#if only i could have this much enthusiasm for writing school papers

[crystalleoi]

you have GOT to talk about that repaired 5 AU sometime, I'm so interested

AAAAA i can't believe anyone's actually interested!!! i haven't even totally figured out the plot... and it's probably not very good lol. But i can tell you what i have so far!! here's a summary of some events:

mephone4 finds his old body washed up on the beach. after getting over the horror of, y'know, finding his own dead body, he's like, "what if it could be repaired, then 4S and i could both exist again" so he gets test tube to repair it

cobs notices this and decides to send one of his mephones to retrieve + repair the bodies of 5, 5C and 5S

he trains them for Murder and Theft and Espionage and all that fun stuff, and sends them on various missions to do stuff like spying, stealing, placing bugs/wiretaps etc. - to gain intel on his enemies and, in part, to prepare them for going to the shimmer planet

eventually they're sent on a mission to terminate mephone4 and 4S, and uhh. from here i'm not totally sure what happens yet. i'm workin on it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ there's a ton of stuff i still need to figure out, i have many ideas for this au but idk if i wanna mention anything that i'm unsure about

sorry if this answer is unsatisfactory, the story is very much unfinished

anyway thanks for letting me yell about my au i have so much fun thinking abt it<3

[agaypanic]

The Fella Part 11 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

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Summary: As prom approaches, the girls find a strange friend in the new Our Lady Immaculate student. 

A/N: ahhhh only one chapter left!!! i usually don’t say the word count in fics, but this is the longest chapter of The Fella and possibly my longest fic to date, its almost 9k words long. So just a warning for yall. like the last few chapters, thanks to @crumpets-are-better-with-jam for writing out the script of this episode for me. Some suggestive stuff (not talking about michelle lol), but the characters are 17 and it’s not explicit. If you’re gonna be like “this surprise character you put in totally wouldn’t do this” just keep it to yourself bc i can do what i want, im the god of my creation (im so fucking crazy)

***

School formals were always exciting. At least, if you went with exciting people. And if it was a formal at the end of the year, it was even better because you could celebrate school ending and a summer of fun beginning.

One of the reasons Y/n and her friends were looking forward to the end of term was because they wouldn’t have to hear Jenny Joyce’s horrendous singing for a few months. Everyone in the assembly seemed to share their sentiment as they all stared at the stage, uninterested and displeased. It didn’t help that the girls were dressed in striped suit jackets, making them look like some sort of barbershop quartet. Y/n cringed as Jenny and her friends sang their last note, which wasn’t very good.

There was a slight pause, and Sister Michael looked relieved that this was the song’s end. “Lovely…” It was clear that she didn’t really think so. “And I believe you wrote the lyrics yourselves, is that correct?”

“It is indeed, Sister,” Jenny responded smugly.

“Makes sense,” Y/n muttered to her friends. “It was a load of shite.” They all made quiet sounds of agreement before turning their attention back to the stage.

“Do you ever think you might have too much time on your hands, girls?” Jenny and her group didn’t respond, but there was a murmur of giggles among the crowd as Sister Michael stood from her chair. “Lose the jackets.” She said, dismissing them from the stage before stepping up to the microphone. “Okay, just a couple of things. Firstly, I’d like to introduce Mae Cheung. Can you make yourself known, please, Mae?”

A few rows before the girls, a hand slowly and awkwardly rose into the air in the middle of the crowd. Everyone tried to get a good look at her, but it was difficult since most people could only see the back of her head.

“Miss Cheung’s family have recently moved here to Derry, so I hope you’ll all make her feel very welcome. It’s bound to be a bit of a culture shock, Mae. Things are done differently in this part of the world. But I’m sure you’ll soon feel as at home here as you did back in your beloved Donegal.” There was a beat of silence before Sister Michael remembered the other announcement she needed to make. She pulled out a piece of paper, looking at the crowd before reading it. “Announcement from Jenny Joyce and the dance committee: ‘The school social event for the year is fast approaching, but before you… don your glad rags… and- boogie- on- down…’” She sighed, looking at the paper appalled. “I’m sorry, I simply cannot read this.” She stepped away from the microphone, giving Jenny Joyce the paper before sitting in her chair.

Jenny eagerly went to the mic, showing too much energy and enthusiasm for a Monday morning with her big grin and little dance moves as she spoke. “But before you don your glad rags and boogie on down, we’d like to let you in on our little secret. We’re not actually gonna have a school formal this year.”

The assembly went into an uproar, and rightfully so. There were some murmurs of disbelief and booing, and Jenny waved her hands around with a smile.

“No, listen. We’re not gonna have a school formal. We’re gonna have…” As she paused for effect, her three friends started singing ‘doo-be doo’s in the background. “A fifties prom!”

That caused even more of a reaction. Michelle and Y/n were pretty vocal about this silly decision, gaining the attention of Sister Michael. “Girls!” She said, effectively quieting the large room. She addressed all the students, but her somewhat mischievous gaze was on Y/n and Michelle. “If you have any feedback, you can find Miss Joyce after assembly.”

“I know, I know.” Jenny laughed off everyone’s reactions. “But I do love a theme. Sure, isn’t that why they call me the Theme Queen?”

The girls looked at each other, confused. “Who said that?” Y/n asked.

“Do they?” Clare questioned.

“Do they fuck.” Michelle answered.

Jenny continued, not having heard their little conversation. “We wanted to have a real, old school, retro, vintage vibe, so feel free to just go for it!”

“Feel free to kiss my hole,” Michelle muttered.

After being released by Sister Michael, the girls and James walked through the hallways, discreetly looking for someone. Turning into one of the halls with a wall of lockers, Clare gasped.

“There she is.” Everyone saw the new girl, Mae, at her locker. Clare turned around to face her friends, filled with her usual frantic energy. “Okay, so, I say we just go over there and be ourselves, girls. Well, not totally ourselves. We should definitely be a bit ourselves. We could also pretend we’re sort of better than we actually are, so, I supposed what I’m saying is we could present a version of ourselves as less-”

“Shit.” Y/n finished the sentence, giving Clare a much-needed break to breathe.

“Precisely.”

“Why do we even have to talk to her?” Michelle asked, her crabby mood from having to listen to Jenny earlier still present.

Clare rolled her eyes, thinking the answer was obvious. “Because she’s new, Michelle.”

Michelle groaned. “I hate people I don’t know.”

“Aw.” Y/n cooed, putting an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Does that mean you love us?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She answered, shoving Y/n’s arm off.

“And, in case you hadn’t noticed, she happens to be Chinese.” Clare continued. “I mean, how class would it be to have a Chinese friend?”

“We could keep her in my toy box.” Y/n and Erin looked at their cousin with alarm.

“No, we couldn’t, Orla.”

“That’s kidnapping, I’m pretty sure.”

“She’d definitely fit,” Orla said adamantly.

“That’s not the point.”

“Fine.” Michelle was clearly ignoring the strange side conversation. “But can we agree it’s on a strict one-in-one-out basis? If she joins the group, James has to leave.”

Everyone responded in agreement, except for Y/n and James, of course. The girls made their way over to the new girl, leaving the couple confused.

“Excuse me?” James said to no one in particular, but then frowned at his girlfriend. “Are they serious?”

Y/n snorted, grabbing James’ arm. “Probably.” Without further elaboration, she pulled the boy towards the rest of their friends. Despite only being separated for a short time, it seemed that James and Y/n had missed some secondhand embarrassment from Clare’s brief interaction with the new girl, Mae.

Mae stared at Clare for a moment before looking at the group. “Is she alright?”

Michelle leaned down to Clare’s ear, rolling her eyes. “Burnin’ for you, Clare.”

“It’s Cantonese.” Clare stuttered out to Mae.

“Right. Well, I’m from Donegal, and we speak English there.”

“If you say so, Mae,” Michelle said. “But I spent a summer in Killybegs, and seriously, not a fuckin’ word.” Y/n elbowed her friend in the side, making a comment about how that might’ve been more of an issue with Michelle’s intelligence than with the town of Killybegs.

Clare smiled kindly at Mae, trying to amend the awkward situation. “We just wanted to introduce ourselves and-”

“-Okay, I think I see where this is going.” Mae interrupted, holding up her hand to further silence the short blonde. “I get this a lot. Dull, white girls want me to join their gang because, well…” Mae gestured to herself to finish the point. 

“We’re not dull,” Erin argued.

“Sure.”

Y/n pointed to James. “And he’s a boy.”

“A man, Y/n.” James corrected, as if he had had this conversation many times. “I’m a man.”

“Woah.” Mae almost laughed. “She has a really fucked up accent.”

“We know,” Michelle said with a sigh.

James leaned into his girlfriend, slightly offended. “I’m not a girl; I’m a man.”

“Sure you are, Jamie,” Y/n said, patting his cheek before focusing back on the main conversation.

Mae sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and looking the group over with a judging look. “What’s in this for me?” She asked. “What do you bring to the table?”

Orla held out her hand. “Six cream crackers?”

Y/n snatched one of the crackers and put it in her mouth, looking at Mae. “Five cream crackers.” She corrected. Mae raised her brow at the two girls.

“I’m good for cream crackers, thank you.” Her tone was filled with sass, but Orla didn’t catch it, so she just shrugged and put them back in her pocket. Mae slammed her locker closed and gave the girls one last look. “I’ll see you around, girls.”

The group disappointedly watched her walk off. Except for Orla, because the girl was an optimist through and through. “Maybe we don’t need a Chinese person.” She said. “We’ve still got a lesbian.”

Suddenly, Mae whipped her head back around. “What? Who?” She quickly walked back to the girls. Timidly, Clare raised her hand.

“Me.”

Mae didn’t look too convinced. “Really? You don’t look like a lesbian.”

Y/n put a protective arm around Clare, almost standing in front of her. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” She asked inquisitively. Mae’s sudden interest and then questioning of Clare being a lesbian was making Y/n wonder if the girls should even try to get her to be their friend.

Mae seemed to ignore Y/n, instead giving Clare a once-over. “It’s just that you’re a bit… short.”

“Well, there’s no height restrictions.” Clare rebutted before glancing at Y/n a bit anxiously. “As far as I’m aware.”

“Interesting.” Mae started looking like she was putting together a scheme in her head. “I’ve always wanted a gay friend. I mean, ideally, a fella-”

“Oh, we’ve got one right here.” Michelle laughed, pointing to her cousin. He and Y/n looked at her with exasperation.

“I’m not gay!”

“He’s not gay!”

“Howdy, folks.” The girls recognized the voice instantly, cringing at the sight of Jenny Joyce, who had now intercepted the entire interaction. Michelle made her distaste for the girl known with an eye roll and a little curse. Jenny ignored it. “I’m Jenny. This is Aisling.” She pointed to the tall brunette who seemed to always be by her side. “We just thought we’d introduce ourselves and see if-”

Clare jumped between Jenny and Mae, throwing her arms out to shield the new girl from Jenny. “Too late, Jenny. She’s ours.”

“I see,” Jenny responded, looking amused and alarmed by Clare before looking back to Mae. “Look, these girls are great, but I do have a pen pal from the Caribbean, so perhaps my circle is a bit more diverse.”

“Back. Off.” Clare seethed, her intensity starting to startle her friends.

Jenny managed to hand Mae a piece of paper with her phone number scribbled on it. “Think about it. Give me a call.” She was finally about to walk away when she remembered something and spun back around to the group. “Oh! And F-Y-I, the Prom Queen vote closes today.”

“F-Y-I, nobody gives a shit,” Michelle remarked.

Aisling held out a piece of paper, waiting for someone to take it. “Here’s the wee ballot.”

Erin snatched it quickly, rolling her eyes when she read the list of candidates. “I see you’ve thrown your hat in the ring, Jenny.”

The girl waved her hand, her humility clearly faked. “I had my arm twisted, but feel free to tick my box.” Then she finally left, Aisling in tow.

Y/n snorted. “I didn’t know Jenny was like that.”

“Dirty bitch.” Michelle added, shaking her head.

***

After school, the girls decided to go to the shopping center instead of straight home. After all, they had much to discuss. After hopping off the bus, they started their trek into town. 

“This prom is going to be a full-blown dick fest.” Michelle started, the word ‘prom’ catching everyone’s attention. “Y’know there’s not even gonna be a DJ? Apparently, Jenny’s hired this fuckin’ pensioner band.”

“Fucks sake.” Y/n sighed.

“Christ, really?” Erin asked.

Michelle nodded. “I heard the drummer is at least thirty.” Seeing the smirk she wore when dropping that piece of information, Clare’s mouth dropped in horror.

“I don’t feel so bad about missing it now,” James said, feeling a sense of relief. “It clashes with my thing.”

Y/n confusedly looked at her boyfriend, unaware of what his ‘thing’ was. But before she could ask, Michelle rolled her eyes and looked back at her cousin. “The creep convention? Seriously?”

“It’s not a creep convention!”

Michelle shrugged, clearly not convinced. “Well, I think a load of perverts gettin’ together to wank over some fella who fights hoovers and rides aliens in a telephone box, is the very fuckin’ definition of a creep convention.”

James scoffed. “It’s a Doctor Who night. Me and my stepdad used to watch it when I was little.”

“Well, someone should’ve called Social Services then, James.”

“You’re not going to the prom then, James?” Clare asked, seeming offended. He shook his head, and Clare looked over to Y/n, who was already looking at her with a confused and disappointed look.

Eventually, the group reached the shopping center. The conversation moved to the topic of dates, or lack thereof.

“I have no clue who to ask.” Clare sighed, a bit frustrated. “I’d ask James, but-” She cut herself off, remembering that she was the only one completely aware of the relationship between James and one of her best friends. 

“But you’re not desperate, Clare.” Michelle finished her sentence with a laugh. “And tell me about it. There’s at least five fellas who fancy the arse off’a me, but I just can’t choose.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely the same,” Clare responded with a grumpy face and monotonous tone.

Erin nudged the small blonde with her elbow. “I’ll be your date, Clare.”

“But, Erin, people might talk. They might get the wrong idea.”

“Let them.” She said proudly, head held high. “We need to break down these ridiculous conventions.”

Y/n would’ve commented about her sister’s somewhat fake activism, but she kept her mouth shut after seeing the hopeful look on dear Clare’s face. “Thank you.” 

Erin would have responded to Clare if she hadn’t caught sight of a familiar face. Through the window of the cafe the girls were walking to, Erin could see a boy about their age sitting at a far table with a girl, and they both looked somewhat miserable. “Oh God, John-Paul’s over there,” Erin said stiffly, turning around to look at her friends. “Christ, but it’s been so awkward since we broke up.”

“For fuck’s sake, Erin,” Michelle said, remembering the event a bit differently than how Erin was painting it. “He kissed your cheek at Kerry Coyle’s sixteenth birthday party.”

“Didn’t he pass out in his own boke?” Y/n asked, recalling the embarrassing moment. “Feckin’ lightweight.”

Erin looked over her shoulder back at John-Paul. “Yeah, he missed that boat, alright.”

“Come on already.” Michelle opened the door, pushing the girls into the cafe. “I’m fucking starving.”

James was about to go inside but was held back by Y/n. The door closed after Orla, leaving the couple outside.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” James asked, as curious and thoughtful as ever.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the convention?” 

James cringed at the twinge of hurt in her voice, realizing that he had never told her about the Doctor Who convention and how it was the same night at prom. “I… forgot?”

“You’re really gonna go?” Y/n didn’t want to start a fight over this, but she thought her boyfriend would have debated between prom and the convention, or tell her that he had plans at the very least. James nodded. “I just thought that, you know, prom is usually a couple’s thing. And we’re a couple. I thought it might be fun to go together.”

“I can go to prom if you want me to,” James said, wanting to please his girlfriend. 

But that caused the opposite reaction. Y/n shook her head, a slight frown appearing on her face. “I don’t wanna force you to go, James. You can obviously go to the convention if you really want to. I just…” She sighed, getting a little worked up. “I just wish you would’ve told me first, that’s all.”

James nodded apologetically. “I was going to, Y/n, I swear. It just slipped my mind.”

“It’s fine.”

The two stood outside the cafe door, wondering if there was anything more to say or if they should go inside. 

“You know, just because I’m not going doesn’t mean you don’t have to go,” James said, giving his girlfriend a hopeful look. “I mean, if you want to go, of course.”

Y/n nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Another pause. “We’re okay, right?”

The slightly scared look on James’ face, like he had done something wrong, made Y/n place her hands on his cheeks and sweep her thumbs over his cheekbones in a comforting motion. “Of course, we’re okay, Jamie.” To emphasize the point, she gave him a peck on the lips before letting go of his face and grabbing his hand. “Now let’s go inside, I’m hungry.”

When they entered the cafe, James walked Y/n to the table their friends were sitting at and pulled out a chair for her to sit in before going to the counter to order for the both of them. “She is not a model!” Erin responded sharply to something Y/n had missed.

“Who’s not a model?” She asked quickly, and her friends looked at her like they didn’t realize she had just now entered the conversation.

“Cara something,” Michelle answered, not very discreetly pointing over to the girl sitting with John-Paul. “The girl that that John-Paul fella is pokin’. Heard she’s gonna be on Baywatch.”

“Oh yeah, I heard that too.”

Erin groaned in frustration, looking at her sister. “Get real, Y/n. She’s not gonna be on Baywatch.”

“It’s just what I heard.”

“Oh my God.” Clare seemed to be the only one still paying attention to John-Paul and the supposed Baywatch model. “Looks like they’re breaking up.”

The girls looked at the couple. Erin almost snapped her neck with how fast she turned her head. “Jesus, are they really?” She wondered aloud, a bit too hopefully. “Are they breaking up?” Cara got up and left the table, leaving a broken-hearted John-Paul to watch her walk away. Erin’s eyes also followed the girl, but she seemed much more gleeful about Cara’s departure. “They are. They’re breaking up. This is class!”

“What?” Clare asked, being the voice for the perplexed group of girls.

“Later.” 

As soon as Cara was out the door, Erin jumped out of her seat and sped over to John-Paul.

“What’s class?” James startled the girls as he set some food and drinks on the table before sitting in the empty chair beside Y/n.

“Remember how we were talking about that lad John-Paul?” Y/n asked, taking a sip of her drink as James nodded. “Well, him and the girl he was with, who’s gonna be on Baywatch, by the way, broke up, and she left him. So now Erin’s swooped in like a vulture.”

“She has no respect for herself,” Michelle commented, looking over the menu on the table. “And coming from me…”

“That is bad.” Clare frowned.

“Terrible even,” Y/n added.

“Exactly.”

Clare, Orla, and Michelle soon got up and went to the counter to order. This gave Erin privacy to bother John-Paul, who looked like he was seconds away from a breakdown, and allowed Y/n and James to have lunch and talk in peace. 

“Can I have a bite of your sandwich?” The girl asked, pointing at the nibbled-on food in front of James.

“If I can have a bite of your doughnut.” He responded, pointing his own finger to the sweet treat.

The couple nodded in agreement and held their food to each other’s mouths. They took a bite at the same time, mumbling about how good the food was while chewing.

“What’re you doing?” Michelle asked, her lip curling in a slight snarl as she, Clare, and Orla came back to the table.

“What?” Y/n asked, not noticing James taking a second bite of her doughnut.

“You’re looking like you’re going out or something,” Michelle explained, wagging her finger between the two teens. “It’s making me sick. Like, if someone thought I was goin’ out with James, I think I’d kill myself.”

“Hey!”

“Well, he is your cousin, Michelle.” Y/n laughed. 

Her friend shrugged and sat down, muttering about how the English thing was worse before talking to Clare about something else. With the attention off of them, Y/n reached down to squeeze James’ hand and smiled at him. But the smile was soon wiped off her face when she realized her doughnut was now half eaten.

***

Erin boasted about her new prom date the entire walk home, much to everyone else’s outspoken chagrin and annoyance. James, Michelle, and Clare were lucky, because they didn’t live in the McCool-Quinn household. So after the three dispersed from the group to go to their own homes, Y/n and Orla had to hear about Erin’s plans to get a new dress and maybe even new shoes to impress John-Paul for their date.

Then, the rest of their family got to hear about it.

“This is a huge deal.” Erin insisted to her mother that she was following around the kitchen. “This is a massive, massive deal. I’m going to the prom with John-Paul O’Reilly, for God’s sake. Come on, Mammy!”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t care if you’re going to the prom with John Paul the Second, Erin. I’m not buying you another frock. End of story.”

“But, Mammy, you don’t understand.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with your Easter dress.”

Erin scoffed. “There’s lots of things wrong with my Easter dress.”

“It matches Y/n and Orla’s.” Mary persisted, waving her hand over to the girls she just named. Orla was wearing her Easter dress and holding her mother’s cigarette while she and Y/n pinched the fabric at her waist to see what had to be taken in.

“That being the main one.”

“Honestly, Erin, I think we’ll look so cracker if we rock up wearin’ these.” Orla grinned, doing a little shimmy with her words.

Erin raised her brows and gave her cousin a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Right, well I don’t.”

Aunt Sarah pulled more on the loose fabric, grabbing her cigarette from her daughter for a quick drag. “Ach, Mary, you’d think the wain’s been dropped into it. You wouldn’t nip it in a bit for her? I’d do it meself, but sewing plays havoc on my acrylics.”

“Fine.”

“Y/n, dear, can you pin it for me?” Sarah asked, gesturing to her nails. The girl nodded and grabbed some safety pins to cinch Orla’s dress. “Then afterward, Orla and I can do yours for you.”

“Nah, that’s fine,” Y/n replied. “Don’t think I’ll wear it.”

Orla gasped in disappointment, wondering why both her cousins didn’t want to match with her. Meanwhile, Erin kept trying to convince her mother she absolutely needed a new frock.

“I really like this fella, Mammy.”

“Well, if he really likes you, it won’t matter what you wear.”

“Ach, come off it!”

“Have you a date lined up, girls?” Aunt Sarah asked her daughter and niece before taking a drag of her cigarette. 

One seemed to be more enthusiastic about the question than the other. “I do, aye,” Orla answered.

“What?” Erin gave her cousin a strange look. “...With, like, a human?”

The girl blinked before nodding, like Erin was the strange one. “...Yeah.”

“What about you, love?” Sarah looked to Y/n, who was wrapped up in making sure she didn’t accidentally stab Orla. The girl looked up when she realized she was being spoken to. “Has anyone snatched you up for the dance yet?”

Y/n shook her head, trying to not seem so disappointed about it. “Nope. But it’s fine.” She sighed, going back to picking at her nails. “I dunno if I’m even gonna go.”

“What d’ya mean you’re not going?” Erin questioned, seeming offended that her sister would even debate not attending the prom. “You have to go.”

“Why do I have to go, Erin?”

Erin made that little sort of laugh and eye roll that she did when she felt like someone had said something silly or dumb, and she was about to correct it with her obvious intelligence. “It’s prom, Y/n. It’s a big deal.”

“It’s only prom-” Y/n was cut off by a commotion in the living room. Gerry yelped in surprise as Joe banged on something, but no one seemed to care enough to look at what was happening. She shook her head and continued. “Besides, Erin, there’ll be other proms. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Y/n could tell her sister wasn’t entirely convinced. To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t too convinced herself. But she’d rather lie and say she didn’t care than make James feel bad about being unable to take her.

Erin looked at Y/n inquisitively. She walked up to her and crossed her arms. “Is this because Ja-”

“This stupid prick’s broken the TV, Mary!” Joe cried out, and his daughter rushed to the living room. Gerry looked appalled at his father-in-law. “He’s been futterin’.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one that was thumpin’ it repeatedly, Joe.”

“I’ll thump you repeatedly.”

“Well, the pair of you’d better sort it out!” Mary interjected before walking over to her sister. “London’s Burning’s on in twenty minutes.”

“God, Mary, but them poor fellas are flat out with fires, so they are. Jesus, but they never get a minute.”

Behind Mary, Joe started to slam the television even harder than before, and Gerry cringed with every slap. “Aye, it’s a good job they keep themselves in such great shape.”

“Don’t, Mary.” Sarah gasped. “That Greek fella…”

“He could throw me over his shoulder any day of the week.”

Y/n and Erin stared at their mother and aunt before looking at each other. They were both equally horrified and disgusted.

“They make me sick.”

“Boke-o-rama.”

***

Clare didn’t take the news of Erin ditching her for John-Paul very well, despite telling Erin it was fine. Erin was the only one who believed her, too wrapped up in her and John-Paul’s revived “relationship.” But Clare pretty quickly found a new date: the new girl from Donegal, Mae, who was going dress shopping with the girls and James when she heard about Erin’s little betrayal. 

After Clare’s date problem was solved, the girls had to solve their dress problem. But Michelle came to the rescue—or rather, her mother’s credit card that she stole came to the rescue. Despite Clare’s very vocal opinion about committing a crime, the rest of the girls were on board on account of having no money.

“What do you think of this one?” Erin asked, coming out in a very tight, turquoise dress. 

“It’s very…” Y/n trailed off, trying to think of an appropriate word. “Different.”

“I’m not sure it’s you, really,” Michelle added.

“Good,” Erin said, in a bit of a struggle as she walked over to a mirror. “I don’t wanna be me.”

Clare walked up to the group, holding two dresses. “Which of these do you like best?”

“Definitely the pink,” Erin answered.

But Clare didn’t care much about Erin’s opinion. “Has to be the blue,” Mae said, and Clare glared at Erin.

“Yeah, I thought the blue.”

“What about you, Y/n?” James asked a bit quietly, holding a pile of dresses that all the girls had thrown at him. “Don’t you wanna look for a dress? You are going to the prom, right?”

He knew her answer before she said it, because she gave him a bit of a frown and a shrug. “I don’t think I will.”

“Y/n-”

“It’s fine, really! I was thinking of helping Daddy fix our TV.” She looked around at all the clothing racks before giving James what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Besides, nothing here’s really my taste.”

“Although, I have heard he’s really good with his hands.” Michelle talking about one of her possible dates reached the couples’ ears. “And when I say he’s good with his hands, I’m not talking about puttin’ up shelves, girls. I’m talking about-”

“Everybody knows what you’re talking about, Michelle.” James interrupted, hoping it would be enough for her to move on. But everybody also knew there was no stopping Michelle from her vulgarity.

The curly-haired girl smirked. “Fingerin’.”

James cringed. “Honestly…”

After much decision-making about what dresses to get, the girls went to the front to pay with Michelle’s stolen card. Mae, who didn’t find a dress she liked, gasped and pointed behind the counter to a red dress that was hung up. 

“Oh my God, that’s the one! Can I try that one on, please?”

“Sorry, love.” The shop owner said apologetically. “That’s being left over for someone.”

“What?”

“Hiya!” In came Jenny Joyce, holding a couple of balloons. “Sorry girls, can’t stop.”

“Don’t worry.” Y/n smiled. “No one asked you to.”

“I’m just grabbing a few wee bits for the prom.” Jenny continued while the owner started bagging up the red dress. “Sure, you know how it is.”

“I was actually about to try that one on,” Mae said, pointing to the dress Jenny was now paying for.

“Well, I left it over, so…”

“It’s just that, red’s my color.”

“Yeah, mine too.”

The rest of the girls backed up a bit, surprised by how hostile Mae and Jenny were becoming towards each other. “No, you don’t understand. I really, really suit it.” The shop owner placed the bag on the counter, and Mae inched her hand towards it. “Garnet’s actually my birthstone.”

“Well, ruby’s mine, so…” Jenny grabbed her bag, and Mae slammed her hand on the counter. She looked at the Joyce girl menacingly. If Jenny was intimidated, she definitely didn’t show it.

“I want that dress, Jenny.”

“Well, you can’t have it.” Jenny left the store, leaving the girls to deal with Mae, who was cursing her out and beyond livid.

***

Prom night had finally arrived after much anticipation. Erin was upstairs in her room getting ready on her own while Aunt Sarah was doing her daughter’s hair and makeup in the kitchen. Mary watched while sipping her tea because Erin didn’t want her help, and Y/n decided to help her father fix their busted television set instead of going to the dance. Granda Joe was nowhere to be found, which relieved Gerry a bit because it meant his father-in-law wasn’t criticizing him.

“Now, close your eyes,” Sarah said, picking up two giant cans of hairspray. “I’m just going to give you a wee light mist, just so it holds for you.”

Y/n could smell the fumes from her spot on the floor in the living room, so she could only imagine what it was like being her mother or cousin in the kitchen. A cloud of hairspray surrounded Orla, making her cough a bit, and Mary covered her tea.

Finally ready, Erin came down from her room and into the kitchen. It took her a bit of effort because her dress was so tight that she had to take baby steps in her heels. “What do you think?” Everyone looked at her, all seeming to have the same reaction.

Mary looked the most surprised by her daughter’s appearance. “God, aye. It’s…” She trailed off, wanting to be honest but nice about it. “Different, isn’t it?”

“Different?” Erin asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… it was nice of Michelle to lend it to you, love, but it just doesn’t look…” Mary grimaced, trying to choose her words carefully, “very comfortable.”

Erin rolled her eyes a little. “It’s really comfortable, actually.” She said, walking closer. “It’s like a second skin.”

“I don’t think that’s a good thing, Erin,” Y/n called out, handing Gerry a screwdriver. “I dunno if a second skin should be turquoise and… Well, squeaking when you walk.”

“It does not squeak,” Erin replied, squeaking as she hobbled to the table. 

Erin looked forward to see Orla looking at her grumpily. “I wish you would wear your Easter frock, Erin. When we were wee, we always went to parties dressed the same.”

“We’re not wee anymore, Orla.”

Orla grumbled in agreement while Erin handed her mother a piece of paper. Mary unfolded it and looked it over, and Aunt Sarah did the same from over her shoulder.

“What’s this?” Mary asked.

“It’s some guidelines,” Erin answered. “Things you are and aren’t allowed to say to John-Paul when he gets here.”

“Right.” Mary stared into her daughter’s eyes, not looking away as she crumpled the paper into a ball. Erin looked a bit disturbed but decided it was best not to say anything.

“What time’s your date arriving at, Orla, love?” Sarah asked, doing the final fixes on Orla’s hair.

Granda Joe waltzed into the room, wearing a white suit with a yellow rosette pinned to it. “He’s already here.” He said, doing a little spin before walking the rest of the way to the kitchen.

“You asked Granda to the prom?” Erin asked, smiling a little.

Orla’s grin was the widest in the bunch, eyes staying on her grandfather. “Well, everyone kept sayin’ you have to ask a fella you really like, and this is the fell I like the most.” Joe beamed, bowing down and presenting another yellow rose from his pocket for the girl.

“That’s so sweet, Orla.” Y/n said from her spot next to the TV. “Granda’s a lucky lad, that’s for sure.”

“Why, thank you, love,” Joe replied, turning to fully show his granddaughter the happy smile he had been sporting.

“Aye, you’re looking well, Joe,” Gerry added, taking a small break from trying to repair the television to weigh in.

“Oh, it’s not all shite you talk, Gerry.” Gerry gave his daughter an unimpressed look, making her giggle as he went back to the task at hand. Joe turned back to Orla. “Should we head?”

“John-Paul’s picking me up at seven,” Erin replied. “You go on; we’ll see you there.”

Joe looked back to Y/n, waiting for her answer. The girl waved her hand. “Oh, I’m not goin’. Don’t have a date and all that. Besides, I dunno what I’d wear.”

“You could wear your Easter frock, Y/n,” Orla said, trying to entice the girl once more into matching with her. But she just laughed and shook her head.

“No thanks, Orla.”

While Orla said goodbye to her mother and aunt, Joe walked over to Mary and whispered something to her. They looked over at Y/n, who didn’t notice their eyes because she was looking for a tool her father had asked for. Mary nodded at Joe for an unknown reason, and soon, he and Orla were off to the prom.

Erin sat down, struggling quite a bit because of her dress’s tightness. When she was settled, she looked at the clock. Only fifteen minutes until John-Paul arrived.

***

When twenty minutes had passed, Y/n knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her sister. She couldn’t say she was surprised, but she was still saddened for her sister. “I’ll be right back, Daddy,” Y/n whispered before standing up and sneaking to the entrance where the phone and some privacy were.

Y/n knew she had to call someone, but was racking her brain on who. Everyone she knew was either at the prom or busy with something else. 

Suddenly, she jumped as if the idea that came to her had shocked her. She quickly dialed and held the phone to her ear, listening to the rings.

Then, someone finally picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“David?”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” She peered out the door, seeing Erin still staring at the clock. “How’ve you been?”

“Same old stuff, really,” David answered. “Band’s picked up a few gigs this month, it’s been pretty-”

“That’s great. Listen, can you do me a favor?”

David couldn’t help but laugh at the interruption and how urgent Y/n sounded. “Uh, maybe? What d’ya need?”

“Remember my sister, Erin?” He made a small hum of confirmation. “Well, she used to have a massive thing for you until that whole thing at Jenny’s party a few months ago.”

“You mean when she called that Russian girl your fella was going out with a prostitute?”

“She was Ukrainian, but yes. Anyway, she pretty much gave up on you after that because the whole thing was so embarrassing. But…” Y/n looked to the kitchen again. She could see Mary looking at her daughter a bit sadly, as if she also knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her. “The prom’s tonight, and her date’s not coming. And… as annoying as she is, she’s my sister and all. So I was wondering if maybe you’d be willing to-”

“I’ll be there at 7:30.” David cut her off, feeling it was only fair since she had interrupted him just moments ago.

Y/n had to keep herself from squealing, not wanting to give Erin the idea that something was going on. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

After saying a quick goodbye, Y/n hung up the phone and snuck back out to the living room. David would arrive in twenty minutes, and she just had to count on Erin being hopeful enough to wait that much longer. 

Nothing much had really happened in those twenty minutes. Y/n assisted Gerry in fixing their broken TV, Mary and Aunt Sarah played a card game, and Erin sat and stared at the clock. The only time she moved was to go to the phone in the kitchen, but she was so quiet and far away that Y/n had no idea who she was calling. 

When the clock struck 7:30, Erin sighed. “He’s not coming.”

“Ach, love.” Mary frowned.

“I’m gonna go and change.” That made Y/n panic, and she scrambled off of the floor.

“What?” She said, walking over to Erin and slightly shaking her head. “No, just give it a few more minutes.”

“I wanna get out of this thing.” Erin teared up, struggling to get out of her chair. With how tight the dress was, she started to waddle towards the stairs.

Y/n was hot on her sister’s heels, which wasn’t hard because moving was so difficult for her in that tight dress. “Erin, please. Just-” The doorbell rang, and Y/n let out a breath of relief. She scooted past Erin and went to the door. “See! I told you! Now, I know you were hoping for John-Paul, but I think-... James?”

Y/n was stunned to silence. James was standing right in front of her, dressed up as the Fourth Doctor from Doctor Who, smiling right at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“David?” Erin waddled over to the door, and that’s when Y/n finally noticed her friend David Donnelly standing next to James, dressed in a suit with no tie. 

“Erin.” He replied with a nod.

The two girls looked at each other, confused. “What’s he doing here?” They asked in unison, pointing to the boy that was in front of them, who both laughed at their reactions.

“I called David for you because I knew John-Paul stood you up.”

“I called James for you because I knew you wanted to go to the prom with him.”

Y/n looked up at her boyfriend. “Wait, what about your creep convention?”

She laughed when he rolled his eyes. “It’s not a creep convention, and you know that. And it’s not important. I just…” James sighed, toying with his long, colorful scarf. “I knew the prom meant a lot to you, and Erin calling me just gave me the push I needed. Besides, I didn’t want to miss a chance to dance with my girl.”

“Ach, Jamie.” Y/n sighed endearingly, cupping his face. She gave him a soft, long kiss that he eagerly returned.

Erin and David had their own little conversation, trying not to look at the couple that were sucking face. “I’m surprised you’re here. I haven’t seen you since… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” David laughed a little, thinking back to that night. Then he shrugged. “But Y/n called tellin’ me your date stood you up and… I dunno, you’re kinda cool to talk to and whatever.”

“I am?” Erin asked excitedly. 

“I said ‘kinda’.”

“Wait.” Y/n finally pulled away from James, looking down at her attire. “What am I gonna wear?”

“I’ll take you wearing this,” James said, seemingly serious as he looked at his girlfriend’s ripped jeans and oversized sweater that she had stolen from Granda Joe’s closet. The three other teens gave him unimpressed looks. “What? So what if it’s not a formal dress, she still looks nice.”

“I have something better.” Everyone jumped in surprise as Mary poked her head in. “Come over here. I’ve got somethin’ to show you.”

Y/n pulled Erin to their mother, giving the boys a final glance over her shoulder. “Go ahead and talk, we won’t be long.”

Mary led her daughters to the kitchen, where two big boxes they’d never seen before sat on the table. Mary gestured for the girls to open them, which they did.

“Oh my God, Mammy.” Y/n pulled out a pink dress with layers, ruffles, and small arm straps. Erin held a similar styled dress but in blue. “Where on earth did you get these?”

“They were my mother’s,” Mary answered, looking at the dresses fondly. “Your Granda said to bring them out, in case you changed your mind about the dance. Heard it was fifties themed and all that.”

Both of Mary’s daughters now had tears in their eyes, but they were not from sadness. The girls rounded the table to hug their mum tightly.

“You know, the dress is nice and all but-” Erin cut herself off with a sniffle. “I think I wanna match with Orla.”

“Well, one of you better be wearing my Mammy’s dress,” Mary said, deadly serious with only a tiny hint of amusement in her voice. “I didn’t dig these boxes up for nothing.”

“I’ll wear it.” Y/n laughed, grabbing the box with the pink dress. “Come on, Erin, let’s go change.”

***

“You look lovely.” This was the fifth time James had said this to Y/n in the past thirty minutes. But he meant it every time he said it.

And Y/n knew he did because he couldn’t stop staring at her. “Thank you, Jamie. You look just as handsome.” The couple walked to the school doors arm in arm, Erin and David a few steps behind them. “Although…” James opened the door and looked at his girlfriend curiously. “Are you sure you didn’t want to leave the scarf at home?”

“I think it completes the look,” James said with a bit of humor, toying with the piece of clothing. “But if you want, I can leave it in the car.”

“Nah.” Y/n shook her head, giving James a peck on the lips. “How else am I gonna pull you to the dancefloor?”

The two couples went into the decorated gym, quickly spotting two of their friends. Clare was talking frantically to Michelle, who honestly looked like she couldn’t care less.

“Look, there’s a guy here; he knows Mae-” The four heard Clare say before Michelle cut her off, looking over the blonde’s shoulder to see them.

“What’s going on?” Clare turned around, a bit spooked by the sudden appearance of her friends. Michelle grimaced at Y/n and James standing together arm in arm, but opted to comment on Erin’s new date instead. “Oh, don’t tell me. Wank-features stood you up.”

“Yeah.” Erin shrugged it off like she hadn’t cried over John-Paul standing her up about an hour before. She nudged her sister. “But Y/n called David Donnelly here, so I wouldn’t go alone.”

“What can I say? I’m a sweetheart.” Y/n smiled.

Clare put a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Erin. About John-Paul, I mean.”

“No, I’m sorry. You were right; I was jealous. Mae’s just so cool and exotic, and you liked her so much-”

“She’s deranged!” Clare blurted out with wide eyes, taking everyone aback.

“What?”

“Who’s Mae?” David leaned back to ask Y/n and James, who said they’d explain later. He tsked, tapping Erin’s shoulder. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

“Get me some punch.” She said before turning back to Clare. “What d’you mean, Clare? You were crazy about her yesterday.”

“She’s the one who’s crazy, Erin!” Clare squealed. “I met this guy that went to her school. He said she had to leave for, like, being a bully. He said she’s seriously unhinged! I think he’s a bit pissed off with her, to be honest, and I can’t blame him, ’cause she’s given the Chinese population of Donegal a really bad rap.” Clare’s friends would always be surprised over how much she could say without taking breaks for breath.

Michelle rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Typical Donegal man. Always moanin’.”

“There she is.” Everyone looked to where James was pointing. Sure enough, Mae was on the other side of the large room, going backstage.

“What’s she doing?” Michelle wondered, and everyone started walking closer to the stage to try and get a better look.

“She was talking about how she wasn’t going to let Jenny get away with the whole Prom Queen thing,” Clare answered.

James gasped. “Jesus Christ, look. Above the stage, look!” He pointed again, and everyone followed his finger to the tin buckets rigged with rope above the stage.

“Is she doing what I think she’s doin’?” Y/n asked.

“I think she’s gonna do a Carrie.” The couple looked both concerned and impressed, now both very glad they decided to come to prom.

“Fuck-a-doodle-do!”

“What’s a Carrie?” Clare asked frantically. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve never seen Carrie?”

“No.” Everyone said something about what a good film it was, but Clare wasn’t looking for film critiques. “Expand and explain! EXPAND. AND. EXPLAIN!”

“So, Carrie is voted Prom Queen, and this bully pours a bucket of pig’s blood on her.” James quickly explained.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Well, a lot of other stuff happens. But, you know, that’s the relevant bit.” Y/n said, but before she could go more into the movie, the band on stage finished playing.

Aisling stepped up to the microphone, some feedback echoing through the gym.

“Can I have your attention, please?” She said with a smile. The girls looked terrified. “And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. It’s time to crown our Prom Queen.” Mae waited for Aisling to announce the name everyone knew would be said. She held the rope tightly, waiting for the moment she could finally release it. “And now… our Prom Queen is… Jenny Joyce!”

The girl looked completely surprised, and the girls wondered, against their better judgment, if they could just let this all play out. 

“We have to do something!” Clare yelled over the celebratory music as Jenny went up on stage.

While Jenny started to give a small acceptance speech, everyone started running. Except for Orla and Granda Joe, who were more than content with eating popcorn and watching the scene. David joined them, holding two cups of punch and wondering why his date was rushing the stage.

Michelle and James joined Erin to try and get Jenny off the stage, while Y/n went with Clare to stop Mae. It was a struggle, but it didn’t help as much as the girls thought it would. The only good thing was that Mae wasn’t crazy enough to use pig’s blood and instead soaked everyone on stage with tomato juice.

Erin tried to tell Jenny that her friends weren’t to blame, but Jenny, of course, didn’t believe her. The two girls started fighting, soon being joined by Michelle and Aisling. James just stood back and watched, not really wanting to intervene, and Y/n would’ve laughed if she wasn’t caught up in trying to break Clare and Mae apart. The rest of the audience seemed to enjoy the spectacle, laughing and having refreshments as it all played out.

***

It was a good thing David had towels in the boot of his car. Erin and James were covered and sticky with tomato juice, no matter how hard they tried to get it off them. Y/n was eternally grateful that she decided to go with Clare to stop Mae, sparing her grandmother’s dress. She didn’t think Joe would be too happy about it being covered in red, no matter how amused he was by tonight’s events.

“Jesus, the street’s packed.” David grimaced as he turned onto the sisters’ street. It was crowded with all their neighbors, whooping and partying for an unknown reason that they would surely hear about tonight or early tomorrow.

Y/n sighed, poking her head out the window. “I dunno if I wanna go home.” She settled back in her seat and looked at her boyfriend. “Wanna go to your place?”

“Sure.” He answered.

“Want me to drive you there?” David asked, but James shook his head.

“No, mate, it’s fine. I’m only a street over.”

“Yeah, take Erin home for me.” The Donnelly boy seemed to miss the sly wink Y/n gave her sister in the rearview mirror.

After some goodbyes and teasing comments, Y/n and James got out of the car and started walking down the street, weaving through all the people out and about. Surprisingly, Michelle and her parents weren’t home when the two arrived. Michelle must have still been panicking over how she was going to return her tomato-soddened dress, and James’ aunt and uncle were either at work or celebrating whatever was going on with their friends.

With the house empty, Y/n and James unwinded and relaxed. James took a much-needed shower, putting his clothes in a plastic bag so they wouldn’t stain anything else. Meanwhile, Y/n shimmied out of her dress and put on some of James’ pajamas.

“So, what do you wanna do?” James asked as he entered his room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Y/n was a little surprised by his boldness, remembering how shy he was some months ago when he didn’t have any clothes at her house and had to stand in his boxers while Y/n grabbed him a sweater.

“Maybe a movie?” Y/n suggested, watching James rifle through his dresser. She was filled with a sudden feeling of not wanting him to put on the clothes he was grabbing. “Carrie would be pretty fitting.”

They laughed, James shaking his head as he slipped his boxers on. “Oh, I don’t know.” He tore the towel off and sat down next to his girlfriend, pulling a shirt over his head. “I think there’s been enough blood, or blood adjacent, covered people tonight.”

Y/n laid back, humming in thought. “Well, there is… another thing... we could do.”

James looked down at Y/n, waiting for her to elaborate. She reached up his back, lightly tugging on his shirt until he laid down beside her. Y/n hooked a leg over James’ waist and brushed some wet curls away from his forehead. As her other hand slowly traveled down his chest, he started to get what she was hinting at.

“Only if you want to, obviously.”

James pushed Y/n off of him only to hover over her, kissing her deeply. He helped her shimmy up his bed until her head was resting on a pillow. Feeling brave, but mainly horny, James pulled away and took off his shirt before slipping his hand under Y/n’s.

“Are you sure?” James asked, slightly panting from how escalated the moment was getting.

“Yeah,” Y/n responded, taking a deep breath before pushing James away so she could take her own shirt off. James stared at her in amazement. Before she could tease him for his reaction, he gripped her bare waist and pulled her against him, kissing her with hunger.

The prom sure was exciting. But sometimes, what happened after was much more eventful.

~~~

The Fella Taglist: @mistahjsfunnygirl @etherealdisneyvillainness @crystalsoobin-m @raggedyoldwitch @rosetintworld @regretthatsme @neenieweenie @allexiiisss @drmeghanjones @eli-com @anything-for-our-moony-toast @ilovespideyyy @eddisaurus @imagines--galore @emma-is-a-nerd @sir1usblacksgf @kaz-2y567 @spidercrush3 @miilkshakess @underthebatcape @dear-jamespotter @brithedemonspawn @acupnoodle @nevillescomslut @hantivity @slaymybreathaway @mystic-writings @thegirlwithoutaname87 @mystic-mara @st4rryhae @ljaneyx @justlibra @siriuslyinlovewithsiriusblack @elauranicolee @in-my-hoe-era @grippleback-galaxy @greensunflowerjuna @sarcasm-and-stiles @callsignwidow @qtkat @asterizee @cursedandromedablack @athenalive

[the-guilty-writer]

hiiii, i saw that your blurb requests were open so i was wondering if maybe you could write a spencer x daughter!reader (or just gn child) one where he helps her when she's depressed, if you're comfortable writing that. i 100% understand if you don't write this for any reason, of course. i hope you have a good day!! i love your fics so much <3

This one was cute to write

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Spencer knocked softly on your door, not wanting to wake you if you were asleep, but knowing that some time in the sun would do you better than laying in the dark with blue light from your phone.

"Sweetie, are you awake?"

A muffled "Hmm" came from the other side of the door.

He pushed gently into your room, careful and gentle like he always did.

"Hi dad," you greeted him with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. "How was work?"

"It was okay." Spencer walked to sit on the edge of your bed, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I missed you, though."

He looked around your dark room. You weren't nearly as tidy as he was, but he could always tell when your mood began to fall by the state of your room. Papers piled on your desk and clothes littered the floor. Your backpack was thrown haphazardly onto the floor, the chair too occupied by clean laundry you couldn't bring yourself to put away.

"I missed you too." You trailed his line of sight, landing on the backpack you hadn't touched since getting home from school. "Can you help me with my homework?"

Spencer knew well that you struggled to get your work done when you were depressed. He never faulted you for it, knowing that it was compassion, not discipline, that would help you get through the darker periods.

"Of course." He smiled at you. "But only if you help me with something first."

You raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Let's go for a walk," your dad said. "I need some sunshine."

You nodded in agreement. Spencer left your room to allow you to get ready. Truthfully, the walk was to help you get out of the apartment and lift your spirits. You needed the sunshine, but your dad found all the sunshine he needed in you.

[junosmindpalace]

Hihihi!! I absolutely LOVE your writing and i was wondering if i could request a modern setting senku x reader where they're academic rivals? Tho it would be cool if reader (can be either gn or fem!) was good at writing/literature and stuff instead of science like senku. I feel like it would be a silly little dynamic:3 Uhhm i hope it's okay!! Tysm in advance and pls take your time!! <3

hi hi! thank you for your request! i hope this is okay!

Though it often didn't seem like it since he is always so eager to indulge people in their scientific queries, Senku Ishigami is competitive.

This is something that his friend Taiju knows from all their gaming sessions, and later, this is something that is eventually discovered upon further watching him tackle tricky experiments. Never will Senku Ishigami turn his back on someone in need of help, on someone who wants to hear and learn more about science; but when a challenge presents itself, he’s determined to prove himself against it. Not for pride, but a sense of achievement. Excitement.

And for the longest time, you have been the biggest and most exciting challenge Senku has had. 

The same went for you. Senku Ishigami had caught you quite off guard when you first met him. An eccentric, brilliant kid who wowed you with his scientific knowledge and capabilities. And when he discovered you in a similar fashion, a sort of unspoken rivalry was established--

--If rivalry even was the appropriate term to use, because there was never any real malice toward one another, especially from Senku’s end. Yet there was this lingering competitive air between the two of you on who could come out on top in certain projects. This was for all classes and assignments. 

Jabs at one another was just part of your relationship (and sort of ritual, when in competition) with Senku, and certainly from an outsider’s perspective did it come off harsh and from a place of hatred. Any thoughts of malicious intent toward one another were instantly dissolved, however, when said outsider took notice of the way you two looked at each other, with not only matching challenging expressions, but genuine reverence and appreciation for what you bring out in one another.

Science, of course, was where Senku was primarily eager to take up a challenge. Though it was mostly him who showed you up in this area, it was you that showed him up when it came to literature. Reading, writing, communications; now that was your area to shine. It was not only this passion but your extensive general knowledge of the world (and what lies outside of it, which had pleasantly surprised Senku) and ambition for learning, forming relationships, and growing, along with your indulgence of Senku’s own enthusiasm, that made you so exciting to the scientist. 

If previously discussed outsider who assumed that the two of you harbored malicious feelings for one another couldn’t catch on to those lingering gazes and continued to hold their previously stated assumption, there were many other instances that could’ve changed their view. 

The two of you could often be found in a spare classroom sitting at the same table doing work together, asking each other questions and making conversation both pertaining to the work at hand and about whatever else was on your minds. Through the door that was often left half opened, passerbys could catch on to your enthusiastic chatter and get a glimpse through the long thin window an exchange of notes on the table the two of you occupied. 

The members of the science club can always anticipate your visits, your name and face becoming recognizable as a regular visitor despite not being a formal member. Nevertheless you were always welcomed in with updates on projects, and you spent your time looking over (primarily Senku’s) shoulders and having your eccentric friend eagerly walk you through his own recent work.

The school newspaper and book club recognize his face just as much as the science club members recognize yours. The paper has covered Senku’s eccentric projects a few times after taking up your suggestion that the work he does would make for an interesting article. He’s read them and sprouted glowing praise on the way you captured the thrilling essence of science so stunningly (all in an awed tone as he scanned over the paper, while you attempted to exude nonchalance with a shrug, though you could feel the warming in your cheeks give yourself away). The book club has discussed quite a bit of science fiction from Senku’s own suggestions. He’s sat through a couple of meetings despite not being all that interested in genres that weren’t related to non-fiction, sci-fi or fantasy. Still, his in-a-nutshell summaries of chapters and events make you laugh, and so he at least gets something out of them. 

And so when the misconception is eventually cleared up, the outsider can now see how endearing your dynamic really is; the fact that the two of you can get so into your competition but so very easily fall into a groove of working together. You encourage and build each other up to be better with your own work and questions inspiring him, and his inspiring yours. 

And ultimately this is what made you so attractive to one another; the fact that you were both incredibly dedicated, hard working and intelligent people. Now, it’s no wonder the two of you got along so well together 

(If there was something that wasn’t so endearing, and again brought up the point that perhaps you held some sort of malicious intent with your quips, it was when you’d combine your knowledge to gang up on others. The ill-natured vibe it gave off was unintentional on your parts.)

...

[sstardustt3]

can you please do dating johnny cade hc?

Dating Johnny Cade hcs- the outsiders

tags/warnings- brief mention of smoking, when I catch you Mr and Mrs cade when I catch those bitches, implied codependency???? (if you squint), mostly fluff, a little angst, a mean girls reference if you squint, not double-checked for grammatical errors or misspelling

authors note- masterlist and request rules coming soon??? Perhaps??? Also I’m gonna make something abt dally next I have like a whole list of characters I’m gonna write for soon

-requests and reposts are always open and welcome-

-I think Johnny probably noticed you first because I think of him as a very observant and hyper aware of like everything (which I think is cannon if I’m not mistaken which I could be)

-I don’t think he really pays attention all that much in school so he just sits and looks at people so that’s probably how he noticed you

-he didn’t make a move of a longgg time because he was under the that you were way out of his league and you just wouldn’t like him

“Just go fucking talk to them Jesus Christ”

“It’s not that easy dal, they don’t like me I told you that already.”

“Listen if you don’t go talk to them, I will.”

“No,no,no!”

-and just like that, he decided forced to go talk to you

-he was stumbling like an idiot for the first half of the conversation but he eventually got it together and you two got along fine and he even managed to get your number!

-he would probably keep you at arms length for a while, he's not the most trusting person and ontop of that he doesn't really know how to love someone properly and he really did not want to hurt you

-his only good example was the curtis parents, and soda and sandy but I don't think he hung around either of them that much. He doesn't hang out with soda much anyways so being around him and his girlfriend just felt odd and the curtis' acted more like parents when he was around. and god forbid he asks dally.

-so it definitely takes him a while to get comfortable but when he does he's a good boyfriend

-i think he definitely looked at like a lifestyle magazine and read a section on what girls like repeatedly to make sure he was doing shit right

-he loves silence sometimes, like adores it. you two have sat for hours just looking at nothing together

-no doubt in my mind there has been times the gang has walked in on yall just staring at a blank wall

"..."

"..."

"are they okay-"

"they're future psych ward patients for sure."

-on the contrary though if you yap a lot, he's also perfectly okay with that and sometimes he'll join in (especially if it's gossip)

-that being said you are in fact invited to his and ponyboys gossip sessions and you were thoroughly surprised about how much he knows (that's why his hair's so long, it's full of secrets.)

-since it's my favorite headcannon of mine that he is really good at making stuff when valentines day comes around he'll give you roses or whatever your favorite flower is made out of either legos or colored paper

-he spends a lot of time at your house and also your parents probably love him

-oh my god you two on a roof together?? smoking in the winter??? maybe a cigarette kiss???

-sorry for getting sidetracked but speaking of kisses and just general pda, I think he's not all that big on pda and I don't think he likes to get touched in general but if you do, hold him gently and I guarantee he would be as red as a tomato with the most calm face ever

-I don't think he would really know what to think about that tbh

-like he's not clueless when it comes to romance (he has dallas as a friend bffr) and he's heard all about kissing and hand holding but no one told him how good it feels to be held like something small and delicate (he'll never tell you that though)

-now, on the other hand, he's not really as nervous or shocked by kissing and as much as he's inexperienced he has the enthusiasm to make up for it, he'll catch on pretty quickly

-that being said every time he's just like standing somewhere with you or like waiting in line for something he'll like give you a peck on the cheek, hold your hand , something like that

-rounding back to him not telling you about how he feels (I know I barely mentioned it but shhhhh) I think he's not good at communication

-again he's not the most trusting person in the world and also it says in the book or at least implied(again, I could be wrong and this is not verbatim) that he is passive and quiet so he can avoid being picked out from the crowd and to just overall avoid trouble and unwanted attention

-so I think that would carry over into his relationships to avoid an argument and you being disappointed in him

-so when he's like jealous or upset about something you did he keeps it inside and when it comes out it's just a lot

-i don't think he would full on yell but he would definitely get emotional kinda like he did in the church with ponyboy in that one scene with ponyboy (Istg i can not figure out what that scene is called someone please for the love of god tell me)

-he would almost immediately apologize because as I said before he can't stand you being mad at him

i'm going to stop here i do have more thoughts in what he would be like as a boyfriend so if this gets enough attention I would be delighted to do a part 2

overall score? -8.5/10

can be a little bit of an ass, a little insecure but loves you <3

-requests and reposts are always open and welcome!-

[pjo-tvs-version]

Fanfic no. 3 !! Wohooo!!! I never thought it would happen. I am sticking with Annabeth POVs currently as I enjoy writing them. This one's based on @liesmultixxx's suggestion of the day Percy goes missing. Title from Love Story by yet again Taylor Swift. Enjoy!

Beggin' you, "Please don't go, " 

I stand outside by the gates of my school, excited. It was a lovely Saturday afternoon and Sally had insisted on having lunch with her. The crowd around me was buzzing with enthusiasm too. Today was the last day of school. Everyone was planning their summer vacations. I smiled knowing that I had already planned how to spend the entirety of the few days I got. Training at camp, finishing the plans for the renovation of Olympus, helping out with the architecture of the new cabins, teaching the new campers a few tricks, chatting with Sally and of course, spending time with my Seaweed Brain.

I was told by a particular green eyed boy that I often get lost in my thoughts. As much as I hate accepting that, it's the truth I realise now. As I’m happily going over my to do list for this summer, I hear a car’s horn, startling me. It’s Paul’s Prius with Percy in the driver’s seat, wearing his orange camp shirt. “Did I scare you, Wise Girl?” he says mockingly. There is a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and it feels wonderful to observe it without a Greek apocalypse taking place.

I dump my books in the back seat, taking my place beside Percy as we set off to his New York apartment. A lunch by Sally’s and then we will be off to Camp Half Blood. I was eager to go to camp as I hadn't seen it in a while. I am looking forward to seeing the new campers, even the ones from minor gods. Yesterday Chiron had even Iris messaged me about my requirement for building the new cabins. Percy was most probably picking on my thoughts (that was something I realised that he is pretty good at doing since we started dating.)

 “Well someone looks happy today despite her pessimistic attitude”, said Percy. “Let me remind you that you have an English research paper to write a History project to work on and not to mention solving questions from Trigonometry” I replied.  Percy let out a groan and said “Well you take the win on this one but please tell me you are helping me out with trigonometry.” I laughed. It was so funny to see the Savior of Olympus complaining about maths homework. I retorted “Only if you give me an extra blue cookie.” Percy looked aghast and I was just enjoying the banter. I knew I hit the right bargain.

 “You drive a hard deal Annabeth. Can’t we just stick with something nicer like I give you an extra goodnight kiss and you help out with the soul destructive maths?” “Hmm let me think about it” I pause dramatically and pose to be in deep thought and then add “nope.” “Please Miss Owl Head. I am begging you” Percy adds with the cute baby seal eyes. Oh no! I stared at them and it was a mistake. The eyes always got me. “Okay fine the extra goodnight kiss it is in exchange for the maths homework. But I am warning you beforehand, I’ll just teach you the method, you are solving them yourself. Also the good night kiss better be good.” I say with a sigh. He grins and I can’t help but adore his raven coloured hair. The rest of our ride passed with more banters about school, camp and dates. I enjoyed every minute of it.

I waited as Percy parked the Prius. Sally is already standing at the door. I could smell the delicious lasagna bubbling in the oven. As always Sally hugged me. She smelt of cookies and honey suckles. It always filled me with warmth whenever I was with Sally. She was like the parent figure I never had. She always treated me so warmly, like her own family. It always managed to make me feel cosy and warmed my heart every time.

“Come in quick! The lasagna is almost done, my dear. The blue cookies are in the oven right now. They will be ready soon too. "Sally said as she beckoned her inside the Jackson apartment. Percy eyes always glazed with amazement whenever a Sally Jackson styled blue cookie was in a 1 mile radius from him. Percy helped Sally set up the dining table as I went to his room to freshen up and change. 

When I returned to the table, a table was ready for three. Paul I had been told by Percy was in school, teaching. Sally and Percy were seated already and were waiting for me. A dish full of mouth watering Lasagna, Sally’s classic seven layer dip with tortilla chips and a jug of lemonade were kept, ready to be eaten.

“Dig in '' Sally said and that is exactly what we did. Gods, it was delicious. We talked as we ate. Sally inquired about my school, Percy sprouting out facts about marine life and me going over my plans for the summer. There was utter chaos as the three of us ate and chatted and it was soo much fun. When our meal finished, I along with Percy helped clear up the table. It sounds weird but I had fun doing the dishes. 

When everything was done we sat on the couch with the blue cookies. Percy’s eyes rolled up in ecstasy at the sight of them and I was pretty sure that my face was pretty much the same. As I savored my last chocochip bite, I glanced at the watch. It was almost 4. I stand with Percy in tow. We had to leave for camp now.

Sally hugs us goodbye, packing a few cookies for our trip to camp too. We hail a taxi to Long Island. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Percy and I stood on Half Blood Hill, enjoying the view. Camp Half Blood was buzzing with excitement everywhere. Many of the Apollo kids were doing target practice. The satyrs were playing a sweet tune on their pipes to grow the strawberries. The sun was dipping and the view was breathtaking. “Race you down the hill. Whoever loses doesn't get the last cookie” I shout before sprinting down the hill. “Hey, that's not fair! You went first. But you're on Chase. Anything for my blue cookies.” Percy retorts and he races against me. 

As always it ended as a tie so the cookie will be divided into half. Chiron was there to greet us. After exchanging a few hugs, I went to meet my siblings in Cabin 6. Malcolm welcomed me back warmly. I make my way towards my bed to start settling in. Unpacking took way more time than I expected. “Hey Annabeth, time for dinner. We are even having a campfire tonight.” Malcolm calls out as I stack my last book on the shelf. Perfect timing. “Coming Malcolm," I reply.

After a filling dinner everyone gathers around the fire for a song night. I sit beside Percy, a little at the back of the crowd. We sing, laugh and dance till our throats are sore from shouting and our knees are worn out from the dancing. The crowd dispersed albeit reluctantly since we were having so much fun. Me and Percy walk, hand in hand towards our cabins.

The walk was purposely slow since we were savouring the solitude. As we reach the entrance of his cabin we both halt. A drop of water fell on my nose then another on my shoulder and then on my hand. Before I knew it, I was standing under a mini raincloud. Percy was getting drenched in the rain too but he was smiling, that classic troublemaker smile and his sea green eyes were full of amusement. “May I know exactly why Perseus Jackson is it raining only above us? Considering that you are a Son of Poseidon, it puts you in a quite suspicious position. There is no scien-” I say before I am cut off. 

Percy’s lips are on mine as kisses me soft and slow. As he pulls away grasping for breath, I remember that he kept his promise about the goodnight kiss. Something must have shown on my face as I leapt to the realization because Percy’s smile widened. “So this is your special goodnight kiss I see. Where both of us are drenched in rainwater” I say. “I always wanted to kiss you in the rain. Might be romantic you know. But I kept my promise. So math homework tomorrow?” he replies. He really is a Seaweed Brain. He looked so cute with his hair plastered across his face and pearl like water droplets on his eyes that I could’nt help but kiss him again.

I will begrudgingly admit that it was actually kind of romantic but there is no way I am saying it out loud. We pull away and I say with a sigh “Okay, maths homework lesson in the morning in the strawberry fields. Okay?” “Thank you so much Wise Girl. Good night.” he says with a yawn. “Goodnight Seaweed Brain” I reply, feeling sleepy too. I make my way towards my cabin with my heart content. Tomorrow will be a fresh new day and I can finally enjoy myself after so many taxing years of war.

I wake up to a sunny morning. I freshen up and grab my supplies. Chiron had requested me to meet him first thing in the morning as he wanted to discuss a few new cabin designs for me. As I make my way to the Big House, I am interrupted by Clarisse. “Have you seen your kelp-filled headed boyfriend? He was supposed to spar with me to a death battle.” Clarrise asks. I laughed. So Percy and Clarisse are going toi spar. Guess I’m going to watch a good show. “I’ll go check on him. He’s most probably snoring in his cabin.” I reply. Clarisse nods and goes to her cabin. 

I knock on the doors of cabin 3. No response. I knock again but still not a single reaction. That was weird so I just pushed against the doors to find an empty bunk bed. Where was Percy? He most probably must be playing one of his pranks on me. I step out and call out his name. Still no answer. I find Chiron waiting at the steps of the Big House. I’m sure he would have some idea. “Have you seen Percy Chiron?” I ask. There is a look of concern in his eyes. “Annabeth, dear I thought Percy was somewhere with you though it is unlikely that he would be awake so early in the morning.” Chiron responds. “What no! I just got up and was on my way to your office when Clarrise asked me if I knew where Percy was. I said no and went to his cabin to find him but he was’nt there.” I say, panic seizing me. “Annabeth, you are not the first camper who inquired about Percy. Are you sure you have no idea where Percy is or is it some joke?” he asked me.

“I swear on the Styx Chiron that I have no idea where Percy is.” I say as my dread increases in my heart. “Well this is serious then. I am going to announce this immediately” Chiron said.

Every camper was searching every possible place. I was getting terrified with every passing second. Percy pulled off pranks but they were light hearted. When I find him, I’m seriously going to threaten him about this. He has no right to give me such panic attacks. After a while of searchin everyone gathered in the Amphitheater. “We’ve looked everywhere, only the strawberry fields are left for us to-” Connor says before I cut him off.

The strawberry field, of course he must be there. Maybe he wanted to surprise me by getting up early and being ready to study. I race against the wind. As I reach the entrance of the field I shout out “I’m here Seaweed Brain. Time for maths.” Still no reply. He was’nt there. My heart was thudding against my chest and I fell to my knees. Where was Percy? The rest of camp arrives to find me there in this miserable condition. Malcom approaches and kneels beside me. “Don’t worry Annabeth, we'll find him. He must be somewhere, I’m sure of it.”

I burst into tears not being able to control them. Percy was gone? Overnight? He kissed me goodnight yesterday and now he is gone? There was no trace of him. He wasn't in camp and I realise with a foreboding fear that this isn't a prank. Chiron removes the crowd as Malcolm hugs me fiercely. “He’s gone, he’s gone” I say with shuddering breaths. “I was supposed to teach him maths, go on a date with him tomorrow and…”. “Annabeth, it's okay. He will be fine” Malcolm tries to reassure me. “You don’t understand. Where is he? Is he alive or…….” I didn't complete the sentence. That’s not possible. I was going to search for him until I found him. A part of my brain nags me- what if I don’t. I push that thought away. I stand up with shaky legs and reach for my cell phone and dial Sally. After a few rings she picks up, “Hey Annabeth how are you and Percy? Any issue?”. “Sally is- is Percy at home?” I say even as my heart slows with dread. “No Annabeth! Why would he be here?”. I can’t reply. I lost my voice and I didn't know how to respond. What should I tell her. Sally must have sensed the silence was not a good one because there was concern in her next words “Annabeth honey Annabeth are you okay? Is Percy okay…” If only I knew that my happy, planned summer was going to be my worst possible one….

So how was this? Positive criticism is appreciated. Thank you @liesmultixxx for the lovely suggestion. Hope you liked it!!!

You can read it here on AO3 too

[wenclairly]

I will probably just write this myself someday but

A fic where the Stalker is revealed to be Yoko. Much like Rowan, she has convinced herself that Wednesday is dangerous, and wants to keep her bestie Enid from getting hurt again. Unlike Rowan, she was radicalized by MorningSong, whose "therapy" app actually exaggerates fear and doubt to dangerous extremes.

letters, knives, and second chances | wenclair

wednesday addams x enid sinclair

description: wednesday and enid receive a note from wendesday's stalker, leading to revelations that they never could have expected.

tags/warnings: stalker, stalking, post-canon.

wc: 3.5k

a/n: thank you kbb306 for this amazing request, and our first one no less :) we apologize for a tiny delay! we've been trying to balance our own writing with this blog too. and we're very excited to share our first co-written req!! we do have another requested one shot in the works, and feel free to request more guys we LOVE when you do! enjoy this lil one ;) - jes & aly

The metallic clang of the cafeteria doors echoed behind Wednesday as she emerged, the lingering taste of lukewarm gruel a bitter reminder of Nevermore’s culinary shortcomings. The midday sun was casting its usual shadows across the cobblestone courtyard; yet something felt amiss. The distorted patches of darkness seemed to cause an unease in Wednesday, one that had long taken root since her return to school.

Two months had passed since the harrowing events that had nearly torn Nevermore apart, and the scars were still visible. The manicured lawns bore the scorch marks of battle, the stone gargoyles seemed to leer with a newfound malevolence, and the whispers of students now carried an undercurrent of fear that hadn’t been there before.

Wednesday tugged her blazer tighter around her, a futile attempt to ward off the growing chill. Even her usually vibrant roommate had subdued, her infectious laughter now punctuated by moments of quiet introspection. It was as if the darkness that had threatened to consume them all had left a permanent stain.

As Wednesday made her way back to the dorm, her mind drifted to Enid’s therapy session. The new therapist, a chipper woman with a penchant for pastel sweaters and motivational posters, had arrived in the wake of the chaos, a self-proclaimed expert in trauma recovery. Enid had embraced the sessions with her usual enthusiasm, but Wednesday remained skeptical. Could a few platitudes and breathing exercises truly mend the wounds inflicted by a centuries-old monster?

Lost in her thoughts, Wednesday rounded the corner. Only to be jolted back to reality by an unexpected sight. Their door, usually firmly shut, stood slightly ajar. A frown tugged at her lips as she approached, her pace quickening with each step. Had Enid forgotten to close it before leaving? Or had someone else ventured into their shared space, disturbing the delicate balance they had carefully constructed?

The air hung heavy with an unfamiliar scent, a subtle blend of cedarwood and something floral, decidedly not Enid’s usual werewolf musk. A chill slithered down Wednesday’s spine. With a soft push, the door creaked open.

The room appeared undisturbed at first glance. Enid’s collection of stuffed animals were still perched on her bed, their wide eyes watching Wednesday with an unnerving intensity. And her overflowing bookshelf of romance novels and werewolf folklore remained untouched. Even Wednesday’s typewriter sat calmly on her desk, a half-finished poem visible in its carriage.

But as her eyes adjusted, a discordant detail pierced the illusion of normalcy. A crisp white envelope laying on the inky blackness of her bedspread. It was intrusion, a violation of her personal space that set her teeth on edge.

With a measured step, Wednesday approached the bed. Her eyes fixed on the envelope as she reached out to brush her fingers against the smooth paper. It was unsealed, an invitation to delve into its contents.

She swiftly slid her finger beneath the flap and tore it open. A single sheet of paper, thick and heavy, fell into her hand. The handwriting was an attempt at elegance, but held an obvious note of sloppiness. Yet it wasn’t how the letters were penned that unnerved her, but the words themselves.

“Dearest Wednesday,” the letter began, “Your darkness casts a long shadow, a blight on the innocence of Nevermore. I see the danger you pose, the poison you spread with your twisted words and morbid obsessions. Enid, my dear sweet Enid, deserves better than to be ensnared by your darkness.”

A cold fury ignited in Wednesday’s chest. But she read on, each word twisting the knot in her stomach tighter.

“I will not allow you to corrupt her any more than you have, to drag her further down your abyss. You will leave Nevermore, or I will ensure that Enid pays the price. Consider this a warning, a taste of a different darkness that awaits you, should you refuse to heed my words.”

The letter ended abruptly, the final sentence hanging venomously in the air. Wednesday’s grip tightened on the paper, her knuckles turning white as she fought to contain her rage. This was not a prank, not a childish attempt at intimidation. This was a declaration of war, a threat against the person she held most dear.

* * *

When Enid returned from therapy, she entered the dorm to see Wednesday furiously typing away, the familiar sound of the typewriter clacking aggressively. Enid’s eyebrow raised, though she didn’t question Wednesday’s anger. It could range from something serious to a minor inconvenience that had ruined her day. As logical as Wednesday was, Enid had to admit that sometimes she was quite brash.

It wasn’t the aggressive typing that worried Enid. Instead, it was the way Wednesday stood up and pulled the paper from the typewriter, crumpling it and flattening it down onto her desk. Thing was waiting there and kicked it into the waiting wastebasket. After that, the clacking sounds stopped. Wednesday sat at her desk and huffed a loud sigh.

“Everything okay?” Enid asked hesitantly. She’d beelined for her bed, laying down with her laptop resting on her legs. She had an essay due within the next few days, and she was terrible at getting them done on time. She had considered asking for help, but Wednesday’s apparent bad mood was enough to prevent her from doing so.

“I’m fine.” Wednesday answered briskly, not even bothering to turn around to face Enid. Instead she stared at her typewriter as if trying to burn a hole into it.

Enid hummed thoughtfully, then slid her laptop off her legs and onto the bed beside her. “You don’t seem fine.” Enid pointed out, much to Wednesday’s chagrin. The girl’s shoulders tensed and she turned, her permanent glare boring into Enid. “Yikes. Okay.” Enid immediately turned her attention back to her laptop, turning so her back was facing Wednesday.

Things were quiet for a moment, before she heard another long sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m simply frustrated. It seems my ability to write has conveniently decided to disappear.” There was a slight tremor in Wednesday’s voice. It was definitely more than that.

“Writer’s block?” Enid suggested, her gaze moving back to Wednesday. The raven was resting a hand on her temple, her elbow propped up on the desk.

“Absolutely not. I have never once been afflicted with writer’s block and I certainly will not begin to be now.” Wednesday drummed her fingers on her desk.

Enid’s sensitive hearing picked up on the drumming. Her eyebrow rose in a skeptical expression. “Maybe something else is bothering you?”

Wednesday froze at the remark. Enid tilted her head. That was an indication of her being correct. It seemed clear enough to her that something else was going on inside of Wednesday’s head. Something that was bothering her. “What’s wrong?”

Enid watched as her roommate looked at her, then averted her gaze, then looked at her again. She was unsure, nervous, even. “I received another message from my stalker.”

Enid perked up, sitting up straight in her bed upon hearing the news. “Really? What was it?”

“A threat.” Wednesday said ominously, opening the drawer at the side of her desk and pulling a letter out of it. Enid got on her feet, swiftly crossing the line between their two halves and taking the letter from Wednesday once it was offered to her. Her eyes scanned the piece of paper, and with each line she felt more nauseated.

“‘My dear sweet Enid’?” Enid quoted the letter, frowning. “Whoever wrote this clearly has no idea who you are.” She felt anger of her own festering in her chest, building up. Who did this person think they were? Insulting Wednesday and their friendship. As if Enid was too weak to be friends with someone like Wednesday.

Enid was tired of being seen as weak.

“I have a relatively good idea of who it might be.” Wednesday’s burning glare returned back to the paper loaded in her typewriter. “Who else would refer to you that way? It must be Ajax.” There was a sort of bitterness in her voice. It wasn’t aggressive enough to be anger, but it wasn’t placid enough to be just a simple dislike. It was deeper than that. Enid wondered if she was overthinking it, but if she didn’t know any better, she’d think Wednesday was jealous.

“That’s true.” Enid’s eyebrows furrowed. “But he’s never called me ‘dear’ or ‘sweet’.”

“A failure of a partner, if you ask me.” Wednesday grumbled under her breath.

Enid blinked. “That’s a little harsh.”

“Not harsh enough. I should have nailed his heart to a wall before you two reached whatever you define it to be now.” Wednesday looked up at Enid, who was staring down at her with a confused expression.

Enid sighed softly. “It’s complicated.” She quickly muttered, not particularly in the mood to detail how the best word she could use to describe what she and Ajax had was “situationship”.

“That’s what they all say.” Wednesday bit back, turning her gaze back to the blank piece of paper in front of her.

“Okay, well-” Enid started to argue, then paused and took a deep breath. “That’s besides the point. What are we supposed to do about this stalker?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Wednesday’s lips. “I could always build another makeshift guillotine.”

“Wednesday, no.” Enid huffed. “Something that doesn’t involve killing my…” She hesitated, “...him.” She finished, unsure once again how to describe Ajax.

Wednesday scoffed. “You’d be better off without him.”

Enid waved her off. “That’s besides the point.” She rubbed her temple with two fingers, starting to get a headache from Wednesday’s one-sided hatred of Ajax. “Why don’t we just talk to him?”

“I suppose. But I’m bringing a knife with me.”

Enid already knew that Wednesday wasn’t going to budge on that point, so she didn’t bother trying to fight it. “Fine.” She said lowly. Wednesday was already standing up and moving to her bed, kneeling down and reaching underneath it. “Wait, you mean right now?”

“Yes, right now. We need to get to the bottom of this immediately. These letters are unacceptable.” Wednesday pulled a small box out from under her bed, opening it to reveal an intricate dagger.

“You don’t-” Enid rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine.” She agreed begrudgingly once again. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

“Alright.” Wednesday stood up, hiding the dagger in her sleeve, and began walking towards the door, Enid in tow as usual. The two of them exited the dorm, bent on ending this “stalker” business right then and there.

The quad at Nevermore was a microcosm of the school’s social hierarchy. Flocks of sirens gossiped near the fountains, their scales shimmering in the afternoon light. A group of gorgons, their stony gazes fixed on chessboards, hurled under the shade of the outside trees. And nestled in the corner, at a small stony table, was Ajax Petropolus sitting beside Bianca Barclay.

Wednesday and Enid approached the pair. Enid’s usually bouncy gait was tempered by a hint of apprehension as she trailed behind Wednesday’s, whose stride remained as purposeful as ever. Her eyes were fixed on their target with the intensity of a predator stalking its prey.

Ajax, oblivious to their approach, was mid-sentence. Bianca, her eyes half-closed against the sun, seemed to be humoring him with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Petropolus,” Wednesday’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

Ajax’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in the sight of Wednesday and Enid standing before him. A nervous smile flickered across his face before it was quickly replaced by a look of feigned nonchalance.

“Yo, Wednesday, Enid,” he greeted them with a casual nod of his head. “What’s up?”

Wednesday’s lips curled in disgust. “Don’t,” she snapped, the word dripping with venom. “We have a matter of grave importance to discuss with you.”

Enid, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward in an attempt to be a calming counterpoint to Wednesday’s iciness. “Ajax, we need to talk about the letters,” she said, her eyes searching his face.

Ajax blinked, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. “Letters?” he echoed, his voice tinged with genuine confusion. “What letters?”

Bianca tilted her head, even her expression betrayed a hint of bewilderment. “You mean fan mail, Enid?” she quipped, a playful lilt to her voice. “Saving Nevermore isn’t taken lightly. You’ve got quite the following now I see.”

Enid’s patience, already stretched thin, snapped. “Not fan mail, Bianca,” she retorted, her voice rising an octave. “Threatening letters. From Wednesday’s stalker.”

The word hung in the air. Ajax’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, while Bianca’s demeanor was replaced by a mask of guarded curiosity.

“A stalker?” Ajax repeated, his voice barely a whisper. “But who would…?”

Wednesday cut him off with a chillingly calm voice, her eyes narrowing to slits. “You tell us, Petropolus,” she hissed, her words dripping with accusation. “You seem awfully confused, perhaps suspiciously so.”

Ajax recoiled under Wednesday’s piercing gaze. “Woah, Wednesday,” he stammered slightly, raising his hands in a gesture of defense. “I don’t know anything about any stalker. What even makes you think that?”

That’s when Bianca stepped in, her voice sharp and defensive. “Back off, Wednesday,” she snapped. “Ajax is the last person who would do something like this. He’s been nothing but kind and supportive to Enid—”

Wednesday was quick to interrupt with a scoff. “Kind and supportive?” she echoed, a venomous edge to her voice. “Or perhaps he’s simply following a well-trodden path of deception, lulling us into a false sense of security while harboring sinister intentions.”

Ajax flinched as if struck, his face paling under the intensity of her accusation. Bianca bristled, her lips forming a thin line of displeasure.

Enid, however, had reached her limit. She stepped forward, her voice a low growl. “Enough, Wednesday,” she hissed. “You’re being unfair now. Ajax… isn’t him.” 

A tense silence descended upon them. Wednesday was momentarily taken aback by the outburst, remaining silent as the implications seeped into her. It stung. But there was a creeping sense that perhaps Enid was right.

After a beat, Ajax finally spoke, his voice a hesitant plea. “Enid, I don’t get it,” he said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What did the letter even say? What kind of threats are we talking about?”

Enid’s breath hitched, the words of the letter had been a sour taste on her tongue. “It said,” she began, lowering her voice, “something about Wednesday being a ‘danger’... a ‘blight on the innocence of Nevermore’. It says that I… I deserve better than to be ‘ensnared by her darkness’.” She paused for a moment, tracing her mind back to what else the letter had said. A knot formed in her stomach as she remembered the rest, the threat to her own safety. Enid couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “Such theatrics,” she muttered, a hint of disgust lacing her tone. “One would think we were dealing with a Shakespearean villain, not some cowardly stalker hiding behind vague threats and flowery language.”

Bianca dismissively waved her hand. “Sounds like the kind of fear-mongering nonsense MorningSong’s ‘wellness app’ is always peddling,” she scoffed, the disdain evident. “All that talk of darkness and danger, it’s enough to make one paranoid.”

“MorningSong?” Wednesday echoed, deceptively calm. “Who here subscribes to that drivel?”

Ajax shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his eyes darting nervously towards Bianca. “Yoko,” he blurted out, the name a low mumble.

Enid’s eyes widened. “Yoko has that app?” Her voice was filled with incredulity.

“I told her not to get it.” Bianca hummed pensively, shaking her head. “But she said it was just a joke, that she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I didn’t think she’d take it seriously.”

Wednesday’s expression darkened. “Well. I suppose we know who our stalker is. Good thing I brought a knife.”

“You brought a what?” Ajax blinked, watching closely as Wednesday gestured towards her sleeve. 

“It’s Wednesday. What were you expecting?” Bianca grumbled sarcastically. 

Enid waved them off. “Does it really matter? Let’s just go find Yoko and talk to her. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. She knows what we’ve been through. It’s gotta be that stupid app.”

“Good luck.” Bianca called as they walked away, settling back down next to Ajax, who looked as confused as always.

“When I find that vampire, I’m going to shove a stake through her heart.” Wednesday hissed under her breath. The two of them made their way to Yoko’s dorm, Wednesday fuming and Enid feeling more unsure with each step.

When they finally arrived, Enid went to knock on the door, but Wednesday simply shoved it open with no regard of who might be on the other side or what they might be doing.

“Tanaka.” Wednesday practically growled, entering the room like an ominous storm cloud.

Yoko was sitting at her desk, her laptop open in front of her. She jolted, her shoulders tensing. She whipped around in her chair, staring directly at both Wednesday and Enid, a nervous smile flickering over her face. “Uh… Hey, Enid. Wednesday.” She greeted, her voice shaking slightly.

“Care to explain your pathetic letters?” Wednesday stormed over to Yoko, slamming her hand onto the desk and leaning over the vampire.

“Wednesday-” Enid started. She was promptly cut off by Yoko, who stood up. Given Wednesday’s small stature, Yoko stood a few inches taller than her, looking down at her with a glare. “I’ll explain it alright. Enid wouldn’t have been hurt by the Hyde if it wasn’t for you. She wouldn’t have come crying to my dorm if it wasn’t for you. All you do is hurt her, Wednesday. You’re dangerous and reckless.”

Wednesday was clearly ready to fight, but Enid crossed the room and put space between the two of them, holding her arm out in front of Wednesday. “Yoko, where is this all coming from? You were there the night we fought the Hyde. You were there the night she saved the school. You know what happened.”

Yoko hesitated, shoving her hands into her pockets. “This app I downloaded. It was telling me that something dark and foreboding was coming. I kept getting stuff like that, and the only thing I could think of… given she was the reason everything happened in the first place…”

“That app spews nonsense in exchange for popularity. You are a fool for taking anything it tells you to heart.” Wednesday snapped, barely able to hold back her anger. “You should have known better.”

Yoko seemed unsure of herself now, her shoulders slumping. “I… I just wanted what was best for Enid.”

Enid sighed softly. There wasn’t any anger in her expression, and her tone was gentle. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Yoko. I know you care, but Wednesday and I care about each other. And we’ve worked out our issues.” She looked back at Wednesday, whose demeanor had softened. “She would fight for me in a heartbeat. Even if she refuses to admit it.”

Wednesday grumbled something under her breath. Enid didn’t hear it, though she was sure that it was yet another empty threat.

“Come on, Yoko. You know better than this.” Enid chided quietly. “Delete the app, and all is forgiven.”

“Who says all is forgiven?” Wednesday asked, straightening her posture. Until Enid glared at her and she relented. “Fine.”

Yoko took her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through it and deleting MorningSong from it. “It’s gone.” She flipped her phone around, showing both Wednesday and Enid that it was completely gone. “I only got it as a joke, I wasn’t expecting it to be so effective.”

“It’s all about psychology. If you had any sense of logic, you would realize that.” Wednesday relaxed now that the threat was gone, her tone less abrasive.

“Now that that’s over with…” Enid started, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “I think you two should have some bonding time! It’ll be great. My two besties, getting along!”

“Absolutely not-” Wednesday tried to object, but was immediately cut off by Enid.

“We should go get coffee at the Weathervane to celebrate! And Yoko, you should definitely bring Divina. We’ll become a gang, the four of us!” She raised her hands to her chest, balling them into fists. Excitement was radiating off of her. Excitement so genuine, that not even Wednesday could deny her wishes. “Alright, stop your incessant jabbering.” Wednesday turned to exit the dorm, glancing back at Yoko. “Meet us in the quad in fifteen minutes sharp, Tanaka.” She put an emphasis on the word “sharp”, wanting to be completely clear.

Yoko, who was stunned by the quick forgiveness, could only stand and nod as the two girls exited her dorm, Enid talking Wednesday’s ear off and Wednesday only able to listen grumpily as they walked side by side, shoulder to shoulder.

[antigonenikk]

Find the Word

got tagged by the elite mutual @chirpybirdy

Rules: Share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word).

Words: letter, add, lung, bus, lead.

letter:

(from liebgott x f!oc fic)

They stopped after letter 60. In the Spring of 1945 they stopped. One month before V-E Day. Birdie held the last letter in her hands, tearing at the edges. Four months ago now. 

The last one read:

Dove. 

I don’t know how to tell you. Don’t wait for me. I won’t be coming home. The world we live in is beyond cruelty. 

There was no sign off. But she could read his handwriting in the dark. Still. Like a fool she took the train from Atlanta to New York and waited at the docks for him on the day of his expected arrival. She has no idea how he did it. But he never showed. She saw the rest of his company. She even saw Margie’s Ron. But no Joe.

add:

(no snippet for this one. random on the fly poem instead)

I add, and add, and stack.

Her soft tread, and small feet

make indents in the sodden earth.

The shadow presses back.

lung:

(from f!Eugene/Leckie au fic)

Sid, as the night wore on, kept shooting them very ugly looks, which Genie did not appreciate.

In his defense, he had a right to be jealous for her attention, since it was their first shared birthday party away from home. Hoping to appease him, she tried to include him in the conversation. But every time she turned to ask Sidney something Leckie somehow drew her attention back into his orbit. His wide blue eyes, so much like her old babydoll's that Sid had broken when they were children, sparkling with glee.

Soon talking had turned to dancing, and Genie, four beers in, had forgotten why she was out in the first place. Leckie whirled her about the room. He wasn’t a great dancer, but he made up for his lack of technique with enthusiasm. And anyways, she was a real dead hoofer herself, so she had no room to complain.

Sweaty and giggling, unable to catch her breath, lungs aching, they left the makeshift dance floor, only to find that their friends had all abandoned them.

bus:

(from the modern!au eugene/snafu fent addict fic)

Gene is sorting through his textbooks. He can’t see out of his left eye. It’s completely swollen shut. A smaller body sidles up to him, leaning against the cool, worn blue rows of lockers. 

He looks over and sees that it’s Shelton. Snafu. Situation-Normal-All-Fucked-Up. He got the name from Burgie. Back in eighth grade when he snorted a line of coke in the back of the school bus on the way to the annual DC field trip and then immediately puked up bile onto the seat in front of him. Back then Burgie and Snafu had still been childhood best friends, so he had been in the splash zone so to speak. This was before he started running track with Gene and Bill and fell in with them instead. 

He had shouted with disgust, and declared his friend was acting completely and utterly fucked in the head. Robert Leckie, pretentious asshole extraordinaire, sitting a row in front, had turned in his seat and with his dumbass smirk had said, “So, then, he’s acting like his normal self?” 

Burgie, still livid about the whole thing, turned to Shelton and told him, “Yeah. A real fucking Snafu.”

After that it just sort of stuck.

lead:

(from me and @guarnerepdf 's lovingly deranged french partisan BoB fic)

Friedrich had tried to insist that as lead for the mission, he should hold all the papers himself. But Isabella had argued incessantly that it would be odd for a man to be holding his brother-in-law’s identification. He could not find a reasonable rebuttal to her and had given up trying to express the deep dread he was feeling about this entire thing. No one was listening to him anyhow. Not the Commander, not Isabella, and frustratingly, not Pleun. Pleun was meant to always be on his side. But somehow, they all had been convinced that it was possible to get Andrews back to England. That they would be able to get away with it. 

[riddle-me-ri]

Your most recent fic about Jervis was amazing and I would love to see more of your writing!

I would like to see a fic about BTAS Hatter absolutely unable to hide his blushing (or a boner???) from the reader. Thank you!

A/N: omigosh omigosh this is too cute cause I have no doubt the lad will be STRUGGLING to hide his blushes and boners no doubt in MY MIND! So sorry for the weird abrupt ending wasn't sure how to end it so sorry for the cliffhanger hnng

Trigger Warnings: highly suggestive language, but nothing explicit

Word Count: 658

BTAS Mad Hatter x Reader - Cover Up 

Your smile was wide and beaming so much you found the edge of your cheeks slightly hurting, but it was so worth it. 

You were being twirled, held, and swept away as if your own feet were defying gravity. It was all thanks to Jervis. 

This was about the fourth or fifth date with the sweetest man you have ever met. Every second spent with him was one you cherished and wished could last forever. 

You felt your bodies slowly wind down to a soft sway as the music shifted to a more calming melody. 

"Would you like to rest, darling?" Jervis asked, almost stopping his movements, to pull you back to your table. 

You shook your head, giggling. "No, not yet. I want to dance with you to this song too" You smiled sweetly. 

Jervis gulped and timidly turned his head. He tried to hide the side of his face in his stretched out green collar. "Of course…w-whatever you wish." 

Once he felt the immense heat to his face slightly dissipate– it only warmed back tenfold when you rested your head on his chest. 

How he desperately hoped you couldn't hear his frantic heartbeat. 

He was grateful your head was buried in his chest, as he tried to calm down his flaring red face. 

Jervis was completely dumbfounded. Just what was it about you that turned him into a blushing school boy mess. Perhaps he wasn't used to having his affectionate efforts be reciprocated tenfold.

Whenever he kissed your hand. You kissed his cheek. When he held your hand, you would link your arm with his. Just every gesture returned with the utmost enthusiasm. 

Now here you two were, slowly dancing to a steady love song. Despite the rise of overwhelmed blushes, Jervis was in absolute bliss. His heart finally slowed down, he was able to slightly tighten his hold on you at the waist. 

He smiled as he felt your arms around his torso tighten too. 

It made him more painfully aware than before, just how close you two were. No one could slip a single slip of paper between you two if they tried. 

You were so soft, warm, and welcoming. You fit into him like a tea cup to its saucer or a hat to its Hatter. 

Jervis rested his head on top of yours. As he let his mind slip into more…provocative thoughts. What if you two were alone and somewhere not so…public. 

Jervis shook his head softly not to disturb you. He shouldn't be thinking such things, not yet, not when it's so early on…not when you two weren't anything official quite yet. 

Unfortunately the rest of his body didn't catch up to the halt in his thoughts. 

The song finally faded out after what felt like an eternity. You slowly, reluctantly leaned away from Jervis to look into his sweet blue eyes. 

You giggled. "Thank you, Jervis. I appreciate you indulging me.." 

"I-uh-" He cleared his throat. "Don't mention it, my dear. I-it was a pleasure." 

Your arms were still wrapped around each other as you smiled again at him. You pulled yourself back against his chest and cock your head to leave a lingering kiss to his cheek. 

Jervis stood no chance of hiding his flushed red face at this proximity, and it did little to calm down what was going on in his lower region. 

You were absolutely relentless weren't you? You reveled in just how much you could fluster the gentleman. 

You giggled into his ear softly when his breath hitched as you leaned closer into him, as if you're trying to actually meld into him. 

"Are you doing okay, Jervy?" 

You're trying to kill him, aren't you? The close proximity, your gleeful smiles, the affectionate nickname. 

"F-Fine darling," he gulped. "Never better." 

"I'm glad to hear it." You pressed a soft peck to his ear, before you whispered. "Because it's only going to get better from here."

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Date Me

Hi! Feel free to skip this request if it doesn’t inspire u or something! But I was wondering if u could please write Eddie x femreader where maybe reader is Chrissy’s really shy and quiet best friend who’s always reading and hasn’t really dated anyone cuz every time someone wants to get close or something it’s because they want her to help them out with Chrissy and she has a crush on Eddie, so when Eddie tries to talk to her and asks about Chrissy she assumes that it’s because he likes Chrissy but in reality he just wants Chrissy to help him ask reader out sorry in a cute way cuz yk Chrissy knows what the reader likes idk if that makes sense 😭

Warnings; a little bit of angst 💞 fluff.

@erikaar 💞 hope you like it 💞

💞💞

Chrissy had always been her best friend since they were in Pre-K. They were as close as sisters but while Chrissy could be extroverted and enjoyed the spotlight with the cheerleaders yn wasn't like that.

Most of the time she had her nose stuck in a book and worked with Nancy on the school paper.

Dating wasn't something that happened much for her, she always found that whoever asked her out only did it to get close to Chrissy.

The only guy she wanted to notice her was Eddie, Munson. He had been her crush for a long time now.

The crush first started when she saw the way he took the new freshman of this year under his wing, the kindness with which he treated them tugged on her heart.

Then she began to notice how beautiful his brown eyes were, how they shone with mischief as he discussed D&D.

Eddie approaches her table and she feels her heart and hope fill her stomach.

What could he want?

"Hi, sweetheart", he smiles shyly.

"Hi".

"Have you seen where Chrissy is?". Oh, right. Chrissy of course he wanted Chrissy, not her. She fakes a smile ignoring the pain in her heart.

She hoped Eddie had liked her for her but obviously not, he liked Chrissy.

"She's at her locker, you'll find her there", he nods, smiles at her then rushes away leaving her to her heartache and goes back to reading her book.

Why did she think he would like her? What an idiot she shakes her head. Anytime someone wanted something, wanted to take her it was to get close to Chrissy, to use her.

She just hoped Eddie would never be like that but she was wrong.

💞💞

Eddie finds Chrissy at her locker exactly as yn said and he rushed his question out to Chrissy desperate to know how to impress her friend.

"Hey, Chrissy I was just wondering what yn is into?". Chrissy smiles in utter delight and she squeals.

"Are you finally going to ask her out?" when he nods she claps her hands together.

"Finally!" He grins at her enthusiasm and he hopes that yn says yes.

"Yeah, I asked her where you were though I didn't tell her what it was about but I want your advice on where she would like to go on a date?"

Chrissy looks briefly panicked and he is suddenly confused.

"Oh shit, it's just whenever someone has tried to date her in the past or get close to her it's so they can get close to me"

Eddie listens to this anger fierce. Why wouldn't anyone want to get to know yn? Why use her? She was a sweetheart.

"Shit! I'm so into Chrissy, I don't want to her to think that". Chrissy soothes him.

"It's alright, we can fix this. She loves books, flowers, impromptu movie nights, she loves guys who can play the guitar and wants to learn herself, she loves animals and has an adorable teddy that she's named Theodore"

His heart swells at hearing that she loves guitar players and he thanks Chrissy who gives him a warning look.

"Do not fuck this up and don't ever hurt her or I'll make you regret it understand" he gulps and nods, shit she's scary when she's annoyed.

He would never hurt yn but he nods not wanting to piss her off and begins to plan his date idea.

💞

Eddie sits down beside her and he looks nervous as she readies herself to go home.

She's still hurting from earlier but he doesn't know about any of her past and she doesn't want to scare him away.

"Hi, Eddie" he smiles all dimples and looks a bit nervous which she isn't used to seeing him nervous. He's always so confident.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date", she opens her mouth ready to tell him to just ask Chrissy if he wants to date her as she is sick of being used.

It isn't Chrissy's fault of course but it still hurts, then Eddie speaks again driving this thought from her mind.

"This isn't because of Chrissy, she told me about those assholes before with you, using you. Pisses me off. I asked where Chrissy was today so she could give me ideas on what you like, so I could ask you out".

Her mood immediately brightens.

"I wanted to ask if you would like to come to mine for a movie night, we can go to Family Video and rent whatever you like, pick up snacks and talk?"

It sounds perfect.

"I'd love to Eddie". He takes her hand and kisses it.

"I'm crazy about you sweetheart. I like you so much" he strokes her cheek and she moves closer as he kisses her.

Heat floods in her stomach and she deepens the kiss as he pulls her tighter to him. They kiss even as it begins to rain soaking them both but they don't care too lost in each other.

💞💞

[braveclementine]

Chapter 20

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (Please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝕴 𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 room nervously, unsure of what was going to happen. I was tired, Remus didn't like sleep as much as Severus and I did. But that wasn't why I was pacing.

Susan, Ernie, Trang, Ginny, and Justin were all waiting with me, all of us unsure of whether or not the Slytherins were going to end up coming at all. They were already five minutes late.

"We'll give it a few more minutes." Susan said sadly, her enthusiasm that the four houses would participate was slowly diminishing.

We waited five more minutes and then Ernie got up from where he was sitting, "Let's face it, they aren't showing-"

The door opened and there was a seventh-year Slytherin that I didn't know coming through the room, other seventh-years following.

There was an awkward silence as the rest of the Slytherin house filed in. I caught sight of Pansy who nodded slightly when our eyes met, and there was Zabini, standing next to her, and a grumpy Draco behind them.

Ernie and I exchanged a glance and then I grabbed the container of green markers. The leading Seventh-year approached and grabbed a green writing utensil and turned to sign the paper. I saw the look of surprise appeared on his face, and he turned back to us.

"Who drew this?" He asked in a deep voice.

The other Hufflepuffs, Ginny, and Trang all turned to look at me and a slight flush appeared on my cheeks. "That would be me."

"The whole thing?" He asked, motioning to the drawing.

"Yes." I said.

We stared at each other for a moment, his eyes appraising and mine apprehensive. Without another word, he turned back to the drawing and signed.

That seemed to be the deal for everyone. They all lined up, moving through the line, pushing and shoving to get to the front. Three people signed at a time. Some, like the first seventh-year were surprised. Others simply signed and left.

It took about two and a half hours, shorter than the others but then again, the other houses had showered more praise on me. I think I preferred the Slytherin approach.

"That. . ." Trang said.

"-went better than expected?" Ernie finished for her.

"Yes." Ginny finished.

The finished drawing had all the Professors and now, signatures in Blue, Red, Gold, and Green. "It's great." I said with a smile. "We'll present it to the Professors on the last day of school."

"I hope they like it." Justin said fervently.

Susan scoffed, "Of course they will. It was our idea, Elizabeth drew it, and everyone from every house signed it. What's not to like?"

They all left, leaving me to roll up the drawing. I asked for a secret compartment to put it in so that no one (since everyone in the school minus Professors had been here) could come in and take it. It would only open at my touch.

The only thing I wished was different about the drawing were I wished for other signatures. I would've liked Fred, George, Oliver, Percy, Angelina, Alicia, Cedric, and other students that had been here to sign it as well. Perhaps I could eventually get signatures. Just not before we presented it to the Professors.

I left the room. I walked down the hall, hurrying towards where Severus and I were staying. I slipped in through the door, hurrying upstairs.

Severus was in the office, holding Remus in one arm, grading homework at top speed with the other. I laughed a little and took Remus from his arms.

"Are you hungry?" I asked in that annoying voice that adults use with little kids. I couldn't help it, it kind've just slipped out.

I let him drink (Severus and I had agreed to breast-feeding as the best source of food for Remus) and held him by the window, looking out on the sunny grounds.

I murmured incoherent things under my breath to Remus. Words so soft, I could barely hear them, and Severus could not hear them, and Remus probably couldn't hear them, and even if he could, he wouldn't understand them.

He fell asleep in my arms and I held him for a long time, wishing I could be outside with him. But the students didn't know about Remus and they couldn't. I hoped they didn't find out for a while.

"The day's coming." Severus said and I looked over at him, knowing what he was talking about. He had abandoned the homework, leaning back in his chair carelessly, staring at me and Remus.

"Yes." I said quietly. "Soon."

The chair dropped down onto all fours and Severus stood, coming over to embrace the two of us. "We're going to be fine." He whispered.

"Yes." I agreed. "We will." I reached up to kiss him.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

"𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖎𝖓." 𝕬 tired voice said from behind the door and I pushed it open and stepped into Professor Dumbledore's room. "Elizabeth! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

It was a few days after the Slytherins had signed the artwork. I felt that this was a necessary thing to do.

"I want to tell you something." I said, tears springing to my eyes, just thinking about it. I quickly took a deep breath, trying to forget what I had seen while also trying to conjure it up into my mind to tell Dumbledore. "I need to tell you something."

"Is something wrong?" Dumbledore asked, sounding slightly alarmed.

"Not yet." I said with a small smile, "But this will take some time."

Dumbledore gestured to the seat in front of his desk. Many of the portraits on the wall were awake, listening intently.

"I want to tell you about the future." I said in as firm a voice as possible. "Because you won't be able to interfere with it."

"Because Severus is going to kill me." Dumbledore acknowledged.

"Yes." I said.

"When will it happen?" Dumbledore asked.

I took in another deep breath. The conversation would go much faster if I didn't let my emotions get a hold of me. "Soon. The day that you find a horcrux which of course, is inside the cave that Tom Riddle brought those two children to. It's the locket, or so you believe. When you get back, Draco Malfoy will have let the Death Eaters into the school. He will tell you more about how he accomplished it at the top of the Astronomy tower. Severus will. . . Severus will come and. . ." I drifted off and Dumbledore nodded.

"But you want to tell me more than just my death, don't you?" Dumbledore said gently.

"Yes." I said, taking another deep breath. "It all just came crashing down an hour ago. I was in. . . in the Room of Requirement, I'll show you why momentarily because it's important."

"This was an hour ago?" Dumbledore asked curiously, folding his hands on the desk.

"Yes." I said. "I would have gotten here sooner, but I had something like a mental breakdown when I. . . when I saw everyone that died."

"I see."

"Harry accomplishes what you sent him to do." I said. "The locket, the real one, is found on Dolores Umbridge. Harry infiltrates the ministry and gets it. I'm not sure of all the fine details, this is the broad spectrum."

"Of course." Dumbledore said, motioning with his blackened hand, "continue."

I explain everything in great detail- taking Harry from his house, Uncle Moody's death, the wedding, Harry, Ron, and Hermione breaking into the Ministry, Ron leaving, Ron coming back, the trip to Lovegood's house, the Malfoy Manor, and then I paused before the battle of Hogwarts.

I open my eyes, gazing into Dumbledore's shining blue ones. Not shining because they are light, but shining because he is crying. It's much different than watching a man like Hagrid cry. Somehow, Dumbledore makes it almost beautiful, symbolic. "Who do we lose?"

I licked my lips, unable to get the names out and start with the names of the people that I'm slightly more okay with, "The fallen fifty, however I don't know all fifty, just some of the names. Colin Creevy." I can picture where he signed his name on the drawing- right underneath Mrs. Norris' tail. "Lavender Brown." She signed near Professor McGonagall's hat. I took another shuddering breath, "Fred Weasley." I opened my mouth and then closed it, unable to say anymore.

"Lupin." Dumbledore says it for me and I nod, tears leaking over my eyes and I wipe them away.

"And Tonks." I choke out. "And. . . and. . ."

"Severus." Dumbledore finishes for me again and I burst into tears, finally unable to hold them back.

"It's not fair." I whisper, "It's not fair at all! We just had a child. Dad and Tonks will have a child too!"

"You plan on trying to change their deaths, don't you?" Dumbledore asked. He never missed anything, did he.

I nodded, wiping underneath my eyes again. "Felix Felicis. I know it can only do so much but if they're luckier than their opponents. . ."

"It is a good plan." Dumbledore says softly. "How do Lupin, Tonks, and Severus die?"

"Bellatrix kills Tonks. Dolohov kills Dad, and Voldemort uses Nagini to kill Severus." I whispered, my voice nearly breaking again.

Dumbledore nodded, reaching out absentmindedly to pet Fawkes. "but Voldemort is ended?"

"Yes." I whisper. "Neville cuts Nagini's head off and Harry kills him."

"Alastor is a good man." Dumbledore muttered, almost to himself. I felt the tears spring up again, thinking of my sweet (though he rarely showed that side of him) Uncle. I didn't want to lose him. Could I stop his death?

There is silence. The portraits are not discussing this outcome yet, but are looking at each other. Dumbledore seemed to be thinking deep in thought.

"If I lived," Dumbledore started suddenly, "Do you think the future would change?"

I hesitated, "I think. . . I think it could be possible. The others. . . they would probably expect you to finish Voldemort as you are the only one he has ever feared. But. . . the curse on your hand. . . even if Severus did not kill you in a few days. . . it would still kill you before the battle. But when Severus kills you, it makes Voldemort put more faith in him."

"And yet Voldemort will still kill him?" Dumbledore asked. He seemed to be trying to figure something out, "And with the snake?"

"Yes." I said. "Because he will steal your wand from you. He thinks the reason the wand doesn't work for him is because Severus killed you and therefore, the wand belongs to Severus. However, it actually belongs to Draco because Draco will disarm you. Then the wand becomes Harry's when he disarms Draco at the Malfoy's Manor. That is why Harry is able to destroy Voldemort, because the wand that Voldemort tries to use on Harry really belongs to him."

"And Severus dies for nothing." Dumbledore whispered.

"I have a plan." I said desperately. "It's not well thought out yet but I'm working on it. I can use Runes for protection, carving them on Severus' neck and heart. This way, when the snake bites, it will bite farther from the heart, giving me just a little more time to heal him. Mr. Weasley was bitten by the same snake so if he tells me what the healer used. And a little Felix Felicis can't hurt, though I know it's ridiculous to think the luck potion will heal and-"

"It's a well thought out plan Miss Kane." Dumbledore said gently. "I will see if I can help you before I die."

"Thank you." I whispered.

There was a silence. Fawkes let out a quavering cry and Dumbledore straightened his glasses. "You said there was something you wanted to show me in the Room of Requirement?"

"Yes." I said, standing, "It won't take long, only a few minutes of your time."

Dumbledore smiled, "We've been here for a half hour, Elizabeth. You may take a few more minutes of my time."

He followed me out of his office and we went down the revolving stairs. He followed me up a few flights of stairs to the seventh-floor. I paced back and forth three times, imagining the art studio and then opening my eyes and wrenched the door open. Dumbledore followed me in.

"This is a marvelous studio Miss Kane." Dumbledore said, standing in the entry way while I went over to the lock container, putting my hand against the hiding place and the lid popped open. I pulled out the drawing, carrying it carefully over to the table and unrolled it, setting weights on either end to keep it open.

I reached into a bucket that stood on one of the many shelves with the art supplies and pulled out a black writing utensil.

"I want you to sign this." I said. "None of the teachers are supposed to sign it, it's supposed to be a gift for you guys for teaching, but since. . . well I thought it would be a nice gesture if you signed it."

Dumbledore was looking down at the art, smiling, "You captured everyone with great detail." He chuckled, "Kettleburn was always a bit, ah, enthusiastic about his work, no matter how many limbs he lost."

"The ones I met or only saw for a year were the harder ones." I admitted, "Especially Quirrell since I never had much to do with him. Dad and Uncle Moody were the easiest."

"They are quite realistic." Dumbledore said, tracing a finger lightly over Firenze's bow. "I'm quite regretful he will not be able to return to the forest."

"As am I." I said.

"I forgot, you were great friends with him in the forest."

"And out of it." I admitted. "I made friends with a few Centaurs but once they started getting possessive with the forest. . ."

Dumbledore took the black utensil from my hand gently and wrote his name in the same calligraphy I'd used for the funny portraits at the top of the page: Albus Dumbledore.

He put the sharpie back in a bucket and after observing the banner one last time said, "You should give this to the Professors sooner rather than later. I would like to see their faces when you give it to them."

With that, he walked from the room, leaving me there alone, remembering the first time the future flashed across my vision revealing that everyone I loved was going to die.

I collapsed to the floor, the visions of Dad and Tonks laying on palettes in the Great Hall dead swimming in front of my eyes. Their fingers were inches apart as though they had fallen that way. Their wands across their chests.

Severus was inside the Whomping Willow. Nagini lunged at his throat. His last words to Harry were, "you have her eyes."

Fred was standing in a hallway. It exploded as Acromantula burst into the castle. I wasn't sure yet if it was a spell or a flying brick that killed him.

Lavender Brown was lying on the ground, Fenrir Greyback on top of her, ripping her neck out.

Colin Creevy in Neville's arms being carried back up to the castle.

Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Kingsley were fighting three on one against Voldemort. Mrs. Weasley kills Bellatrix Lestrange, causing Voldemort to push the three of them back in a rage.

I sobbed into my hands, tears falling through my fingers and hitting the floor with tiny pings. Visions seemed to flash faster and faster through my eyes, so quickly there were only snatches of people's faces and places.

Dobby's wide green eyes and then-

Uncle Moody falling from a broom and then-

An electric blue eye underneath a brass nameplate that read Dolores Umbridge and then-

George was missing an ear-

Nagini was slithering-

Ollivander-

Rook-

Wand-

Doe-

Lake-

Sword-

Sword-

Sword-

"NO!" I screamed, getting up from the floor. I wiped the tears away and back, my hands running through my hair.

I was shaking and sobbing and shivering and sweating and hating myself and whoever had given me this horrible power of seeing the future. I'd always relied on it, always been glad of it. It had always given me an edge, something that I could hold over others, always one step ahead because I knew what was going to happen, what was going to be said, what should be said. I had never really hated it before.

Now I detested it. I would've given anything to not see these visions, to not see that I was going to lose literally everyone in one fight.

I'd already lost my parents and my godfather and a best friend. Now I was going to lose my second set of parents, my uncle, another best friend, and my husband. I was going to lose everyone in a few months.

I grabbed the back of a chair, sitting in it, trying to get a grip on myself before I went back out into the world.

"What about Trang?" I asked aloud. "What happens to her?"

I could not see Trang's future because Trang was linked to me. She was not a separate entity. Without me, she would not have discovered magic, she would not have been here. Because of me, I could not see her future for the future war.

I got to my feet shakily, wishing for a mirror, and one appeared. I stood in front of it. My entire face was pale except for my eyes were were pink around the edges, the corneas red. My hair was sticking out everywhere as though I'd been electrocuted. I was perhaps exactly what a mad woman in an old movie looked like.

I sighed, wishing for a brush and carefully brushed out my hair until it was smooth and silky, not a hair out of place. There was nothing I could do about the eyes except rest them and so, after I rolled up the drawing, I closed my eyes, imagining other things that had nothing to do with the future.

It took me a few hours to leave the room.

I walked with purpose towards the Hufflepuff common room. People saw me with the drawing tucked up under my arm, and pointed, whispers breaking out in excitement. I tried not to smile and then thought smiling might do me some good and so I smiled.

"We're going to give it to them tomorrow?" Susan asked in surprise. "I thought we were waiting until the last day of school?"

That was going to come sooner than expected.

"Yes." I said to the room of Hufflepuffs. "I have my reasons, mostly so that we can appreciate the art with enough time. I would rather the Professors be able to express their admiration or distaste for the drawing over a course of time rather than hurried exclamations of praise in a few hours because they're rushing us off to the train."

"Hear hear." Ernie said pompously. I could always count on Ernie.

I smiled at all of them, my heart heavy, and I went up to the girls' dorm. There was no drawer that was large enough to keep it in and so I put it on the other side of the wardrobe, propped up. It was very large and it nearly touched the ceiling which was quite a feat considering the ceiling nearly reached thirteen feet.

"Is something wrong?" Hannah asked more perceptibly when I had come down. Hannah, Susan, Ernie, Justin, Zacharias, and Rose were all waiting for me, to congratulate me.

I looked around, noticing that many Hufflepuffs were off in their own groups though a few were keen to listen in.

"Let's. . . go on a walk." I said brightly. "It's a nice day out."

They followed me, mixed looks of confusion and apprehension on all of their faces.

Once we were outside, we walked down to the lake. There was no one around and I quickly turned to them.

"What's happening?" Zacharias demanded.

"Death Eaters." I said.

Ernie and Susan's expressions stayed stoic though the others showed signs of horror.

"Originally." I said. "Hermione was going to send out the day that the Death Eaters attack by using the D.A. coins. Only Luna and Neville answered the call. But I thought, you know, if I told you guys ahead of time. If you guys want to fight-"

"I will." Susan said in a hard voice.

"We could be killed!" Justin said in a voice that almost sounded repulsed.

"Well they won't penetrate the Common rooms." I said, "So if you stay in your dorms you'll be fine. It's only if your out in the corridors. . .and besides, I have a way so that we don't get killed."

"How?" Zacharias asked skeptically, his face a little pale.

"Felix Felicis." I stated simply and then remembered that only Ernie was in my potions class. "It's a luck potion. If we all have some-"

"Then we'll be lucky and won't die." Ernie said. "Brilliant."

"I mean, you could die, you know?" I asked, smirking slightly. "If you jumped off the tower or something. It doesn't make you invincible. But it should give an edge so that you avoid being killed."

"So-" Rose started but I interrupted her.

"You, Rose, are staying in the dorm. You don't know enough yet to be in a real battle. I want you to stay in the common room."

Rose pouted, but said nothing.

"I just wanted to let you all know." I said gently. "If you have your D.A. coin, you'll know when they are going to attack."

"What about Dumbledore?" Justin asked desperately.

"He's been leaving the castle frequently." I said. "Tonks, Professor Lupin, and Bill Weasley will be part of the guard protecting the castle, including all the Professors. They won't have expected this. I already saw Dumbledore. He will take necessary precautions, but we can't think that the Death Eaters won't find a way in regardless."

"Alright." Ernie said.

"That's why you want to give the Professors the drawing tomorrow." Zacharias said. "Not because of all the crap you spewed in the common room."

I smirked, "You know me so well Zach."

He scowled, "Don't call me Zach."

"Anyways." I said, having no more information to tell them. "I thought you guys should know, no matter what path you guys decide to take." I slipped the two bottles of Felix Felicis from my pocket and handed it to Ernie. "This is in case I'm not there. They both have twenty-four hours worth inside of them. I wasn't sure how much would be needed. I wouldn't drink an excessive amount and I wouldn't drink it unless you plan on being at the fight. Save it for the fight, don't drink any before. Ernie, I'm entrusting you with this, okay?"

"Why?" Ernie asked surprised, but also took the bottles, holding them gingerly in his hands.

"Because," I said. "You're kind've like the leader in my book. And plus, if you aren't around, both Susan and Hannah can get into your room whereas boys can't get into girls' dorms. It's also more convenient if you have them."

"Practical." Ernie said with a nod.

There seemed almost a sort of pact that was surrounding us, including Rose though she was still pouting.

My throat seemed unusually tight. I knew the futures of Ernie and Susan and Hannah. I knew that Zacharias Smith would flee the battle of Hogwarts next year, pushing first-years out of the way to escape. I wondered how I could be friends with a person like that and yet, there was a fondness I had with him. I supposed that there was a part of people that didn't choose who they made friends with: it was all up to chance.

I did not know Roses' future and I did not know Justin's. For all I knew, they both would die next year. Justin being a muggle-born, of course, would definitely be on the kill list. Rose was a half-blood and young, but yet determined to fight. Just like Colin. My throat closed again.

"I just. . ." I said softly. "Not necessarily this year. . . but next year. . . no matter what happens. . . I am proud to call all of you my friends."

Ernie swallowed, putting his hand out and I put my hand over it. Susan and Hannah reached out, touching our hands and Rose's tinier hand joined ours. Zacharias hesitated while Justin reached a hesitant hand out. We did not wait long but Zacharias finally put his hand over Justin's. We all let go at the same time, heading back up to the castle in silence.

IT. That's what the circle outside reminded me of. The kids in IT had made a promise, they'd always come back to each other. Of course, there was no promise between us, but it felt something like that.

Of course, they'd also cut their hands open with a coke bottle and let their blood mix together. At least we hadn't done that.

Once inside the castle, we went out separate ways.

I found Trang sitting with Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil and Terry Boot and few other Ravenclaws.

"Hey Kane!" Anthony greeted me brightly. "What's up?"

I held out two bottles of Felix Felicis. "Do you guys know what this is?"

"Yeah," Terry said. "That's Felix Felicis. Did you get that from Slughorn?"

"No," I said, shaking my head to emphasize the word. "I brewed it myself."

The Ravenclaws looked around at each other, clearly impressed. Trang however, was gazing at me in a worried look.

"So. . ." Trang said slowly, "What are you giving us two bottles of luck potion?"

I hesitated, "I can't go into the details yet. . .but if you guys still have your D.A. coins, I would pay attention to those."

Smiles started to fade from the Ravenclaws faces.

"When you get that message, I would drink some of this, those of you who want to anyways."

"There's going to be an attack, isn't there?" Padma asked.

I hesitated and then said, "Something like that, yes, but if you don't want to fight, you can stay in the dorm. The attacks will only happen in the corridors." I held the bottles out to Anthony. He seemed to be the best candidate. He'd wanted to come to the Ministry last year. I was almost confident that he would fight. Or, we would find that all his talk last year had been just that- talk. He hesitated for a second and then reached out, and took them, pocketing them.

I got up and left the library. I felt lighter than I had before. I had one more potion that would go to the Gryffindors after I told them about the D.A. coins. Then I would have my own small potion that was back in my room with Severus.

"Elizabeth!" Trang's voice was sharp as she called down the hallway after me. I sighed, slightly unhappy with what was going to happen next.

"Hi. Trang." I said, not stopping as she caught up with me. I was making my way up to the Gryffindor Tower.

"You won't be participating in the fight, right?" Trang asked.

I stopped walking, "You won't be fighting either, right?"

We stared at each other, measuring each other.

"You have a child." Trang said.

"You don't know enough to fight." I said sharply. "Besides, that's what the Felix Felicis is for, luck. I won't get hurt when I drink it."

"And you're sure about that?" Trang asked skeptically.

"You should put more stock into magical potions." I said, walking again. Perhaps I would find a single Gryffindor and tell them to spread around the idea of D.A. coins. "Besides, what I can see, no one dies."

"Did you see everyone your enlisting in the fight?"

"No, because when Hermione used the D.A. coin, only Luna and Neville answered the call. That's why I made more Felix Felicis."

Trang sighed, "Is there anything I can say that will keep you from fighting and staying alive for Remus?"

I turned on her, angry. "Do you think this is easy, Trang? When I say no one is going to die, I mean, no one who fights. But Bill will be bitten by Greyback which will leave a scar and Dumbledore's going to die."

"Dumbledore's going to die?" Trang asked in horror.

I looked around carefully but the few people walking through the hallways were fifth-years worrying over their O.W.L. exams that I knew (but they didn't) were going to be canceled because Dumbledore was going to die.

"Severus kills him." I whispered.

"Oh my God, Elizabeth, I'm so sorry." Trang whispered.

"Dumbledore asked him to." I said.

Trang's sad face drew back into a puzzled one. "What?"

"Dumbledore called it a last act of loyalty."

"Dumbledore's crazy!"

"You can't tell anyone, it's imperative that they all think Severus betrayed us." I said glumly.

"I'm sorry." Trang said more sincerely. "That's got to be tough."

"Let's just hope that I don't spill that he was killing him on Dumbledore's word." I said sadly.

Seamus and Dean walked past us with Parvati and Lavender.

"Dean!" I called and the four of them turned.

"What's up Elizabeth?" Dean asked.

I couldn't bring myself to look at Lavender.

"Um, do you guys still have your D.A. coins?" I asked in a casual voice.

"Yeah." Parvati said.

"Somewhere." Seamus said with a shrug.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Find them." I said. "And let anyone else from Gryffindor who was in the club know, but around our age or older, okay? And here, take this." I thrusted the bottle of Felix Felicis at Dean.

"What is this?" He asked.

"Felix Felicis." I said and I wondered how many more times I had to say those two words. "Luck potion."

The words seemed to mean different things to different people and it was Parvati who figured out what I meant.

"There's going to be an attack, isn't there?" She asked. She was just like her sister. "And Dumbledore isn't going to be able to stop it."

I nodded, "Dumbledore won't even be here. There'll be the teachers of course, and a few extra protectors, but not enough. I didn't originally see you all fighting, any of your for that matter, but that was only because you guys don't check your D.A. coins. Of course, Harry hasn't scheduled meetings so that's not your fault. Originally, it would only be Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville."

"Just like the Ministry." Lavender said but I tried blocking out her voice.

"Something like that, yes." I said.

"We'll find our coins." Dean promised.

"Thanks." I said with a half-hearted smile. "But-"

They turned back to face me.

"Don't come if you're not up to it. And remember, that's twenty-four hours worth so you guys should split it between yourselves. When the coin burns, join Hermione and Ron. Staying in the common rooms will keep you safe if you're not up to the fight."

I turned and walked off with Trang towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and respectively: Severus and Remus.

"At least you're warning them." Trang said lightly.

"Yes." I said. "Let's just hope that Draco doesn't catch wind of what we're spreading around. Surely he has to expect that I would've foreseen this, right?"

"Your nervous that he hasn't done anything to incapacitate you?" Trang asked curiously.

I frowned as we approached the classroom door. "I would think he would try keeping tabs on me so see if I tell anyone but I've doubled back and checked my surroundings triple times, I haven't found any signs."

"Maybe under his stress he forgot." Trang said with a shrug, "He's been looking sick recently."

"That is true. . ." I said hesitantly.

We entered the office. Severus had fallen asleep by the crib, his head resting on the bars of the crib, his mouth slack. Remus was also sleeping.

"He is precious." Trang said with a smile and forgetting our argument, we took Remus out of the crib and took turns holding him.

A knock at the door woke Severus and startled both Trang and me. Severus was on his feet in an instant. Trang and I hurried behind his desk, pretending as though we were in detention. I held Remus to my chest tightly, though not enough to hurt him.

"Oh, Professor McGonagall." Severus said in an uncomfortable voice.

"I was to give you this." Professor McGonagall's voice floated through the door. Severus left a huff of breath as though he was carrying something heavy and the door closed shut. I turned to see him holding a large package in his hands.

"What's that?" I asked curiously, handing Remus over to Trang so that I could go and take a look.

"No idea." Severus said, budging the door to our bedroom open and dumped the box on the bed.

He opened the package with care and kind've just stared into the box and then said, "It's obviously from Dumbledore. . . I think."

I peered into the box and saw the strangest things that I would have ever expected to see in the box. There were muggle baby toys and clothes.

"Oh." I said in surprise. "I wonder when he had time to get these."

Trang came over now, holding Remus in her arms and said, "Isn't he a little young for rattles?"

"But not stuffed animals." I said and though I was still confused, I reached in to take out a small panda bear toy before Severus took my hand carefully.

"Let me just go over it quickly, okay?" He asked. "For any dark arts. There's no name, I simply assumed it was from Dumbledore which was not a good idea."

"Test it for what exactly?" Trang asked, sounding skeptical.

"Poison, hexes, jinxes." I recited. "Transfiguration spells, anything really."

"Oh." Trang said and she held Remus farther away from the box.

"Check the panda bear toy first, please Sev." I said. "I'd like to give that to him right away."

"Will do." Severus said gently.

Trang and I took Remus back out to the main area and we played with him for a long time before Trang retired to the Ravenclaw common room.

Severus had moved Remus' crib into the bedroom in case someone unexpected came in without knocking and so I went back into the bedroom and laid Remus in his crib, carefully covering him with a blanket. He cooed and I looked down at him, smiling.

Meanwhile, Severus had separated the toys into two piles, though I didn't know what it meant. "Anything dangerous?" I asked.

"Nothing from what I've seen." Sev sighed, putting his wand down on the desk. "But I thought we should sleep with the stuffed animals before we give it to him."

I smiled, trying not to laugh at the silliness of the idea, and put a hand against his cheek. "You're a great dad, you know that?"

Severus was still fretting. "I mean, I did try reverse charms and revealing spells and I even hugged the damn thing, but I still don't know if it's safe."

Another knock on the door. Severus quickly swept through the bedroom door, snatching his wand from the table and shut the door behind him.

The voices were muffled though I knew the visitor was a man though I didn't recognize any one distinct voice.

He came back after a few minutes and picked up the panda bear, putting it in the crib with Remus and then turned to me, "It was Dumbledore." He said grudgingly, cheeks red. "I got paranoid."

I chuckled, helping him place all the other toys and clothes into the box they had come in. "Like I said, a great dad."

Severus pulled me into bed so that we could enjoy the night together. But like I said before: Remus doesn't like sleep.

⬅️➡️

[domovi]

Fic: My duty

Short description: Colleague's words willy-nilly bring Mercy Dawn back to the past — a sad event in 2020, about which even Dawn prefers to remain silent.

Warnings: death, mentions of dead bodies, blood loss, shooting, injections, limbs and their absence.

Author's note: I'll try to be brief. I've been writing for a long time, but this fanfic can officially be called my first piece. I would like to pay tribute to the @ask-the-becile-boys blog and its moderator, which became the source of my inspiration. Dear Muse, you are my muse. Don't judge me. My friend forced me into writing this pun.

Translator's note: Guess who :)

Just wanted to wish you to enjoy the reading and also remind you that all claims for the translation are provided to @alreorem. It's my first time doing Russian to English translation so don't judge me too harsh, please. Just DM me and politely point out my mistake if you find one. Thanks for understanding! <3

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

Dawn, laying on the dining table, diligently tried to sleep, but something, or rather someone, interfered with this important, urgent matter.

Soroh: Dawny~ Ten more sheets~

Dawn: Nope.

Soroh: Hey! Don't even think about shoving everything on me!

Dawn: What do you mean by ʼeverything'?! There's a little left!

Soroh also looked tired. So much that he couldn't argue with his colleague and only pressured her with a clouded look. Next to them was a thick stack of documents that could scare any inexperienced worker, but Dawn and Soroh are old-school people, and this amount of work was a little less frightening.

The game of peepers was interrupted by Flint, who placed two mugs of water right in front of the noses of the sufferers. For an hour, he watched his barely alive colleagues, who seemed to have lost their last convolutions on half of the paperwork. Recently, they ended the argument about the correctness of filling the documents, and if earlier Soroh still took up the alteration of papers, now he quickly gave up, agreeing with Dawn and her 'It'll do."

Dawn: OOOH! Boiling water!

She cheered up and began to warm her hands. Coffee, tea, sugar weren't brought so often, their last joy was hot or cold water, though all sorts of impurities felt terribly wrong. They even tried to mix it with a tasteless parody of food, but they quickly regretted it. And sometimes Dawn managed to get vitamins. And even for such merits, Soroh still couldn't calm down.

Soroh: Work first.

Dawn: Am I even not allowed to drink?

Soroh: Exactly. No, I mean, are you serious? After boiling water, you'll stop thinking at all!

Dawn: Actually! As an assistant, you should do all of this. Look at me. In my youth, I was left alone with all the work.

Soroh: ... In the youth. And what period of life are you experiencing now?

Dawn: Old age Soroh, old age. So be kind, show respect for old age and finish everything yourself.

The woman lay down on the table and stretched like a sleepy cat with her arms and legs extended as far as possible. Soroh, on the other hand, didn't share Dawn's enthusiasm, shoving her leg with force.

Flint: Old age? And how many years have you been working here?

Dawn: Well... It's been four years already.

Flint: But that's only one year longer than Soroh..

Soroh: It depends on how to look at this situation. Dawn is the only one of my good acquaintances who has worked at Industries for more than three years. Though... There are also quite a few silent people, and I had no business with the authorities.

Flint: For real?

Dawn: ... Don't even look at me.

Flint was genuinely puzzled. He knew that Industries wouldn't let go of its wards, but then where did ordinary workers who had worked for more than four years go? The only outgoing person of the trio was Soroh, and Flint shifted his gaze to him.

Soroh: I've heard rumors about... a large-scale incident. Someone talks about an explosion that caused the release of green matter; someone talks about mass liquidation ... A lot of rumors can be heard, but I don't know what to believe...

Flint looked at Dawn again, hoping to see at least the slightest clue in her facial expressions, but she was already sitting, finishing her work and no longer going to take part in the conversation.

Dawn: ...It's not something you should know.

-

THREE YEARS AGO

_

Pylartes: Look. I need you to rewrite it on new forms and put it in piles. Oh, and write down two people with the best performance for me.

The day began quite ordinarily. It'd seem that only yesterday Dawn managed to deal with all the paperwork, as she was handed a mountain of new documents. And where do they get so much paper from, so that later they can rewrite it all! Mercy had a lot of resentment about her work, even with a lot of experience and a year of work, she had never received confidence in operations in Becile Industries.

Dawn: As you say...

The woman already knew that it was useless to argue with this position, at least with Pylartes. Not even an hour had passed before he hurriedly left the laboratory, not bothering to report whether he would return today or not. But Dawn wasn't upset by her loneliness, she only made herself comfortable, throwing her leg over a nearby chair.

This could have continued all day long, if not for a sudden interruption in the system.

After blinking a couple of times, the lamps went out, and the buzz of the working devices subsided. The last thing that stopped working in this room was Dawn, who was still finishing the sentence from memory. The main problem here is that in the dark the words climb on the lines, or even worse, on other words.

Only after the dot was put, the girl looked out into the corridor, which was also immersed in darkness, only a couple of anxious voices came from the direction of the Archive. The electricity was cut off in the entire building, which was actually strange and could only speak of an unforeseen situation. Pylartes would definitely warn about this, even though he was quite forgetful.

While Dawn speculated, the workers quickly fell silent as they returned to the workplace. Mercy, too, could have returned to her office and shy away from work, but she had two strong but poorly sealed refrigerators that couldn't withstand a long lack of power.

At her usual pace, Dawn cleaned up as much as possible, closed the laboratory and headed to the mechanics she knew. They didn't talk much; a couple of times she brought them a hematocrit centrifuge for repair, and a couple of times they came to her for medical help. Quiet guys, however, they weren't the only quiet ones. She hoped that they have at least some information or ideas on how to keep the cold in the cells.

Her vision took a long time to get used to the dark, only her hearing helped. As she was approaching the turns, the clatter of steps in front became duller, and on the sides, on the contrary, freer. Dawn never considered darkness to be something terrible, only her own sounds were alarming, which rapidly spread through an absolutely empty space.

Entering the workshop, with eyes already accustomed, Mercy looked around the room.

“Absolutely empty”, played in her head again, she was already nervous.

The place was quite large, and the guys could just relax somewhere far away or even in a warehouse. Dawn took in more air in her chest to call for one of the workers, but when she realized how loud she'd be in this place, she quickly changed her mind and preferred a quiet inspection.

She didn't have to be here often, but each time everything was different. Details that differed from each other in shapes and sizes; sheets of various kinds of metal, which sometimes didn't fit in the workplace; even the tools were constantly changing their position. It seemed that all this was completely out of order, or maybe all these things were just abandoned in a hurry.

Abandoned in a a hurry...

She felt uncomfortable. And why the heck would she think that? Although, it was really too quiet for anyone to be here.

The door from the warehouse was wide open and after listening for a couple of minutes, Dawn concluded that there was no one after all. It was at least not safe to enter a place full of heavy, unknown objects, and Mercy wasn't a fan of looking for adventures on her adult head. It remained to assume that the guys left to solve problems in the system and soon everything would work. She can go back.

The noise began to reverberate down the corridor. At first, Dawn was even happy that someone was coming in her direction, but the longer she waited, the more anxious she became. One step grew into five, and five into twenty, and twenty into a hundred. The whole space was filled with the sounds of the march, which only became louder.

Dawn stepped back at one of the tables and leaned against the wall. Even if the heart began to throw out portions of adrenaline, but her mind was clear and ready for rational action. Mercy knew what fear can lead to and was especially well aware that in stressful situations, the brain tries to intimidate you even more. There may be a less creepy explanation for all this than the imagination betrays.

Or so she thought, until she heard a powder pop. Her body stiffened, followed by the thoughts that had just shouted: “Run! Hide!”, as if they themselves didn't expect a shot that marked the beginning of a terrible show.

The march played with a distraught orchestra, where every instrument was for itself, and the death was the conductor. The hail of lead was accompanied by flashes and the more often they sparkled, the more lives were taken.

Quickly realizing that disaster was rushing in her direction, Dawn fell on her knees and moved to the very depths of the table. One hand helped her body to stay in tension, and the other closed her mouth, so that the trembling didn't take possession of her body.

What a pity there was nothing to close her ears. In addition to the shooting, aggressive exclamations fear-filled screams and the last wheezes of people were heard. Only one word sounded louder and clearest, in which confidence and despair lived. That word was “Move!”.

It was over as quickly as it had begun, but Dawn was hesitant to move.

It turned out to be not in vain. Slow, haughty footsteps scoffed, echoed, first down the corridor and then in the workshop. Her jaws chattered as Mercy diligently watched her breathing. Her lungs were filled to the brim with oxygen, and then very slowly deflated, almost suffocating. The only thing that differentiated her from the floor was the rumbling of her heart. The blood pulsated through the vessels, causing her body to be thrown whether into the heat or into the cold.

Her thoughts began to get confused from an overabundance of noise in her body, thinking only about how to silence everything. In the meantime, the steps were getting closer, clearer.

They stopped only when they were near the table, right above her head she was afraid to raise. What if they've already seen her and are just just playing with her now? Waiting for Dawn to raise her cowardly eyes?

Time dragged on, and thoughts only swarmed in an already noisy head. An unknown person went to the pantry and only then left the room. For a while, their footsteps reverberated through the corridor, and even when they were completely silent, Dawn continued to draw them in her mind.

It was no longer possible to sit under the table. While everything was quiet, it was worth returning as quickly as possible. With the utmost care, Mercy looked around the room and gradually got to her feet. A slight feeling of relief spread throughout her body, involuntarily increasing the trembling. No longer feeling her own weight, Dawn hurried to the exit, where only a small part of the incident was seen.

The emptiness was filled with dead noise. If someone else were in the place of the girl, then their fantasy would clearly play out and begin to reproduce scenes from creepy movies with zombies or other creatures. But the woman was too old for that.

Dawn is a doctor, but the last thing she wanted at the moment was to do her duty. The chance of saving only her own skin, among possibly living bodies, was so attractive, just not to become part of the fresh cemetery.

And then, muffled wheezing. Only it was able to stop Dawn. Her legs simply refused to go any further.

Someone behind her back was alive, but she didn't dare to turn around. Someone who so desperately needed her help was very close, but Mercy also wanted to survive. She, not only as a doctor, but also as a person, couldn't drop her oath and hurried to the workshop for a first-aid kit. What a stupid decision.

Her mind cleared up immediately, and it was followed by insanely clear actions, like a machine performing the same program. Unfortunately, Dawn knew all too well how ruthless the hands of watches can be.

It was easy to find the alive, but wounded victim among the corpses. She tried to be quiet, discreet; but in addition to wheezing, panic betrayed her. According to the old habit, Mercy quickly began to act, completely forgetting about someone else's fear.

No sooner had she approached the girl than she jerked back sharply, making a sound that would have sounded like a scream if it had not been for her broken voice.

After inspecting her from top to bottom, Dawn could already clearly see the spots of damage. Of course, most of the bullet wounds were on her prostheses, which replaced almost all of her limbs. The only part that was made of flesh and blood was the left hand. And it was what bothered Mercy the most.

Dawn: Calm down, I'm a doctor.

Her hands rose up on their own accord in a conciliatory gesture. Even though a fragile thread of trust was stretched between the girls, the fear didn't go away. Mercy helped the girl sit down, simultaneously asking all the important and necessary questions for the doctor, to which she only nod or shook her head. She didn't even try to speak.

The only visible injuries were two bullet wounds: one through in the humerus (biceps brachii muscle) and one blind wound, all signs that the bullet went straight into her shoulder joint.

First of all, she tried to stop the bleeding. If a tourniquet could be applied to the first wound, then the second had to be covered with a pressure bandage. The woman forcefully squeezed the fist of her prosthesis, the grinding of metal and heart-rending groans were heard.

Dawn: Hush, it's okay, you're doing fine.

The doctor spoke without hesitation in order to somehow calm the wounded girl. Everything was supposed to stop as soon as possible, as soon as the light returned, the incident would immediately be made public. Everything will end soon, she will live.

Her hands reached for the first aid kit. Doubtfully, but among the adrenaline, insulin and other drugs in the form of a bottle, it was painkillers and another pack of bandages that were pulled out.

Dawn: Bear it just a little more. Soon the pain will end.

By injecting the drug and starting to fix the shoulder, Mercy was finally able to afford unnecessary thoughts. The manner of thinking developed by time and continuous work did not allow to be distracted or think about something else during operations or medical manipulations.

The burning determination to help someone else quickly faded as Dawn looked around. The bodies simply disappeared into the darkness of the corridor, which seemed endless. In addition to the wheezing of the wounded girl, the space was filled with an all-consuming silence. It seemed that in the abyss Mercy could hear the beating of someone else's heart, but it wasn't true.

How long will she have to go to check on everyone? Will there be any point in doing it? Examining the surroundings, she noticed that severe and fatal wounds were striking. Even with non-working prosthetic legs and a wounded arm, the girl was really lucky.

“Are you... One of ours?”

Apparently, the drug began to act. The girl no longer gritted her teeth and seemed relatively calm.

Only the question squeezed out of the girl's chest stuck in Dawn's head. ʼOf oursʼ? The only thing Dawn was sure of was that she was an employee of the Becile Industries. If there are so-called ʼoursʼ and ʼnot oursʼ among the workers, then Mercy successfully passed by the sorting hat throughout the year.

The victim saw the doctor's confusion and simply brushed off her silent question.

“Go away... You mustn't get into it.”

The girl forcefully closed her dried eyes, took more oxygen into her chest and threw her head back. Pain and anxiety gave way to fatigue. Whatever her fate is, it was inevitable. Is that why the girl let go of Dawn so calmly? The only living person willing to help?

Still, Mercy didn't know what she was getting into, and the weight of the adhering dirt was already weighing on her body. Dawn had a lot of questions, a lot of variations in the development of events: maybe people with guns would come back and kill them, or maybe others would come and fight back? But everything revolved around one word ʼmaybeʼ.

The likelihood that no one will know about her presence is so big that the most sensible decision was to leave. To just run away, and as soon as possible.

Dawn rose to her feet in an instant and disappeared just as quickly into the darkness. Without hesitation, she slipped into the darkness and disappeared like a vision. And the wounded girl had nothing but to peer into the void, looking for the outlines of a long white robe. She still had hope. No one in their right mind would want to die, especially here, especially now, especially alone; but the poor fellow had already let go of his bird.

There was nothing to wait for and her eyes began to close. Her eyelids were heavy, either from fatigue or from drowsiness. She can take a little break, just a little.

“Hey! Now's not the best time to sleep!”

It was a woman's voice. Is Dawn back? She's really back! The tall silhouette appeared as soon as it disappeared, holding a box filled with tools.

Dawn: So listen here. Let's take off the dentures and I'll carry you. Whether I'm 'yours' or 'their' is my problem.

The girl looked at the doctor with a sad look, clearly regretting, sympathizing, but didn't contradict.

At the moment, Dawn was bothered by too many questions to which she clearly wouldn't be able to get a concise and clear answer. If everything was thoroughly simple, then their own wouldn't kill their own, as in a slaughterhouse.

The doctor began to detach the robotic legs and, sensibly assessing her physical abilities, removed the functioning arm. Prostheses can always be replaced, new ones can be attached. There's nothing wrong with losing one of them.

Without the metal, the victim was quite light, the only discomfort was in carrying her around. Dawn had to improvise and use her doctor's gown so she was able to fix the girl on her back.

Looking at the bodies more closely, Mercy noticed the metal, too. On their legs, arms, eyes, mouths, necks, you name it. Did they all really need these prostheses so much? Yes, they can be useful and comfortable, but to lose tactility, a healthy part of your body to just put them? Dawn didn't understand this. Jaw prostheses were at least impractical and deprived the mouth of the simplest functions. And somewhere the weight from the metal was completely distributed incorrectly, from which the spine suffered, and if only the arms were replaced, then the legs could also suffer. The doctor could reflect on this for a long time, reluctantly finding more minuses than pluses. Dawn didn't understand this. Jaw prostheses were impractical and deprived the mouth of the simplest functions. And somewhere the weight from the metal was completely distributed incorrectly, from which the spine suffered, and if the arms were replaced, then the legs would also suffer. The doctor could reflect on this for a long time, reluctantly finding more cons than pros.

Dawn: Why do you all have these prostheses?

The girl didn't react to the asked question, as if she didn't hear it at all. She didn't look around. At the very beginning, she buried her head in her shoulder and diligently covered her eyes, just not to become a witness to what had happened again.

In the meantime, the bodies were running out, a couple more steps and everything would be left somewhere behind. If she's lucky, then in the upcoming future, Dawn won't have to regret either her actions or decisions.

Dawn: Usually I ask for the name right away, so... Can I know it at least now?

Such a simple question turned out to be unexpected. The reluctantly wounded girl raised her head, but the corridor was already empty. If she doesn't look back, the terrible life episode will seem to be over.

“Alice... Just Al--...”

There was a sound. Dawn was ready to run, but then her brain stopped her. She quickly came to her senses. She stood and listened, waiting for the noise to repeat.

A sound, or rather a murmur, came somewhere behind, very close. Mercy didn't want to linger, didn't even want to look back, but it was worth checking to find out what the chances of saving a life were. And Alice apparently didn't mind.

It was a ginger man whose hair and face had long been filled with red. The bullet hit the head.

Dawn felt pain near her temple. He won't do it. Too much time has passed. As soon as she got closer, her legs slipped. Something wet and still warm squelched under her feet, sticking to her shoes with a stranglehold. The floor around it was completely flooded.

Without understanding why Dawn untied Alice from herself, placing her in the opposite of her, and set to work. He was still alive, mumbling something indistinct and wasting all his strength just to not lose consciousness. Doesn't he deserve at least a little attempt? And if she manages to stop the blood, then it'll be possible to drag and save two lives.

Staying clean was hard. Her hands smeared in blood every now and then and the funds in the first-aid kit weren't enough to the point of bitterness. She had to use everything that played under her hand. Her own robe was long enough to tear off part of the hem and use it to stop the bleeding.

“Today... ”

Now it was possible to catch jerky words from his slurred speech, but this wasn't a sign of improvement of his condition. The man still didn't respond to Dawn's voice and reacted poorly to external incentives. He was still pale and weak, and a gray-red liquid flowed from his nose.

“... must take them out...”

It was necessary to somehow drag the two victims away and the question wasn't about Dawn's physical abilities, but about the carrying capacity of the robe. She had to go even further back and pull off the clothes of the dead.

“We've been waiting so long...”

Alice was still on Dawn's back, and the man was firmly fixated in a sitting position in a pair of jackets and dragged along the floor. Fully blooded shoes had to be removed.

“Annabel.”

The last word that is firmly ingrained in the walls of this corridor. Everyone knew it except Dawn. Will it remain within these walls or will it disappear at the first breath of wind, as soon as the authorities find new workers? Alice didn't want to believe it, but it would take time before the documents arrived.

Alice: Cyborgs. Industries has done all of this to us...

[sanversandfriends]

One way to spark a writer's enthusiasm about a WIP is the promise of accompanying fan art. Not only is it exciting to see your story brought to life, but to paraphrase @Morganastorm24, even a small shift in perspective can inspire you to take a wildly different approach. Today, she'll share some of her inspirations along with advice on how to get started or unstuck.

Tell us a little about yourself. How long have you been creating fan art? What were some of your first subjects and what ships/characters in the SG universe have you illustrated?

I mentioned in my writing answers that I've been doing it for as long as I can remember, and the same applies with art. I'm generally a very creative person - writing, drawing, crafting - you name it, I'll happily do it. 

I inherited my creativity from my grandparents, or so I'm told. My grandfather used to drive buses back in the 50s and 60s and on his breaks he'd park up somewhere and sit and sketch his surroundings. For no reason other than he wanted to and liked doing it. He also enjoyed woodwork and crafting miniature models of things out of wood. He built me my very first dolls house and I helped him to decorate it and furnish it with miniature furniture.

My grandmother was a seamstress for the theatre and made all the costumes for various productions. She'd sketch the designs out first, and then sew all the costumes by hand. She was also a writer, though she kept her stuff very private, because it was a hobby for her but not one that she felt comfortable enough to share. Sometimes, I can understand why, because I feel the same. Growing up, I loved spending time with both of them because they shared their skills with me. 

What are your favorite mediums to work with?

Photoshop is a big favourite of mine, because you can do pretty much anything, so long as you can find the right images to merge together. I also love using pro-markers and other comic book markers.  What kinds of scenes do you enjoy illustrating? Do you have any favorite tropes or themes? Imagery that you like to work with?

I love to do anything, as long as I have a clear vision of it in my mind (when using photoshop), or I have an image I can use as a reference (when I'm drawing by hand). The only thing I can successfully draw freehand without any reference is a horse (my lifelong love of the animals showing through there). When I worked in a children's nursery, we often drew large images for the kids to decorate which would then be displayed on the walls. I was always the one who ended up drawing said images, and to be honest I loved it. When I left that job to start my current one, I was gifted two of the last things I'd drawn - the rose from Beauty and the Beast, and the Coca Cola Christmas Truck. I've kept them to this day, and they're in a protective folder in storage. 

Any advice for aspiring fan artists?

One thing I learned in art lessons when I was at school (and it has stuck with me to this day), is that if you're struggling to draw something, change the perspective. My art teacher told us the following story about a disabled man, and I've tried and tested this method myself. It really does work!

A young man in a wheelchair was asked to draw his wheelchair. He hated the thing, saw it as a hindrance that cut him off from everything that he'd been able to do before he was confined to it. It was a reminder of his past life and everything he had lost, so when he tried to draw it, he was full of anger and resentment, and eventually threw his pencil down in frustration, declaring that he couldn't do it.

Instead of giving up on him, his teacher took the wheelchair, turned it upside down and told him to try again, but don't draw it as a whole. See the individual shapes and draw those. Focus on one shape at a time. So the young man did. He drew what he could see - circles, squares, triangles, rectangles, cylinders - and when the teacher took his piece of paper and turned it round, he had drawn a wheelchair.  All because changing the perspective of the subject and breaking it down into basic shapes had made his brain approach the task differently.  So if you're ever stuck on something and you don't know how to move forward, or do what needs to be done, try looking at it from a different angle. It could be literal, like turning the chair upside down, or it could be figurative, like seeing a circle instead of a wheel, a tube instead of a handle, that sort of thing. Change the perspective and you might just surprise yourself.

Thanks for sharing with us, Morgana--and for making us continue to swoon over Alex!

And Maggie!

And Lena!

And...

[miss-tc-nova]

Devotion - Orignal

Here is the piece I did for the original zine “Our Hearts in Harmony” by Dapper Cat Zines. 

It was a fun experience writing something original again that I would actually publish. So many things I have that the world will never see. Lol. Oh well.

Music Inspiration: 7 Years cover by Lindsey Stirling

Premise: A cat becomes the biggest fan of a young violinist 

Words: 1,809

Trigger Warning: sickness, angst

~~~~~

              Pattering rain drowned out wandering paw steps. Having long since taken shelter within the somber sky, the sun provided day but not light. Cars meandered the streets, busy people on their way to and fro. Only the occasional brave soul ventured out on foot, some fortunate few with umbrellas in hand to take on the chilly drizzle.

              The cat was not so lucky. He took to the streets in search of suitable shelter. Surely one of his many “owners” would answer his call—welcoming him into their warm home to dry his fur. Those were still some blocks away though, so perhaps cover beneath a café awning would’ve been more convenient. Maybe even one of these parked cars would have suited him for an hour or two.

              So much effort just for a warm place to nap.

              Then he heard it. As if pulling on his ear, a faint melody could be heard in the distance. It called to him like a siren, brimming with the aspirations of a young soul. Sheer emotion snared his heart and led his paws along the pavement, through rain and traffic, and into a quaint little neighborhood.

              The feline’s diligence brought him to a neat little home. It wasn’t the most extravagant place he ever visited, but it was nice. Trimmed grass rustled beneath his toes as he crept into the brush lining the house. Sharp eyes trailed the wall, honing in on the cracked window on the second story. From there it flowed—that budding musical talent that called to him. With a bit of luck and some expert scaling skills, the tree to the yard granted him access to that windowsill.

              Through the glass was a young girl, paper on display and the power to move hearts in her hands. Her bow passed over the strings, not quite perfect, but captivating all the same.

              This wouldn’t be the first time he heard music. The man in the big house on the other side of town had the most beautiful piano that became a luxurious place to nap in the sun. But the man himself lost his luster. He played, but no longer for himself.

              With the start of the new school year, the family near Main Street had a gaggle of kids in various stages of band expertise—their parents’ dreams realized in them he assumed.

              Even the home just five blocks from here had two young boys dreaming of being rockstars one day. They thoroughly enjoyed being neighborhood nuisances, but even they lacked something crucial to their art.

              The girl though—she was in love. She didn’t match the wealthy man in talent nor the aspiring rockstars in enthusiasm, but her passion made all the difference. That violin sang, every stroke of the bow teeming with her emotions.

              That’s what enchanted him and now it didn’t matter that the rain soaked his fur or that the chill gnawed at his bones; he was content to stay. Her tender work lulled him into a state of tranquility he could revel in for all nine lives.

              At least until the music stopped. His little head popped up, wondering what reason disturbed his peace.

              It’s him. He was the reason.

              A look of surprise met his gaze. Caution in every step, she approached, but the moment her fingers grazed the glass, he was out. Back on the branch, he sat against the trunk, eyeing the musician. Her gentle voice called to him, tempting but not enough so. Just because he accepted many a human doesn’t mean he’s careless.  

              Eventually, she gave up, returning to practice and leaving the window cracked for her captive audience. Yet the cat didn’t slip a second time, making himself comfortable in the tree to indulge once again in her melodies.

              So began the bond of a young musician and her most devoted admirer.

              How he’d gone so long in this town without ever hearing her play was beyond him, for as time went by, her daily practice became much too enticing to miss even a single one. She came to expect his visits. Though her lesson with him was learned, never pushing boundaries again but giving small, sweet greetings when she found him listening. It took time before he grew brave enough to try the windowsill again, but he had little choice once the rain came calling again. Before long, she treated him to dinner and a show with bowls of tuna, chicken, sometimes cream. He would’ve come regardless.

              Because he fell in love.

              This cat had come to meet many people from all walks of life—the rich who would spoil him, the loving who would coddle him, and even the uncaring who would shoo him away. And every one of them he came to appreciate for the variety they brought to an otherwise boring existence. But only she brought him true happiness like an addiction. She had him invested in her every whim, all of it clear in every note she played. She told stories and shared all of herself without ever speaking a word. He never could have resisted the chance to see her grow.

              And grow she did. Her talent blossomed like a dahlia—vibrant, complex, stunning. Those blemishes she had years ago were non-existent, emphasizing just how much she loved what she did. He suspected she could bring even the burliest of people to their knees with only a single song.

              Not only did the music evolve into something amazing, but so did the girl herself. An awkward, self-conscious teen growing through all the inelegant stages of adolescence came out the other side a gorgeous young woman. She was still awkward, but in her own charming way. More importantly, she was kind and still so full of passion.

              The girl became much more like the music than expected though. They both became wondrous and beautiful, but just as sound does, so too did she begin to wane.

              On the first day she missed practice, he found the girl crying. More than the remorse for his missed music, he felt that such a soul didn’t deserve this heartache. That was the first day he left the desk to comfort her. In her lap he settled, rumbling with all his might in hopes of healing her weary heart.

              Her ability to evoke such powerful emotions with voiceless sound amazed him like none ever had before. It brought him happiness, content, relief, everything, just to hear her songs. So, in her time of need, he only hoped he could do the same for her.

              When trembling fingers passed through his fur, he knew his magic was working. Sobs died to sniffles and the two sat contentedly until her hands steadied. To his surprise, she rose, reaching for the black case leaned against the dresser. Ever in awe at her strength, the feline took his seat on the desk as she prepared herself.

              That day, she played the saddest song he ever heard. The grief and strife she wielded ached his heart, but deep within each note came somber acceptance. It was life that brought her sadness and yet it moved on all the same. So she would play the same, letting the world know her through every stroke.

              That never changed. Even as the years passed and her body wilted, she never stopped playing. Color faded from her skin, sometimes blemished with deep violet. Muscle melted, sometimes taking her strength to stand. Fatigue ate away at her, sometimes ending practice early. In one single young woman stood humanity’s weakest and strongest. Yet through all her trials, she never let her love waver.

              Then, on one particular day, practice was cut short. The coughing that rattled her frail frame became too much, her arms straining to hold her instrument even as she sat. He could see it in her eyes that she longed to continue, so he took her lap, purring his own tune to assure her that missing another day would be okay.

              For hours they sat, well past her usual practice time, basking in each other’s company. Her gentle voice spoke to him and, though he couldn’t understand, it filled him with the same feelings that her music did.

              He loved her, not just for her music, but for the person she was. In all his time wandering this little town, she was the first to ever capture his heart like this. None of the others had even come close to the same level of impact she had on him; they might as well have never existed. It all started with a song and grew into a bond he would cherish forever.

              On the following day, he arrived as usual. His climb to the second story, however, was met with a closed window. Still, it wasn’t unheard of for her to run late. Curling his tail over his paws, he settled in to wait.

              The light in her room turned on shortly after the family car pulled into the driveway. The usual occupants shuffled inside with unsightly faces and shrill wails, though she wasn’t among them. It was the older people who ventured into the room, sitting on her bed with more cries.

              His presence went unnoticed, which was fine by him; he was there for the girl. So, at the window, he waited through their outburst.

              And waited.

              And waited.

              The hours of the night slipped by. The home’s inhabitants all fell quiet eventually. City hustle and bustle died out with the light, only to reemerge with its return. Even when the clouds loomed overhead, threatening the safety of his perch, the cat continued to wait.

              The following day passed. Twice in a row missing practice was exceptionally rare but he dared not miss her. He’d wait until she returned, no matter how long that would take.

              Then he heard it, not from inside the house, but off in the distance. There was no mistaking that passion.

              Stiff joints protested his careful descent. Ears led the way while unerring paws navigated the people and traffic. The music never took him astray, singing brighter than ever and driving him on. He had to answer her call.

              Far from her home was the park. Through rows and rows he travelled until he came upon a small scene. The downpour belittled the vibrant petals that cowered against the polished wood of the violin. It was both beautiful and somber before the granite stone.

              Clearly, her passion rang in the chilly air as lively as the day he first heard it. It was happiness and freedom and all the love she ever had. It was her. Her playing bound his soul, sang to his heart, and let him live in his own little bliss. He never missed a single day. What she did was beautiful.

              She was beautiful.

[humanrus]

Anyone can create

Is being creative innate to one's self, or do we evolve along with the environment we grow up in?

Bear with my long life story as I want to prove a point.

When I was four, I became fond of writing short stories that would later become cover-to-cover-long narrations. My mother gave me a notebook and a pen so I could write whenever I wanted to. Most of the time I wrote fictional stories that were inspired by everyday people in my life, and sometimes I just wrote my opinions on certain events or people that I encountered. It went on until I turned 11.

I was eleven when our school had a big newspaper writing contest for sixth graders. The speaker tackled different parts of the newspaper, and in every part, they asked us to create our piece, and those who would get picked as the best piece would be included in the school paper committee. I was surprised to be the top writer in the feature article section. I was so elated that I got picked for the newspaper section that I actually liked and that I got acknowledgement of my writing from competent people who had every right to judge our work. I felt good until I didn't.

I wasn't always the favorite pupil because I was a boyish girl and opinionated. But the day after the writing contest, I experienced my first heartbreak.

We were told during the session that those who won should come over to our adviser's house, and we will have a workshop to hasten our talents. I was excited to come over along with some of my friends who made the cut as well. To my dismay, I was called out by my adviser, and she asked the whole group why I was there. Everyone was telling her that I won the feature writing part, but she dismissed it and gave my part to our class's top pupil. The whole day, she ignored me and pretended that I wasn't there at all. So I left, along with my hope and enthusiasm to write. I left not only my spot but also my writing confidence, which I am still recovering from.

When Ms. Rosanne Araneta told us in the class that you can be creative as long as you believe that you are It left a question in my mind. Why did I stop believing in myself? It wasn't only because people did not believe in me. I stopped writing because I also stopped believing in me. I was so struck by her words that it left me contemplating the whole night through.

She also shared 12 things we can do to be more creative and explained how creativity can come from within. She gave us an exercise that stimulated our minds to be creative in our own way. She also showed us how creative we can be if we put our minds to it. She made me believe once again that I can have a creative mind and do whatever I believe that I can do.

As Sylvia Plath once said, "The worst enemy of creativity is self-doubt."

Self-doubt is a common problem for those who have creative minds. Self-doubt is so common that even the most accomplished people experience it; thus, it doesn't have to be an obstacle to your creative process if you accept the fact that it's part of being human. However, putting oneself out there is still the most crucial thing you can do. You are aware that you need to cultivate a healthy relationship with uncertainty, right? Recognize that it is there, don't be hard on yourself about it, and keep cranking out the work.

The words that my writing instructor from sixth grade said to me are still very much present in my memory, and as a result, I continue to struggle with writing. I simply make an effort to shrug them off and get on with what it is that I have to accomplish. Writing may no longer be my passion. But I'll make a pact with myself that no matter what creative ideas come my way, I will not restrict myself in any way and instead pursue them. If I think I can, then I know I can, and I will do it.

[todoscript]

you receive a love letter in your shoe locker from an anonymous admirer

characters: bakugou katsuki, kaminari denki, kirishima eijirou, midoriya izuku, shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff. very slight angst.

word count: 3.2k+ total, 400-700 per character

warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, feelings of doubt (mostly all fluff though)

author’s note: i’ve been on spring break so i found some time to write this! i absolutely love writing for these six (not like they’re my faves or anything pshhhhh—)

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

he’s already fuming the moment you open your locker and hold out the pastel pink card, sealed by a shiny heart sticker with your name written in smooth calligraphy.

it doesn’t take much for him to realize some other dunce head is trying to make moves on his girl.

and he absolutely won’t stand for it.

he stomps over to you and snatches the letter right out of your hands as you’re reading it.

your complaints go ignored behind him while he inspects the writing with the most livid expression.

you know that ugly face he makes when it comes to his over-exaggerated anger? the one with his eyes all squinted and the corners sharpened upward?

that’s his face as he continues reading, growing more twisted at every mushy sentence this anonymous admirer had the gall to say to you.

at one point, he can’t stand to read it anymore so he crumbles the letter in his fist before igniting it into crisps.

you scold him for causing such a scene and letting his anger get the best of him, but bakugou is still annoyed about it regardless.

“tch, who the hell does this shithead think they are, trying to make moves on you when we’re already together?! i’m gonna kill them when i find out who it is!” he exclaims, hands instinctively sparking with heat that scares off the other students walking by.

you mentally facepalm at this. still, you go about reassuring him that you won’t be swayed and take his hand to walk to the dorms together.

“katsu, you know it’s going to take more than a love letter to make me leave you, right?”

“heh, damn right, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more that’s for fucking sure,” he sneers, a confident smirk on his face as he knows everyone else never had a chance with you to begin with. they can keep sending those letters and he’d make sure to burn them before they could even reach your hand.

on the way back to the dorms, he makes a conscious effort at pda—arm wrapped around your waist while his eyes glare daggers at any extra that even so much as looks at you the wrong way—asserting his claim over you.

meanwhile, having bared witness to that whole scene, your secret admirer is trembling in the corner. they make note to never send you another letter again unless they want their life to flash before their eyes in a fiery explosion.

KAMINARI DENKI

surprisingly enough, kaminari takes the whole situation more positively than most people expected.

in fact, he’s actually prideful about it.

just as he’s about to head over to your locker so you two could walk to class together, sero pokes his shoulder.

“hey, did you see all those written love confessions in y/n’s locker?” sero whispers behind his cupped hand near kaminari’s ear.

the blond scrunches his nose, confused. “no. what love confessions?”

“the letters that were stuffed in your girlfriend’s locker.”

again, kaminari is still puzzled at this. he realizes there’s only one way to understand what sero means.

when he glances in your direction he’s met with you fumbling around with a pile of letters balanced in your arms. his vision zeroes in on the envelopes, deciphering the fancy stationary and pretty embroidery.

oh. they’re love letters.

“other people are trying to make moves on your girl. what are you going to do about it, kaminari?” sero chimes in with an important question and honestly, kaminari can’t exactly make out a solution. or rather, he feels he doesn’t need to.

sure, he should be a little annoyed over the fact that others are disregarding your relationship.

yet could he really blame them for taking such a liking to you?

you’re pretty, smart, nice—the whole damn package.

he’d be more shocked if you didn’t have any secret admirers lurking around.

kaminari decides to leave his friend’s question relatively unanswered and continues his trek to your locker.

“hey, pretty girl! whatcha got there?”

taken off guard by his appearance, you nearly drop all the letters in your arms.

“denki, you scared me!” you exclaim. “these? they’re just some love letters some anonymous person placed in my locker. don’t worry though! i don’t plan on returning their feelings.”

smiling at how quickly you reassure him, he crosses his arms behind his head. “nah i’m not worried, babe. i don’t feel threatened or anything. it only makes sense that my girl is popular after all!”

you’re pleasantly surprised by how rationally he reacts to the scenario. though, knowing his character, he can’t just seem to leave it at that.

“yep, seems like we’re quite the popular couple!” he grabs your hand, wanting to show each other off as you make your way to class.

the bakusquad sees this as another opportunity to egg him on.

“and just how many love letters have you received since the beginning of the school year, kaminari?”

the blond freezes at the question. kaminari bites back words, but begrudgingly answers.

“...zero.”

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

“heya, babe!” kirishima enthusiastically calls to you, approaching your shoe locker. “ready to go back to the dorms?”

“yeah! in just a second though!” you reply.

as kirishima comes closer, he sees you occupied with some envelopes in your hand.

“what’re all those?” he asks, pointing at the refined stationary curiously.

“ah some letters gifted to me from an anonymous admirer. something about wanting to make their feelings finally known, but i’m not interested in them,” you say, clearing up everything before a misunderstanding could arise.

“oh, that’s cool.”

you quirk a brow at how relatively chill he is at this revelation. you were expecting a bigger reaction at this, but kirishima just simply smiles his genuine, care-free smile.

you don’t think much of it though. shoving the letters in your bag to dispose of later, you walk side-by-side with him to the dormitories.

little do you realize that kirishima actually mistakens this as pure, platonic admiration rather than infatuation.

to him, if they had really wanted to profess their love to you, they’d do it in person where you could see and hear them. not behind fancy penmanship and some pretty paper.

after all, that’s what a true man would do!

but as the days continue to roll by, he’s starting to have second thoughts.

“y/n, i’m telling you, with the amount of letters you keep receiving from them, you gotta find out who this person is!” he overhears mina lecturing you at your desk, going through another pile of notes that were left in your locker from that morning. lately, you’ve been greeted by an astounding number of these things each time you visited your locker.

“mina, there’s definitely no need for me to go out of my way to find this person.”

“aw, but look at all the sweet things they said about you!” mina recites a line from one of many letters. she muses about how the writer sentimentally compares your aura to that of a dandelion wisp in the wind—free and lighthearted yet fleeting and out of reach.

“how romantic!”

you roll your eyes, indifferent, but one side-glance at kirishima from your desk tells you that he’s beginning to interpret the situation differently.

the redhead has to admit that all those things that anonymous admirer said to you were… pretty sweet.

kirishima has always been a man of action—an passionate believer that actions spoke volumes compared to words alone. however, after hearing all of that, he’s wondering how he’s able to compete in that aspect.

he seeks you out during lunch and asks you something beneath a lonely corner of trees.

“y/n, do those kinds of things make you happy..?”

you tilt your head, curious about what he’s exactly referring to. one glimpse back at his demeanor in the classroom earlier with mina gives you an idea.

“do you mean all those letters i keep getting?”

kirishima nods slowly.

“well… i have to admit, it is nice to know that i’m ‘liked’ by other people,” you phrase delicately. “but all those pretty letters and sweet words don’t mean anything to me if they aren’t coming from you. besides, i always thought it’s better to let your actions speak for you, don’t you think?”

hearing your answer, kirishima’s face lights up immediately. before you can properly react, a pair of lips meet your cheek.

you rub the warm skin where his lips touched, flustered for a moment. kirishima grabs your hand, walking you two back to the lunchroom with a newfound surge of conviction in his steps.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

“ooh, look midoriya, seems like someone else has a crush on your girl.”

as midoriya’s tidying up his red shoes and bringing out his slippers for class, his male classmates inform him of the pink envelope held in your hands.

midoriya looks over in your direction. he watches as you peel the letter out of the envelope and begin reading its contents.

he doesn’t miss the slight flustered look on your features, observing how you scan through the writing while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, glancing over your shoulder as if your secret admirer was peering at you from behind.

“you better hold onto her tightly if you don’t want her stolen from you,” one of the boys warns, more so as a joke, but midoriya doesn’t take their banter lightly.

“knock it off, guys. just because someone else likes her doesn’t mean she’s going to leave me or anything,” he says this with as much confidence as he can muster, but his demeanor betrays him.

when he goes past your desk in the classroom later, he can’t seem to meet your eyes.

“good morning, izuku!” you greet him mirthfully. however, midoriya fails to return the greeting with the same enthusiasm.

“g-good morning, y/n…”

it’s hard for you not to notice that something is up by the way he heads straight to his desk afterward without another word.

throughout class, midoriya finds it a challenge to concentrate on anything but that letter you received that morning. his mind stumbles into the hole of bad possibilities—ones of you leaving him, those sweet words from your anonymous admirer making your heart flutter more than he ever has.

“—zuku… ‘zuku… izuku!”

he gets pulled out from his thoughts by your voice and turns to see the concerned look on your face.

“you okay? you haven’t touched your pork cutlet bowl this entire time.”

he stares down at his food, untouched since he sat down. “oh sorry, i guess something’s just been on my mind today.”

your brows knit together. “it’s about the letter i got today, isn’t it?”

midoriya stares at you, debating whether to deny your statement, but knows it’s pointless to try when it must have been obvious.

you take his silence as confirmation and grasp his hand that lays flat on the table.

“izuku, look at me,” you tell him and watch as his eyes slowly trail to you. “you know i wouldn’t leave you over some silly letter, right? no amount of words they can say to me could ever make me think differently about you.”

at this, a comforted smile spreads on midoriya’s face. he nods and squeezes your hand as a sign he took your words to heart before chowing down on his food, the uncertainty inside him disappearing.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

“another one?” you inquire to yourself in disbelief, opening your shoe locker to discover a rose-colored envelope waiting for you atop your slippers.

“dang, y/n, that’s like the fourth one this week!” uraraka comments, peeking over your shoulder.

“ooh! i wanna see what they wrote for you this time!” mina approaches from behind. you allow her to grab the delicate letter from your fingertips.

she over-exaggeratedly clears her throat, unwrinkling the paper by pinching at the sides. “‘you are the one who brought me sunshine when i only saw rain.’”

“aw! how sweet!” uraraka clasps her hands above her heart, seeming almost moved.

though the girls are all smitten by the love poem, you bite your tongue, hoping to suppress the urge to gag in front of them.

your boyfriend shinsou is on equal wavelength as you, witnessing the scene unfolding so early in the morning. he’s grown tired of replaying this spectacle for the past four days now.

his eyes navigate to the note and envelope in mina’s hand. by the script and the use of the same stationary, shinsou can tell the love letters you’ve been receiving are all from the same person.

“damn dude, you got some serious competition.” overhearing the girls, kaminari jabs at shinsou’s sides teasingly. “so, you gonna do anything about that mysterious guy trying to go after your girl?”

the violet-haired boy shrugs. “why should i? it’s not like i feel threatened.”

kaminari whistles at his confidence.

shinsou says he doesn’t care about it, putting on a level-headed and indifferent facade. but that was honestly far from the truth.

in actuality, he’s a bit pissed.

what kind of person goes around sending anonymous love messages to someone who’s already in a relationship? what the hell do they hope to gain out of doing this?

shinsou more than trusts you won’t be swayed by them, no matter how many times those notes discourteously greet you every morning.

you never bring up the topic of the letters whenever you two are alone, not wanting shinsou to be bothered over it and create a hassle. all in all, he’s grateful for this, and also for the fact that you make a point of never taking any of those letters seriously and dump them into the trash bin whenever the chance arises.

however, he can tell by your body language that the whole situation bothers you and makes you uneasy.

so, during one incredibly early morning, he decides to do some scouting.

he plays off his odd punctuality by saying he left something in the classroom yesterday and wants to get there early to look for it.

lo and behold, he finds a male student hovering around the lockers—suspiciously darting his head back and forth to be on the lookout for any other students.

little does he realize he’s already been caught red-handed.

“hey you.” shinsou abruptly calls out to him and the boy nearly jumps. “what are you doing here?”

the boy panics at his question, fumbling with his answer while hiding something behind his back—what shinsou presumes to be another one of those cheesy letters.

“u-um, just want to get to class early!” he sputters.

“is there any special reason you’re standing in front of my girlfriend’s locker then? ’cause last i checked, the lockers for general education students were located on the opposite side.” shinsou emphasizes his words with a bite of malice, arms crossed.

“i just lost my way is all–” the student suddenly stops mid-speech, his words and actions forcibly coming to a halt. all thoughts are overturned in the presence of shinsou’s quirk.

“i’m going to make this quick and easy for you to understand. not only are you going to forget about this conversation, but you’re also going to stop handing my girlfriend those love letters.” shinsou bends down to the boy’s height, staring at the abyss in his expression.

“and i’d also appreciate it if you kept your eyes off what’s mine.”

it’s safe to say, your influx of letters had been effectively cut off after that day.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

todoroki is no stranger to finding love letters from avid admirers and fans in his shoe locker before and after classes.

in fact, an unprecedented number of them had begun taking up all the space there after his impressive performance at the sports festival.

when he started dating you, however, he had made a clear declaration that he wouldn’t be accepting anymore of them.

but to be on the opposite end of having to watch you unlatch the door of your locker to have letters and notes practically tumbling out, todoroki wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this feeling that made his stomach twist into knots.

he notices the alarming amount of them and concludes they’re all from various students in different grades and departments.

“y/n, you’re getting pretty popular,” uraraka says, eyeing the stack of envelopes. “must be your dance performance from the culture festival! i remember you did get a lot of cheers in the crowd.”

“guess all those cheers came with a lot of fanboys, huh?” the invisible girl, hagakure, teases.

you jokingly nudge at them to stop with the teasing, but pause when your eyes cross todoroki’s. he’s giving you a look you can’t decipher—one that edges between troubled and apathetic yet you can’t tell which it is.

you send him a nod, silently acknowledging his presence as he waits for you to finish your business so you could head back to the dorms together.

watching you dispose of the various piles of letters has todoroki contemplating about what uraraka and hagakure commented on. about how popular you were getting and how your admirers have been bold enough to profess their reverence for you despite your relationship status.

todoroki’s not entirely sure what to make of this information. he doesn’t linger on it for long though when you finally approach him, your sneakers slipped on and your backpack securely hanging off your shoulders.

“ready to head home?”

a smile finds his lips at your appearance. he softly utters his response.

during the small distance to the dormitories, todoroki reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers together. as seemingly minor the gesture is at this point of your relationship, it’s a detail you mentally take note of.

usually, when it came to publicly displaying physical forms of affection, you were the one to initiate it. you have to admit, seeing the assertive side of todoroki is like a small breath of fresh air.

as you continue your short journey home, a couple of male students walking by greet you enthusiastically. though you wave back to kindly acknowledge them, you feel the grip on your hand tighten, followed by a slight tug closer to todoroki’s side.

that alone is enough for you to realize something is definitely troubling him.

“sho, is there something wrong?” you ask, steps still walking in tandem with him.

todoroki’s voice doesn’t waver in the slightest as he replies, “no, why would you think that?”

“you’ve been awfully possessive all of a sudden,” you note, “is this because of those letters from earlier?”

“...maybe.”

you quirk a brow, amused. “is that a yes or a no?”

now todoroki is silent. your steps come to a halt. not parting your laced hands from his, you turn to look him in the eye.

“sho?”

“it’s just… when i realize that there are other people looking at you the same way i do, i get… uneasy.” his gaze drops to the ground as he confesses this, hand squeezing yours. the uncomfortable churning in his stomach settles a bit now that the words are out, but he finds it hard to ease the atmosphere.

this is where you picked up from where he left off. your hand goes to his cheek, gently cupping it so you can tilt his head up at you.

“oh shouto, you have to know that you’re the only one for me and i don’t plan on looking at anyone else but you,” you assure him. todoroki stares into your eyes, and in them, he can’t find any hesitance or flutter of doubt.

at this, he lifts your twined hands and grazes your knuckles ever so softly against his lips, wondering whatever troubled him so much to begin with.