about all of an update I have there, lol, so in other news, I should be around more today since like I said, I’m feeling a bit better and have possibly plateau-ed on this latest pain level. (My super-annoying superpower....ever since I was a kid I’ve been able to adapt to increases in pain like a pro. As in, being able to manage/function despite it. Course, I still feel it, but give me a day or two to adjust to a new norm in how much my body hates me currently, and then I can power through).

So, like I said, I should be around more today, and I’ll probably be random as hell. Like I’ve mentioned before, my blog is where I spew literally everything from inane thoughts to fandom feels, since its like.....my only social outlet these past couple years and the only way I get to interact with people who aren’t doctors. Expect no pattern in topics until I find whatever sticks and keeps me focused on it enough to serve as a distraction from, y’know, the broke body and broke bank account.

SO! Absolutely feel free to hit me up about anything and everything. ESPECIALLY if you’ve made a donation or sent me something. Like, I know some people who have sent money don’t even follow me or know me at all and are just generous spirits who saw my post somewhere, but for any of you who have sent any kind of support just cuz you like, like me and my rambles, lol, totally feel free to drop into my messages even on anon and say what kind of posts or content from me you really engage with and would love to see more of. I can’t make any promises or guarantees, unfortunately, given I didn’t expect or plan on crashing so hard these last couple days, bleh, and just....literally, like, writing more of the kind of stuff or posts people who have helped me stay alive is pretty much the only way I have of kinda giving at least something back, so I mean, I am happy to pounce on anything in that direction.

Again, just can’t make any guarantees given how unpredictable my life is and depending on how many people send requests or prompts or messages, etc, but I don’t delete anything of that nature and I usually get back around to stuff EVENTUALLY. For instance, I’m REALLY hoping to finish up two one-shots today, one that’s focused on Duke, Dick and Cass from that prompt you sent me a couple weeks ago, @zee-gee, and the other uh.....that umm, TW/X-Men fusion you commissioned way longer ago than my pride will allow me to admit in public @camelotpark, lol. And like, those posts you see me making to @russianspacegeckosexparty about the changelings project I talk about a lot, like.....Adam basically just sends me random thoughts and prompts about it all the time, and its like a running thread that’s easy for me to pick back up and sink into whenever I see a new one in my inbox and I’ve got enough spoons at the moment to dig in.

Also have a couple other things I want to respond to today while I have the energy and a destined-to-be-longer-than-it-needs-to-be meta about Dick’s positioning in narratives with various other characters and WHY I think it so usually works out that way, and I’m aiming to keep that more like....musing-esque than rant-errific, but uh, let’s see how that actually goes, lmfao.

Anyway, that’s what I have in mind for today, aside from my going to get my IV buffet at ten and emailing and calling people from listings about rooms to rent, but tbh, I might just end up being even more random and sporadic than usual, if I can’t focus on any of those long enough to stay sufficiently distracted today. (Like, my other annoying superpower as long-time followers have heard before, is my ridiculously fast metabolism. I know, “oh no, I’m so skinny, poor me,” but like....its never been about weight gain or loss for me, its about how fast my body processes various medications, meaning pretty much every painkiller I’ve ever tried is largely useless to me, or at most wears off in a couple hours.....whereas my ADHD meds actually provide me MORE relief from the pain than any of them. Basically, they let me actually focus on something OTHER than pain and not get interrupted/distracted by the occasional pain spike that likes to remind me its there and wants my attention......so I mean, I still feel everything that comes with my head being physically out of whack, but for the hours vyvanse is working for me, coupled with some heavy duty pain meds, I can like.....just sorta....not care about it for awhile. Like, it hasn’t gone away but its more shoved to the back of my mind at least. And all of that, I’m happy to stuff in a closet whenever I can, lol).

And that’s enough rambles for this post, I think. LOLOLOL, as if I have a quota. But yeah. Just wanted to express how much your support has meant and continues to mean, and like.....I’m still here and alive and crossing fingers that I’ll hear about an actual surgery date soon, but in the meanwhile like......I’m kinda stuck in a perpetual Limbo, one that’s largely confined to whatever is in hobbling distance from my bed of the day, and as much as donations help me physically, in remaining able to at least stay that way, just, any and all interactions on here help by keeping me engaged with the world on at least some level, and make it so I have stuff to think or talk about beyond my own situation and how I’m not a super huge fan of that.

(Okay, I shouldn’t say any and ALL interactions are appreciated, since I have my fun little runs of anon hate in my inbox, but I mean, all of the above is why they’re not really a big deal to me and never have been. Its like, dude, my own body has been trying to take me out for the past three years, and you think a few insults from an anonymous stranger are gonna do the trick? LOLOL, please. Tbh, the only real negative effect anon hate has on me is that it makes me a bit more snappish and quick to assume the worst than I’d like, when people @ me in a way that I misread as aggressive or in bad faith. I’m aware that my day-to-day temperment is a lot more irritable and open to fights than I usually like to be, as self-control is kinda a big deal to me, and my situation and stress and other shit kinda keep me constantly operating at a level best described as itchy, and none of that is an excuse for any times I read an interaction wrong and go for the throat. I just mean like.....I’m a very blunt and straight-forward person, and I do appreciate when people take a similar approach to me as it really helps keep those misreads to a minimum. Any time someone wants to engage with me in some way, I promise I am SO much easier to talk to if you just....put it out there, whatever it is. Its the games people play online (and in real life) that just frustrate the hell out of me and...yeah. Again, I’m not saying any of that as an excuse or a request for a free pass any time I fuck up an interaction or cross a line, I’m just saying, if anyone’s held back on interacting with me because they think I might snap at them or mistake it for them trying to start a fight, like......just be direct with me. Honestly, thats just....always gonna be more productive when it comes to me.)

But yeah. So that’s the current state of me and all that jazz. Again, I so appreciate everything everyone’s done to support me, not just these past couple days but over the course of these past three years as well. I notice and remember all of it, and its why even though I rant and complain and am critical about so much in society and fandoms and all that.....I really truly am a believer in the idea that there’s more good in people and the world than bad, and the bad just tends to be louder is all. It was especially loud for me the last couple days, the volume got way jacked up, but the goodwill from you guys has been more than enough to drown it out and give me some reprieve.

Alright, shutting up now. All done. The end.

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 5 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Since we’re on a roll and impatient as fuck, we decided to up our posting rate! Hope you enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet gave Trixie a heads-up about Fame’s dislike of the new collection, and moved into her new apartment--where she found some very welcoming neighbors.

This Chapter: All hands on deck as Fame demands a complete reconceptualization of their Spring collection.

***

Fame swept into the office on Monday, all business, barely looking Violet in the eye as she rattled off a waterfall of orders.

Fame pulled off her coat and dropped it, nearly letting it fall on the floor before Violet dove forward to catch it.

“Have you taken care of the messages I left you over the weekend?”

Fame seemed almost frantic, her energy all over the place.

“I’m almost done Miss,” Violet folded her coat over her arm, holding out her hand for Fame’s bag. “I just need to confirm wit-”

“Good.” Fame hung her bag on Violet’s wrist, the weight almost toppling Violet over if it hadn’t been for her hours at the gym. “Have you ordered the new fabrics I talked about?”

Violet nodded. “They are on their wa-”

“And what about my new assistant?”

“Yes-” Violet reached for her desk, a stack of resumes already printed out. “I’m starting the pre-interviews tomorrow-”

“Wonderful.” Fame completely ignored Violet and the papers she was holding out, instead walking towards her office. Violet quickly disposed of Fame’s coat and bag, putting both down on her desk so she could grab Fame’s coffee and the letters for the day before she followed her.

“Remember, only perfection is accepted,” Fame instructed, settling down at her desk.

“Yes, Miss.” Violet handed her the coffee, which Fame took a single sip of before she scrunched her nose and handed it back to Violet.

“I’d like a new latte and a medium fruit salad, no pineapple.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Is that the schedule for the day?”

Violet nodded and handed her the paper.

“Also, before you go. Get Raja up here. I need to discuss the collection. That’s all,” Fame said, turning to her computer.

It wasn’t for a few minutes that Violet realized how serious Fame was about the collection change. She was standing in line at the coffee shop, checking her email, when she saw that Fame had sent one to the entire senior management team.

Subject: URGENT

All hands on deck meeting at 3 pm today to discuss a complete re-conceptualization of our Spring collection. Bring your best ideas, ready to discuss, along with samples and visual aids. Be prepared to work late.

Violet gulped, forwarding the email to all of the applicable assistants, when another one ticked in.

Subject: Violet - Get me Pearl

***

“This is interesting, try to get a sample of the skirt done ASAP and then spruce up the sketch,” Trixie said.

Trixie had been walking around the busy design floor, checking out what his team had come up with over the weekend. Ever since getting Violet’s text last Friday, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Fame was about to bring down a hammer, and so they needed to be prepared with new ideas.

Half of the team was working on changes and additions to their current collection. Half of them were working on entirely new concepts and ideas.

‘Remember guys,’ he’d said before they left on Friday. ‘This is a spaghetti against the wall situation. No bad ideas, time to explore everything. If it’s unique and innovative, that’s a plus. Pull out your passion projects.’

The truth was, Trixie had no idea what to expect. Fame had been silent all weekend, which made him even more nervous. Usually she’d send at least a few texts or emails. Ideas that popped into her head. A doodle on a notepad. Image references. But now, when she was allegedly questioning their whole collection? Nada.

Trixie walked over to where April was draping out an ornate sample dress in multiple shades of blue, telling her to carry on. Then he moved on to Alexis, scrutinizing the sketches on her desk with a critical eye.

“Some of these shapes are interesting, but I need you to redo them with different colors and fabrics,” he told her. “Remember, the color story is apparently the thing she’s most ambivalent about.”

“Got it,” Alexis said with a good-natured sigh, picking up a fresh pad.

“Um, Trixie?” Kandy looked up, a terrified look on her face as she hung up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Raja says to check your emails, don’t panic, and that she’s coming down to fill you in,” Kandy said.

Trixie pulled out his phone, stomach lurching as he read the email from Miss Fame, face going pale.

His worst fear had just come true: they were facing a complete reconceptualization. He looked up, forcing a smile in order to not terrify the design team even more.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light. “New plan...Blu, Jovan, Gia? Forget about the adjustments you were working on. We’re looking for fresh ideas, anything that you think could be a new signature piece. Everyone: the deadline is today at 3 pm.”

A small gasp rippled through the team as they realized how soon that was.

“Three pm?” Blu asked, the Irish designer looking like she might burst into tears.

“Yeah.” Trixie scanned the room again, hating the anxiety that he saw on everyone’s face, which he knew full well was not conducive to innovation. “And try to have fun. Remember, this is fashion, not heart surgery. No one’s gonna die.”

“We might die,” Jovan muttered under his breath, ripping his current piece out of a sewing machine and tossing it onto the ground.

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie put a hand on Jovan’s shoulder. He was his oddest worker, the wrinkly brain he had coming up with the most beautiful, crazy, intricate ideas when he was left to his own devices. “I promise.” Trixie squeezed, trying to put as much conviction behind his words as he could. “Just do your best.”

***

Pearl had just settled into her chair, ready to see if anything exciting had happened on Twitter while she had been by the design department to give Trixie his lunch.

It wasn’t something she normally did, but Katya had been near heartbroken when she saw that Trixie had forgotten the lunchbox she had made him that morning, and since Pearl was a pretty damn good roommate in her own opinion, she had volunteered to deliver it.

Katya had given her a kiss and a hug as thanks before she hurried out the door, two tote bags and canvas under both arms. If Pearl didn’t love her so much, she’d be almost disgusted with how good of a human being Katya was, spending her summer as a volunteer art teacher at a community center in the Bronx.

Her beating heart was however also the reason that Pearl hadn’t been kicked out of the apartment she shared with her Trixie when he and Katya had started dating, so who was she to complain?

A polite cough came from the door just as Pearl was catching up on Olivier Rousteing’s Instagram. She turned around and came face to face with Violet.

Pearl smiled; it was always a joy to see Violet, the other always a sight for sore eyes with her almost impeccable beauty.

It was always fun to see what Violet would wear, the woman almost vintage in her style.

“Is that Gabbana?”

“Of course it’s Gabbana” Violet smoothed down her skirt, and Pearl smiled. She was the only person who Pearl knew that could wear a button up, and still look like someone begging to get fucked.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” Pearl smirked. Violet was fun to rile up, but Fame was her favorite, one of her very best days at work happening because she had agitated her boss on purpose.

“Is this about the collection? Trixie told me Fame has officially freaked.”

Violet didn’t say anything, and Pearl almost wanted to roll her eyes.

“I’ll take that silence as a yes.”

Violet was an annoyingly good assistant, never saying a word against Fame, always holding her tongue even when it would have been more than fair to complain.

“She wants you in her office in 10.”

“So I’m not actually late?” Pearl turned around to her iMac, seeing that the small email icon on her screen was blinking red. “Ah.”

Pearl realized that Violet had just saved her from Fame’s disappointment, but there was no way she was going to let the other know of her gratitude.

It was too early in the game for that.

“Sorry for helping you.” Violet huffed, rolling her eyes. “Here-” Violet put a folder down on Pearl’s desk. “In case you want to actually prepare-”

“Thanks Vivi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

***

“Shit.” Trixie exhaled a groan of frustration as he dumped down in his chair. He had known the email was coming, but it had still felt like a punch to the gut when he’d actually seen it.

Raja had come straight from a meeting with Fame, and Trixie had known it was bad, real bad, when he had seen how Raja’s normally ice cold exterior was chipped.

Trixie sighed, burrowing his head in his hands for a minute. He hated having to push his designers, hated forcing them to deliver in extreme conditions. A few of them thrived on it, Betty always delivering excellent work, while Aiden almost always buckled when he didn’t have time to pay attention to his details.

Trixie reached into his mini-fridge, taking the lunch Pearl had stopped by to drop off for him. It was only 10:30, but he unpacked it anyway. Katya had packed two pieces of carrot cake, a can of diet coke and as Trixie opened the metal container, the lovely smell of Katya’s best mushroom and cheese blinis greeted him.

He opened his drawer, pulling out a fork as he turned his computer on, the promise of carrot cake the only thing getting him through the avalanche of worried emails he knew was waiting for him.

***

Raja heaved a sigh as she stepped off the elevator. She’d been trying to give Trixie a warning about Fame’s current state of mind without causing the EVP of Design to freak out, but couldn’t shake the notion that she’d failed, seeing the crease in his forehead deepen the more she spoke, until she’d finally just left him with a firm pat on the back. She entered her own suite, the rich fabrics and warm colors immediately soothing her, although her relief was short-lived, since Jaida was perched on Ivy’s desk, a stern look on her face.

“I need to talk to you.”

Jaida was the most recent addition to their management team. The bright, resourceful CFO joined them almost two years ago, when Patrick stepped away from the day to day financial management to focus on his own firm. She’d truly been a godsend—immediately understanding the need for creative flexibility in their budgets, and helping to streamline the company’s organization in a way that was incredibly effective even as they grew by leaps and bounds.

But now, Jaida’s beautiful face was about the last one that Raja wanted to see. She was well-aware that Fame’s email had caused mass panic, and Jaida’s mind was probably already spinning in 100 different directions, thinking about how their timelines would now completely change the budget for Fashion Week beyond the normal contingency plan.

Raja gestured to her office, resigned to have this conversation now, and Jaida immediately sailed in, settling on the forest green velvet couch that Raven had picked out. Raja turned to Ivy, requesting some herbal tea, before joining her.

“So, Jaida, what are you brightening my day with?”

“An entire reconceptualization, Raja?”

“I’m aware that-”

“Has she completely lost it? Can’t you talk to her?” Jaida implored.

“Fame has made up her mind.”

“Ughhh!” Jaida’s hand fell into her hands.

“What a mature response-”

Raja was cut off when Shangela burst into the office. One of their longest and most loyal employees, the Director of Operations usually never panicked, taking on every challenge with an almost annoying amount of enthusiastic joy.

It was possible, Raja supposed, that she was extra annoyed by Shangela because of their failed relationship, but she liked to tell herself that that was besides the point.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Shangela exclaimed, taking a seat across from Jaida.

“I was stalking Ms. Gemini here.” Jaida pointed with her thumb.

“Shangela, you’re in my office-” Raja began.

“Listen. I just want to make sure everyone understands the situation at hand. Bendela is already asking to double the staff in the tailoring department through September, and Alyssa says that this is going to potentially triple the budget for the media campaigns, and-”

“I know! It’s a shit show!” Jaida exclaimed.

Raja closed her eyes. Where the fuck was Ivy with her tea?

“I hear your concerns, however, we haven’t even had the creative meeting yet, so don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“But Bendela says-”

“Of course she does, Shangela.” Raja sighed. Shangela was always so dramatic, but she was irritatingly good at her job.

“Bendela’s been requesting to hire more tailors for months now. That doesn’t mean that her estimate is accurate and if she truly sticks to her guns, Trixie just interviewed potential interns. I’m sure some of them can be assigned to tailoring.”

Ivy pushed her way through the door, a tray with coffee and tea for everyone in her hands.

“Right, okay, but what about-”

“We’re going to get through today, listen to what Fame has to say, what ideas everyone comes up with, and then reconvene tomorrow morning,” Raja said, gratefully accepting the tea that Ivy handed over.

“Fine,” Jaida said. “But if I were you, I’d convince Miss Fame that the current collection is brilliant.”

“You don’t think I tried that?” Raja laughed.

“Fair enough,” Jaida replied, finally letting a small giggle escape.

“Another day in paradise,” Shangela added, rising up from the couch.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #pearlet #violet chachki #miss fame #trixie mattel #pearl liaison #raja gemini #jaida essence hall #shangela laquifa wadley

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haik-whoo · 5 years ago

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Touched

Tsukishima x OC! Setter Emiko

Summary: Kei has a girlfriend that no one ever knew about. She plays volleyball just like he does. They’ve been dating for sometime after their parents revealed they were long time bestfriends. Kei isn’t a fan of PDA but he’s willing to omit that to make sure the team knows Emiko is his.

W/C: 1500+

A/N: Well first haikyuu fic, here we go 😇 let me know what you think 🧡🧡 ~Sho

Emiko ran into the stadium huffing because she was late. Hopefully Kei wouldn't mind too much, since he hadn't actually asked her to come. She just wanted to support her love while he did the one thing he was starting to love to do. It made her heart warm that after all this time he was starting to love volleyball as much as she did. She was still dressed in her uniform, a jacket hastily thrown over her back reading Ubugawa high. Her team had advanced to the semifinals and would start fresh tomorrow.

Emiko stood at 5'9 with bright green eyes and natural blonde hair pulled up in a long ponytail that was giving her a headache. "Emiko? Hey what are you doing here?" One of her teammates asked as they walked up behind her.

"Watching my boyfriend" she said in a half duh tone, why else would she be watching seijoh and karasuno play, they hated Aobajohsai with a passion. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend" the libero Ailee said from next to emiko, bumping her shoulder with a smile. "Which one is it? Don't you hate Seijoh?" The small brunette asked looking at the team in baby blue and white with a critical eye. Emiko groaned when Tsukishima got blocked. Knowing he would complain about it later while they were in bed.

"He's not on that team" emi said with a straight face, just wishing they would leave her alone so she could watch in peace. They were getting on her nerves with all the questions and prodding, this was why she never told them she was dating anyone at all. Let alone the tall, intimidating looking middle blocker they had on the karasuno team.

"Look guys, i promise to get enough sleep and be here early tomorrow but i would like to watch this, in peace" emiko said it in the nicest way possible, and Ailee and their captain Josie nodded, patting her on the back and walking away. Down further she saw the karasuno fan club and snorted a little, watching a small blonde girl yell over the seijoh chants from the other side.

Emiko wandered down toward her and stood next to her. "You must be yachi" she said softly, not taking her eyes off Kei who was serving. He looked so good when he served, all the icy stone wall shed fallen in love with. "I-i yes! I am!" The small blonde screeched a frantic look in her eye like she was trying to remember a name she'd never been given.

"I'm Emiko, Kei is my boyfriend" she tightly smiled and turned her attention back to the court. "Kei?" Yachi questioned, looking at the court as well. "TSUKISHIMA!!" She yelled out just as soon as the gym had quieted down, causing the straight faced blonde to sweep his hard gaze up to where they were standing. As soon as they locked eyes Emiko saw how they softened and portrayed a smile, even though his lips didn't move. A soft blush coated Emiko's cheeks and she bowed her head slightly.

Before cutting a look at the small first year. "Thanks" she said flatly, totally embarrassed because the entire team looked over in curiosity. "S-so- sorry!!" Yachi bowed, a blush of her own flooding over her face the color of beet juice. Emiko waved her off, "it's fine" she moved to pull her knee pads off and pull on her track pants. Pulling the ponytail out.

The game went down to the very end, and karasuno pulled through with a glorious win. Emiko cheered happily for Kei and the team. "Do you want to walk down with me?" Yachi asked, now calm and comfortable in the taller blondes presence. "Sure, thank you" emi gave a small smile and walked behind the first year.

When Tsukishima came into view she had to refrain from running into his arms and leaping on him like she usually would. When they were alone, Kei was an entirely different person. Never letting her venture too far without him, his hand always wrapped around hers. He never overdid it but it was a constant touch that she'd grown accustomed to when she was with him.

As they got closer his teammates looked over her with almost hungry eyes. A shorter boy, no doubt the libero gave a dashingly wide smile "yachi! Who'd you pick up, and must i say thank you" he started to amble close, another boy with a shaved head and a good twinkle in his eye at his heels. Until they were basically snatched up like small toddlers by an older looking boy. He looked like Daichi from Kei's descriptions.

The small team manager opened her mouth but Kei beat her to it. "She's my girlfriend" he said with a straight face, walking over with a sly smile that made one break out on Emiko's face as well. "Great game Kei" she whispered paying no mind to the shocked faces of his team.

"Oh my god!" "She called him Kei" "i didn't think anyone was able to do that" "She's pretty! How did he-" someone started but a swift smack was heard. The entire team was mumbling amongst themselves with the older team manager came over. "I'm kiyoko, it's nice to meet you" she smiled and Emiko bowed "Emiko, it's a pleasure Kiyoko senpai" when she stood she felt the familiar weight of Kei's arm around her back. That brought a new wave of shocked gasps and mumbling.

Followed by a half yell "damn first year! No way he has a girlfriend before me"

Kei walked back toward where they'd been keeping their things, his silence was not uncommon and Emiko walked next to him, her own arm around his waist. They all sat down with food that had been ordered many questions were as,Ed, mostly by the small middle blocker Hinata that Emiko had decided was the cutest little thing no matter what Kei said.

"Is he nice to you? He's not nice to any of us, except tadashi" he grumbled into his rice. Tadashi, who Emiko already knew, smiled and waved. Emi waved back from the e d of the table. The quietest one was kageyama. He looked like he was stewing on something that made Emiko giggle.

Kei had always been the one to initiate physical contact, and it was easy to forget about the other people at the table when his hand slid up her leg and wound around her waist. Settling heavily on her hip and it caught her breath in her lungs, a hot blush flying over her cheeks and she turned toward Kei with a hard look.

"Stop it" she chided but he only smirked at her, his long deft fingers discreetly moving over her hip, since she was at the end of the table no one was on her other side to call him out on it. Emiko started to squirm in her seat as they ate together, until Kei leaned over "look at how they look at you Flower, even asahi is taken by your beauty, but your mine aren't you" he whispered and it was deep in his throat, barely heard and absolutely melting. When he was finished he pulled away his eyes dark as he looked at her.

In her haste to prove she was, her body had a mind of its own, leaning forward softly, connecting their lips in the softest kiss. It was so short, barely a touch but it swirled inside her body, making her come alive. It was like they were in a small bubble of their own. So wrapped up in their gazes they barely registered the clearing of a throat from the other end of the table.

All the boys were red in the face, suga and Daichi softly smiling. Kei shyly laughed and kissed the side of her head, before settling back into a straight face. Emiko as well, emulated a flat face void of emotion.

"They are the same person, Emiko what position do you play" kageyama finally said over the silence and shock. "I'm a setter" the blonde leveled him with a look of almost disinterest, the look she had on her face made Hinata snort. "A setter!!!" The small Ginger then gasped with a wide smile on his face. Emiko nodded, shrugging as she put more rice in her mouth.

"Kageyama she's a setter!" Hinata said, a shining look in his face. "I heard her dumbass" he grumbled at the ball of sunshine.

"I have to go Kei, I'll see you back at your house okay, congratulations again" she whispered to him, smiling. She waved to his team and gathered her things. She didn't make it very far before she was pushed against the wall outside the room where karasuno sat together.

"I love you I'll see you at home" he said, his lips descending quickly onto hers in a passionate and gorgeous kiss. It made her body ache for him like she always did. "I love you too" she offered breathlessly, stalking away until later, when he returned. Not knowing that as soon as Kei returned to the room he was met with half the team crowded at the door listening.

——————————

Request something!

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukki #tsukishima x oc #haikyuu fic #volleyball fic #kei x oc #hinata shouyou #hinata #sugawara koushi #saeki daichi #tanaka ryuunosuke #yū nishinoya #tadashi yamaguchi #dating fic #kageyama tobio

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xxx-cat-xxx · 6 years ago

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At least I didn’t puke on you

I kept my promise for a happy fic! This is for @toomuchtoread33 who sent me a prompt in which Peter accidently takes Steve’s emergency pills that are designed to make him sick in case he gets poisoned.

Cue Tony and Steve spending a night on the bathroom floor with a very pukey Peter Parker. This is fluff/humour with a lot of Irondad.

As always, a million thanks to my beta @whumphoarder.

“It won’t stop bleeding.” Tony crashes into the sofa, pressing a wad of tissues against his nose.

“That’s what happens when you retract your helmet in the middle of a battle to mock a Hydra agent,” Steve comments, setting down his plate after finishing the last piece of pizza.

“She had it coming. Did you see that suit? I made better designs when I was seven!” Tony protests nasally. “And what’s the fun of a battle if you can’t have a little chit-chat with your enemy?”

“Maybe it wasn’t the best move to call her Hello Kitty.”

“You did what?” Peter laughs so hard he nearly chokes on his slice of mushroom.

“Yeah, yeah, go on, make fun of me…” Tony removes the tissue from his bloody nose and sniffles experimentally. “At least I didn’t get knocked into a wall. Speaking of which, you’ve been quiet, kid. You sure you’re okay?” He eyes the boy critically.

“I’m good,” Peter assures, even as he visibly squints against the lights. “Just got a headache, no big deal.”

“Do you want another ice pack?” Steve asks, removing the one he’s been pressing against his sprained wrist and offering it to Peter.

“No, I’m okay.” Peter prods at the bump on his head and grimaces in pain. “It should be fine in a few hours. Before the bite, I would’ve just taken some painkillers, but now they don’t work on me anymore...”

“Maybe...” Steve exchanges a quick glance with Tony. “You know, Bruce and Tony developed those special painkillers to keep up with my metabolism? They don’t work a hundred percent, but they should definitely take the edge off.”

“Are you sure?” Peter looks at Tony. “It’s just a headache.”

As the current world champion in understating pain, Tony knows exactly what “just a headache” means when coming from a member of his superhero family. Peter already looks dead tired from the battle and there is no reason for him to be in unnecessary pain.

“That’s exactly what we made the pills for. Go ahead, kid. But only one, I don’t want to get in trouble with your aunt for drugging you up.”

“They’re in the medicine cabinet in the first floor bathroom,” Steve adds.

Peter disappears in search of the pills while Tony and Steve have their usual argument about which movie to watch. They settle on Aliens, partly because science fiction is the common denominator between the whole team, and partly because both of them know that it’s one of Peter’s favourites.

Tony waits until the kid has returned and curled up on the couch before he starts the movie. Since the mission has clearly taken its toll, he halfway expects all of them to fall asleep within half an hour. But the Nostromo crew has just landed on the alien planet when Peter suddenly sits up straight, his face screwed up in discomfort.

“Uh, Mr Stark?” he says, voice strained. “I’m not feeling so great.”

“Yeah, it takes some time for the painkillers to kick in.”

“No, I mean, I feel kinda queasy.” Peter swallows convulsively. “Like I’m gonna puke.”

Tony tenses, exchanging a worried look with Steve. “FRI, I thought you said it was only a mild concussion?” He glances at Peter, who is now hunching over, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Sweat is beading on his brow.

“Yes, boss, my scans indicate no severe damage,” the AI replies.

“Mr. Stark…” Peter gulps, all colour draining from his face.

“Shit. Come on.” Tony gets to his feet with a bit of difficulty and ushers Peter towards the bathroom.

The boy drops to his knees in front of the toilet and leans over the bowl, spitting strings of saliva into the water. He burps wetly and gives an involuntary whimper. “I feel really sick.”

“I get it, kid. Just, do what you gotta do. You’ll feel better once it’s out.” Tony sincerely hopes that he’s right.

Peter doesn’t need to be told twice. He coughs drily, then gags. The first retch brings a bit of liquidy vomit, then he heaves hard, a gush of half-digested pizza pouring into the bowl. He coughs and chokes, barely able to draw a breath in before his whole body shudders and he vomits again.

“Easy, kid,” Tony soothes, awkwardly patting his back. He can feels the muscles under Peter’s shirt contracting when the boy brings up another wave.

“Oh - god,” Peter pants, his fingers clenching the bowl hard. “This is -” He’s cut off by another retch that brings tears to his eyes.

“Breathe, Pete, breathe,” Tony comforts, feeling his own stomach twist in sympathy.

Peter coughs and spits out bile, then shakily reaches up to flush. He folds his arms on the edge of the seat and lets his head fall onto them, trembling.

Tony wets a washcloth and nudges Peter to lift his face so that he can wipe the kid’s mouth. He fills a glass of water and offers it to him, but Peter shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together. He is still ghostly pale, sweat running down his temples.

“Okay, what the hell is happening? That looks like an awful lot like food poisoning, but we all ate the same dinner…” Tony tries for a light tone despite the worry gnawing in his gut.

“I think I have an idea.” Tony turns around to see Steve in the doorway, a weird expression on his face. Peter groans, visibly embarrassed by the fact that Captain America is watching him puke.

“What’s it?” Tony demands.

“Peter, are these the pills you took?” Steve holds up a bottle. ‘Super pills to save America’s ass’ is scribbled on them in Tony’s handwriting. Peter glances up from where his head is resting on his elbows and nods weakly.

“Oh shit,” Tony breathes, understanding sinking in.

“What’s wrong with them?” Peter croaks.

“These aren’t the painkillers. These pills are designed to make you sick. They’re -” Steve starts, but is interrupted by Peter suddenly pushing himself upright and retching again. The soldier cringes at the sound of liquid hitting the bowl.

“Why would anyone invent pills that make you puke?” Peter whines as soon as he surfaces again.

“We developed them in case Cap ever gets poisoned,” Tony explains. “There aren’t many things that can kill a supersoldier, but he’s not immune to toxins so we figured it would be a viable possibility that someone would try to take him out that way. So Bruce had this brilliant idea for a formula that would induce vomiting, and… Let’s just say he test trials were a lot of fun.”

“Don’t remind me,” Steve grumbles.

“I can’t believe this,” Peter groans, dropping his head back onto his arms.

“Hey, this is Cap’s fault,” Tony points out. “Rogers, you should have gone with him and showed him which pills to take.”

“You should have labeled the medicines correctly!” Steve retorts.

Peter interrupts their argument by belching up another mouthful of vomit.

“Geez, kid, I never would’ve thought this much food could fit in you,” Tony comments with a mixture of disgust and actual admiration.

“It’s not funny!” Peter complains. “I really don’t feel well.”

“I know, kid, I know,” Tony reassures, his expression softening. He picks up the washcloth and wipes it over Peter’s sweaty face. “I’m just glad that it’s nothing dangerous. The effects should wear off in a couple of hours. But till then I‘m afraid that you’re in for a rough time.”

“There’s not even anything left in me. Why am I still nauseous?” Peter whines, coughing weakly into the bowl.

It’s been two hours and countless rounds of puking, and Tony feels wiped. Guilt creeps up on him at that thought because he knows that Peter must be feeling far, far worse.

“I am so done,” the boy croaks hoarsely. He reaches for the handle to flush and misses. His hand slips off the tank and he lists dangerously to the side. Only Tony’s steadying hands keep him from hitting his head on the bathtub.

“Hey, Pete, careful,” Tony says, alarmed. “Are you feeling dizzy?”

“A little, maybe,” Peter admits. “Head’s kind of floating. ’m really tired...”

“You’re not going to like this, but you’ll have to try some water sooner or later. You’re getting dehydrated.” Tony lets go of Peter’s shoulders, and the boy sags tiredly against him.

“Hmm. In a bit,” he mumbles, his eyelids fluttering shut.

He dozes off like this, his head pressed against the older man’s chest. After a while, Tony’s back starts to hurt. He tries to adjust his awkward position without waking the kid, carefully guiding his head to rest on Tony’s thighs instead. Peter shivers in his sleep and curls into himself, looking far too pale and far too young.

Tony frowns as a sudden wave of protectiveness floods over him. He reaches up for a towel that he gently drapes over the kid, then leans his own head back against the bathtub, feeling like all energy has been sucked out of him.

Twenty minutes later, he’s startled awake by a knock on the door. Steve sticks his head inside. “Do you need anything?” he asks.

“No, Spangles, we’re perfectly happy.” Tony grimaces when he tries to sit up straighter and his back protests in pain.

“Shouldn’t we move him to bed?” Steve motions at Peter’s sleeping form in Tony’s lap. “This doesn’t look very comfortable for either of you.”

“Thanks, didn’t occur to me at all.”

Fact is, Tony is just happy that Peter is finally getting some rest and he feels a bit wary of what will happen if they wake him up. On the other hand, he knows that neither his nor the kid’s body will be happy if they spend the whole night on the bathroom floor. He really should’ve considered situations like this when designing the compound. His brain immediately comes up with the preliminary outline of an inflatable couch that could be hidden beneath the bathroom floor tiles which he stores in his memory for later use.

“Hey, kid.” He gently touches Peter’s shoulder. “Nighty-night time, come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

Peter rouses groggily, leaning heavily on Steve as he helps him stand up. Just as Tony feared, he looks about to hurl the moment he gets to his feet, so Tony makes a quick detour for a mixing bowl from the kitchen while Steve guides the kid to the elevator.

The motion of the lift definitely doesn’t help with the nausea. As soon as they sit him down on the edge of his bed, Peter is throwing up again, gagging miserably into the bowl that Tony holds under his chin. He only brings up strings of bile.

“Geez…” Tony rubs a hand through his hair. “That pill really works, doesn’t it?”

Peter is too out of it to reply with more than a weak glare. He falls onto the mattress like a doll that’s had its strings cut, not even reacting when Captain America himself tucks him in. Tony goes to rinse out the bowl, and when he returns, the Spider-kid is deeply asleep.

Peter wakes up a few hours later. There is a moment of confusion before he remembers what happened and how he got back to his own bedroom. His stomach muscles hurt, his mouth tastes like something died in it a long time ago, and he is still vaguely nauseous.

He turns around to see Tony sprawled out on the couch, snoring lightly. Steve is sitting in an armchair next to his bed, an actual book in his hands (Peter is momentarily surprised that anything non-digital actually even exists in Tony’s compound), smiling at him.

“How are you feeling, Peter?” Steve asks.

“Better, I think,” Peter mumbles hoarsely. “Lightheaded. And, um, still kinda sick.”

“Okay. That’s to be expected.”

“How’s you wrist?”

“Good as new.” Steve moves the hand up and down in front of Peter’s face. “And definitely looking better than Tony is right now.”

Peter props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at his mentor’s face. True to Steve’s word, it’s covered by an impressive array of rainbow-coloured bruises. Tony mumbles something in his sleep and turns his face away into the cushion, almost as if he’s aware he’s being talked about.

“You should drink something.” Steve brings his attention back to Peter. “You think you’re up for it?”

“Maybe...Can I brush my teeth first?” Peter is sure if he swallows whatever taste is in his mouth, he will definitely be sick again.

“Sure,” Steve agrees.

Peter sits up and swings his feet over the side of the bed, then waits for a bit until the grey fades from his vision before carefully making his way to the bathroom. He sits down on the edge of the bathtub while brushing, his legs feeling weak.

“I’m sorry that you have to go through this, Peter,” Steve says, stepping inside. The bathroom is huge, but the supersoldier takes up so much space that it actually looks normal.

Peter spits out his toothpaste. “It’s not your fault, Captain Rogers. I should have looked better before taking the medicine.” He hesitates for a second, but Steve seems ready for a chat. “Just one thing I was wondering - did you ever actually use this pill?”

“Oh god, don’t remind me.” Steve’s brow furrows. “I still feel sick if I think about that time.”

“Can you tell me about it?” Peter asks, always curious about old Avengers stories. He rinses his mouth and, god, the fresh taste is so good that he almost feels healthy again.

“If you drink some Gatorade, I will,” Steve baits, handing him a bottle.

“Hmm. Okay,” Peter agrees, sounding unmotivated.

He stares at the bottle for a moment, then opens it with a sigh. His stomach is still far from fine, and he feels like even a small sip of liquid might make it turn against him again.

“Just a little bit,” Steve encourages.

Peter takes a tiny sip and sits very, very still while he feels it moving down his throat and settling heavily into his stomach. He burps sickly, nervously eyeing the toilet. For a minute he is sure he’s going to be sick again, but then the nausea eases down a little.

“You’re holding up okay?” Steve asks.

“Hmm.” Peter nods, not keen on opening his mouth at the moment.

��Okay. Storytime.” Steve sits down on the closed toilet seat. “So, I wasn’t actually poisoned. But a couple of years ago, Bruce cut his thumb while cooking and a bit of his blood mixed with the curry he was preparing.You know that his blood is toxic, right?

Peter nods. He’s been told about this, but he’d never thought about the practical implications.

“So, he went off to bandage his finger,” Steve goes on, “just as I happened to walk into the kitchen after going for a run.” He looks a bit sheepish. “It smelled really good and, well, you know how it is with an enhanced metabolism…”

(Peter is starting to wonder if his Parker Luck™ has somehow infected Steve as well.)

“Honestly, it was lucky that it was me. Anyone else would have probably died on spot...but getting the toxin out of my system wasn’t pretty.”

“That’s...bad,” Peter says, failing to hide a grin. He can vividly imagine the scene playing out in his mind’s eye. His nausea has decreased enough that he feels safe to talk again and he takes another few sips of Gatorade. “Was that the only time you used the pills?”

“Yeah, that was the only time. But then there were also the test trials...I threw up all over Tony’s pants.”

“Well, I got my revenge.” Tony is standing in the doorframe, looking tired and beat up, his hair standing up in all directions. One of his eyes is swollen almost shut. “Nothing like a severe concussion to ruin America’s star-spangled uniform.” He yawns. “How are you feeling, kid? Stopped reenacting The Exorcist?”

“Ha ha. Very funny,” Peter says drily. “At least I didn’t puke on anyone.”

“He’s had a few sips of Gatorade and it looks like it’s staying down,” Steve informs the engineer.

“That’s good.” Tony rubs at his working eye with a groan, then looks at himself in the mirror and grimaces. “There goes Thursday’s Vanity Fair photoshoot…”

Steve takes a deep, measured breath while Peter tries to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

“Spiderling, you go back to sleep,” Tony orders, turning back to give Peter a once-over. “You look like you’re going to keel over any minute. Once you wake up, ask Dum-E for a proper breakfast.” He frowns. “Actually, scratch that. Ask Cap. Less chance he’ll set the kitchen on fire.”

“Please don’t talk about food..:” Peter’s stomach clenches at the thought. “Not before tomorrow morning.”

“Noted.” Tony grins. “Now out, all of you. I gotta pee.”

“It’s my bathroom!” Peter protests.

“Yeah, and it’s my house,” Tony retorts. He watches with a warm smile as Steve puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder and guides the boy out of the room. "Good night, sleep tight, and don’t puke on the bedbugs.”

If you’re interested in a hilarious story about Tony and Bruce cooking up painkillers for Steve, keep an eye out for @whumphoarder‘s and @awesomesockes‘ upcoming fic.

@badthingshappenbingo - This is my promptfill for the “Poison” square.

All my fics

#sick peter #sick peter parker #irondad #spiderson #tony stark #steve rogers #peter parker #badthingshappenbingo #poisoned #tony stark has a heart #sickfic #fanfic #vomiting #emeto

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edda-blattfe · 5 years ago

Text

Twisted Wonderland: Academic Headcanons pt.4

(Last of part of these headcanons, yay! Btw, I am up for taking requests if y’all have any.)

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- Beauty is all that matters to this gentleman; shame the teachers can’t grade him on that. Vil’s grades are average, chemistry being the only exception, he is inexplicably talented in that particular discipline.

- Has mastered the art of multitasking, will study while also going through his morning routine; his textbooks may have a few smudges of eyeshadow or foundation along the pages. He’ll read through the chapter once, then go back and check on the terms. For chemistry, Vil will test the information himself in the lab. With Professor Crewel’s blessing, of course.

- All of his notes are written with the finest pen and in the most elegant cursive you will ever witness in the modern age; Vil claims it’s completely unintentional, but every compliment on his handwriting gives him an extra confidence boost (I can personally affirm that this does, in fact, happen, and it’s great). Each chapter has a heading to indicate the subject and terms are listed in a group dedicated to whatever that section of the book was discussing. His chemistry notebook has a periodic table drawn on the front cover and he keeps an ongoing list of formulas on the back.

- Is rather indifferent to study groups. There has to be a few conditions before he’ll accept; a) Leona can not be invited, b) gossip needs to be appreciated, c) he’s in charge of all experimentations, and d) Leona can not be anywhere near the location they’re meeting at. He’s not welcomed at the Heartlabyul study group due to his tendency to “constructively criticize” Riddle on his appearance and choice of decor.

- Prefers the show-and-tell method, assuming it’s chemistry you need help in. Vil will take position at the dry erase board, while you watch from the desks, answering your questions with flamboyant descriptions and a few visual aids. A firm believer in lab safety, he’ll insist you wear the appropriate attire. Expect to stay for the clean up. Over all, he’s a good tutor and knows how to simplify the lesson in a way you can understand.

Epel Felmier:

- Above average, but not so much that it catches attention. He’s a good student, but never calls attention to himself.

- Epel will usually read through the chapters a few times, and will make up little games to test his knowledge of the terms.

- His notes are short, to the point, and are written with a hard leaded pencil (the trail is light). There are small doodles of webs, plants, sometimes broken glass in the boxed off corners of his notebook paper. Occasionally he’ll write questions regarding philosophical arguments in the margins.

- He seems distant when socializing, which doesn’t give others the impression that he’d be fond of joining a study group. If anyone cared to ask, Epel would calmly accept the invitation. Most of the time would be spent merely observing the others while looking over terms.

- Like Ruggie, he wouldn’t enjoy tutoring you. Having him as a study budy might be a little uncomfortable at first, due to the lack of idle chatter. If you stick it out, though, you’ll come to appreciate the tranquil silence between you two.

Rook Hunt:

- Well, Rook is certainly not a boring student. He’ll often ask Professor Crewel if a substance is lethal; if anyone questions why he wants to know, he'll cheerfully reply with an unconvincing, "no reason." His grades are decent enough, and he always turns in his papers when they’re due, so it’s not like anyone can complain.

- Will flip through the chapter at the oddest of times, posing as if there’s a camera man hidden away somewhere. Sometimes he’ll take a page from Epel’s book and make some fun memory games....although, Rook’s games are rather-erm, unconventional.

- Refuses to use a notebook, instead he’ll write in the margins of his textbook or highlight the important parts. If he likes an underclassman, they might find one of his old textbooks conveniently left at the foot of their door.

- Also indifferent to the study group experience. If he’s required to study with someone, Rook would make an effort to get paired up with someone “beautiful”.

- Look, I’m gonna be honest. You should NEVER ask him for help, ok? Rooks idea of tutoring is putting an apple on your head and threatening to shoot an arrow at it if you get a problem wrong. He might be less severe if you’re a “beautiful” person, but really, is his knowledge worth the risk?

Diasomnia

Maleus Draconia:

- Valedictorian of his year, no doubt. Mal expects only the best from himself, and that’s exactly what he gets.

- Has a specific time and place in the Diasomnia common room, known as the “throne” to the members, where he’ll camp out with his textbooks, notebooks, and writing utensils. Everyone observers his study time, and will make themselves scarce before then. Maleus will typically page through the chapter, read it through, writes out everything he could recall from reading, then checks to make sure he got everything; afterwards he’ll look over his notes to solidify the information. Works every time.

- His notes look like a page out of a story book; everything is written in calligraphy, is evenly spaced along the lines, and the margins are adorned with elaborate decals. There’s a fountain pen that practically lives in his coat pocket just for taking notes.

- Most of his classmates are deterred by his intimidating aura, Other than Vil and the rest of the Diasomnia dorm, so he doesn’t get invited to study groups. Not that he minds, Mal is rather fond of his privacy.

- You actually had the courage to walk up and ask THE MALEUS for help? Kudos to you! He’ll recover from the initial surprise quickly and might actually agree as a reward of sorts. If you haven't visitedthe Diasomia dorm before, now is your chance. Mall will be lounging in his throne and insist you sit at the coffee table to remind you of your place give you something to write on, of course! He is a strict tutor and expects you to pay attention, refusing to explain anything more than once.

Lilia Vanrouge:

- Purposefully screws up his grades just to piss off the teachers. Everyone knows he could easily outdo Maleus, Lilia just doesn’t see the point in that. Besides, the look on Mozus’s face is worth it!

- No one has ever seen him study, not even Maleus. Some believe he doesn’t at all. He has yet to confirm this.

-Are those notes? No one can tell! Lilia writes everything in a language not found in any text in the library or on the internet. Maleus suspects it’s some ancient form of Sylvan, but even he is incapable of translating it.

- Lilia is well known for randomly popping into study groups without warning nor an invitation. He likes the look of utter shock on everyone’s face, along with their growing rage at his charming little insults. Before the volcano of unadulterated chaos bursts, he pops back out to only god knows where.

- The last thing you remember is the toothy grin on Lilia's face as you thanked that red eyed imp for agreeing to tutor you. Next thing you know, you’re smack dab in the middle of a mushroom ring at five a.m., cold sweat beading across your brow with no memory of the last thirty six hours. On the plus side, you know all of the answers to your next test! Worth it, right?

Silver:

- Silver is passing his classes, but that’s it. He’s not particularly driven to do well in school, his only goal is stay close to Mal until the right moment...whatever that means.

-Needs to study more often than he does. At the moment, Silv will only study when he can’t be by the side of the dorm master (So Mal’s mandatory study time is also his mandatory study time). He has terrible insomnia and will nod off while reading through the chapter.

- His notes are rather lacking. He’ll jot down some terms and their definitions but not much else. Some places have spot of drool from one of his unintentional naps.

- Refuses to join study groups after that one time Lilia drew on his face after he nodded off. Poor boy can never trust again.

- He’s not much of a talker, isn’t driven to study, and might nodd off in the middle of a conversation; there’s surely a better person to ask for help from?

Sebek Zigvolt:

- A straight laced student with the determination of a soldier, Sebek is determined to live up to Maleus’s example. He has a tendency to fall into a state of depression when he doesn’t do so well on his exams; Thankfully, he works hard to earn his good grades, so that isn’t common occurrence.

- He has a ruthless study regimen that soaks up a large chunk of his days. Sebek uses every study method under the sun to ensure his success.

- His notes are just as strict and obsessive as he is.

- Maleus-sama teach me your ways. Sebek is actually thrilled by the idea of joining a study group. Classmates working together to improve their academic careers is right up his alley! Too bad no one else appreciates his intensity.

- Don’t ask him to tutor you. Once you cross that line there is no turning back! Sebek will push you just as hard as he does himself, even after you fire him as your tutor! It’s kind of a sweet gesture when you think about it; he genuinely wants to help you succeed as a student.... Would be even sweeter if his methods didn’t push you to the brink of insanity; but what can you do, right?

#twisted wonderland #pomefiore #diasomnia #vil schoenheit #epel felmier #rook hunt #maleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #silver #sebek zigvolt #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons

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