#it IS the first half of a painting of part of the chapter im supposed to be editing sooooo

[essektheylyss]

Me: I am a goddamn professional, and I can sit down and make some progress on editing a piece of writing for a few hours.

The progress, after a few hours: .....a painting?

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. ok but thats also i think i dont get? because without the series or character names, what of any of the promo images or banner or anything else give away it's supposed to be a greek mythology story? they just look like people with weird anatomy who are colored like highlighters. at the very least some iconography should be on them, but there's not? like even percy jackson stuff makes sure to give him a trident and have water flowing around him.

2. rachel made three times where persephone could have made the choice to be with hades willingly and didnt do it each time. first time she was drugged and put into his car, where he phsyically handles her unconscious body and puts her in his bed (ew). second is her working for him, which was hera forcing it. third was her going to the underworld not because she wanted to, but because she was hiding from the law/apollo and he found her. where exactly is her agency in all of this?

3. LO seems like the fast food of webtoons. because there's no room to speculate or theorize, you just read an episode and move on, the bright colors distract that it's a rushed and lazy product over something with high quality and effort, the characters are flat and boring, and the plot has no substance. it's meant to be consumed in a rapid binge, because if not you realize what low-effort and what little you're actually getting from it when you slow down and actually think about it.

4. i mean rachel does have some logic to her fancasting, the problem is it seems the only people of color are either demonized for being hypersexual (aphrodite, eros until he's with psyche) or are literally r//pists who are out to harm her white-fa casted persephone (apollo), so yeah, there is logic there, it's just pointing to rachel being (hopefully unintentionally) racist

5. It pisses me so much that I work over time  (using references and looking at paintings and reading history for ideas for interesting character motifs) so that any of the ancient greek characters I draw look cool and authentically greek, and yet fucking Rachel Smythe, who can't even be bothered to do more than 5 seconds of research to learn that not all ancient greek outfits were shitty, minimalist off white and eggshell, gets to be revered as an artistic revolutionary. It pisses me off so. Fucking. Much. Not just for me, but for everyone else like me who absolutely ADORES greek mythology and wants to draw accurate portrayals of these characters! To whoever is reading this, stop. Stop rn and go read Sleep and His Brother Death (a comic on webtoons), go play Hades (the video game), go read The Song of Achilles (a book by Madeline Miller). Those are beautiful pieces of fiction about Greek mythology that deserve your attention more then Rachel and her shitty pink highlighter self inserts.

And a sidenote, I know that this is kinda like a modern AU for the gods. I am aware. Does not change that fact that anytime any character is drawn in ancient greek fashion it's always the SAME. SHITTY. CHITON. Maybe with a.cape or a scarf, but for the most part? It's just the same stupid, off white chiton.

6. oh, i thought you guys were joking persephone is now stuck with red eyes. is that seriously what look we're stuck with now? does rachel know it looks really ugly?

7. i feel like the lineart less style actually hurts LO in a way. way too often you can look at a panel and it becomes really murky where something starts and ends, and it looks even worse on a phone screen, because on an even smaller screen the images look even more compressed, making it even harder to tell stuff apart. this wouldnt be as bad if the comic took back up its more high contrast look from the begging, but now it's all one flat shade and im not sure why.

8. im really confused over the marketing of LO, tbh. like the ads are all hxp focused, but the series name implies its not about them, but focusing on the 12 olympians, but then the synopsis is general mythology and at the very end randomly mentions its about persephone? but then you read it and nots sure whether its a teen romance, a comedy, a serious drama, and can't stay straight with its messaging and timeline? and persephone is not there for a chunk of time. like whats actually going on?? 😭

9. Chapter 173 is like 50% filler. It gives more questions that answers, and not just from the reporters. Like the reporter stuff was mostly filler, and the Persphone and Hades stuff was like yeah we know dont need to drag this on.

My questions are WHAT ARE THE RED EYES? Is it when she’s mad? Horny? Sad? Happy? I feel like the red eyes just show up whenever RS wants to draw them

Flying? I feel like Persphone has always been flying like it wasn’t a bug moment at all. She flew home when Minthe and Hades kissed. But apperently Demeter didn’t know? I guess I don’t remember her flying in the mortal realm but her flying didn’t seem like a big moment, none of the other characters seemed surprised by it.

“Answer mine first!” When i got to that line I reread some of it just to find where the question was. That line normally matters when you’ve already asked the question not if you haven’t gotten there yet. Like of course Demeter is gonna be worried and ask a million questions.

I know the pomegranate pin is gonna be important but I felt the focus on it was a little too much, like an excuse not to cover more this chapter. Because honestly it felt like 5 minutes of the plot was covered in this chapter. 

10. So uh, whats up with Hades weird ass comments... Like "Persephone you look beautiful and if someone says otherwise they can go play on the highway" ???

Because Persephone looking good during a murder trial is clearly the most important thing here.

Also, Perse's response to the reporter who asked her about her friendship with Hades. I mean, on one hand Persephone is right, her "friendship" (or whatever it is they have going on) is nobodies business but her own - but at the same time, its kinda also the underworld denizens right to know in the sense that their future leadership could be affected so they might want to know whats going on if their getting a new co-ruler / Queen that they will be subjects of. They probably will want to know who Persephone is, should she and Hades get married because it's very likely that when (cause lets be real its a 'when' not 'if' they get married) they do get married that Persephone will inherit half the title.

So, eh?

[midnightsnyx]

Consequences - Matthew Tkachuk: part 6

summary: you absolutely hate Matthew Tkachuk so it’s just your luck when you wind up pregnant with his child. 

a/n: well... here it is lol 2(or 3?) weeks late. sorry for the wait, this chapter was just a bitch to write and every time i thought i was done, i wasn’t happy with it & i didn’t wanna post just for the sake of posting. but i stayed up until 2 a.m. to finish this, so technically it is sunday so im posting on schedule lol

im not sure how many parts are left to this story, maybe two or three + an epilogue but i haven’t decided yet. 

also, this gif made me feel things 😂

word count: 2.1k (i wish they were longer too but im doing the best i can😩)

warnings: none other than a couple swear words

Part 6

29 weeks

“What are you doing?”

“Researching how to murder someone and get away with it.” You mutter, typing where to buy a tiger in Google.

Becca gives you a wary look and sits next to you. “Everything okay?”

“No!” You groan in frustration, tossing your phone on the coffee table. “Matthew is driving me insane.”

She frowns. “Is he being an ass?”

“He’s being nice. Too nice.” You grumble, ignoring when Becca chuckles. “It’s like he’s trying to make up for missing the doctor’s appointment even though I told him I forgive him.”

Becca raises an eyebrow at you and you try to ignore her pointed look. “Do you though?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask defensively.

“You’re different around him now and I’m sure he’s noticed. It’s like you don’t trust him.”

You start to deny her accusation but stop to think about it. Were you more cautious around Matt lately? You certainly didn’t let yourself depend on him for things that you had been before, too afraid that he would let you down. You wanted to, but there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you that he’s let you down before and there’s always a chance he will again.

It’s as if Becca can read your mind because she shrugs. “You should be honest with him.”

However, something you’ve learned recently is that too much honestly can get you in trouble.

. . .

Sending Matt a text that said we need to talk, probably wasn’t the best approach because it took him approximately fifteen minutes to show up at your apartment and his is a half hour drive away from yours.

So his windblown hair and wide eyes really weren’t a surprise when you opened your front door.

“So, I think I should have worded that text a little better.”

“You think?” He huffs, walking past you when you step aside. He doesn’t even bother to take his shoes or jacket off, walking straight to the living room and turning to look at you.

“I’m sorry. For whatever I did.” He says and you groan.

“That’s the problem! Stop being sorry for things. It’s driving me nuts.”

He frowns and looks at you in confusion. “So… you don’t want me to be sorry for things?”

“I don’t want you to not be sorry for things, I just want you to stop being sorry for everything. It’s like you’re walking on eggshells around me.”

“I’m just trying to make-”

“Make up for missing the appointment.” you say, finishing his sentence. “I know.” your hand falls to your stomach and you sigh. “We’re going to be parents in less than three months. We need to start trusting each other.”

Matt slowly walks over to you and reaches out for your hand which you let him hold. His thumb rubs across the back of it and he nods.

“You’re right.”

You grin and lightly punch his shoulder with your free hand. “Of course I am. When am I ever wrong?”

He smiles, pulling you in for a hug and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You ignore the way it makes your heart race because the last thing you need right now is your feelings for him to get even more confusing when you’re both finally on the same page.

Things are good now and you can’t risk messing it up.

. . .

31 weeks

He’s like a kid in a candy store, you’ve realized as you follow Matt around buy buy BABY. He has two carts, one already stocked full of things and the other slowly being filled. You stopped keeping count of how much everything costed an hour ago because the number started to make you queasy.

“He has enough clothes, Matty.” You whine, taking note of how Matt trips over his feet when you call him by that nickname. “and he’ll grow out of them before he even gets a chance to wear them.”

“Last one, I swear.” He says, holding up an outfit. “C’mon, how fucking cute is he going to look in this?”

“If his first word is a swear word, I’m going to kill you.” You mutter, taking the outfit from him and tossing it in the cart. Matt just grins and rests a hand on your stomach, hoping the baby will kick.

“How’s Joey?”

“Grayson is doing just fine.”

“We’re never going to come to an agreement on a name, are we?” he asks and you smile sweetly.

“Nope.”

He laughs and starts walking towards the checkouts.

“Did my mom tell you that they’re coming to visit?” He asks and you nod, recalling your conversation with Chantal. She’d called you first to make sure you were okay with the entire Tkachuk clan showing up. She knows how stressful pregnancy is and didn’t want to overwhelm you.

But you were ecstatic when she asked if it was okay for them to visit. You’ve grown to depend on her for any pregnancy questions over the past seven months and even when you needed some regular advice for everyday things, you sometimes texted her.

“Yeah, it’s Wednesday, right?”

Matt nods, smiling politely at the cashier as he starts loading every thing on the conveyor belt. You can tell that she’s a hockey fan by the way her eyes light up when she recognizes who he is.

“I’ve been meaning to ask if you can pick them up from the airport?” He asks, catching you off guard. “Their plane lands around noon and I won’t be back until later that night and I don’t really want them to have to take a cab.”

You’re a little surprised that he’s asking you to do this instead of paying someone or asking a close friend to do it instead. It’s an odd feeling, realizing that he trusts you with his family.

“Yeah, I’d love to.” You tell him and his smile warms you to the bone.

. . .

You show up to the airport forty-five minutes early because you can’t decide if you should wait in the SUV for Matt’s family, or meet them in the airport. Would it be weird to wait for them inside like you would with your own friends or family? You double check your phone to make sure that Matt did tell them it was you picking them up because how weird would it be if they were expecting him only to find you waiting.

You’re definitely over thinking it but you find yourself standing at the gates when their plane lands.

Chantal is the first person you see and her face lights up and she scurries over to you, pulling you in for a soft hug.

“Oh, look at you!” She gushes, taking your hands in hers and holding you at arms length. “You’re glowing.”

Glowing isn’t exactly the word you would use because as much as you tried to look nice to pick them up, you’re still seven months pregnant, sweating because of the jacket you have on and most definitely are wearing odd shoes because you can no longer see your feet and Matt wasn’t here to check for you.

But you blush nonetheless, letting Keith, Taryn, and Brady hug you before starting to walk to baggage claim.

“Thank you for picking us up.” Chantal says and you smile.

“It’s nothing,” you say, brushing it off. “You’ve done a lot for me.”

“Anything I can do to help. I know how hard it is being pregnant with your man travelling a lot.”

You want to correct her when she calls Matt your man, but you don’t want to be impolite so you just nod.

“Speaking of your man,” Brady says in a teasing voice, “what time does he get in, again?”

“Around 8.” You say, ignoring the teasing tone and changing the subject to ask Taryn how school is going. You know you’ll hear more comments about the nature of your relationship with Matt from his brother but for now, you chat with Taryn and Chantal about plans for the baby.

. . .

Matt gave you a key to his apartment when you both realized that you spent more time at his these days then you did at your own so you don’t miss the knowing looks Chantal and Keith share when you use your key to unlock Matt’s apartment. You know they can tell it’s your key and not Matt’s because he painted it your favourite colour when he gave it to you.

“So do we get a sneak peak of the nursery?” Taryn asks hopefully and you nod, gesturing for her to follow you. Matt turned one of the guest rooms in to the nursery in his apartment. You haven’t done anything with yours yet because you and Matt were starting to wonder if after the baby is born, at least for a little while, the two of you should just live together. It would certainly make things much easier.

“It’s beautiful.” Chantal says, and you can see her eyes watering a little.

“We’re going to put up letters spelling his name above the crib.”

“Oh yeah, have you guys decided on a name yet?” Keith asks, testing the sturdiness of the crib by wiggling it a little.

“No.” You mutter. “We can’t agree on anything.”

“You’ll find something you both love eventually.” Chantal reassures you. “Now, please tell me my son has food in his fridge, because I’m going to cook dinner.”

You grin, realizing that she too knows how bad Matt is at keeping his fridge stocked. Before you started spending so much time here, you would be lucky if he had eggs in the fridge.

. . .

Matt arrives home just as dinner is cooked and you get to witness what a typical Tkachuk night must look like. There’s lots of chirps thrown but you can tell how close this family is and how much they care about each other. Especially when it comes to Matt and his mom and sister. He treats them like gold and it warms your heart to see it.

After dinner, you volunteer to clean up and you’re surprised when Keith offers to help. You’ve only spoken to him a few times before today and you don’t feel as close to him as you do with Chantal so it’s quiet while the two of you clear up the dishes.

Keith breaks the silence after a couple minutes, turning to look at you.

“I know Matthew can be a handful… but don’t give up on him, okay?”

You’re surprised to hear this coming from Keith because you were truthfully expecting Taryn or Brady to say something about it. Every time you and Matthew touched or spoke to each other, you noticed the knowing looks and soft smiles from the other Tkachuk family members.

It was like they knew something that neither you nor Matthew did.

You’re not sure what exactly to say so you just nod.

“I won’t.” You promise, realizing that you truly mean it.

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 15 reactions; *nobby nobbs voice* ‘s all gone a bit percychological, sir

 - so from both chapter 6 and now this: rick famuyiwa is incredible at portraying prolonged discomfort and tension (and also at getting din’s endless love for that baby across through the stress of being separated from him. this is the very first episode with no baby in it at all, isn’t it? wow that’s a heartbreaking milestone to reach im crying)

I liked this episode SO MUCH but I had to pause it pretty often and take a breather because it all made me so viscerally uncomfortable on din’s behalf -- not just the armour and having to take the helmet off and be seen for the (almost, ilu IG-11) first time in decades, people keep touching him in this episode when he clearly doesn’t want them to but can’t stop it and it makes me want to claw my own skin off in sympathy, it’s so awful. that’s really neat film making to manage to keep that tension steady almost all the way through!!! 

honestly this episode felt a little bit like psychological horror, with the cheering storm troopers and din in the wrong armour and clearly not digging it and there’s the palpable absence of baby and that ever present dread of being Perceived when you’re not ready for it; everything’s turned upside down from how it should be. and it’s playing with that discomfort both in the main character and in us, the audience, in having the familiar be made unfamiliar and also introducing these questions that shake up everything (that feeling you get of ‘but... if it’s not the helmet, and not the armour, but there’s his face, but we’ve only seen that face once before so it’s still basically new to us, is this... is this still him. is this still Dad’ (oooh I wonder if we’re... sort of getting some of the ??? the baby would be feeling about it too?) we’ve all imprinted on that t-shaped visor like little baby birds, and this was a very clever episode to break us out of that and start to really get used to the thought of him having several faces that are real simultaneously, in a way, and not just a voice. it’s all very smart and interesting and I’m sure I’ll have a lot of incoherent thoughts about this in the weeks to come lol)    

- the actual reason din can’t take off the helmet is that if people were able to see his wide confused puppy eyes they would no longer find it in themselves to send him on long arduous side missions and would help him immediately just so he’d feel better, and that would rob us of like 80% of the content for this show 

mayfeld in this episode: clearly a casualty of this. he literally sees one glimpse of the vulnerability there and then within five seconds goes on to materialize a few redeeming character traits after being a complete jackass for an episode and a half. (I mean. he was 100% still an imperial so I’m a bit ‘hm.’ about how easily especially cara let him off the hook, but with the way it was set up I guess it would have been quite shitty of them to just throw him back in prison so I mean I GUESS. I would be endlessly grateful someone got my awkward bff out of there alive and well too I suppose)

- I actually think din’s sense/integrity of self has gotten so much stronger and more resilient (though probably still quite fragile pls handle with care precious cargo within); if this had happened in the first season I think it might honestly just have killed him (and if it weren’t for IG-11 it probably would have lol)

- can you beLIEVE din is so bad at lying that they literally should plan for contingencies over it fjkasdlhfskajdhfsdj     

- very grateful for the scene with the spear throw that’s basically there to reassure us ‘uh-huh, he absolutely knows how to use it, don’t worry about that part at least’

I want to make a whole post about that fight scene, though, it’s just so GOOD! there’s so much storytelling and characterization in it! even out of the armour din has some real hand to hand MOVES!! he clearly came out of that aching all over, he can barely get back in his seat!!!

- so what I’m mainly taking away from this is that din absolutely cuts his own hair and you know what? he does a good job considering the conditions he has to work under, I love him  

I still find it so goddamn darling that he meticulously maintains that little mustache/stubble combo under there even when there’s every reason to believe no one will ever see it 

I suppose we can also gather that he did not ask cobb about whatever insane feat of magic he’s come up with to avoid helmet hair, but I don’t care looking a bit frazzled and tousled is exactly right for him (he’s so put together when he’s in the armour and a MESS when he’s out of it and I  l o v e  it) 

- boba fett is honestly so fucking hot in this I don’t know what to do with myself haha. he’s so CALM and CALCULATED and COLLECTED in his newly painted armour and he’s GOT THIS and he made that ‘I’ve got one of those faces. one of jango’s many, many, many faces’ joke and he’s so thicc now, he looks like he could easily lift me over his head with one hand and he’s just quietly steady and undramatically supportive and sdalfhsdjhfsa 

- ...din does know who the clone troopers were, right. I mean of course he does. he has to. but does he though. I’m sure he does and just wasn’t thinking. 

- no matter how stressful it was I’m still really grateful that in the end taking the helmet off was something din got to do himself -- it’s under some duress, but it’s still his choice and for the sake of the baby, and almost in two more manageable steps between putting on the storm trooper gear for a different helmet before taking it off altogether. it’s not something done to him by gideon, for example, that would be. so much yuckier and worse. he still has that control and agency intact, even if it’s been tested really hard, and now gideon doing that doesn’t hold the exact same nightmarish power anymore because there’s already a little space opened in din’s mind for different things it can mean, if you see what I mean. I’m not sure I see what I mean actually I just have a lot of feelings haha. so I guess thank you mayfeld for being decent about it and helping him towards that realization that he can still be himself outside these really really inflexible structures he’s set up around himself for like. stability and keeping himself upright for a really long time, and that even someone halfway decent won’t disrespect the boundaries he still has about it at any given moment. man there’s a lot in this episode isn’t there

- the sigh din gave when he saw even more pirates coming and knew he had to get back up... never has a single moment in cinema better captured how I feel about being alive. most relatable man in the world din djarin

- it was really cruel of them to make me listen to din’s dead bleak voice say ‘the child is gone’ again, it wrecks my heart every goddamn time 

- again... I wish carano wasn’t Like That in real life because the cara & fennec scenes should have been everything I could ever dream. ah well fennec was still wonderful and if I just allow myself to think in-universe for a few seconds it was really touching that din would entrust cara with his entire armour, that’s some prime BrOTP energy right there

I love that we got two female characters who were just allies and working together, no competition or nothin’. listen the bar is low but it’s nice to see something actually leap gracefully over it as well lol

- this was one of those with some pretty big open plot holes (why, exactly, would a scan of a completely unknown face be helpful to get into this classified system lol), but a) I don’t care, the emotional storyline was so sound it doesn’t really matter and b) eh handwave handwave let’s say mayfeld programmed that little stick with the good shit and overrode the code saying there needed to be an identity match within the system, it’s all fine 

- I know I joke a lot about this but din really is one of the most relatable characters I’ve ever had. just watching him struggle with eye contact and going pretty much nonverbal under enough stress is like. wow a bit close to home there could we, perhaps, nOT?? (honestly though these are trauma/anxiety things I really don’t see portrayed a lot, especially in protagonists, it’s so odd but healing to see it in a character I love and who’s EXTREMELY competent in many other settings)

- din repeating gideon’s speech back to him word for word (except for the crucial detail that he calls grogu ‘him’ instead of ‘it’ 😭😭😭) and saying nothing else is truly Everything. I’ve said some stuff about din’s deliberate and thoughtful relationship to language in the past and this is such an amazing example of it; he’s remembered that pitch perfect all this time, he’s kept it around in his head and mulled it over and then redeployed it to change the meaning of it completely from dehumanization to love. can you. can you even imagine. and it’s yet another example of his hilarious wonderful petty streak and I can never get enough of it fasjhdfkjalhs    

- din always noticing the children first and foremost Y_______Y (the kids running by is the only thing you see him sort of acknowledge when he’s walking into the covert in season 1 too)  

- please... please I just need him to be able to hold that baby against his chest all safe and sound and okay again I can’t it’s........ hh

NO SEASON END CLIFF HANGER ON THIS I AM  B E G G I N G  YOU 

- I would be having some thoughts about how much space there actually is on slave 1 and what that might mean (do not kill boba again please don’t kill him again), but honestly there’s only ‘GET BABY’ hours in here now, I can’t speculate about anything

[a-hundred-jewels]

what, you egg? - chapter 1

Ao3

Fandom: The Penderwicks Series - Jeanne Birdsall

Words: 1408

Tags: Transgender, Coming of Age, (i guess??), Vingettes, Series of Moments, kind of in a similar vein to "Sparkle and Fade", which is that really good penderwicks fic about skye by spark writer on ff.net, the title is a multilayered joke that im very proud of, i see all you trans shakespeare enthusiasts and i love you

Summary:

Rosalind Penderwick has known that she is a girl for as long as she can remember. It's just the rest of the world that needs to catch up.

Or: The childhood of Rosalind Penderwick told in a series of vingettes and short stories as she navigates choosing her name, dealing with her mother's death, and being true to herself.

Fic under the cut (or on Ao3)

chapter 1: names and pizza

The notes were scratchy, drifting through the walkman on the grass. Pressing the headphones closer to her small ears, Leonarda--

“Nope.” She sat up abruptly, and the headphones fell onto the grass. “Nope, nope, nope.”

“Which one was that?” Her sister, Skye, with blond hair and long, lanky limbs, sat up next to her, grass stains smudged on her cheek like face paint.

“Leonarda.”

“Oh. That’s one of the ones Jane picked, right?”

“Yeah.” She flopped back down to the grass and sighed.

“I can tell her.” Skye hugged her knees to her chest. She was six, but tall for her age, almost as tall as her older sister.

“Thanks.” It wasn’t that Leonarda wasn’t a good name. It just wasn’t right. Jane would understand.

Headphones in again, Fleetwood Mac drifted into the girl’s ears and she shut her eyes.

___

“Jane?” On hurried footsteps, the girl ran down the stairs. “Jane, what’s that smell?” No answer. She sped down the hall to the kitchen.

Jane was sitting cross legged on the kitchen table with her nose buried in a book, apparently oblivious to the awful smell surrounding her. She looked up at the sound of feet. “What about Lucy Pevensie?” she said, her eyes shiny like they were still seeing the sparkling snow of Narnia, instead of her older sister standing at the kitchen door.

“What? No, I don’t think I can name myself Lucy Pevensie. Jane, what happened to the pizza? And where’s Skye?”

“What about Susan Pevensie?”

“Jane!” Jane sighed and closed her book with small hands. Patiently, as though she was being asked a very silly question, she said, “Daddy is on the phone because Mommy called from the hospital.”

“Yes, I know that part. You and Skye were supposed to finish making the pizza and wait for Daddy to put it in the oven. Where’s Skye?”

“She’s washing the cheese off her soccer keets.” Jane smoothed her purple skirt over her lap and reached for her book again, but her sister stopped her.

“Jane, why is the oven on at four-hundred degrees--oh my god!” She turned the oven off and yanked its door open. Smoke poured out, and the smoke alarm shrieked in protest. Behind her, Jane started to cry, partly out of her fear of the smoke alarm and partly, the girl suspected, from the shame of being caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. Before anything else could be done, Skye ran in from the bathroom.

“I’m coming Jane! Oh god, please don’t cry! Uh, I can turn the thingy off! Whatever you do, just don’t get--oh.” Skye stopped in her tracks at the sight of her oldest sister. In her arms, Skye was carrying sopping wet soccer cleats and there was guilt written all over her face.

“Girls? What’s going on?” Their father entered the kitchen.

It was one of their father’s greatest features, the sisters thought, that upon entering a putrid-smelling kitchen with the smoke alarm blaring, Jane crying on the table, Skye hugging mysteriously wet soccer cleats to her chest, and the oldest sister standing at a smoking oven, that he knew exactly what to do. In the next couple of minutes, Skye’s cleats were laid across a towel on a radiator and Jane brought to the living room and given some cheese sticks. The father pulled the burning mess out of the oven, with his eldest two daughters watching intently.

“We thought it would just cook, Daddy,” Skye said, biting her fingernails. “We figured that we’ve seen you and Mommy do it so many times that we’d know what to do.”

“I know, honey. Just don’t use the oven again without me around.”

“Or Mommy, right?” Skye looked up at her father.

“Of course,” their father said, his face unreadable. “I know my girls are all very smart, but the oven gets so hot and I don’t want any of you to get burned, or for, uh, this to happen.”

“Okay,” Skye nodded. Her older sister was still looking at the charred pizza on the stove, though.

“I don’t understand why it smelled so bad,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“The smell. We’ve burnt pizza before, when we’re cooking with Mommy, and I don’t think it’s ever smelled that bad.”

Their father frowned. “Good observation, my dear. Skye, what cheese did you use?”

Skye’s small fae scrunched up as she thought. “I don’t know,” she said. “Jane did the cheese.”

Her sister sighed and went through to the living room, where Jane was peeling her string cheese and draping it across her book. She didn’t look up when her sister walked in but said, in a sing-songy voice, “Hello, Susan Pevensie!”

“Not Susan Pevensie, and are you actually going to eat any of that?”

“Maybe,” Jane said. She dropped a strand in her mouth.

Her sister sighed. “Jane, Skye says you put the cheese on the pizza.”

“Uh huh. I did the cheese and Skye did the sauce.” Jane began dropping the rest of her cheese strings into her mouth.

“What kind of cheese did you use?”

“The tiny cheese.”

“The grated cheese in the blue bag that Daddy left on the table for you?”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t like the tiny cheese in the blue bag. I got the red bag out of the fridge.”

Her sister frowned. “We don’t have any more of the red bag. Daddy and I finished it yesterday when we made macaroni.”

“It was really far back.”

The girl bit the inside of her cheek. “Um, Jane, what did the cheese look like?”

Jane thought hard, then swallowed her cheese strips and proceeded to peel more. “Tiny,” she said.

“Was it a funny color?” The girl tried to keep the desperation out of her voice.

“It was speckly.”

The girl sighed. “Jane, why did you use speckly cheese?”

Jane’s lower lip began to wobble. “I thought it would be like how big cheese with holes in it is better than big cheese without holes in it. Tiny cheese in the red bag is the best kind, but speckled tiny cheese in the red bag is even better!” Little tears were rolling down Jane’s cheeks and she started to chew on her hair.

Her sister took her hand and led her into the kitchen to see their father peeling an apple into a long spiral.

“Daddy I put the speckled cheese in the red bag onto the pizza and now everything smells icky!” Jane wailed, running for the comfort of her father. He picked her up and held her close to his chest, her small arms wrapped tight around his neck as she cried into his shoulder.

“Daughter of mine, could you open the windows?” Mr. Penderwick laid his hand on the girls head, her messy curls poking up between his fingers. That’s what he’d taken to calling her -- “daughter of mine.” He’d smiled when she told him that she didn’t have a name yet, but she didn’t want to use her old one, and said that he was sure whatever she thought of would be perfect. He’d also lent her the book of baby names that he and her mother had used to name her and her sisters, years and years ago. The girl treasured it -- but only the first half, which she looked through whenever she felt brave enough. She never looked at the boy’s names, though, not wanting to see her old name -- her first name -- circled in black pen by her mother from all those years ago. And anyway, there were plenty of beautiful names in the girls section. The boy’s section didn’t need to matter.

She opened the kitchen window and leaned as far out as she could, enjoying the cool breeze on her face, and a smell other than burnt, moldy cheese.

In the end, the Penderwicks did have pizza that night. Soon after disposing of the mess Skye and Jane had tried to make, Mr. Penderwick ordered from Antonio’s pizza, letting Skye do the talking the way she liked to.

By the time the order came (one large cheese pizza and one medium pepper and mushroom pizza), the nights events were almost forgotten. The girl sat down at the kitchen table next to Jane and took the blue plate her father passed her with two pieces of cheese pizza on it.

Despite everything, it was a happy evening on Gardam street.

[madfantasy]

Dear blogging

How are you today? Sending all the good vibes towards you. I feel much at ease as I had payed for Internet last minute just now (its thanks to you🙏💛) and happy to say Mani will be with you for another month🌟

(Just a small reminder I'm open for commissions to save up for the next one🍀)

Im just going to blab bout life and me art as usual, if you graciously don't mind c':

☆ I'm much at ease, it's the raining seasons in the bare deserts and I'm loving it(Actually, just came in from losing it a bit under the rain, heh) Not the part where it leaked into my carpeted room whilst getting fiercer :' I'm not particularly fond of cold weather, either. I almost enter dull stage of hibernation, being tightly wrapped with blankets and constantly breathing in cold air. I like to muse being born on December does a cold blooded creature make, hehe. But the quiet is much appreciated. They are almost drowsy all the time and I've got the chance to listened to lots of Hercule Poirot. Ironically my last random chapter was him having an old fashioned English Christmas, and it gave me a crave for puddings I haven't got the slightest idea how they taste lo'

I've missed the sun for almost a month and a half now, in much arguments over restricting the yard at first, but now it was a sleep issue. I finally woken up today to see the sun and felt very much.. "yes, I'm in my element " brighter feel

Speaking of which; I dedicate this song for you dears 💛💛🔥

And also this bug i found if ur interested

☆ I've also, naturally, been sketch-storming with my new tablet! I was simply tittering over all the new discoveries I've been making, while also being gobsmacked at how much painfully sore some side are lacking, and some I had no clue what I'm supposed to do with it, like confused grumpy grand-er

For example;

I love how crystal clear it is, but I guess I can now see the brush's repeating circle pixel and pattern which makes it too artificial for my taste and hender my trust in making strokes. I suppose its nice to zoom out just to be sure my process is fine or whatever idk :'

The softwares DO NOT lag when the canvas is big! Ugh, means I can fatten up the size of my pictures easily. But that's surely eats up the storage, and I found out last minute that ipad doesn't have sd slots, unless you have to buy an adapter. Which is the main lack in this stuff. Everything costs. You want to sneeze while holding the tablet? You can't till u buy a permit.

So yeah, my favourite drawing program there, Clip Studio Paint, is can only used by annual/ monthly subscription licence, while its one-time licences is only for windows, means having to by different licences for different systems. So I'm using the free month trail to get by for now, so be sure to read carefully which on is which before purchasing. ProCreate is a one time purchase, tho. And it has TIME LAPS VIDS idk why I go crazy but I love the fact that I can record my art with no effort or pause (cuz I can never sit 1 hr continuously, honestly), and you can see my horribly-edited vid practices on tiktok or insta as @MadFantasy_ . But as we were saying, they even more double storage intake hehe. Love how ridiculously fancy the lines smoothing on it, I can act up as a calligrapher easy and I'm a joke at it! Also I'm thinking of trying Craft Pro as well, is a one time purchase too. Will go through it in details when I cover all the corners cx

"Are you with me or are we together "

Sharing files between my pc and ipad is too much work, found an easy way I'm loving already, go to SnapeDrop dot net on both pc and ipad and basically all the devices on your network can share stuff! Instead of me pluging it and turning the app or sending by mail, ugh

If you're used to shortcuts, good luck being fast on it unless you get a keyboard, or in my case, screen on keyboard im looking an app for, and by mentioning apps

Regional restrictions, I couldn't download tumblr cause its not available in my region 8L

And alot of other things to be expected, really with more to share if its not much of an annoyance cx

I hope days brings you more ease and what much you desire my dears, happy everything you celebrate 🌋🔥🔥💛🙌

Always sending my love

Mani

3.12.2020 8 pm

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 18

AO3

Beta reader is @thesnadger!

Communication is established.

Martin has a job to do.

After months of near constant solitude and a week of above-average social interaction, Martin had to deal with an unhappy middle: Peter, with no warning or pattern, would appear at the lighthouse at whatever time seemed to suit his fancy. Bright and early one day, late lunch the next, twice already on Thursday, all for reasons Martin couldn’t wonder aloud at for fear of seeming too curious.

No alone time meant no poking his nose around. Not that he was supposed to, keeping his head down and all that, but sitting around wasn’t doing his nerves any favors.

It was easy to imagine Peter hiring someone to tail him home, so Martin never dared to take a new path or turn for that whole week. When he got home he stayed home. When he got to work he stayed at work. And when he walked in either direction he most certainly never took the sharp turn toward the Fairchild home, no matter how intensely curious he got.

So, once the group text was actually formed early in the next week (Tim: it was a promise not a threat!), Martin had taken part in the first of many nearly identical conversations. They boiled down to:

Martin: peters been weird, cant predict when he’ll be around

Sasha: we’re still pretty locked up, will let you know if things change

Jon: Elias has been elusive but I’m working on it.

Tim: can’t keep us busy forever

Besides some scattered thoughts and jokes primarily from Tim that got Martin through the more tedious aspects of the work day, the messages were all vague statements telling him “soon, we promise” and random tidbits from him of Peter being weird. The whirlwind of progress from the week prior was over. Waiting and sitting on his hands was all Martin had left.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

Jon had a lot more to say over phone calls than text. That much was clear by Tuesday night as Jon called to elaborate on his frustrations with Elias and continue other topics they’d discussed the conversion prior. The burden of starting the call and coming up with a topic was blessedly off Martin's shoulders, and it made the idea of regular conversations seem more possible.

While it was a relief to still talk to someone at length, Martin knew he would run out of things to say before long. He had no stories from the university he never attended, and Jon had been witness to Martin’s strangest place of work. The more he could deflect personal questions and get Jon to talk about himself, the longer it would take for Martin to be revealed as... well. Dull.

Still, he hoped that Jon would call again soon. If Martin was around for it.

It was Thursday. Peter had been around twice already with no warning. It was getting to be mid-afternoon and he still had a duty to perform. That part of his contract hadn’t changed.

Martin groaned into his desk. It wasn’t fair to have his most mindless and daydream-conducive task twisted into something horrifying. Some little part of him hoped that Sasha’s reasoning from the week before would hold some water, that his knowledge of what was coming would somehow keep him aware of his surroundings.

There was one way to find out, as much as it made his stomach squirm, and the thought of doing so with Peter around was enough to propel Martin out of his chair and toward the cleaning closet.

He began to mop the main floor with a fervor. If Sasha was right and he managed to avoid getting sucked into a wall, Peter absolutely could not witness it. He would have to move fast, even if it scared the shit out of him. And really, was it so scary? It wasn’t something he remembered, and it never hurt him. Probably. He would at least feel pain if something had happened, right?

He had always been fine. A bit sore from lugging things up the stairs, but otherwise nothing had harmed him as far as he knew. What was he afraid of? A person that could watch him as he went about his work in a haze? Or the wall refusing to release him after he entered, trapping him without ever releasing his mind from-

Oh, no, his heart was racing, his hands shaking more by the second. Swallowing had become more difficult, dry throat and a tongue that felt three times too big. Martin walked toward the stairs, trying to keep water level in the mop bucket. The water level was the only evidence that he’d lost time, and he wasn’t going to do this without something to show for it.

Letting out a breath that sent shivers down his arms, Martin placed the mop down and took out his phone.

Martin: so im going upstairs now? to do the mop thing?

Martin: gonna try and use an old analog tape recorder like you all said. any final thoughts would be appreciated

He waited, growing more concerned by the second that he would get no answer, but finally someone responded.

Jon: Sounds like you’re all set. Be sure to send a message here once you’ve gotten back out again, or if you don’t go in at all.

Tim: yeah any situation where your feet are on solid ground really

Jon: You said before that Peter was around. Is it safe to assume he’s left?

Martin: ok will do. he’s not here now so im getting it over with so he wont see anything weird

Jon: Okay, good luck and let us know when you’re out.

Martin: thanks

Sasha: if things start to seem off, retreat back downstairs and call us immediately

Tim: ^^^

Martin: okay, talk to you all soon

Before Martin pocketed his phone, he saw Tim leaving a string of thumbs-up and broom emojis, and as he began up the stairs the occasional vibration in his pocket revealed that something was happening past his goodbye. It wouldn’t be good for the recording if he kept it on like that, but he had no intention of silencing the phone or the people on the other end. He clicked on the tape recorder, placed it in his pocket, and began his climb.

The bucket and mop were as unwieldy as ever, and for not the first time he thought about how nice an elevator would be for his knees before shaking his head. This was a time for focus. Drifting thoughts were a one-way ticket to lost time in a much more literal sense than usual.

He was walking up a rather repetitive staircase, but every once in a while there would be an imperfection that reminded him of where he was in space. A crack here, some chipped paint there. Looking around there were plenty of place markers. His feet were on stairs that were the same as they always were.

About a quarter of the way up, this method began to make his stomach flip. Once, he looked too far ahead, too much up. So he kept his eyes down. He’d been keeping to the inside of the stairs, but his gaze drifted too far and oh, no, another spiral leading down which was worse.

This building, he thought, didn’t appreciate him looking too hard. Fine. He could stay present without a visual anchor. There was still buzzing coming from his pocket, thought less often than before. At least they were still around. If anything happened, they would know quickly and be able to do something. Sure, he hadn’t seen them solve any problems yet, but there was enough confidence between the three of them that they had to have some level of competence.

Martin looked down at the bucket in his hand and held back a scream.

Instead, he hissed at the thing, “When?! We aren’t even halfway up! I let myself think for two seconds and- oh, dammit!” He dug into his pocket for the tape recorder, but it was nowhere to be found.

Martin turned toward the wall, any fear being quickly replaced by petty indignation. “Hey! I paid for that! You can’t just- as if you even need to pick my pockets when you’re a big, stupid voice recorder all on your own!”

Besides the echo of his own voice bouncing up and away from him (mocking him, probably) nothing bothered to respond. He had half a mind to toss the bucket and mop down the stairs for the sake of his aching arms, but he resumed his walk with a quickened pace. If Peter hadn’t come back yet, and it didn’t sound like he had, Martin would do something while he had the time.

At the top of the stairs, Martin opened up the group chat just long enough to type one message.

Martin: lighthouse stole my tape recorder

Then he stuffed the mobile away and made a beeline for the horrible machine he’d been faced with every day that week. His phone buzzed with incoming messages, the motion in his pocket slowly becoming more of a reassurance.

First, he took the time to look at it as a whole. The back couldn’t be reached with it pressed up against the inner wall. Did it make sense for it to be put there? Unsurprisingly, when he’d finally looked up how lighthouses were supposed to work, the panel itself was nowhere to be found as part of the process. What a surprise!

When he’d started the new order of button pushing that past Friday, he’d tried to listen for the mechanisms behind it, but he didn’t know enough about normal mechanics let alone whatever this was to make any judgments. He’d cursed himself then for not paying attention and asking more questions at the start, but there was no helping it.

Really, the fact that he’d been hired at all should’ve been a dead giveaway.

The dial that had once allowed Evan to speak was entirely cut out from the process, a disconnected thing that gave no feedback after being twisted. Did that mean the entire cause was lost? Or had its function been moved to another piece, or a series of pieces-

“Ah, Martin, thought I might find you up here.”

Martin was going to die.

It was a thought that came unbidden, the only clear thing in his head as he turned to find Peter Lukas climbing the last stair without a sound coming from his less than newly polished leather shoes. The soles should’ve made a clicking sound.

Peter looked at him and smiled. “Scared you, didn’t I? Always been told I have quiet feet.”

“Yeah, you did. Wasn’t very nice.” He couldn’t keep the slight shake out of his voice. His hand reached out and grasped the mop’s hand.

“Not for you maybe, but the look on your face is very funny.” The smile grew just a little more cheerful.

“Sure. Well, I’m-”

“Cleaning, right,” Peter said, pressing a hand to his forehead as if remembering something. “Glad to see the last smudges from them wiped away, if I’m honest. More people, more mess for you to clean up later.”

“I suppose, yeah. Need to clean anyway, though.” To emphasize his point, Martin began to clean the floor around and away from the panel. “Did you…”

“Oh, no, nothing really. Just wanted to check in a bit more after all the... disruption from before. And to make you jump a little. Need to make my own fun, sometimes. The week has been dreadful, Martin.”

And you’re spreading the feeling around. “Hm,” Martin replied, as dismissive and uninterested as he could muster.

Martin could hear the smile in Peter’s voice and knew he’d failed to dampen the man’s strange energy. “Yes, well, I’ll be off. When-” And then Peter was interrupted by a prolonged buzzing in Martin’s pocket. “Need to answer that?”

Shrugging, Martin continued to mop and kept his eyes to the ground. “Weird spam call, probably. Mum wouldn’t call my mobile.”

“Mm, good answer. Company time and all that.” With an odd stretching motion, Peter glanced out the window. “Oh, and what were you doing when I came up?”

“Stretches,” Martin replied abruptly. He coughed and evened out his voice. “The walk up is terrible.”

“And that’s why I have you do it for me!” Peter’s laugh came out rough and strangely quiet, a noise that settled under Martin’s skin. The old man’s face twisted into an unreadable smile, something that underneath the mirth felt like a taunt. “But enough of that. Don’t know if I’ll be back again today. And keep that thing quiet if you’re not expecting work calls. Nothing worse than being contacted from anywhere in the world at any time, truly.” The smile seemed to sink into a genuine, almost childlike frown, and Peter slinked back down the stairs without another sound.

After about five minutes of mopping, Martin released the hand and collapsed on the couch. Stupid, stupid, of course he would come right as he was about to fiddle with things.

The prolonged vibrations had ceased some minutes ago, and Martin finally opened the group chat to see what he’d missed. There were several messages from earlier in which Tim and the others had continued to chat. Then his message and general confusion and concern which Martin had expected. Finally, a missed call from Sasha, followed by a text.

Sasha: do we need to get over there?

Blinking, Martin considered the message. Was that an option?

Martin: no everything is over

Martin: peter came in, had to lie about it being a spam call

Jon: of course he did

Sasha: well, call when you think it’s safe

Tim: and maybe check your pockets

Immediately, Martin patted himself down, though nothing seemed amiss. His phone was of course still on him, and there was nothing new.

Martin: everything else is the same. the lighthouse wasnt nice enough to trade something for my tape recorder

Tim: :(

Jon: Sasha is right. We’ll do better if we talk over the phone later when you’re sure to be out of Lukas’ sight. Keep inventory of your things and call us when you can.

Hesitating for a moment, Martin looked down at the winding stairs.

Martin: if you had to get here how long would it take

Sasha: about two hours if i’m driving

Martin: right

Martin: okay. ill call you soon

--

The same conclusion was made as before, only moreso. Martin would keep his head down with exactly zero poking around. The lockscreen of his mobile would show no notifications to mitigate the risk of eavesdropping (what if his phone was stolen by his evil workplace?), and unless there was some sort of emergency no messages or calls were to be made during his work hours.

Peter certainly knew something was going on. There was no point in pretending otherwise. Martin would have to hope they were both committed to playacting their routine for as long as the others needed to get back and do something.

The thought dug a pit in his stomach. Pretending that everything was exactly the way it had been was just... being alone for most of the day. He’d enjoyed receiving random messages at work and the sudden movement in his pocket that meant someone was around. It was a normal thing for people, texting when they’re supposed to be working. Pity he’d mucked it up so fast.

Long after he’d prepared for sleep, Martin sat on his bed with mobile in hand. His contact list was so short that he didn’t even need to scroll to find Jon’s name. It was right under an old manager he’d never deleted from his contacts.

His thumb twitched over the call button. He wasn’t going to do it, but it was a nice thought. They’d already spoken at length today, with everyone showing enough concern that Martin had needed the alone time afterwards to breath.

That being said, enough time had passed for him to be itching for any conversation he could get, and he wanted to talk to Jon because he still didn’t quite get Sasha, and conversation with Tim tended to run short because Martin didn’t know how to keep things going after he’d dumped all of his grievances on the guy the week prior.

And he liked talking to Jon. And maybe it was because Martin understood a topic Jon cared deeply about, but Jon seemed to like talking to Martin, too.

There was no call that night, and he was out 20 pounds for that tape recorder from the resale shop.

[xianglingslesbian]

way of kings, Satsuki’s moving castle (👀), Daiki’s basketball (👀👀), oh no he’s hot, and unstoppable force/immovable object pls

ah hihi! ty for the ask!! <3 this got very long so i am putting it under a cut

the way of kings

this is basically just a knb stormlight au lmaooo. i actually dont have much yet its just a vague outline and the main character placements. i also have to work out a LOT of stuff bc. heralds. i’ll list the placements i have for now!!

kaladin - hyuuga OR aomine i really cannot decide smh. EDIT HOLY SHIT MIDORIMA IS THE PERFECT KALADIN 

adolin - kise bc you cant tell me that ‘“fight me!” adolin said’ isn’t PEAK kise energy

shallan - .......izuki. puns? puns. also yay for shared insecurity complexes and refusal to address their own mental health

dalinar - kasamatsucchi <3 he has the eyebrows and the blue uniform don’t @ me

jasnah - uhh araki, solely because i didn’t wanna change au!jasnah’s gender. otherwise 100% would have been midorima

sadeas - imayoshit :) everyone flip off the manipulative bastard

renarin - kurokooooo!! okay but the idea of a person construed as weak finding their own way in the world is really similar b/w these two

sylphrena - momoi <333 syl rlly do have momoi energy tbh

i do have a couple more placements BUT idk where ur at in the series and it could be a potential spoiler so i’m gonna shut up now. tagging @serenesavagery bc i think she’d like this ily saori

satsuki’s moving castle

ok here’s an AU i actually have shit planned out for (and some chapters written) lmaooo it’s a momoi/riko howl AU!! riko = sophie + momoi = howl is rlly fun to write lol. also aomine is calcifer bc let’s be real that tiny fire demon was basically just demon!aomine. the chapter titles in this one are gold tbh i’m really proud of them -- examples are, “Do YOU Want A Charming Stranger To Sweep You Off Your Feet? [Not Clickbait]” and “Riko Aida Presents - Being Old Sucks, Part 1/? (Also, There's A Demon But That’s Not Important)”.

tiny snippet: 

Riko could feel the stirrings of heat in her cheeks as Satsuki pressed against her, arm laying on her hand. 

“Let me,” she said sweetly. Dazed, Riko did so, moving aside so Satsuki had better access to the food. 

“Hand me a couple of eggs and some more bacon, please,” Satsuki instructed. Riko complied, doing her best to keep her composure. This was the wicked wizard Satsuki, not just any pretty girl - she had to be on her guard. 

Satsuki cooked much the same way Riko did, planting a few doubts in the now-aged girl’s mind. Eggshells in the eggs, blackened bacon… perhaps her cooking really was bad.

Then again, from what she’d seen of Junpei, he did have a tendency to exaggerate.

“no its totally not gay for a girl to cook over your shoulder what do you mean” - aida riko, circa 1920 (approx. when this is set bc it follows the ghibli movie)

daiki’s basketball

yes its an aomine-kuroko roleswap yes i like torturing myself because it comes w/the bonus of inflicting this upon my readers. it’s my first multichapter, and like ewbts it’s also half posted and then i realised how shittily i’d written it so i started rewriting smh. the only redeemable bit about v1 is the summary bc it’s good for my summary standards: 

tetsu had changed. tetsu was no longer his partner. but daiki saw that same spark in kagami, and even if he wasn’t one for sappy romantic stuff like tetsu, maybe this time… maybe this time the light he picked would stay with him.

im not crying you are

a small snippet: 

“Well, you like painting. Maybe paint a basketball on the school wall or something?” Satsuki suggested absently, still looking at the giant chocolate fountain. It couldn’t hurt to go in and try it, right?

“Thanks, Satsuki.” Daiki’s voice had a sudden spark to it, and Satsuki’s eyes shot wide as she realised what she’d said.

“No - Dai, wait! You can’t-” But he’d already cut the call.

Oh, God save Satsuki Momoi.

(yes. he did actually. paint the fucking school wall. god save momoi indeed)

oh no he’s hot

this is an older idea but one i still love tbh! i have to work around the setting bc i wanna set it in not-america 😂 i have a summary written up which describes it well so i will plug it: 

Everything was in place. Zuko would have adopted Izumi by this time tomorrow; would have met the demands of his company; would be a father, the best one that he could. He had to admit he was a little more than excited - it’s not every day that you get to be a father, and especially not to a firecracker like Izumi. Now, if only Izumi’s social worker weren’t this attractive… and if only he weren’t the same man that Zuko had been absolutely, abominably horrible to the previous week.

its a zukka modern AU in which zuko is running his dad’s company after ousting ozai, and the board pressures him to get an heir. ace gay bean zuko decides he’ll adopt instead. also azula/katara subplot with katara being an intern at azula’s hospital (NOT in charge of azula tho bc that can lead to some weird power dynamics). highkey slowburn romance tbh. zukka hate each other for only a bit, but the friendzoning is unreal lmao

immovable object meets unstoppable force

this is a set of legend of korra rewrite oneshots! basically im trying to fix all the colorism, sexism and other issues + give a better rep to korrasami bc lbr we deserved more development. also side character rights <3 

i actually have posted one fic of it here so i suppose this counts as a snippet? its pema/lin hahaha yay for lesbians

--

thank you so much for this ask i just really ran away with it i get excited talking about my projects and wow now i have fuel for daiki’s basketball again so that might just be the one i finish soonest <3 

[gosh-im-short]

Prejudice Painted in Our Minds  Chapter 1

Summary: Lillian and Calum have always been at odds. The two have never been able to get along and that never doesn’t seem to be changing any time soon. But when they both learn that Calum’s sister and Lillian’s best friend, Melanie, is dating a guy they both don’t approve of, it seems they have something in common after all. 

Warnings: uh nothing so far. a mutual dislike for Kyle and some jabs at the dude 

word count: 3.6k 

a/n: okay first of all i really want to thank Hailey @talkfastromance4​ for helping me with this fic. she’s been letting me just blabber about it for a bit now and im really happy it’s finally coming through yay. i don’t have a face claim set for Lillian (unless me but lets be realistic) or Melanie so hopefully my descriptions don’t suck too bad. and hopefully the pov shifts back sense as well. anyway umm I hope you guys like it and if this flops ah uh we’ll just never speak of it

taglist: @galcalirwin​ @tea4sykes​​ (if you guys wanna read this that is)

  The steady beating of her finger beat down onto the high table as Lillian waited. Melanie was suppose to meet her for lunch, but so far the woman hadn’t arrived yet. She started to chew her lip as she brought out her phone. No notifications yet. So maybe she was on her way? Hopefully she hadn’t forgotten. A slight smile crept up onto Lillian’s face. Melanie had a habit of forgetting that is for sure. 

  But as she took another glance at the cafe’s door, she saw her best friend rushing down the sidewalk outside of the cafe. Lillian’s smile widened as Melanie opened the door making a chiming sound appear and walked in. The eighteen year old, dark skinned and black haired woman looked disheveled with her pale yellow sweater dipping down from her shoulder. She looked over and caught Lillian’s gaze before she walked over to her. Lillian looked slightly up as Melanie came and sat down at the table. 

“Sorry, I’m so late. Traffic was a pain.” Melanie exhaled as she set her skinny forearms down onto the table and rested her chin down on them. 

“It’s fine.” Lillian said with a wave of her hand as she glanced down at her friend. Melanie was on the side of... Well... dramatic. She tended to be over dramatic at times and made life seem like it was suppose to be filmed. Was it a little ridiculous sometimes? Yes. Did Lillian want to throw a table sometimes? Absolutely. But she didn’t. Why? Melanie was her best friend and if that was her best fault, well she couldn’t let that come between them. 

“Did you order yet?” Melanie asked as she rose her honey brown eyes up at her. 

“Oh no not yet.” Lillian said as she glanced at the register. “I wanted to wait for you.” A small smile came onto Melanie’s lips. 

“Well isn’t that sweet?” 

“And also make you pay for your own stuff.” Lillian decided to throw a tease at the woman. 

“Hey.” Melanie said with a grin before she reached out and ruffled Lillian’s brown hair. 

“Hey yourself.” Lillian laugher as she fixed her frizzy hair. And she just got it somewhat perfect too. Sigh. 

“It’s not my fault my parents are stingy about my allowance.” Melanie said with her signature pout. “They usually let Calum get it first.” But at the mention of her adoptive older brother, Lillian’s face fell. If you measured the amount of love that Lillian had for her best friend, then you would be able to equal that to the hate she had for Calum. Oh yes. Calum. Just the thought of his name made Lillian’s nose wrinkle. 

  While Melanie was easily the light of Lillian's life... her step brother was an entirely different subject. He was the bane of her existence to put it simply.  The one that always was in the back of her mind like a fly that was buzzing around her head. And there were times she really, really wanted to slap him. Metaphorically or physically? Both. 

“Ah. I see.” Was all that Lillian said with a slow nod. For some reason Calum always had a bone to pick with her. From the first day she met him, he was always rubbing her the wrong way. And she never did anything to him. He was just... Calum. In every annoying way he was. 

“Lilly, are you listening?” Melanie’s voice rang out into her thoughts. Lillian sat up more. 

“I- no. Sorry I wasn’t.” She apologized with a shy smile as Melanie sighed. 

“Its all right.” Melanie said with a a wave of her hand. “I was just talking nonsense anyway.” 

“Oh well umm... should we order?” Lillian offered with a tilt of her head. Her brown locks dipped down and touched her bicep. 

“Sure.” Melanie said before the two of them stood up and walked towards the cashier. 

  The café was a rather popular place. It was nestled in on a corner in the downtown part of the city. It was Lillian’s favorite place because of classical music and it served frozen coffee. Frozen coffee was far superior to iced coffee in Lillian's opinion. And coffee would always top over those disgusting liquid leaves. Ugh. She chewed on her lip as Melanie ordered a very sugary drink along with a pastry that also had a lot of sugar in it. Melanie was always that type of girl with a loud and unashamed laugh followed with a snort out of her button like nose that just made anything and everything that much funnier. The teachers in their high school had learned very quickly not to let the two of them sit together.    Once Lillian finished ordering her coffee and bagel (with cream cheese of course), she headed back to the table. Melanie was already sitting down and gazing out of the window. Her thin eyebrows were pulled together in a furrow as she stared out. Huh. Lillian sat down in front of her. She was definitely thinking of something. Lillian looked down at her miniature hands. She had discovered a while ago that if Melanie wanted to tell her something that was bothering her, oh she would definitely tell it.    A couple minutes passed in between them in which the calm and understanding quietness existed. Lillian scrolled through her phone to see what posts she was tagged in. Melanie did the same thing while chuckling to herself about something only to shove her phone into Lillian's view to show exactly what was funny (which happened a lot since Melanie laughed at sometimes the most dumbest stuff.) Lillian stayed in her seat with her ankles crossed and her forearms settled on the table until her name was called and she had to rise, mostly awkwardly because of the tall table that she had chosen.    Once seated, she situated her iced coffee and the wrapped bagel down on the table along with her napkins and knife. And just... just when she was about to bite into her cream cheesed bagel- Melanie spoke up  "So I have something to tell you." Melanie said in a sort of rushed manner. Lillian slowly set her bagel down on the wrapper.  "Uh- yeah. Shoot." She said as she gave a glance down at the unbitten bagel. Then she looked at her friend who was chewing on her bottom lip. Uh oh. This something... was going to be something it seemed.  "So uh- it's something I've been meaning to tell you for a while now." Melanie said as she clasped her hands together on the table. "You see.... there's no easy way to say this." She exhaled a laugh as she looked down and away from her. Lillian shifted in her seat uneasily. "I have a boyfriend."    Lillian's eyes went wide as she stared at her best friend. Of all the things... she... she can't be serious about this. Melanie took a chance and glanced up at her friend with an awkward smile on her face.  "Surprise?" "I... umm... wow." Lillian breathed out as she... well. It was definitely a surprise. "How long have you two been together?" "Two weeks now." Melanie answered with now a shy smile. She propped her elbow onto the table and leaned her cheek into her palm. "And he, so far, has been a dream."  "Ah... well uh- wow. This is great." Lillian said as she sat up straighter in her chair. "I'm happy for you." And she was, but... just.... she wished Melanie would have said something about it before now. "But uh..." She cleared her throat awkwardly.  "Why I didn't say anything?" Melanie finished for her. Lillian offered a short nod. "Well.... to put it simply... you wouldn't have approved of him." Lillian titled her head confused.  "What? Why not?"  "Well..." Melanie trailed off and looked to the side.  "Do I know him?" Lillian started to fill in the gaps as she leaned closer to her friend.  "Uh... yes." Melanie was fiddling with the bracelet adoring her wrist now.  "So... who is he?" Lillian asked as she studied her friend. Then... wait. "It's not Dylan right?" Melanie's brown eyes flew open as they snapped back up to her. "Because you promised you would not go back to that cheating son of a-"  "Oh- no." Melanie interrupted as she flapped her hands around like a frightened bird. "It's not Dylan. It... it's Kyle." And at that- Lillian's jaw fell.  "Kyle? The guy who was always high on powerade?" She said as she stared at her best friend in disbelief.  "Yes... but that was in high school! We're in college now." Melanie reminded her with a nod as if that made it completely fine. "Yes- but... he.... he's... Kyle." Lillian stressed out the name of the long haired, Naurto loving... man. It seemed he was more of a child most of the time. And the fact that he just looked like he did crack half of the time as well? Ugh.  "I know." Melanie said with a sigh as she looked back at her. "But he... you just don't know him." Lillian rolled her eyes.  "I know him well enough to know that I just... don't like him." She defended her opinion of the man. Melanie let out a frustrated sigh.  "Yeah, yeah... I know. Which is kinda why I delayed on telling you." Lillian bit on her lip. Then she slowly exhaled.  "I... I can't really stop you from dating him, but I... just..." Her words trailed off as she reached up and moved her hair back. "I don't want you to get hurt again." Melanie reached out and placed her hand on top of hers.  "I know. I know you don't me to get hurt." She told her friend softly. "But I trust him. He's a good guy." Lillian just bit her lip and nodded a few times.  "If you say so." She mused before she was sipping her cold coffee. Melanie was quick to switch the subject to a different one. Lillian mostly listened and nodded as Melanie rattled on with her story. It was usually like this- Melanie speaking and Lillian listening. But Lillian didn't mind, she liked listening to her friend speak. She had a certain way with her soft voice, but loud expressions. Melanie could make even the most boring story full of life like she was Persephone.   Then the two were standing up from the table and sharing their goodbyes. Lillian headed out of the café with the sun glowing down onto brown hair before she disappeared down the sidewalk and out of Melanie's view. Melanie smiled to herself before she turned and headed down the sidewalk herself. The rising heat of the sun warmed her dark skin as she headed back to her apartment. She and Calum shared an apartment together. Calum was currently working during the day so she didn't expect to see him anytime soon.    So it was a sudden surprise when she walked into the apartment to see her older brother lounging on the couch. Calum was clad in sweatpants- as usual- and was spread out on their couch. His attention was on the screen of the tv sported in front of him until his head swerved over to her as she closed the door.  "Hey." He said rather casually as he looked back at the screen.  "Hey. I thought you were working today?" Melanie questioned as she came further into their living room and stood next to the couch.  "Yeah me too, but," a one shoulder shrug paused his words, "I requested a later shift." Melanie nodded a few times.  "Oh okay. Move the leg." She directed her older brother before he did as she said. Calum learned a long time ago that if he didn't move the leg, the leg would be sat on. She sat down next to him as he fixed his position on the couch. Her brown eyes landed on the tv screen as a comedy was playing with it's laugh track appearing. She bit her lip as she stared forward before her eyes drifted back to her brother. Well.... she told one of them. Might as well try to tell the other. "So Calum." She started out while clasping her hands and looking down at them. At the sound of his sister's voice, Calum looked over at her.  "Yeah?" He asked with one of his thick eyebrows raising. What was up with her? "There's something I've been meaning to tell you." He sat up a little bit more and looked over at her. His silence only prompted her to continue. "Uh so uh- I told Lillian this morning about this but-" "Oh so that's where you were. With Lilly." He interrupted her as his eyebrows rose further. Melanie gaze met his with an annoyance sparking in her brown eyes.  "You know she hates that nickname." She stated flatly as Calum fought the desire to smirk. And that was the reason he referred to her as that. "Anyway as I was saying.... uh..." once again that nervous expression was back on her face. "You see... uh.... I have a boyfriend." What.  "You have a what." Calum repeated as he stared at his sister in shock.  "A boyfriend." She repeated as she looked down at her hands. He couldn't believe this.  "Who?" He questioned as he turned to face his sister completely on the couch. Then... oh. Oh no. "It's not Dylan right?" To his surprise, a huff came out of her lips.  "No it is not Dylan. It's Kyle." Calum was sure his eyes were going to bulge out of his head.  "Kyle?" He repeated after her. He couldn't believe this. "The Kyle from high school? The one I'm pretty sure took drugs?" "Oh for the love of- Kyle does not do drugs!" She exclaimed while throwing her hands into the air. "He's a very sweet guy actually and we're dating and I just wanted to let you know." His lips pressed together as he studied her. Her eyes were now directed on the screen firmly. Her hands were clasping around the ends of her sweater.    Slowly a sigh exhaled out of him. Melanie could be very stubborn about some things. Whether that be her opinion or her life choices. And it seemed this was going to be one of those times.  "I... all right. Can I meet the guy?" Again he wanted to add, but decided not to mention the infamous moment of Kyle spilling his drink on his shirt that one time... no. He had not forgotten. Melanie's eyebrows rose and she gave him a quizzical look. "What?" "You... actually want to see him?"  "Yeah... sure. See if he's actually changed." Or if his sister is just believing in the best again. She was silent for a few moments. Then a slow smile came onto your lips.  "Sure. We can all go out to eat tonight, that is... if you can make it there."  "Make it an early dinner around five and sure."    Melanie nodded as he turned his attention back to the tv screen as she pulled out her phone. Maybe it was time to kill two birds with one stone.  __   Lillian checked her reflection in the mirror as she smoothed the fabric of the navy dress over her hips. It was a dark blue that was snug against her waist and was sleeveless as well. There were splotches of glitter across her torso that fortunately didn't dig into her chest. The dress stopped at the base of her knees in a flowing manner while the upper level of it was snug against her body. Over all she thought she looked rather well in it.    She hadn't done much with her makeup except her lashes, brows, and lips and she had pulled her brown hair back into a low bun. For one it drew more attention to the silver jewelry she had on her neck and for the fact that her hair was quite frizzy.   She picked up her purse and her black heels before she was making her way to the door of her apartment. She slipped on her heels and a black coat before she was making her way out. Her apartment wasn't entirely large. It consisted of two medium sized bedrooms, a kitchen that flowed into the living room, a bathroom that connected in between the two bedrooms, and a laundry room right next to the kitchen. Well okay maybe it was a little big. But there were apartments that were bigger.   The sounds of the rushing past cars greeted her ears as she stepped out of the complex and onto the cleaned sidewalk. The click of her heels corresponded with her steps as she walked down the busy street. The cars flew wind at her exposed legs and she hugged her coat closer around her body. The restaurant Melanie wanted her to meet at was only a few minutes away from her apartment since she lived practically in the middle of the city. Lillian had been surprised at Melanie's offer for them to spontaneously have dinner at a quite expensive place hence all her get up. But she had understood once Melanie mentioned the fact that Kyle was going to be there. And she had said she wanted to meet him. So even though she had planned to stay snug in her bed this night, she decided to put on that dress she's been saving for a nice date and get out of her apartment.  __   Calum stepped into the dim lightened restaurant and immediately sought out his sister. She had left a few minutes before him (somehow she had gotten herself ready in record time) and had gone to pick up Kyle it seems. The man didn't have transportation apparently. Some of Calum's building up annoyance disappeared whenever he spotted his sister at a white clothed table in the distance. He walked across the carpeted area until he was standing at the table.    Melanie paused her talking whenever her dark eyes met his and a smile blossomed onto her face. Kyle turned in his seat and met his gaze as well.  "Calum! Long time no see." The toothy grinned man greeted him before he held out a tattoo covered hand to him. Calum mentally grimaced as he glanced down at Kyle's pale hand. It looked... sweaty. But he forced himself to reach down and shake the man's hand.  "Yeah... been a few months." He answered as his dark eyes met the man's bright hazel ones. Kyle's dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun at the back of his head. It made his forehead and nose stand out that much more. Kyle didn't seem to have that much of style still it seemed. He took a seat in front of his sister who had a nervous look on her face. Then... wait. Why was there another setting next to him? He was about to ask before Melanie suddenly stood up. "Lillian! You made it!" Calum froze at his sister's words before he slowly turned.    His dark eyes met Lillian's bright blue ones as she stared straight at him. He swallowed as he took in her open, painted red mouth that hung down as her brows were risen. She was... definitely not expecting him, huh? Well he wasn't expecting her either. He gave a glance at his sister as she sat down before he turned his attention back to Lillian. She was walking towards him now with the sound of the skirt brushing against her bare legs greeting his ears. He swallowed as his eyes drifted downwards before they floated back up to her. The dress was absolutely stunning on her. It complimented her eyes making them an even brighter blue and he had to admit the dress fitted her curves quite well. But the hair... it was too slicked bad. Too kept back. It exposed her neck and collarbones, sure, but he never liked it whenever she had her hair pulled back or up.    She slipped into the seat beside him and for a brief moment her knee bumped into his. Calum swallowed as he faced away from her and back to his sister.  "Kyle, it's nice to see you again." Lillian greeted in that overly too soft and sugarly sweet tone she always used with someone that was younger and less mature then her. Calum almost rolled his eyes.  "Yeah wow. Lillian, you look great! It has been a while, hasn't it?" Kyle commented as a grin was set on his face. Calum picked up a menu and started to browse through it.  "Yeah it sure has. Umm you look great too." She politely said as Calum gave a glance forward. Kyle was wearing a dusty old shirt and probably jeans. Great was very overexaggerated.  "Thanks." Kyle answered back as Calum turned his attention back to the menu. The prices were the first thing that stood out to him as he browsed through. Melanie had certainly taken them all to an expensive place to get to know Kyle. Irony was that Kyle was still... Kyle. Clad in probably a band t-shirt and worn out blue jeans. It looked like he was never going to change. A loud clap suddenly got Calum's attention as his eyes diverted back up. "So? Who's hungry?" Kyle asked as he looked around the table with that same stupid grin plastered on his face. Mentally a groan wanted to come out of Calum's mouth. This was going to be a long dinner. 

[vitanes]

say it’s okay when it’s not

chapter 13: love letter

Lucas doesn’t have a crush on anyone, Eliott paints the mural and something is really wrong but Lucas can’t figure out what.

(a/n: i passed all my exams! n im back! enjoy! tw: mental health issues)

“Okay, but what do you think about this one? Isn’t he cute?” Mika asks, shoving his phone in front of Lucas’ face.

They are sprawled out on the couch and Mika is half-lying on top of Lucas, entertaining himself with some dating app while Lucas is trying to focus on whatever is playing on the TV. It’s needless to say he’s unsuccessful.

He sighs and glances at the screen. There’s a smiling guy looking back at him, wearing a snapback backwards and flexing his muscles. Shirtless.

Lucas looks sceptically at Mika and raises an eyebrow at him.

“He’s okay, I guess. I didn’t know you were into frat boys,” Lucas says, letting his eyes wander back to the TV.

“Have you seen those abs? I’m easy. Besides, he liked me first. I thrive off flattery,” Mika replies cockily, a smirk audible in his voice. He shifts a couple of centimetres up, digging his elbow into Lucas’ side in the process. It takes all of Lucas’ willpower not to push him off.

He groans. “What an attention whore.”

“Just a Leo,” Mika says with a snort. Lucas rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. He thinks the discussion is over and gets back to the movie just for Mika to poke him in the cheek. He glares at him.

“What.”

“Why don’t you set up an account somewhere?” Mika asks with excitement in his eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because apps like that aren’t for minors? And call me old-fashioned but I’d rather not meet someone online.” Lucas is a romantic at heart and there’s nothing more like simply wanting to meet eyes with a boy and instantly knowing it’s the one. It’s more magical than asking some strangers for hook-ups on the Internet.

Mika eyes him with pity and pats the top of Lucas’ head. “I wish it was that simple,” he murmurs and goes back to his phone, this time with much more serious expression.

He’s probably thinking that Lucas is naïve and perhaps he’s right, but Lucas is pretty sure he’s allowed to be when he’s still a kid. Something in the way Mika’s eyebrows are drawn together tells Lucas that he knows it, too.

Lucas watches him for a good minute, digging his fingers into the cushions of the couch. They’ve never talked about this stuff without having it written off as a joke, but Lucas is curious. He doesn’t know that much about Mika, although a part of him wants to.

“Hey… have you ever been in love?” he asks. With how closely Lucas is watching Mika, he notices the exact second he stops in his tracks for a moment, caught off guard by Lucas’ question.

Eventually, he quietly replies, “Yeah. Once.”

“How did it end?”

“Badly.” Mika looks up at Lucas, sending his way a sad smile. “Not sure I’ll ever get over it, but,” he shrugs one shoulder, “life goes on. Can’t move forward if I keep being stuck in the past, can I?” There’s something really raw and honest on Mika’s face. It’s the first time Lucas is seeing him like this and he wants to say something, catch this moment and hold it for a while, but Mika has different plans. The lines on his face smoothen out and this split second of vulnerability is gone before Lucas can even process it. “Guess who’s got a date tomorrow,” Mika changes the topic. He winks at Lucas and looks back at his phone.

He seems carefree, but Lucas can feel that the tension still hasn’t left his body. Lucas idly wonders how lonely and hurt Mika must be. It’s a bit tragic and contradictory, given his personality. Lucas hopes the same won’t happen to him.

“By the way, what about you?” Mika asks, this time not glancing away from his phone, already engrossed in the guy he’s talking to.

“What about me?” Lucas replies, confused.

“Any crushes?” Mika wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

“No, there’s no one,” Lucas says just as his own phone vibrates. He pulls it out of his pocket and unlocks the screen. He smiles under his nose, his fingers already tapping out a reply.

“Who’s that?” Lucas can feel Mika’s eyes on the side of his face, but this time it’s him who doesn’t look up.

“Eliott,” he says, biting down on his bottom lip when Eliott sends out another message.

Mika makes a weird noise next to him. “Okaaay,” he draws out, uncertain, but Lucas pays him no mind.

 ***

 The mural is standing big and proud before Lucas’ eyes, but he can’t believe in what he’s seeing. Neither can any of them, really, although Lucas’ case is special.

It was a usual Monday morning. They all met up before school, noting Eliott’s absence but being already used to it. They didn’t think anything of it aside from a bit of concern. Then, Emma texted Yann to quickly come to the common room. It’s needless to say they weren’t very excited about it, given the circumstances, but eventually, they went there. What met them once they arrived, was rather unexpected. And still is.

Eliott has painted the whole mural.

“W–when have you done it?” Arthur stutters out in disbelief.

“Today morning,” Eliott replies simply, threading his fingers through his hair. There’s paint all over him, whole mixes of colours creating galaxies over his skin. Despite that, Lucas can’t look away from the painting.

“It’s eight in the morning,” Basile states dumbly.

“I came here after four,” Eliott says like it’s nothing.

“Wait, you broke in?” Imane asks cautiously. There’s something in her voice that Lucas can’t put a name to.

Eliott snorts. “No, I told the night guard that it’s for the project and he let me in,” Eliott explains as if the mere idea of him breaking in was absurd.

“Just like that?” Alexia asks doubtfully.

There’s a pause and then, “Took me some begging, but yeah.” He sounds sheepish.

“How did you manage to make it look like that? It should take you much longer,” Yann says in awe.

“I was suddenly really inspired.”

Lucas has barely blinked ever since he walked in. He hasn’t said anything either. He’s not sure he will be able to utter anything coherent. Eliott told him about some surprise over the texts, but Lucas sure as fuck didn’t suspect something like that.

There are crazy splashes of colours all over the place, but in the centre are two silhouettes, painted in black, clearly dancing, holding onto one another, one of them hiding their face in the other’s neck. Lucas gulps when his eyes fall on the words scribbled around the dancers.

 In case you ever foolishly forget: I am never not thinking of you.

 Lucas can’t take his eyes off it because he knows how easy to read he’d be then.

Despite the chaotic colours surrounding the two characters, they are shielding each other. It feels personal, private. Lucas wants to reach out and trace the lines of the taller silhouette, but he can’t since the paint is still wet. The longer he looks at the exact moment Eliott has confessed to him, the more out of breath he is.

Eliott has painted him a love letter for everyone to see and Lucas doesn’t know what to think about it.

Eliott said he didn’t expect anything from him, but does it still stand? Is it just a selfless expression of his feelings? Then why use that quote? Why expose such an intimate moment between them?

Someone taps him on the shoulder, startling him and he flinches. He looks to the side and Eliott is right there, looking anxiously everywhere but at Lucas and having this expectant glint in his eyes.

Lucas briefly glances at others, who are still admiring the painting, and then back at Eliott.

“Do you like it?” Eliott asks, finally looking up at Lucas. They both know what it means, this whole mural, but neither of them is ready to acknowledge it. Lucas because he has no idea what to say about it while Eliott is probably too shy.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful. But…” he lowers his voice, leaning closer to Eliott, “…I thought that you didn’t want. Because of, you know.” Lucas nods subtly towards Daphne.

Eliott scratches the side of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t do it for her,” he says, staring at Lucas meaningfully. The implication of his words makes Lucas speechless.

Thank God, he’s saved from replying by Arthur coming up to them and throwing his arms around their shoulders. Coincidentally bringing them pretty close together.

“Wow, it’s amazing, dude,” he says, grinning.

Yeah, Lucas thinks, it really is.

 ***

 Lucas is pretty lost. He’s got no idea how to act around Eliott after what he’s done. He can’t confront him about it, but he also can’t forget. Eliott’s feelings are out in the open, almost in Lucas’ hands and he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt him. Lucas has already had enough on his plate, mostly focusing on finding the blackmailer. But now, he can’t stop thinking about the painting. It’s been two days and it’s almost the only thing on his mind.

Eliott must have sensed something is up because he’s been more tentative around Lucas. Maybe he’s only now realising how grand his gesture was. How they can’t simply brush it off like they did with his confession.

Or maybe it’s all in Lucas’ head. Perhaps it’s only him mulling it over endlessly while everyone else has already moved on.

Arthur snapped a picture of the mural, in case someone decided to paint over it. Lucas has saved it.

And maybe that’s the issue. Because it’s for him, it was painted for him and belongs to him, but everyone else can look at it. Maybe that bothers him more than Eliott going out of his way to remind him about his feelings. It’s the fact it was supposed to be theirs. The moment of the confession, the time it was Eliott who was vulnerable and clinging onto Lucas and not the other way around. In a way, it brought them even closer than they were before. It was an important moment for both of them, but while Lucas would rather keep it deep within himself, Eliott is an artist, ready to let the whole world know.

It could also be the fact no one has ever thought of Lucas like that, done such a thing. He’s always thinking of himself lowly and there Eliott is, making him feel big. It’s a bit scary and confusing. This whole situation is like that. Lucas isn’t used to it. He’s a bit overwhelmed. He’s pretty sure that if Eliott had painted this on a small canvas and gave it to him, he wouldn’t be gnawing on it as much now. As it is at the moment, all Lucas wants to do is hide between his sheets.

The funny thing is that he shouldn’t feel that embarrassed by the fact other people can see the mural. They don’t know that it’s about Eliott and him. No one probably even suspects it because they never gave people the reason to think otherwise. But the sole fact that Lucas knows is enough for him to blush each time he passes the common room.

Besides, people aren’t stupid. Sure, they may not connect anything to him. Figuring out Eliott has someone he painted it for, though, is inevitable. Lucas doesn’t really want people to bother him about it.

On the other hand, Eliott must have taken that into account and he still decided to make it.

God, Lucas’ head is a mess. Complete mess. He doesn’t have time to dwell on this teenage angst, there are more concerning matters in his life.

He’s been trying to find a lead on the blackmailer without actually talking to Daphne(or Imane for that matter) for the past week. He put so much effort into going through people’s social media, spending sleepless nights in hopes he would find the answers. He hasn’t been sure what exactly he was looking for; a picture, maybe, where Daphne is with someone sketchy. But no matter how deep he’s been digging, there was nothing.

When he was at the police station he talked about this and yeah, it’s a crime that someone could be punished for, but they’ve found out the number that sent the messages was bought, generated. The case was still registered, but they can’t do anything. They asked Lucas all kinds of questions, like if he had some enemies or whether he knew someone who could benefit from this situation, but his mind was completely blank. Devoid of suspects.

He wants revenge and justice and yet, he’s pretty sure he reached the dead-end. His gut is telling him to give up and finally focus on school, but his resolve is making him want to fight more.

In the grand scheme of things, this problem seems much more engaging that Eliott and his mural. Try telling it to a sixteen-year-old and his brain, though.

God, when will Lucas get some rest?

 ***

 Lucas hasn’t been avoiding Imane, per se, but he’s been trying not to be with her alone ever since he asked her about Daphne. He can’t really avoid her anyway, no matter how hard he tries they do have a class together and share a desk. Much to Lucas’ surprise, though, Imane doesn’t try to corner him as soon as he sits down. That’s what he expected, given how every time they were in the same room she’d send him questioning looks. But now she only glances up at him and greets him before going back to her textbook.

It’s almost unnerving and so not like her to give up on finding the truth. Unless she forgot or decided it wasn’t worth her time. She, after all, is the one who has her priorities straight and unlike other people, she doesn’t push when she realises it won’t get her anywhere.

Lucas is almost disappointed. Not because he wanted to be bugged about his business, but because of how he tried to stay away from Imane and was dreading their shared class for the past few days, despite the fact he enjoys it. In the end it was all for nothing. At least that’s the conclusion he reaches as he starts taking books out of his backpack.

“I know,” Imane says ominously and Lucas looks at her, frowning.

“Hm?”

“Daphne told me,” Imane explains, her tone pinched. Her eyes are glued to her notebook when she says the next words, “I’d expect a lot from her, but not this, you know? She started crying while telling me and I had no idea what to say because I couldn’t feel any sympathy for her. Does it make sense?” Imane asks, meeting Lucas’ eyes. She seems apologetic even if none of this is her fault.

“Yeah, it does,” Lucas replies.

“And she only told me. I don’t know why.”

“I’m sorry she put you in this position.” Quite fucked up that Daphne just can’t tell everyone and let them make their decision, but only bothered with him and Imane, having them be left with this dilemma.

“She trusted me with this, but it’s so,” she shakes her head. “I can’t really act around her like before. And I feel responsible in a way. Because she’s my friend.” Imane puts a hand over her forehead and closes her eyes, visibly frustrated.

“But you aren’t her babysitter,” Lucas counters.

“Yeah, but if I was with her back then I could’ve stopped her. I was sober, she wasn’t.”

It’s good that the teacher still hasn’t come, otherwise, their conversation would have been cut short. Considering that Imane feels guilty, Lucas needs to prove to her that she hasn’t done anything wrong.

“But she isn’t five and if she can’t act normally when drunk, she shouldn’t go near alcohol. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s just fucking shitty she expects you to pick a side now,” Lucas says, curling his fingers up into fists. God, he’s angry again. Why can’t Daphne be decent for like five minutes?

“I asked her to tell the girls but I don’t know. I hope that she will try to do better in the future,” Imane says and sighs deeply. Yeah, one can only wait for Daphne to grow, learn a lesson. Lucas just wishes it didn’t have to happen with him being fucked over in the process.

“We will see,” Lucas comments, pursing his lips. Imane peeks an eye open.

“I know it’s not much but I’ve been thinking about it a lot and the only thing I could remember was that some guy called me from Daphne’s phone, asking me to pick her up. He could have been the one to steal the pictures. She was alone when I got to her,” Imane says and Lucas can feel the blood rushing in his ears. She’s right it’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever gotten. If only Daphne hadn’t been so wasted, he could ask her if she remembered something. Fuck.

“She didn’t tell you if it was someone random or a friend?” Lucas asks, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.

“No. She was nearly passed out when I found her. I doubt she’d even remember she asked someone to call. Could be anyone. Sorry that I can’t help more,” Imane says, glancing down in resignation.

“It’s okay,” Lucas replies just as the teacher walks into the classroom.

The whole situation is messed up but Imane is the last person Lucas would even consider blaming. He tells her just as much when the class is finished and she hugs him so tightly he’s pretty sure his ribs would be broken if she put any more strength into it.

 ***

 It’s the middle of the night and Lucas knows it only because his phone is persistently buzzing, waking him up in the process. He blindly reaches out for the device and blinks a couple of times, the light hurting his eyes. The first thing he notices is that it’s after 3 AM and the second – it’s Eliott calling him. Lucas frowns. Odd.

“’ello?” he answers, barely containing a yawn.

“Did I wake you?” Eliott asks. His voice seems muffled.

“I mean… it’s pretty late.” Lucas rubs a hand over his eyes and lies on his back. “Somethin’ happen?”

“Just wanted to hear you. I was actually thinking I could visit you, but decided against it. What would Mika say if I stayed the night, right?” Eliott jokes and gets a snort our of Lucas.

“It’s flattering, but you’re gonna hear me tomorrow,” Lucas says dumbly.

“Yeah, but I just had to. Sorry.”

“’s okay,” Lucas slurs. “You got me worried,” he explains, sighing.

“I can’t turn my brain off, my ex has been an ass about it. I thought that maybe you could help a little,” Eliott says quietly, especially the last part, almost as if he didn’t want Lucas to hear it.

Lucas ignores the whole ex thing and focuses on the rest. Insomnia? Lucas has some experience with that. There’s nothing quite like the chaos in your head and feeling like a living corpse during the day because you haven’t slept properly in days.

“How can I help?” Lucas offers.

“I don’t know. It’s always peaceful with you. Maybe I just don’t want to be alone when I’m like this.”

How can Eliott say things like that and expect Lucas to ignore it?

Lucas clears his throat. “Like what? You can’t sleep, it’s okay, remember it’s not the end of the world even if it feels like it,” Lucas says, hoping it will calm Eliott down.

Eliott lets out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah. I just have a lot of energy, I guess. I think I’ll go for a run.”

Lucas arches an eyebrow at that. Who would go for a run so late? He can’t imagine doing that no matter how restless he’d be. But each to their own, he supposes.

“’kay. Sorry for not being the best help,” Lucas says, genuinely apologetic.

“You are the best. Period. Okay, sleep well. See you later,” Eliott says and without waiting for Lucas to reply, he hangs up.

Lucas puts his phone down and settles comfortably on the bed, unable to shake off a weird feeling. He drags his hand down the empty side of his bed and sighs. He falls asleep thinking that maybe Eliott being here wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

 ***

 “So, how was the run?” Lucas asks when they’re all seated by their table in the cafeteria. He woke up still feeling weird and had to check his calls to see whether he hasn’t dreamed of it, but no, Eliott really called him in the middle of the night. Had he been more awake, he’d have stopped Eliott from doing whatever he’s done.

Everyone, including Eliott, sends him questioning looks, but Lucas pays them no mind, solely focusing his gaze on Eliott. It takes a few seconds, but the realisation eventually dawns upon Eliott and he opens his mouth.

“It was good. Feeling sore, though,” he says, grinning towards Lucas. “I’ve been studying for my exams,” Eliott changes the topic, digging into his potatoes. “The material is so hard, but I’m sort of getting it. I read so many books in the last few days I feel like my head’s about to explode.”

“Explode with knowledge!” Basile jokes and Eliott bursts out laughing before launching into a story he’s read online recently.

He gets a little lost halfway through and changes the topic again. The guys indulge him, but Lucas can’t help feeling uneasy. He squints his eyes. Eliott is too jumpy for some reason.

Maybe it’s his ex-girlfriend that he mentioned during their phone call? Lucas doesn’t even know their story so who knows how much effect she can have on him. Or it’s about the exams that are looming over them. Whatever it is, something tells Lucas it’s not good. He wishes he could help Eliott calm down, talk with him, but Eliott seems so far away. He’s so close yet completely out of reach. From the very beginning of the week, since the mural.

What if it’s Lucas’ fault? Eliott is nervous because Lucas hasn’t said anything about it, quite literally decided to ignore what Eliott’s done. But then again, it’d go against him telling Lucas that he didn’t want anything from him.

Lucas could just ask, but he isn’t sure Eliott would tell him. There’s only one thing Lucas is certain of – something is bothering Eliott.

Someone waves a hand in front of Lucas’ face, snapping him out of his thoughts. He jumps and realises that when he zoned out, he was literally staring at Eliott. Which, given Arthur’s suspicions from the last week, doesn’t put him in the best position.

“You okay?” Yann asks, a line of worry appearing between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, just thinking,” he says, shrugging. He’s trying to come off as cool despite being caught staring at one of them. Lucas isn’t sure how well it goes, but no one comments on his weird behaviour.

Eliott throws a French fry at him and it smacks Lucas straight on the nose. “Don’t think too much or you’ll end up like me,” he says and winks at him.

Lucas tilts his head to the side. What does that even mean?

“Anyways, okay, guys, what about we chill tomorrow a bit? In the park? It’s been a while since we spent Friday together,” Basile suggests, grinning at them eagerly.

Yeah, it sounds nice. Considering all the turmoil Lucas has been through, it really has been some time since he simply relaxed with his friends. Sure, there were brief moments but nothing like what they’d do usually.

“Sounds pretty good. I think I have some weed stashed somewhere. I could bring it,” Arthur says excitedly.

“Tomorrow after school?” Yann asks them and they all nod.

Lucas is still concerned about Eliott so maybe tomorrow will be also a good occasion to check if everything is alright. Smoking could loosen Eliott up and make him talk a bit.

 ***

 Lucas takes a drag and passes the joint to Basile. He releases the smoke after holding it in and leans back against the grass. He can literally feel the tension leaving his body. He hadn't realised how much he’s needed it up until now.

They are lying around in a secluded area of the park, save from any prying eyes. Free to do whatever they want for as long as they need to. They’re on their second joint and sure, having it shared between five people won’t be as effective as it normally would be, but Lucas still feels much lighter.

It’s mostly quiet aside from music playing from Arthur’s phone. They don’t talk much despite Lucas having wanted to get some information out of Eliott. He thinks that maybe later. At the moment, he feels like taking a nap. Or just staring at the sky. It’s really fucking blue today and the weather is warm. They chose a great day to hang out.

Lucas sighs heavily just as Eliott plops down next to him. Lucas turns his head to the side and meets his eyes. Lucas’ fingertips itch to move Eliott’s fringe away from his eyes, but he keeps his hand to himself. It’s a weird thought to have about your friend.

“What’s up?” Lucas asks and when Eliott does nothing but look at him, Lucas nudges him in the side.

“You look pretty like that,” Eliott blurts out, his eyes glinting and Lucas’ breath hitches in his throat. He looks around to see if any of the guys has heard it, but no one seems to have paid attention.

Lucas lets out a nervous chuckle, ignoring the warmth climbing up his neck. “Thanks,” he mutters, his eyes settling on some random spot on Eliott’s t-shirt.

Eliott shuffles even closer to him. “Can I hold your hand?”

Lucas bites on the inside of his cheek, his heart speeding up for some reason. Why’s he feeling so lightheaded all of sudden? Must be the weed. What else?

“Yeah,” he breathes out, inching his palm towards Eliott. It doesn’t have any meaning. They do hold hands sometimes for comfort. Lucas has held hands with plenty of his friends.

Eliott grabs Lucas’ palm in his and entwines their fingers together. He squeezes once and Lucas’ heart skips a beat.

Lucas closes his eyes in order not to look at Eliott’s face. He’s scared of what it could make him feel.

“I’m so happy I could die right now,” Eliott whispers.

Lucas snorts. “What?”

“I don’t think I could be happier than this. Dying would be the best option at the moment so that would be the last feeling in my life. And I’d die next to you,” Eliott says, his thumb rubbing the back of Lucas’ hand.

“What? Don’t say something like that,” Lucas replies, half-heartedly hitting Eliott in the chest with his free hand.

Eliott lets out a laugh. “Sorry,” he pauses. “How many Lucases and Eliotts are lying down like that now?”

Lucas hums thoughtfully and settles on, ”Probably a lot.”

Eliott huffs and Lucas can feel him shaking his head. “All of them,” he says, convinced.

“Why’re you asking if you know the answer?”

“Because I wanted to know yours,” Eliott replies, honesty audible in his voice.

Lucas doesn’t say anything to this because he has no idea which words would be fitting. The mood is too nice for him to open his mouth and ruin it. So he stays quiet, breathing Eliott’s smell in and slowly feeling himself drift off. He doesn’t even register the moment Eliott disappears from beside him.

 ***

 “Hey, buddy, you okay?” Lucas hears through the fog in his mind. Someone shakes his shoulders, but it’s not the same person who spoke. The voice is more distant, that’s how he knows it’s not towards him.

Lucas blinks his eyes open. The first thing he notices is that it’s darker than he remembers from before he fell asleep. The second is Arthur hovering over him, his expression tense.

“Something bad is happening with Eliott,” he whispers, reaching his hand up to help Lucas sit up.

“What?” Lucas asks after being hoisted up. His eyes immediately jump towards where he can hear quiet murmurs from. Eliott looks barely present, with an almost haunted look on his face. Basile and Yann are crouching on both of his sides, talking to him, but barely getting any responses.

“After you fell asleep he started being really jittery, kept walking around. At first, we brushed it off, but it kept getting worse and worse. We had to stop him from running off,” Arthur explains as they walk up to where the three boys are.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Lucas asks, keeping his eyes on Eliott.

“It started getting really bad like ten to fifteen minutes ago,” Yann says.

They had more things to keep their eyes on than thinking of waking Lucas up. Understandable.

Basile is still talking to Eliott, trying to keep him grounded. Eliott’s replies are quiet and chaotic. Something is off about this situation and Lucas is pretty sure that four stoned teenagers won’t be able to deal with it well if it keeps escalating.

“We should call his parents,” Lucas says.

“Yeah. If it’s what I think it is, we better do that,” Basile says, his voice full of seriousness.

Lucas gulps, watching Eliott, and his heart breaks. He should have seen it coming sooner.

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (20)

A/N: BIG YEEHAW HOURS TODAY Y’ALL ITS BALL TIME!!!!!!! AND WE CAN’T HAVE A BALL WITHOUT A PRINCE *stars bawling*

costumes will come in another post bc i. got really excited and then drew them all like, last month (most of them, some were finished last night y e e et)

WARNINGS: remus mention, heist details, wound descriptions, sword mention, scar descriptions, threats of violence, thoughts of dying — alright, im pretty sure that's it, but this chapter has thicc details so if i missed anything pls pls pls lmk

Words: 4550

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for the longterm warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing!

enjoy !!! <3 <3 <3 ,3 <3 

Deceit really was right, Patton thought while he looked around at the town. His arm was linked around Logan’s as they walked down one of the town’s side streets, from Dr. Picani’s office, and he was taking the time to admire how intricate all of the architecture had gotten. It was intricate and worn and every building seemed unique now, something that he hadn’t realized was missing during their first pass through. 

There were arch ways, bridges between doors on the third floors of buildings. There were seemingly hand-woven canvases shielding some of the streets from the sun and, if Patton squinted hard enough, he could see actual detailed stitching and some stains of age. They passed buildings that had scratches and chisel marks, and Patton could clearly see that it was made from stone bricks that had been painted over. Twice, actually. Once with a very old and faded blue, then with a lighter cream that still let the blue show through in spots where the paint was gone. 

He wondered a little what had caused those spots. Was it because you weren’t supposed to layer house paint? The spots were different sizes — how many memories were made here? 

Patton stumbled, tripping over his thoughts and heels, and leaned more into Logan’s side.

Logan tugged at his arm. “Don’t ponder too hard, Patton,” his voice was soft, hushed to not draw attention.

They’d figured that the best thing to do was to not think about the world around them. Thinking too much about the world and specifically the things that they would affect about it made their focus wander onto fixing those things. Logan would get a headache, Patton would space out, and Deceit would….well, okay, Deceit hadn’t disclosed how and if he’d been affected. But Patton noticed he’d been sweating like a sinner in church, and how his fist would clench every so often, so it was clear that something was happening with Deceit. He didn’t want to force him to talk; honesty wasn’t Deceit’s strong suit.

The four Romans had agreed that that was the smartest decision; none of them nor all of them together were able to limit the Imagination enough. The Playwright had argued that, had Dragon and Damsel known that it was hurting the other Sides, then they would probably all have a unified thought enough to close up the unused worlds. But that would require discussing the entire matter with them, which, as the Thief pointed out, is “pretty fucking useless where they are now.” 

So the focus thing was their current strategy. Patton grinned at Logan. “Thanks for the reminder, Octo-cutie-pie,” he smiled wider as Logan blushed. 

“I–I’m–Octopi is the plural for octopus and there is only one of me,” Logan bit his lip, then patted Patton’s hand gently, “Thank you.”

Patton giggled, snuggling against Logan’s side briefly as they kept walking. They hadn’t actually talked about the whole love thing, hadn’t really established boundaries, but that seemed like a problem for tomorrow. 

Right now, they were all going across town, invitations in hand, to the ball. And, at the very specific right now, Patton was admiring the Playwright and the Artist’s handiwork. They’d worked together to make everyone’s outfits and he’d be a liar if he said they weren’t handsome and beautiful.

Patton himself was themed after a cat — a grey cat, but a cat nonetheless! His dress had a long train for a tail, made of shimmering silver tulle, the same as his poofy sleeves. The skirt went from his waist to the ground, with a built in flair in his corset at the waist. Like, all of it was sparkling, all three tiers of his skirt, which went from grey to black with an inner layer gradient of blue to grey. His favorite part were his gloves, though. Silver for the most part, but with soft circles on his palms and the tips of all his fingers. His own lil’ toe beans! 

Logan’s outfit was one of Patton’s favorites. His was themed after an octopus (“Known for their intelligence,” the Playwright had explained, face bright red as he tied Logan’s necktie into an Eldritch knot) with a dark blue blazer and slacks. He wore a vest that shimmered royal blue, with a white button down underneath. There was a piece of coral in his lapel where a flower would usually go, and his coat tails seemed to spiral in shapes that resembled an octopus’ arms. There were even rhinestone bubble decals on his shoulders, or suckers, if you wanted to interpret it that way. The Artist and the Playwright had a small argument about that.

He was dashing, in summation. Patton leaned his head against Logan’s shoulder. “Who knew the town was so big!” he said. 

“That’s actually on purpose,” the Playwright said from behind them, “It’s actually not so big as the castle is small, using the same foreshortening techniques used at the Disney theme parks to make Cinderella’s castle, or Sleeping Beauty’s castle depending on which park you’re at—”

“I think he means how far Picani’s office is from the castle, God Mod,” the Thief responded.

The Thief and Deceit were walking in front, swords drawn on the chance that they ran into any guards, and so that the Thief could critique Deceit’s sword fighting skills. Surprisingly, he’d taken to the weapon, something about it being good to have at his disposal while dealing with the Others. The Thief offered to make him one once this escapade was over. 

Or maybe it was an excuse for the Thief to keep touching Deceit’s hand. Because that was happening every so often. A lot more often than would be considered normal. 

It wasn’t like Deceit was complaining about the touching. It was more the other way around. The yearning for physical contact was frustrating, but neither of them were going to admit that they wanted to hold hands. Even though they’d confessed to at least caring about each other. 

“Oh,” the Playwright hummed.

“Cheer up, butter cup, I love hearin’ bout the forced perspective! The Disney parks are so~o~o fun,” the Bard sang out. “When’s the next time we get to go to California? Are we making a trip down to Anaheim? Can we PLEASE take a trip down to Anaheim!”

One of his arms was looped around the Playwright’s, while the other was looped around the Artist’s. They had settled on outfits that complemented each other’s, pulling from the same red and black color palette.

The Artist was the only of the trio in a suit, though his outfit could be considered the loudest. Buttoned down the middle with a high collar, half of his shirt was a solid black, while the other half was a diamond checkered pattern. All of the accents were gold, and his pants were half solid red and half checkered as well. Tonight, the Artist would be a jester. 

An improvement on his self-esteem, the Bard had thought. The Artist had said so, too, saying he’d be dressing like a joke. It...was nice to hear.

The Playwright had also gone with a more light-hearted outfit, pun completely intended. He was dressed as the queen of hearts, with an A-line skirt that skimmed the ground and was almost entirely a replica of the skirt worn by the Queen of Hearts in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland animated movie. His corset had a low scoop neckline with a long heart that stretched down from the neckline to the bottom of the waist. His sleeves were poofy, black with red stripes between. 

It was a deck of cards theme between the three of them. Honestly, they took a bit of solace in their three Musketeers situation. The Bard was dressed like a harlequin in a ball-dancing dress. His entire dress was checkered, a stiff corset traded for a looser fit bodice that was sinched at the waist by a thick black belt with a heart clip. Bits of tulle were attached to his wrists, ideal for dancing in, which was perfect for the plan. He and the Playwright had matching heart chokers, too. 

As he’d said earlier, “We cute.”

Neither the Artist nor the Playwright had argued, and they had yet to pull away from him holding their arms. Maybe they didn’t hate him. 

They didn’t! They were moving beyond all that! 

Because they had to get the Child back, and Virgil back, and save the Damsel and they had a plan. Actually, they should run through the plan again, because the Bard had already forgotten most of it. 

“Thief?” he called ahead. 

“Mhm?” 

“Can we run through the, uh,” they had a code word for it, shoot, what was it? Oh! Oh, right, “The waltz again?”

“Great Mona Lisa, Bard, how the fuck did you forget how to waltz?” the Artist groaned. “We’re going to a ball.”

“No, no, no, THE waltz,” the Bard nudged the Artist’s side with his elbow. 

The Artist shot him a small confused glare, but realization struck his face quick after. “Oh. Oh, that waltz. Yeah, uh,” he turned to the Playwright, who also seemed confused, then to the front again, “Before we get in, we should go over the waltz again.” 

The Thief and Deceit both stopped as well, fingers brushing once again. The Bard saw the motion and chuckled to himself. Sweet Chopin, they needed to just hold hands already. He could envision the love birds flying around their heads. 

He felt a smidge bad, though. After all, he was the lucky Roman who got to kiss Patton. 

Logan and Patton both turned back to them. Patton let go of Logan, then looked around. They weren’t quite at the castle yet; a side alley, wide enough for all of them to stand in and with ample trees, barrels, and an open door beside it would provide good cover. 

“Let’s go over there,” Patton grabbed Logan’s arm again and led them all into the alley. 

They grouped up into a small but tight circle, the Thief pulling them together. He was in a suit, and an ironic one at that. Originally his costume was intended for Deceit, but he suggested switching them, so that the Dragon would think he were Deceit while being less suspicious. He was themed after a snake, though the theming was less noticeable than the color palette; there were yellow sequins arranged in scale patterns across his black blazer’s forearms, and his vest was black as well, undershirt yellow, and bowtie black. It looked a little like a snazzed-up version of Deceit’s lawyer suit and, though he’d tell no one, the Thief loved the look.

Deceit had said it looked nice on him, too. The bowtie, specifically, but also the entire outfit, and also the Thief simply looked good — yeah, they were both kind of messes. Gone was the ability to seamlessly flirt, apparently.

Still, it was nice to see Deceit in something other than yellow for a change, too. He was dressed as a peacock, with no blazer but a side-cape that shimmered iridescent purple and green. Part of it had blue and green rhinestones inching up the shoulder, and his vest beneath was teal, while his undershirt was mint green. There were bands on his upper arms, keeping his shirt bunched back, that were dark blue. Even his ascot was an iridescent purple and blue. 

They leaned against each other in the huddle. Brown eyes trailed all around the group, meeting similar expressions of steely determination. 

They could do this. 

“Alright,” the Thief started, “For the first hour, we’re gonna scope out the room and surrounding rooms. Meet wherever the snacks are in pairs, alternating pairs, and spread details. Patton and I will go twice.”

“Because you and I are gonna peel off after the first hour to go get Virgil and the Child,” Patton said, meeting the Thief’s eyes.

The Thief nodded. He looked around at everyone — Deceit and the Bard had both been fairly defensive about that choice, but he argued that they needed people who were good at causing distractions on the floor. Patton would be the best at comforting both Virgil and the Child, and the Thief was the only one who had any inkling of what the inside of the castle looked like. 

He continued. “Right. We’re gonna try to get out and—”

“Say, what d’ya think that’d make us?” Patton asked, a tiny grin on his face. 

“Oh, no,” Logan groaned, “Not—”

“Cat burglars!” Patton exclaimed with a giggle. 

The Bard immediately broke out into a fit of giggles, leaning into Deceit a little as he did so. Deceit just rolled his eyes and patted the Bard’s back, letting him cling to his side. 

The Artist stifled some chuckles of his own, and the Playwright grinned. Oh. Oh, no, not the idea grin. 

“I think Dragon will be hard pressed to find flaws in our purr-fect plan,” he said, eyes shining as Patton laughed as well. “We’re just gonna have to distract him with our adorable kitty-Pat.”

Logan groaned again, in good humor this time. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side, Playwright,” he grumbled. 

The Playwright immediately sobered up, mouth pressing into a line. “Ah, Logan, darling, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Hey, but,” the Bard raised a finger at the Playwright, smile wide and mischievous, “If he catches wind of anything, you, Artist, and I can pull a wild card and deck him.”

That got the Artist and Patton to both laugh aloud, and even Logan smiled a tiny bit at the Playwright, if only to reassure him that his frustration was not directed at him.  

The Thief seemed actually annoyed, though. He snapped his fingers in the center of the circle. “C’mon, focus here. Patton and I are going to get Virgil and the Child, then we’re going to come back up to the ball room at the second hour. At that point, Deceit—”

“I’ll be dancing with Dragon and, once you’re back, I’ll be distracting him enough for you to get out,” Deceit waved his hand, also slightly exasperated. He wanted Virgil back immediately and, as the time to pull off their hest approached, he grew more nervous.

“Right. Then, Playwright will take you backstage once everyone else has filed out,” the Playwright nodded to the Thief regarding his involvement, and the Thief looked around the group once more, “All of that sound good? Everyone else, be on the look out for Damsel. We don’t know where he’s gonna be. If he’s out on the ball floor, Logan, you—”

“I will approach him and explain that we are here to get him out,” Logan grimaced, “If he is not on the ball floor….”

“Then I’ll be on standby to head into the dungeons,” the Artist said, smile deflated, brow furrowed in thought.

“Good,” the Thief patted his shoulder, gripping reassuringly, “And if Remus is there, then Bard is going into the dungeons with Patton and I’m staying in the ball room to kick his ass.”

“This all sounds like a plan, Thief,” the Bard said, smiling at him, “Logan, thoughts?”

Logan huffed, frowning at the ground. He’d rolled the details over in his mind a few times, so he’d already worked out some of the issues, such as the irrationality of the original plan’s “jump out the dungeon’s windows, really, how large are the windows, and how do we know it’s not underground.” For right now, it seemed as though the plan were efficacious, but they couldn’t be certain until it was enacted. 

But at that point, it’d be too late to change the plan to any degree of impeccability. They would have to wing it. And Logan wasn’t a fan of that. 

But what choice did they have?

“It is as detailed and as faultless as we can arrange for it to be currently,” he said.

The Thief’s mouth twitched into a slight grimace, but he nodded all the same. That was as optimistic as he would be. “Once this is all over, we meet at the tree as fast as we all can get there,” the Thief said, casting one more look around, “If we pull this off right, no one’ll be leaving alone. If your partner gets injured, you carry them to the tree.”

“I don’t think….” the Artist said, frowning a tiny bit as his voice trailed off. 

The possibility of injury was very high, actually. Death for the Romans, at least. And they didn’t know if the Dragon had injured Virgil or the Child. To be honest, they didn’t know if the Child was alive. Oh, goodness, what if Dragon had killed him? 

“It’s gonna work,” the Bard said, “It’s gonna.” 

He squeezed the Artist’s arm and gave him a nod. It was going to be okay. Roman was optimistic by nature, and the Artist did crave that sort of positivity. 

“It must,” Deceit affirmed none too positively. 

“It will,” Patton said, smiling at them all again before clapping, “And break!”

Everyone stood up on instinct. Then, they all shared slight laughs, small smiles.

The Bard leaned over and hugged Deceit with an arm, reciprocated a little. Patton leaned against the Artist, who didn’t hug back, but also didn’t flinch finally. 

They were getting somewhere. It was going to be okay. 

It was going to be okay. 

….Without Virgil, they all felt as though their optimism was naively placed. But that was why they were going to get him back! 

Once he was back, Deceit thought, he was never letting go again. If he was back. No, no, once he was back. He was coming back soon. 

“Let’s go,” the Thief pulled his mask out from his coat, a black half-face mask covered in yellow sequins arranged like scales.

Everyone shared looks, nodding to each other as they slid on their own masks. Logan, Patton, the Artist, and the Playwright all had special masks that mimicked their glasses prescriptions so they wouldn’t need contacts, too. With faces obscured, they nodded once more, squeezing arms in reassurance and patting backs and giving smiles, and hurried out of the alley. 

The Playwright walked at the front of the group, the only one not paired to any Side. He looked up at the sky. A storm had grown, clouds angry and grey above the castle, which was only a few blocks away now. Perhaps it would thunder during the ball. 

He wondered vaguely what had caused the sudden shift in weather. During their week alone, it was all sunny skies. 

Was it….

No. No, no part of Roman was that desperate, to have gone to Remus. Right? He’d been telling himself that ever since they’d begun this game, but the darker their future seemed, the more he worried about the Duke’s involvement. 

The Thief seemed to think it was very real, enough to have a back-up written into the plan. C’est la vie. Such was life, he thought, the show must go on.

They walked quietly for only a few minutes. The closer they got to the castle, the more Imagination inhabitants they saw walking around them, some in pairs, some in groups, some alone. Everyone was in costume, most intricate. Good. This would be good, for coverage. The Thief had been a little worried that the ball would be sparsely attended, but this was good. 

It was going to be okay. 

They approached the drawbridge. Patton leaned against the Artist, gripping his arm tighter as the wind picked up. The Thief and Deceit were stoic behind them, and Logan and the Bard were simply quiet, though their hands were interlaced tight. It was going to be okay.

A line had formed on the bridge, in front of one man in a suit, perhaps the medieval equivalent of a bouncer. The group shuffled into the line, looking around at the castle, at the moat (“I think it’s filled with alligators,” the Bard murmured to Logan, who shook his head and was about to respond that that didn’t make sense, until an alligator’s maw jumped up and snatched a low-flying bird) and at the sky. 

Angry, angry clouds. 

It took an excruciatingly long eleven minutes for the Playwright to finally reach the front of the line, but when he did, he immediately grinned. He had to hand it to the Dragon. 

“May I see your invitation?” Zac Efron asked, dressed in a black butler’s outfit.

Bless the Imagination’s castings. The Playwright handed over his invitation, and Zac looked over a list in his other hand before handing back the invitation and checking off a name. “You may enter to the ball room,” he motioned to the door. 

The Playwright curtsied and hurried in. Behind him was the Artist and Patton, both of whom gasped a little, becau se holy shit, it’s Zac Efron. 

The Dragon was really out here casting Thomas’ celebrity crushes as butlers. It was the first thing that the Artist had wholly agreed with the Dragon on, actually. Once they were Roman, they were going to have to look into that as a possibility. 

One by one, each entered, walking down a grand hall with a ceiling so high and so vaulted that there seemed to be a sky inside. But, then again, there probably was. This was the Imagination. It looked somewhat like the Great Hall from the Harry Potter movies, this time shining with stars and constellations. 

Logan could identify Aries and Pieces. That was actually accurate for the season and hour, so he gave a mental kudos to Roman for his design, then considered if it were his knowledge that had been used to perfect the stars. Well. That was inconsequential, I guess?

The hall was also lined with suits of armor, and bannisters adorned with Roman’s full crest. Though, Deceit noticed while he walked through, the entire crest was outlined in gold and the castle in the center was colored with grey and brown and black. He thought the Dragon was only supposed to be the outer tower and walls. If the Dragon called all of the shots around here, then why was the center tower also colored?

The walk was long, heels clacking against the stone. They turned with the carpet to the left and entered through a pair of double doors that had to be at least two floors high. 

Inside was life. The room was massive, stretching almost the size of a football field. There was a stage near the entrance door where there were musicians (with undetailed faces, Deceit noticed) were playing loud enough to echo across the room. The dance floor seemed to take up about half the room. 

Farther away from the entrance were some circle tables, arranged around with some citizens already sitting down. Further back were some long tables, food stacked atop them, and even further….

The throne was elevated so the Dragon could see across the hall to the dance floor. The Thief’s fists clenched immediately upon seeing him wearing the Prince’s attire, white uniform a stark contrast to the black he was typically adorned with. It was a jarring difference. 

He was taunting them. By Doc Holliday’s pistol, they were gonna take him down.

Beside his throne was a large Ottoman seat, where there was another figure. The Damsel, most likely, though his face was obscured by a sheer red veil and distance. He was wearing a large dress, which had a triple-tiered skirt that seemed to flare out orange, then red, then black. His corset was decorated with red and orange and yellow rhinestones, and raised behind his head. It almost looked like flames. 

Burned. The Damsel’s scars were also entirely visible, scabs on his arms angry and red, clearly not fully healed. They weren’t openly bleeding, but the Playwright could tell that they would start bleeding at some point in the night. 

His nose scrunched as he examined the pair. They didn’t seem to notice him, the Damsel leaning against the throne’s side and not moving, the Dragon stroking his chin and looking across the hall absently. He had a sword sheathed beside the throne, too, with its handle sticking up in an easily accessible manner. 

He was waiting for them, he realized. Of course he was, this was a trap, you fool. You knew this. You’d planned. It was going to be okay.

The Playwright turned back to the group just as the last pair, Logan and the Bard, entered. 

“Okay. I am going to move toward the snack table,” he nodded toward the thrones, “Octopus, would you like to join me?”

Logan let go of the Bard, who curtsied and stepped back, and then offered a hand to the Playwright. “It would be my pleasure,” he said, “How about we acquire a table, Hearts?”

The Playwright nodded, then shot the Thief a look. “Snake,” he said, a promise, a warning, “Let’s waltz.” 

“Let’s,” the Thief responded, squeezing Deceit’s arm. 

The Bard and Patton had already taken each other onto the dance floor, hoping to not be conspicuously waiting in a group by the door way, and the Artist was meandering around — nope, no, he just asked an Imagination citizen to dance. Blending in well. 

Operation save Virgil and the Child was a go. 

Virgil could hear the faint music from above. He squinted up, then closed his eyes and exhaled. What’d that matter? 

His side was throbbing. It seemed that just wrapping a bandage around a wound did fuck all to stop it from hurting, or bleeding, especially if it was just wrapped once and around the front. Virgil would have to remember that for the next time he got stabbed by an evil Dragon, he thought snidely. 

He and the Child had relocated themselves to the bed. Pretending to not be panicking was tiring, but luckily for him, the Child had fallen asleep. 

He sniffed quietly, rubbing his eye with the butt of his palm. For the past half an hour, ever sine the Child fell asleep, Virgil had been silently crying. And there was no Damsel to conjure him a glass of water or tell him it’d be okay. Because he knew it wasn’t going to be okay. 

Even if he didn’t die in the Imagination, he’d be exiting it alone. And that was fine! 

The Child snuggled closer to his chest, tiny arms wrapped around him. Virgil sniffed again and hugged him tight. 

If he did nothing else, he’d at least protect this Roman. 

He wished he’d at least told Roman how he felt. 

Maybe he’d never get the chance. 

Gosh, this was really fatalistic, even for him. It wasn’t like he was gonna die in the Imagination. 

Virgil shielded his eyes with an arm and, as illogical as it was, wished that he could use that one arm motion to block out the sounds of the ball going on above. Shit, he was gonna die in the Imagination. 

….Usually that’d freak him out a bit more. Maybe he’d bled out to the point where he was too tired to be worried. And, maybe it was childish, but he really did want to dance with Roman. 

taglists!

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil @theobsessor1 @ninja-wizard101 @fandomsofrandom

general taglist: @jemthebookworm @okay-finne

[slut-for-fandoms]

Paint me yours (kth x reader) PART 1

Pairings: Artist!Taehyung x reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst (in the following chapters) 

Summary:  You are an art college student who struggles with finances. Until one day, on an exhibition of the arising artist Kim Taehyung, when the same boy offers you a job as his model. Would it be just a simple job or would it complicate your life in ways you have never thought it would?

Warnings: none in this one (perhaps my bad writing and lots of mistakes?) 

A/N: So here is the first chapter. I really don’t know what to think about it as i haven’t written anything in more than a year (so sorry guys but now I am back, yey) I really do hope you like it and please let me know what you think and whether you would like to be tagged in the series ♥ Enjoy 

Euphoria. Excitement. Happiness. Exaltation. A complete symphony of colors and emotions. Blue, purple, violet, azure - blended in such a way that glues you to the masterpiece. At places it seems unfinished, raw, as though the creator has been in a hurry. But at the same time it is so detailed that you wonder how long it took him to create it. It represents a woman, or to be more precise, a young girl. Long hair composed with ochre, amber, honey and a hint of gold, covers half of her pale face. Her lips are the perfect combination of red, cheery, wine and auburn. An orderly chaos of colors.

While everything seems just as raw painting, the most capturing features are the eyes. They are so detailed and express the condition of the girl. The sparks that make her look tangible grabs you on a roller coaster of thoughts and feelings and somehow makes you even experience the same state.  I move to the next painting.

Sadness. Affliction. Pain. Torment. The contrast between the used shades is much deeper. Pale yet dark. The more I look at it, the more it captivates me. All of the creations I saw were beyond amazing, complete masterpieces but this one… This one is different. One look and I got this strange feeling in my guts when we anticipate something bad, something that might hurt us.

The background is composed of dark shades, while the girl is sculpted of the pale range of colors. Again, the most detailed parts are the eyes. You get the feeling as if a soul was trapped inside the drawn girl that shows how much she suffers. The more you contemplate, the more you assume that the darkness around her represents the cruel world, while the bright yet shaded colors shows how fragile and broken she is. Is it from the world? What destroyed her? Who made her look like a shattered vase which parts are no longer going to form its beautiful shape?

Holding my glass of champagne I took some steps back and sat on the settee opposite the painting. Thanks god it wasn’t that low as they use to be in other galleries. I crossed my legs which caused the hem of my black dress to roll up slightly. As an art student, I tend to visit many exhibitions in order to get inspiration, gain knowledge of the new and unorthodox styles and improve mine. I can’t say I am complaining as we are given free access to any kind of such events. This is beyond amazing as now I am contemplating the art of one of the rising artists – Kim Taehyung. Honestly, I have never seen him but the critics consider him the new Van Gogh and now I understand why.

When I came I was so uneven about it, all the people here were rich and classy and I, a broken student with a cheap dress borrowed from her friend, had no place here. Everything was out of my league and I felt like garbage disfiguring this place.

“You seem really immersed into the picture.”, someone chucked, bringing me out of my thoughts. I looked up and saw man in golden suit and two glasses of champagne in his hands. His smile was so bright, genuine, that it made me blush slightly, “May I?”, he titled his head towards the settee as if asking if it was free.

“Ye- yeah, of course”, I stuttered and put a lock of fallen hair behind my ear.

His smile grew bigger and he took the free seat next to me.

“Here.”, he gave me one of the glasses. I looked up at him confused, “I saw that you have already finished yours so…”, I looked at my glass which was empty. I might have stayed there for a way longer time that I have thought. I left the glass on the floor next to the settee.

“Thank you.”, I gave him a smile, although inside I was feeling embarrassed, “Very fond of you.”, I said after taking the offered glass.

“Well, I just wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I have left such a beautiful lady sitting here by her side. The champagne was just an excuse to approach you.”, I bit my lip and tried to hide myself due to the blush that crept on my face.

“You are even more appealing when blushing.”, okay, I have never believed I could become so red but here I am.

“Please, stop.”, I stuttered through the smile that just grew bigger on my face.

“Why?”, he tilted his head and asked me with that sweet smirk still placed on his face, his eyes never leaving my figure, “you don’t like honest people?”, as a response I chuckled and tried to gain my dignity and look at him. Why was I such a blushing mess around this… stranger…a handsome stranger?

“It is just that you are the first one to approach me this evening.”, a slight feeling of sadness made my stomach turn as I recall the events, pardon, the lack of them from this night. I started playing with my hands as something as pity overwhelmed me.

“Well-”, his deep baritone voice made me look at him. This time he was facing the painting in front of us which gave me the opportunity to survey him. Soft pink lips, sweet roundy nose, medium long light eyelashes. Skin in the color of bronze and a golden suit that make him look like a god. Aristocratic hands with long fingers, adorned with rings. The way he is holding the glass gives you the thoughts that a prince is sitting oppose you, “It is their lose.”, he states after locking his eyes with mine. And then I’m completely lost. They are just like the sad girls’ in the paintings – full of emotions. I see the same spark that leads directly to his soul. It captivates you. There is love, care, tenderness that make my heart skips a beat. But also you can spot something wild and intriguing. An abyss of feelings kept locked deep inside.

He took a sip of his champagne which caught my attention and made me break the eye contact. How could such a simple action as drinking makes me wanna grab the brushes and paint this gorgeous creature on the canvas?

“I can’t say I am complaining of that.”, I followed his movements and took a taste of my drink, “They seem like they are here only for talking. All of them are just chit-chatting and just at times spare a glance at the paintings. It – It just looks like a gathering of the rich and bitchy class.”, suddenly he burst into laughing. Oh that sound… It was like a soft melody for my years I could listen to all day. It was so infectious and addicting.

“What?”, I asked confused but with a smile plastered on my face.

“I couldn’t have said it more correctly. I’ve met everybody in the gallery and yet you are the only one contemplating the works.”

“Isn’t that what we are supposed to do on an exhibition? But apart from that, these paintings, these masterpieces…”, I took a breath like looking at the sad girl opposite me, “they are captivating. There is life in them, there is soul. Undoubtedly the artist is one of the best I’ve ever come across. Many have the ability to draw, few have the talent to create a masterpiece, something that makes you stop and think. And these here, they indeed convey more than a hundred words.”

“And where do you think that comes from?”, he asks me in that deep voice of his. I turn my attention back on him to see the man already looking at me with a stern expression showing nothing.

“The ability to make a painting live?”, he nodded his head in agreement, “Pain.”

“Pain?”

“Pain. It is always the pain. Why do you think the greatest artists are those who have suffered the most?  Sadness, sorrow, ache, agony… they are different than the other feelings. When something good happens to you, you are happy for a short moment. Usually those moments tends to be forgotten way easier than the moments that our soul was in pain. It is just that the affliction we bottle inside us ruins us in the end. The knots in our stomach, the suffocating feeling in our chest… they are tormenting us and we all need a way to express them somehow, to try to get them out of us. And the answer is always the art. It doesn’t matter whether it would be with a brush or a pen in our hands, if we are going to compose a poem, song or just draw something.  We just want the pain away. For its tight fist around our hearts to weaken, for its dark thoughts to leave us at peace at night, for the tears to stop rolling down and choke us.”, I paused in order to take a sip of my champagne, feeling his eyes following my movements, “That is one of the reasons why I like this one so much.”, I continued pointing at the work before us, “It look as if not only the model had been sad, but also the artist.”, when I turned around he had a sad smile on his face. For a moment I saw the abyss – full of sorrow and regret, pain and affliction.

“You can’t be more right.”, and once again, as he looked up, the door to his soul closed with that stern expression, “That is why I don’t know whether I like this work or not.”

“It recalls a bad event?”

“It recalls the day I painted her.”

My eyes were so wide that surely they were going to pop out of my head. I opened my mouth, then close it, then opened it again. I was so shocked that I could say nothing.

“I still remember how heartbroken she was.”

“You- you are the artist?”, my voice raised an octave higher and I cursed myself.

“Surprised?”, he asked smiling at my shocked expression.

“You just caught me off guard.”

And then the rest of the night kind of slips my mind. I don’t really know how long we’d been talking through various topics. Whatever felt like hours had only been half an hour once I saw the watch on my hand.

“Unfortunately, as a host, I need to make a speech. It was nice to meet you -”

“(Y/N)!”, answering I took his hand as he helped me get up from the settee.

“(Y/N).”, he said tasting my name and I could not miss the way his tongue rolled and the deep voice that sent shivers down my spine, “A beautiful name for a way more gorgeous girl.”

“Why are you trying to make my blush so hard?”, I asked trying to hide my face.

“I don’t know. I just like it.”, he shrugged with a smile, “Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?”, is it just me or he just lowered his voice on purpose while saying my name.

“O-Of course.”, out of nervousness I started playing with my own hands which only made his smirk grow bigger.

“Would you like to be my model, darling?”

[thirteen-beaxhes]

So yah you made my soulmate cry about your not Tyrus Endgame fic so like if you could make an alternate tyrus endgame chapter that would be great and i wont fite you with bacon

hello hello my dude sskskskssk iM SORRY I DIDNT WANNA HURT ANYONE but i actually had panned out an alternate ending for ‘Our Last Words’ but ultimately scrapped it for the original so i pulled out those notes.

SO this is set after Chapter 7 of ‘Our Last Words’. To recap: the chapter ends with them finally confessing and kissing dramatically in the rain, but Cyrus confessed his fear of losing TJ if he is his soulmate, but TJ reassures him it’ll be okay. But he’s still scared. 

LINKS IN REBLOG 

~~~~~~

With or Without You - U2

Cyrus wished, at that moment, that he had never met TJ.

He wasn’t even sure what the argument had started about, but now they were fully yelling in each other’s faces, hurling insult after insult at each other. Cyrus knew he didn’t mean any of what he was saying, but his mind was stuck in a storm and there was no getting out.

“You can be so infuriating sometimes, Cyrus,” TJ yelled, wildly running his fingers through his hair.

“Oh really? How come?” Cyrus hissed, glaring at TJ.

“Are you serious? All past year, I’ve been so patient, and understanding, never asking why you would just up and leave in between dates or hanging out, trying to not let it upset me. But you never said why, you just kept doing it. And it sucked. But what sucked more is you never said a word. You always just left.”

“I’m sorry, okay? It’s just, I,” Cyrus stammered, unable to find the words. How was he supposed to tell TJ about his nervousness about soulmates and the numbers and letters printed on his shoulder, without sounding paranoid?

TJ just turned away from Cyrus, pinching the bridge of his nose, leaning against the kitchen counter in his house. He took a deep breath but kept his head down.

“I’m gonna go,” Cyrus mumbled, grabbing his phone from the table. TJ scoffed.

“Are you serious right now? You’re literally doing the same thing again!”

“I just have to go,” Cyrus started, his tone pleading.

“Why, Cyrus? Why can’t you just tell me?”

“I can’t! Okay? I can’t tell you!” Cyrus yelled, the tears filling up in his eyes, as he moved to the door. He grabbed his coat and left TJ’s house, the cold air of winter hitting him in the face as soon as he walked out. All he heard was TJ’s sigh as he shut the door behind him.

As he walked away from the house, Cyrus let the tears fall. This had been their worst fight yet. They didn’t fight very often, only irrelevant arguments every now and then. But this one seemed different. And despite how much it hurt, Cyrus knew that it was warranted in some sense. He had been so caught up in his fear of TJ being his soulmate that he had not considered how TJ would be feeling with him leaving abruptly almost every time they hung out.

Were they still together? Cyrus asked himself as he made his way to the Spoon. He really hoped they were, and that this was just another obstacle they would get over. But for some reason, he felt unsure. And that just left a weird feeling in his gut. He shook his head slightly as he pushed open the door of the Spoon, just wanting to settle down with some baby taters and a milkshake.

“Oh, Cyrus! Hey,” a voice said from behind him, and Cyrus turned to see Walker sitting in a booth, waving him over. Cyrus rubbed his nose, which was quite red, and smiled back, heading over to him.

“Hey Walker,” Cyrus said, sliding into the seat opposite to him. Walker furrowed his eyebrows, looking at Cyrus in concern.

“Are you okay, bro? You look hassled.”

Cyrus just waved him off, sniffing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just, cold and stuff.”

Walker didn’t look convinced, but nodded his head anyway, as the waitress set down their food. They spent the next half an hour just talking about nothing in particular, Cyrus starting to feel a bit better about things. He hadn’t really spoken much to Walker before, what with all the drama involving him, Andi, Jonah and Buffy. It was a big mess that Cyrus wanted no part of. But, as he kept talking to him, Cyrus realised that they actually got on pretty well. If things were different, they could have been really good friends.

All the while they were at the Spoon, Cyrus itched to check his phone, desperate to see if TJ had texted him, said anything. At various points, he caved and checked, but the notifications were blank. He tapped his fingers against the table repeatedly, his underlying nervousness growing. Walker wasn’t blind, he picked up on his actions soon enough, and finally, he grabbed Cyrus’ hand, forcing him to stop tapping.

“Are you sure everything is okay, Cyrus?” Walker asked, looking Cyrus in the eye. Cyrus forced himself to look back at Walker, taking a deep breath.

“TJ and I got into a huge fight before this,” Cyrus said with a sigh, looking at the empty baby tater basket before him. “And I don’t know if we will still be okay.”

Walker shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about that. Your friendship is strong enough to last anything.”

Cyrus gave a short, emotionless laugh. “Friendship, maybe. But a relationship is different, I guess.”

Walker looked confused at first, but then realisation flooded his face, as he leaned back in his seat. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you guys were-”

“It’s okay,” Cyrus interrupted, holding up his hand. “I know what you meant.”

Walker nodded. “I’m sure you guys will be okay.”

Cyrus sighed, taking the opportunity to check his phone again. Still nothing.

There was an awkward silence between them until Walker snapped his fingers. “Oh! I wanted to tell you. There’s an art exhibition tomorrow, and one of my paintings is gonna be there as one of the featured artist works.”

“Whoa, Walker, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you,” Cyrus said, smiling as he bumped fists with him.

“Thanks, man. Anyway, I’d love it if you could come by and see it.”

“Really?” Cyrus asked.

“Yeah,” Walker shrugged. “I still haven’t told Andi or anyone, so you’re the first person I’ve told.”

Cyrus smiled, taking the flyer which Walker had passed over to him. “I’ll try my best to make it.”

“Cool,” Walker replied, smiling warmly. “Tomorrow?”

Cyrus bumped fists with him again as he slid out of the booth seat. “Tomorrow.”

*

Cyrus walked home, the temporary happiness from hanging out with Walker wearing out. He appreciated Walker trying to make him feel better, and it had worked for a bit. But after he left, he looked back at his blank phone screen, the worry setting in. Logic dictated that he should call TJ and talk this out. But when had his logical side ever won against the side holding irrational fear?

Cyrus walked back to his room, throwing his coat on his bed. When he did so, he caught a fleeting glimpse at his watch.

6:17 pm.

Cyrus sighed, heading over to the bathroom. He knew there was no real reason for him to check, he hadn’t been around TJ at the time on his shoulder, but old habits die hard. He pulled down the collar of his shirt, his gaze sliding over, but he did a double take and gasped.

Grey.

What? How? Who could it have been? Only people he had spoken to were TJ and…

Oh.

As if he was stuck in slow motion, Cyrus picked up his phone and shakily clicked on Walker’s contact, typing out a ‘hi’. Holding his breath, he pressed ‘Send’.

This message could not be delivered.

Cyrus gasped, dropping his phone onto the bed, covering his mouth in shock. He hastily typed out many more messages, checking if it wasn’t just a fluke.

This message could not be delivered.

This message could not be delivered.

This message could not be delivered.

Cyrus felt tears prick his eyes, but they weren’t of sadness. Of course, he felt a dull pang of pain, knowing he would never get to talk to Walker again. He really had a great time with him that day, but in the end, they just didn’t know each other well enough. He would miss a friend, though.

But…

TJ wasn’t his soulmate.

That realisation hit Cyrus like a ton of bricks. In the best way possible. TJ wasn’t his soulmate. He wouldn’t lose him. He didn’t need to be scared anymore. He didn’t need to be scared.

“TJ,” Cyrus whispered, as he left his coat and bolted out of his room, down the stairs, out of the doors, into the streets as the sky began to grow darker. Under the darkening sky, Cyrus ran. He ran a record distance for him, all the way trying to call TJ, but receiving no answer.

He reached TJ’s house, but he didn’t knock. Instead, he went to the side of the house, and climbed up to TJ’s window, from where he could see the light on, and a figure walking around the room. He had only climbed up to TJ’s window once, and it had almost ended in a trip to the emergency room. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Cyrus made his way up the drain pipe, very nearly falling off at least 5 times. But eventually, he made it up, rapping his knuckles on TJ’s window, catching his breath after the unbelievable amount of exercise he had done.

He saw TJ pace about his room, his eyes visibly red. At Cyrus’ knocking, he turned around abruptly, his jaw dropping to the floor as he walked up to the window to open it.

“Cyrus, what are you,” TJ started but was cut off by Cyrus pulling him in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling TJ as close as he could. TJ was knocked back in shock, but soon enough wrapped his hands around Cyrus’ waist, melting into his touch. Cyrus pulled away, but grabbed TJ’s face, kissing it all over, whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over.

“Hey hey,” TJ said, moving Cyrus back so he could look him in the eye. “It’s okay, Cy. It’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry for hurting you TJ,” Cyrus mumbled, his face red, a stray tear falling down his cheek. “I was so scared of possibly losing you, that I just forgot everything else. And I didn’t realise how I was hurting your feelings.”

“Cyrus,” TJ whispered, pushing Cyrus’ hair back, trying to hold the tears back himself. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I said some awful things too. But I told you, you won’t lose me.”

“I know that now,” Cyrus said, looking at TJ with a bright smile of relief.

It took TJ a minute to understand what Cyrus meant, but soon he realised. And he grabbed Cyrus and hugged him tight, spinning him around his room, kissing his cheek, his forehead, his lips. He had never felt more relief in his life.

“We must be the first losers to be so happy that we aren’t soulmates,” Cyrus laughed, bumping his nose with TJ’s.

“So, are we okay?” TJ asked nervously, looking at Cyrus.

Cyrus just smiled, and pulled TJ in for a kiss, nodding his head.

“Yeah, we are. Of course we are.”

They stayed like that, hugging and kissing, high on a different level of happiness. After a while, TJ turned over to Cyrus.

“I don’t care what the universe says,” he whispered, holding Cyrus’ hand. “But you are the best person for me, Cyrus Goodman.”

Cyrus smiled, kissing the tip of TJ’s nose. “And you’re the best person for me, TJ Kippen.”

~~~~~~~

Hope that was okay lol

Send me prompts cuz im uninspired and I’ll do them in a few days!

[ingloriousblasters]

Second Chances (Merle x OC) AU - Chapter Eleven

Synopsis: Finding herself pregnant and unwed, Nora Buckley thought she’d never return to the small town of Redwater, Georgia. Five years later, life has brought her back to the town she swore she’d never go back to. In a hurry to find a place to live and a job to provide for her daughter, Anna, Nora reluctantly takes a position at the old Dixon farm on the outskirts of town, where she meets fellow Redwater outcast, Merle Dixon. Takes place in early 1960s. 

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

A/N: So I wanted to get this chapter out before I leave for the weekend. I’ve had this chapter planned for like months (maybe almost a year) and didn’t realize until yesterday how almost holiday appropriate it was? Although, I’m envisioning the timeline somewhere around the end of September, so not quite Halloween. 

Warnings: Some spoilers for the movie Psycho, so if you somehow haven’t seen, or don’t know the twist ending to an almost 60 year old movie, you’ve been warned. 

Chapter Eleven

The day Merle was given the all clear, he hurled himself back into the fields. His arm ached every now and then, but he refused to relax. Everyone was busy on their own schedule as summer finally seemed to be drawing to a close. Anna and Nora’s mornings became less frantic as they fell into a routine, with Anna still able to gather eggs from the coop before breakfast. They had everything down to a science and knew exactly what time the bus would be out front.

The sudden lack of spare time also allowed Merle to avoid the eventual conversation with Nora about what happened on the tractor. It was the only thing on his mind as he tended to the fields, how close he was. It was like an electric force pulling them together before Darylina ruined it. Dummy couldn’t ever take a hint. Merle wasn’t sure how to bring it back up, or if Nora even wanted him to since she never talked about it again either. In a way, he was almost content to never talk about it again. Merle never understood why he was this way when he knew that wasn’t what he wanted. He could feel Nora slipping from him as the days went by, and the thought of that made him angry. Merle threw a rotten tomato as hard as he could towards the woods, and sighed. Distracted in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the swooshing sound of the plant leaves getting closer.

“Hey,” Nora called.

“Shit!” Merle whispered and whirled his head around at her voice. His sudden turn causing Nora to take a step back.

“Sorry, did I scare you?”

Merle huffed a laughed. “What?” Aw, nah darlin. Ya didn’t scare me.” He cleared his throat and puffed out his chest, while his heart rate started to even out on the inside. Nora raised a brow at him.

“Uh, what did ya need?” he asked.

“I was just seeing how much longer you were gonna be out here,” she responded. “I was gonna get a roast started since Anna will be home soon.”

“Jesus,” Merle rubbed a hand over his sweat drenched face. “Is it that time already?”

“Mmhm.”

“Ya know, sometimes I don’t even know what day it is?” he joked.

Nora gave him a short smile while she folded her arms. “Well, you’ve been pretty busy,” she answered.

Merle could hear the forced kindness in her voice. It stung his heart. His eyes fell and he stared at his dirt covered boots while nodding his head. The awkward silence of their first encounters seemed to be breathing new life again.

“Well, I guess I better get back to the house,” Nora said softly and Merle watched as her shadow slowly moved away from him. Ya gonna lose her for good if ya don’t do something, Dixon, his mind yelled at him.

“Wait!” Merle called and jogged up the row of green vegetation. Nora stopped to let him catch up. All of their conversations since the tractor had been brief, nothing lasting longer than a few minutes. She wondered what was so important now.

“I, uh wanted to thank ya for everything you did while I was outta commission,” he smiled.

“Oh,” Nora said flatly. “You’re welcome.” She moved to head back towards the house when she felt Merle’s warm hand wrap around her upper arm, gently pulling her back.

“No, uh, what I meant was...um,” Merle’s hand moved from Nora to scratch the back of his head while he thought of the right words. “When was the last time ya seen a picture?”

Nora shrugged her shoulders.

“Um, I...I’d like ta take ya, if you’ll let me, this weekend. They finally showing that new Hitchcock one over in Greenwood.” Merle held his breath as he waited for her to respond.

Nora furrowed her brows as she thought Merle’s words over. He hadn’t so much as complimented her since the tractor incident. A part of her thought Merle might have changed his mind after that day, that their relationship had become too real so he backed off. She watched his mannerisms while thinking it over, noticing how he bit his lower lip and his eyes almost resembled that of a puppy dog with his brows lifting and creasing at an angle. She was still a little upset with him, but she couldn’t deny she wanted to go.

“What about Anna?” she asked.

“Daryl could watch her or something,” Merle immediately replied. “I take that as a yes?”  Nora smiled again, this time with a softness in her features and a hopefulness in her eyes, and nodded her head.

“It’s a date then,” Merle remarked and walked with her to the farmhouse. The fields had been tended to enough for the day.

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

Nora stood in front of the small sink in the shed, holding her compact mirror in one hand and adjusting the strands of her unruly hair with the other. The lamp near the kitchenette held the best light and she stuck the mirror further out to see as much of herself as she could. She had pinned her waves back on both sides and let the rest hang loose, hitting just past her shoulders. Nora moved her head back and forth and up and down, making sure the little makeup she did put on hadn’t smudged. She had coated her lashes in a deep black mascara and painted her lips with a soft red to contrast against the blush colored, tea length dress she decided to wear. Her eyes caught Anna, sitting on the bed with a smile on her face watching her. A knock at the door cut through the silence and Anna ran over to let Merle in.

“Merle!” she greeted him wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Hey Bug, you and ya Mama ready?” he asked.

“Yep,” Nora answered while turning around and closing her compact. She walked over to the small table and placed it in her coin purse then walked up towards the two. Merle’s smile grew as she neared, his eyes roamed from the top of her head down to her feet and he tucked his hands in his back pockets.

“Hi,” he grinned while his shoulders swayed back and forth and his blue eyes finally landed back on Nora’s.

“Hi,” she smiled softly. Her full cheeks turning a slight pink hue. For the briefest moment it was just them.

“Why can’t I go to the movie?” Anna whined, breaking the bubble Merle and Nora found themselves in once more.

“Because this is a grown up movie, baby,” Nora said. She walked back to the table and grabbed the white canvas bag she had packed Anna’s stuff in. “You remember me telling you that. Ya gonna go over to Doris and Marty’s house tonight and have dinner.” Anna sighed and pouted as she walked out of the shed door and towards the parked vehicles, kicking at whatever piece of nature fell in her path.

“We’ll go see a cartoon soon, Bug. Alright?” Merle tried to reason with the five year old. He didn’t even think Anna might be jealous about them going somewhere without her. He clearly still had a lot to learn about kids.

They loaded up in Merle’s truck and headed into town. When they got to Doris’ house, Anna seemed to perk up a bit. The warm, sweet scent of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies hit their noses as the front door opened and Doris ushered them in. Nora knew Anna would be spoiled rotten here, but she didn’t mind. In fact, Anna managed to talk Doris into eating a cookie before dinner just to make sure they tasted good.

“So what show are you going to?” Doris asked with enthusiasm while walking Nora and Merle to the door.

“Oh, that new Hitchcock one,” Nora replied.

“Oh my,” the older woman responded. “The magazines say it’s suppose to be terrifying.”

Merle waved a passing hand at her. “Ain’t nothing that can scare a Dixon,” he boasted. Nora smiled to herself at his words, thinking about the other day when Merle jumped when she called him.

“We should be back around nine thirty or so,” Nora replied as they walked out to the porch.

“Oh take your time dear, no rush,” Doris waved them goodbye.

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

The ride over to Greenwood was passed with anticipated talk about the movie. It had finally made its way down to the small towns of America and they both wondered how scary it would be. The drive-in was half full by the time Merle pulled into the large expanse. The gravel crunched underneath the tires as they slowed and turned into a spot near the back. As Merle turned the ignition off an advertisement with dancing bags of popcorn, hotdogs, and cups of soda appeared on the giant screen, illuminating the truck in red and blue hues.

“Ya want something ta eat? Im starvin,” Merle asked and Nora agreed. Before hopping out of the truck, he cranked the driver side window down and the brisk night air filled the cab. Merle reached for the round speaker attached to the post and hung it on the door as he got out. With Merle’s broad frame gone, the cool air sent a shiver down Nora’s spine. She folded her arms over each other as goosebumps started to appear, but they only became worse as the screen went black and suddenly sharp, franic, string notes began to play through the metal speaker. A few minutes later, Merle returned with a large bag of buttery popcorn and two cokes. He handed Nora the beverages through the open window before getting back in.

“Music’s kinda creepy ain't it?” he stated.  

“Uh hunh,” Nora responded while reaching for a handful of popcorn. They munched on the snack and slurped their drinks as the credits continued to roll. When the screen finally landed on a woman in her lingerie reclining in bed with a shirtless man standing next to her, Merle let out a low whistle.

“This is gonna be some movie,” he whispered. Merle continued to give his own commentary as the film went on to Nora’s enjoyment.

“Atta girl,” he hollered when Marion Crane packed her bags and the forty thousand dollars.

Nora asked for some more popcorn and Merle held the bag in the middle of them, waiting for Nora to reach her hand out. When she did, he pulled his away and chuckled.

“Merle!” Nora laughed at his antics. She tried again and Merle pulled away. Giving a huff, Nora tried for a third time and when Merle stuck his arm out, this time he let her grab a handful of the salty treat. After taking a sip of the sweet, syrupy soda a chill ran through her body and Nora folded her arms again, rubbing her hands up and down her expose skin.

“Ya cold?” Merle asked as he glanced over at her sitting in the passenger seat.

“Just a little.”

“Come here,” Merle set the bag of popcorn in his lap and raised his right arm, resting it along the top of the bench seat. Nora looked over at him and bite her lip. Slowly, she slid across the faded tan plastic. Moving to the middle seat, Nora smoothed out the skirt of her dress when Merle’s arm slid around her. The warmth from his calloused hand running up and down her arm soon had Nora relaxed and comfortable. While Merle absentmindedly stroked her arm, Nora took the bag of popcorn from his lap and started to munch on a few pieces. With his other hand, Merle reached over to try and grab some and when she saw him out of the corner of her eye, Nora moved the bag at the same time. A smile creeped on her face.

Merle bellowed a laugh. “Alright, I deserved that.”

Soon they became engrossed in the movie that had taken an eerie turn when the woman stopped at an almost abandoned motel. The popcorn was tossed to the side as the suspense kicked in. The lack of music playing on the screen made Nora uneasy and without thinking, she placed a nervous hand on Merle’s knee.

The silence in the air was deafening and Nora’s grip tightened as the blurred image of the bathroom door opened and a shadowy figure neared the shower. Nora felt Merle’s arm stiffen as the figure came closer and closer. When the curtained opened and the shrilling music started to play, Nora jumped and Merle’s hand clamped down on her side.

“Oh shit!” he yelled as the woman was stabbed to death in quick flashes. Screams erupted from the surrounding vehicles at the terror on the screen, and Nora closed her eyes until the music subsided. Her heart pounded against her chest and she could still feel Merle’s grip on her.

“What kinda movie did you take me to?” she turned to face him. Merle just stared at the screen, wide eyed with his mouth opening and closing trying to find words, but nothing came out. Nothing scares a Dixon, huh? Nora smirked to herself. They spent the rest of the movie in each other’s embrace with Nora eventually resting her head on Merle’s plaid covered shoulder. When Detective Arbogast met his doom, they jumped in unison again.

Neither spoke as the screen faded to black and they waited for the line of cars leaving to die down before Merle started the old truck. Both lost in their own thoughts about what they just watched.

“I liked it,” Nora finally said as they traveled down the dark stretch of road connecting Greenwood to Redwater.

“Ya did?” Merle asked. He glanced over to Nora’s shadowy frame and then back at the dimly lit road, amazed at her words.

“Mmhm, it was different,” she responded.

“Yep, it was,” he agreed.

So are you. The thought flitted through Merle’s head as they passed the worn down sign welcoming them back to Redwood.

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

They stopped at Doris and Marty’s to pick up a zonked out Anna. Dressed in her purple night shirt and pants, the little girl was curled up on the couch with her favorite stuffed puppy dog tucked underneath one arm. Nora scooped her up in her arms and she and Merle gave whispered ‘thank yous’ and ‘goodbyes’ to the older couple. Merle opened the passenger side door for Nora and helped her get in, waiting until both her and the kid were settled before shutting it.

The ride back to the farmhouse was quiet so as to not disrupt Anna’s sleep and when Merle parked in the grassy area, he hopped out and took her from Nora’s arms.

“Here,” he gestured. “I got her.” They carefully transferred the tired girl from Nora’s lap to Merle’s arms, trying their best not to wake her. Anna’s heavy eyes fluttered open a few times through the exchange, but she quickly nuzzled into the crook of Merle’s neck and fell back asleep.

Nora walked in front of him to open the door to the shed and Merle gently laid Anna on the rickety mattress and pulled the covers over her. They walked back outside, and Nora shut the door quietly. Out in the open air, she looked up at Merle while tucking her unruly strands of hair behind her ear. From the light of the full moon, she could see the prominent outline of his strong jaw, and his blue eyes had a hypnotizing glow to them.

“I had a nice time tonight,” she commented, as she pushed her hair away again while the breezy night continued to undo her efforts.

“Yeah, me too,” Merle agreed. “Should do it again sometime.”

Nora nodded her head and smiled.

“Uh, I was thinking,” he started again and paused.

“Yeah?” Nora urged him on, fixing another flyaway strand. Merle lifted his hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, his hand cupping her cheek. He forgot what he was going to ask as he got lost in Nora’s eyes. Suddenly, he felt like he was back on the tractor, she was so close to him again.  

“Daryl ain’t around is he?” he whispered as his thumb stroked the soft skin of her cheek. Nora shook her head as her heart began to pick up a fast rhythm. Her eyes glanced to Merle’s lips as he quickly licked them and his face inched closer to her own. A feeling of deja vu came over her for a split second, thinking something would interrupt them again, but the idea went away as quickly as it came when Merle’s lips connected with hers. Nora closed her eyes and sighed at the warmth that ran through her body. Merle’s slightly chapped lips glided over hers and Nora’s body awakened for the first time in years.  The electricity flowing between them couldn't be ignored and Merle let a groan of satisfaction slip from his mouth. Nora wrapped her arms around Merle’s neck, running her hands through the short curls at the base of his neck.

Remembering what he was going to ask, Merle reluctantly broke away from her lips to ask Nora what he had intended.

“Uh, listen,” he started, still in a haze. “I was thinking, the nights are gonna start getting pretty cold out here soon, and I don’t want the kid getting sick. I was thinking...” Merle paused again and cleared his throat. “I want ya both to come move into the house.”

Nora’s mouth fell open. “Really?” she asked.

Merle nodded his head.

Nora smiled and tugged him closer to continue where they left off moments ago. Merle’s hand snaked around Nora’s waist while his other dared to creep lower, resting on her bottom. A faint moan escaped Nora’s mouth. Both needing a breath, they broke apart again huffing in the night air. Merle could feel the blood beginning to flow below his waist, but knew nothing would happen tonight.

“Well, guess we better call it a night. Gotta a lot to do tomorrow,” he said before he could make a fool of himself.

“Ok,” Nora smiled and slowly dropped her arms from him. She turned to open the shed door and paused with her hand on the knob.

“Merle?” she called.

“Yeah?”

Nora walked towards him and lifting on her tiptoes placed a soft, quick kiss to his lips. “Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Night, sugar,” he grinned.

“Sugar? No more darlin?” Nora joked.

“Ya always be my darlin, but I don’t think I’m ever gonna get enough of ya sugar...sugar.”

Nora’s cheeks flushed with warmth and slight embarrassment from the new nickname. “Night,” she giggled and pushed Merle’s chest playfully.

She changed into her nightgown and joined Anna on the bed, but found herself unable to fall asleep. Her thoughts filled not with the terror of a mentally unstable killer, but of the rugged, grumpy farmer who gave her a chance when she needed it most, and somehow snuck his way into her heart.

Tags: @tyferbebe

[baozis-marshmallow]

A Girl is a Gun: Im Jaebum (Got7) Mafia AU

Pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Thriller, romance, dystopian, organized crime, fluff, smut

Summary: Im Jaebum is the leader of the notorious mob known as the 7. They hold extreme power, and every other gang wants what they have; including Y/N’s father, a corrupt political superpower in this dystopian world. This man will do anything to get even a fraction of the 7′s fortune. Even if it means destroying them in the process. However, Jae makes the politician a deal that he simply can’t turn down.

Previous Chapters:  1  -  2

{TRIGGER WARNING: Contains drinking, gang violence, swearing, and themes of kidnapping.}

You can find the moodboards that correspond with this fic here!

*There is no smut in this chapter, but there will be in future chapters*

c h a p t e r   2 

You awoke from your slumber feeling like you were having the worst hangover of your life. Your head pounded, and it had felt like someone had punched you in the gut. While rubbing your temple in an attempt to alleviate your migraine, you found that a large, swollen bump had formed; likely from when Jae had thrown you in the car. 

That bastard, you thought to yourself. 

You turned your head to take in your surroundings and the entire room began to spin. You had to grip the sheets you sat on to stop you from falling over, and you were really wondering if what he had injected you with was poison. When the potentially drug-induced vertigo eased away, you were able to catch some of the details of the room.

Ornate vaulted ceilings towered above you, and held a giant, broken chandelier that had littered various pieces of crystal on the floor. You were sat upon an old, elegant looking four-poster bed with tatters of what you assumed to have been a silk canopy at one point. The paint was peeling off the walls around the half-broken, floor-to-ceiling windows that adorned the one side of the room. 

Whatever this place was, it must have been beautiful at one point, but it looks like you were the first person to set foot in here in years. Although, perhaps maybe not, because you noted that the thick layer of dust that covered most of the furniture, did not cover the bed, nor the bedside table. In fact, you had noted the strong, distinct scent of disinfectant, and that there were several pairs of foot prints in the dirty floor leading to and from where you now sit. Your heart began to race. Where the hell where you?

As if on cue, you heard the large wooden doors of the room creak open, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. Without thinking you pushed yourself backwards into the headboard of the bed, and grabbed the nearest object that could do the most damage. In this case, it was an ornate candlestick that must have once been on the now-clean bedside table. It looked like it had been pushed to the floor in a hurry. 

A man had appeared in the doorway, but it was not Jaebum. This guy had a mess of light brown hair and warm eyes. He had his mouth twisted in a sad, almost sympathetic smile after seeing how frightened you were. He was of average height and average build, nothing you couldn’t handle if you needed to, but he didn’t give off a hostile vibe at all. In fact, he actually felt - friendly? You weren’t going to let your guard down though, there was no way you could trust anyone right now. 

He began to walk towards you, adding another set of footprints to the dust, and opening his mouth to speak. “Hello Y/N I’m Doc-” he was cut off by having to duck away from the candlestick you had thrown at his head. 

“You stay the fuck away from me, you hear?” You screamed “I want nothing to do with you or your BASTARD of a boss.” 

The man stood back up with a look of horror and raised both hands at you for mercy. “Okay look I know you’re mad.” he said. Obviously he could tell he was testing dangerous waters.

“Yeah, no shit,” you said. 

“I’m sorry for Jae being,” he paused for a minute trying to find the right words “Jae.” He brushed the dust from his coat. “However, believe me, if he wanted you dead, you would be dead.” 

You were taken aback at his words. He did have a point. He must have wanted you alive for a reason. 

“Now as I was saying before you tried to assault me, I’m Doctor Choi Youngjae. I’m the one that created the drug that Jae used on you, but I’m also the one who saved your sorry ass when it nearly killed you.” 

Now you were starting to wish you had another candlestick. “You made that crap he injected me with? It feels like I was hit by a truck.” 

“Well its meant to be a quick getaway, as we have been getting jumped rather often.” He paused to give you a look filled with shade and anger. There was no way he knew it was your father who kept sending men to attack them, right? “Its disguised as a clickable ball point pen so it can be carried anywhere without any way of being detected.” 

“And its supposed to kill people?” 

“Its supposed to knock them out long enough for us to make a getaway,” he corrected. “I’m not much for killing people, considering I make a living saving them.” He slowly and carefully started to walk toward you again, obviously worried that you would try to hit him with something else. “The pen is made with a large dose of anesthetics to put the target in a temporary coma. However, I’m still formulating the proper doses, as it would be a different amount for each person based on height, weight, sex...” He waved his hands in a “and so on” fashion. “The dose he injected you with was enough to take out a man about three times your size, which is why it almost killed you.”

You let out an anger-filled laugh “I guess he really did want me dead then, huh?” 

“Well, no. He just wasn’t aware. He doesn’t think of these things.” 

You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t think of a lot of things apparently.”

The doctor just pointed a finger at you and gave you a look that said you’re not wrong.

A pain suddenly shot from your neck to your forehead, and you hissed in pain.

“How about if you promise to stop throwing things at me, I’ll give you some pain killers. Deal?” He said with a smile. You hated to admit it, but you kinda liked the guy.

“Deal.” you said, returning his smile.

“Great, now lets get you out of bed. The boss wants to talk to you.”

End of Chapter 2

{There’s part 2 guys! I hope you all love it!}

All requests are OPEN!

rules  -  mobile rules

m a s t e r l i s t

[dreamss-of-boston]

Rise - ch6

hoo boy this chapter is hella long! i had fun writing it tho, the scenery looks v pretty in my head! the songs in this chapter are traditional germanic folk songs which i thought fit the world pretty well considering aot/snk is supposedly set in a germanic sort of historical world?? or thats what i heard,, pls correct me if im wrong! (i got the english translations for these songs from this website) additionally, the song i envision dimitri playing after the folk songs is andalucia in d major-- while its a spanish song, i just love it so much! you can listen to it here. and i promise all of the new characters introduced are relevant to the overall story! and now i promise i will shut up hehe ok thank u for reading love u bye!

-the spark-

link on AO3!

“I don’t understand why I had to pack four days’ worth of clothes.” Sonya commented as she got into the carriage with Hange and Moblit. After a full day of cleaning the stables and the showers as her punishment for getting cheeky with Captain Levi, Sonya was very sore and rather cranky that she had to leave her cozy HQ to spend at least two days in the capitol.

“The MPs and Parliament like to drag their feet when it comes to making decisions,” Hange sighed as she sat opposite Sonya, and Moblit took his seat beside Hange. “It’s always best to be prepared and pack more than you might need-- I found that out the hard way when they delayed approving Erwin’s new navigation system. We were only supposed to be there three days, but it took them a week and a half to decide!”

“A week and a half?!” Sonya exclaimed in dismay.

“Don’t worry-- the first day will be easy. It’s kind of a buffer.” Moblit assured her. “We’ll get settled in at their HQ in the guest quarters, and then meet with the officials around dinner time.”

“The real adventure comes tomorrow,” Hange said excitedly, “When we can debate the issue in front of Darius Zackly. He has the ultimate verdict on whether we can go ahead with the mission or not.”

“Since this is so monumental,” Moblit added, “representation for all three branches of military will be there. There’ll be some new recruits there, too, who were from your class-- so you won’t be completely alone.” He said helpfully.

Sonya nodded, looking out the window of the carriage at the rising sun. It was always so beautiful seeing the pastel blue and yellow the sky turned as the world awoke-- she only wished she could see the sun rise without the walls being in the way.

“How long will it take for us to get there?” She asked.

“Hm, just over three hours.” Hange said, leaning back into her seat. “Perfect for a nap.”

“She can sleep anywhere.” Moblit chuckled, and Sonya smiled. Her mood was slightly lifted despite the fact that she had to be awoken at four in the fucking morning to pack and get ready to leave. She did feel a bit comforted that when they arrived, they wouldn’t jump straight into court and start debating. Sonya decided that Hange had the right idea, and she settled down as best she could in an attempt to sleep on the way there.

[-]

“Oi, wake up, brat.”

Sonya made a face of utter disgust as she woke from her nap-- she was slumped against the side of the carriage, and as she opened her eyes, she first saw Levi, leaning against the opening of the carriage, pulling his hand away from gently slapping her cheek to wake her. Behind him, the sun was shining and Hange and Moblit were laughing.

“Wow, you sleep even deeper than Hange!” Moblit exclaimed. “We were practically yelling at you to wake up.”

“Did you not sleep at all last night?” Hange joked as Sonya just about fell out of the carriage, gripping Levi’s arm for support-- which he allowed, much to Moblit’s surprise.

“I slept just fine-- I just had an exhausting day yesterday on account of me being a dumbass.” Sonya sighed, looking at Levi pitifully. She thought she saw the beginnings of a smile on his lips, but he just scoffed and went to join Erwin in grabbing their things from the separate carriage they had ridden in.

The Survey Corps soldiers were escorted to their rooms-- Hange and Sonya were sharing a room, of course, and while this was all routine to the veterans, to Sonya, it was as if she had stepped into a castle.

The rooms were huge, first of all, and the bathroom had two sinks and a shower! The beds were incredibly soft-- Sonya wanted to sink into hers the moment she sat on it.

“Maybe staying here for a while won’t be that bad.” She sighed contentedly, stretching out luxuriously on the bed, her shirt hiking up and exposing part of her waist.

Hange laughed, dropping her bag of belongings on the floor before entering the bathroom to wash her hands.

Levi came to the doorway, knocking on the open door to make his presence known. Sonya looked to her left, and smiled mischievously when she noticed his gaze inadvertently trailed over her exposed skin.

“Did you want something, Captain?” She asked, dripping her voice in sarcastic seduction. Levi rolled his eyes, and seemed to refuse to look at her again as he spoke to both her and Hange.

“We’re meeting with them in about thirty minutes.” He said, and pointedly avoided Sonya’s gaze as he turned and left their room. Hange hollered confirmation that she got his message from the bathroom, and Sonya smiled to herself-- it was too much fun messing with Levi.

The four Survey Corps members met with the group of MPs in yet another beautiful room, with huge, framed paintings that Sonya couldn’t take her eyes off of. They discussed the pros and cons of the mission, the ground rules for the debate tomorrow, what time it would take place, and all that. The room seemed to be filled with tension, although Sonya could not understand why; but she could only guess that there was some sort of unspoken history between the three veteran Survey Corps soldiers and the three veteran MPs. The MP who had been part of Sonya’s class was called Olive Hammerstein-- a blonde, stuffy girl who Sonya remembered to be a sore loser. She hardly gave Sonya the time of day when they all entered the room at the start of the meeting; Sonya smugly suspected it was because she had beaten Olive all four times they had trained hand-to-hand.

When the meeting finally ended and all the logistics were out of the way, the sun had set and it was time for dinner. As the soldiers headed to the dining hall, they passed some MPs out of uniform who shrewdly reminded them that it was the weekend, and the dining hall was not open for dinner on the weekend. They were in civilians clothes because they were headed out to town to eat, much to the irritation of the Survey Corps soldiers.

“Well, there is that tavern in town we always used to visit-- what was it called, again?” Hange said.

“The Whistling Wind.” Erwin nodded with a smile.

“Mm, their soup is to die for!” Moblit sighed happily; and so it was decided. Sonya was particularly excited, and as she and Hange changed into their civilian clothes, she confessed that she had never been to a tavern above ground before.

“Really?” Hange exclaimed. “Oh, wow-- well, you’re in for a real treat. Taverns in the interior are the best.”

And off they went-- and soon they arrived at the fabled Whistling Wind.

The tavern was lit rather brightly, with candles littering the tables and hung upon the walls and from the ceiling in crude chandeliers. Sonya, in spite of herself, didn’t even attempt to hide her joy at the sight before her; even the taverns above ground were beautiful. During her training, she had never really gotten the chance to explore any towns much. When she and Anna did get the chance to venture off training grounds, it was usually to just retrieve supplies for the troops, so they didn’t get to explore the towns that much-- but they did explore the woods on the way.

It seemed as if everyone in the world were packed inside of the huge space, drinking wine out of goblets, laughing loudly and sharing in the gossip of the town. The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air heavily, and spills and stains littered the wooden floor beneath her feet, but it was all so romantic to the small soldier. Here was life-- not survival, but thriving life.

She turned to Hange excitedly. “Is this how taverns are everywhere up here?”

“Oh, not really.” Hange said as their group made their way to a table that was unoccupied. “Most of the taverns near HQ are… eh, less high-class, I guess you could say.”

“Evenin’, folks.” A voluptuous red-headed barmaid came up to their table, hand on her hip and rouge on her cheeks. “What’re y’all havin’?” She reminded Sonya so much of Herschel.

“I’ll have whatever is the most popular thing!” Sonya called to her across the table and over the din.

“Meade it is, then.” The woman nodded.

“Wine for me,” Hange said.

“And me.” Moblit grinned.

“Nothing for me.” Erwin said, clearly not as enamored with his surroundings as Sonya was.

“Black tea.” Levi said, eyeing a rather nasty looking stain on the table.

“What was that, honey?” The barmaid asked, clearly unable to hear him.

“I said, black tea.” He said a bit louder, clearly irritated that she didn’t get it the first time.

The barmaid let out a loud laugh at the odd request. “Alright, honey. Comin’ right up.” And she left.

“Oh, wow, look!” Sonya stood up to see above the heads of the crowded tavern, pointing to the other side of the room at the rickety old piano up against a wall. “A real life piano!”

“Have you never seen a piano before?” Hange asked, amazed.

Sonya shook her head. “No, but Alexander-- er, a friend from the Underground showed me what they looked like in this old book he had about taking care of one.” She smiled, remembering sitting on the floor with Alexander as he showed her the plethora of the black and white keys, the little hammers inside the intricate instrument.

“I’ll hum a tune for you-- I don’t think your mother would let you out of this place to see one.” Alexander half-joked, and closed his eyes, extending his hands out in front of him as if the piano were really there. He began humming, his fingers moving curiously, and Sonya had watched him with rapture.

Levi raised an eyebrow at Sonya, while Hange looked as if she had stumbled upon a pot of gold.

“Oh, that’s right! I forgot you were raised in a brothel--” Hange stopped herself abruptly as the drinks came along with the barmaid, who passed them out in awkward silence. The barmaid was a little confused, but left the table when she was finished. “Er, sorry, Sonya-- I didn’t mean, uh, that is to say--”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sonya said through a smile, though it did sting a little, hearing that word. Sonya had only told Hange her situation, back then when she was recruited. She had obviously tried to keep where exactly she was raised a secret; it was enough of an issue that she came from the Underground. If her fellow soldiers knew she was the daughter of a whore…

“Oh, great.” Moblit nodded towards the door of the tavern, where a group of MPs had just entered. While they were in civilians clothes, the veteran soldiers present could recognize them from interactions in the past.

Unfortunately, Sonya recognized one as well: Kurt from the Underground. As soon as Sonya realized that was him, with his coiffed hair and overly-confident swagger, she sunk into her chair, almost hiding behind the huge flagon of mead in front of her. Great, first Hange bringing up where she was raised, and now Kurt entering the tavern? He was sure to embarrass Sonya if he recognized her.

“We should’ve guessed they’d come here.” Erwin sighed.

“There goes our fun night off.” Moblit took a swig of his wine.

“Maybe we should go…” Sonya said sadly, taking a pitiful sip of the sour drink in front of her. She was surprised to find that despite how foul it tasted, it made her feel very warm and fuzzy.

“You give up too easily.” Hange grinned, determined to fix Sonya’s mood. “The night is youn--”

She was drowned out as a chorus of singing began at the table next to them. A group of men, clearly drunk and happy about it, were singing a folk song that Sonya was surprised to find that she knew.

“Love of the woods, love of the woods.

Fills my heart as none else could.

Dear little songbirds there, voice songs that fill the air,

Singing out clearly their, love of the woods.”

The men repeated the song a second time, and Sonya couldn’t help but join in-- that was a song that Alexander had taught her! It filled her with a warmth that almost made her homesick for that little brothel she grew up in. As she sang along, she could almost smell the perfumed air, the smoke from candles and cigarettes. She imagined Alexander, lounging on a couch with her mother--

That left a sour taste in her mouth as she was abruptly brought out of her fantasies. The singing had come to an end, and the drunken men had noticed the pretty girl next to their table singing along with them.

“Hey, pretty lady.” One of them drawled, leaning over to get closer to her. He was old and ugly-- Sonya, being a professional flirter, had no interest in entertaining this man. Funny, she thought to herself, how her first instinct was whether or not she wanted to entertain him. She was her mother’s daughter, she reasoned.

Sonya shrunk back into herself, turning away-- one of the other men, younger and better looking, did not want to lose her attention.

“Uh, hey!” He called. “Do you know ‘Happy Is the Life of a Gypsy’?”

Sonya paused-- she did know that song, and it was one of her favorites. And this boy seemed to be a bit nicer…

“I do,” Sonya said, slipping into performance mode. “But I’ll only sing it if you sing with me.” She flashed him a smile, which she could see was exactly what he wanted. She knew how to play this game-- she had been taught how to win and manipulate it since she was thirteen years old.

“Now, just a minute!” Again, another man-- with brown curly hair and freckles-- stood drunkenly and proudly. “What’s a song without music?” And he made his way over to the piano.

“Oh, look at our regular show-off.” The young, attractive man rolled his eyes, although he was smiling. “Hey, wait!” He exclaimed as Sonya practically chased after him, desperate to hear what a piano sounded like in real life. She bet it couldn’t sound any better than Alexander’s humming.

“There she goes.” Hange laughed, delighted that Sonya was starting to enjoy herself.

“Should we stop her? I mean, what if those guys are bad news?” Moblit said.

“Let her do whatever she wants.” Levi shrugged. “Maybe she’ll tire out faster and then we can leave sooner.”

The curly-haired man took a seat at the piano, and the barmaid who served Sonya’s table smiled in delight.

“Everyone hush up a second; Dimitri is gonna play us a little somethin!” She bellowed, and the entire tavern slowly quieted; it seemed everyone here knew this Dimitri, and loved his music. Sonya stood by the piano, staring at him eagerly.

Dimitri raised his hands, and started to play. The music coming from this instrument was more beautiful than Sonya could have ever imagined-- the sound so full, it enveloped her whole being. She was so wrapped up in the music, she almost forgot to sing.

The handsome young man had made his way next to Sonya by the time the song started:

“Happy is the life of a Gypsy.  Fa-ria, fa-ria, ho!

To the taxmen, he pays not a penny.  Fa-ria, fa-ria, ho!

Happy, back in the woods, away.  Where the Gypsies so often stay.”

Filled with immense excitement and joy, Sonya couldn’t help but want to dance. She turned to the young man next to her, and grabbed his hands, pulling him to the small space reserved for dancing near the piano, and moved her feet in time to the pulsing music while she and the rest of the tavern sang the chorus. A few people even joined in dancing:

“Fa-ria, fa-ria, fa-ria, Fa-ria, fa-ria, fa-ria, ho!”

“My name’s Garrett!” The young man called over the din of the music and the tavern as he twirled a very happy Sonya. “What’s your name?”

Her mother would have advised Sonya to give a fake name-- a name prettier than the one she was born with, to easily indulge the fantasy of the young man before her. The fantasy about the mysterious, beautiful newcomer in this tavern who he would never see again. But this time, Sonya wasn’t interested in indulging any fantasies-- flirting was fun in its’ own rite, but she intended to limit the amount of influence her mother would have on her personal life.

“Sonya!” She said happily, and sang the last verse loudly with the rest of the tavern.

“When one does not have a featherbed.  Fa-ria, fa-ria, ho!

Dig yourself a shallow hole instead.  Fa-ria, fa-ria, ho!

Line it with some moss and leaves. That will then your featherbed be.

Fa-ria, fa-ria, fa-ria, Fa-ria, fa-ria, fa-ria, ho!”

And the tavern erupted in applause and hollering, much to Sonya’s delight. She turned to Dimitri at the piano, who had turned around, and drunkenly bowed to the crowd, obviously enjoying the attention.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” Garrett said, wrapping his arm around Sonya’s hip in an attempt to turn her back around to him. However, he underestimated how strong Sonya was thanks to her training in the Corps, as she pulled away from him easily.

“Thank you,” She said distractedly, and went over to Dimitri, with stars in her eyes. “Play another one!”

“Oh, sure!” Dimitri beamed. “But only if you give me a kiss.” He said playfully.

Sonya huffed in annoyance. It sure would be nice to enjoy things without the attachment of her being a sexual object to everything she enjoyed.

“Don’t be so sour!” Dimitri laughed, sitting back down at the piano. “I’m only joking.” And he began playing a piece entirely unfamiliar to Sonya. His hands travelled across the black and white terrain of the piano, leaping from chord to chord gracefully. She watched, entranced.

“What are the words to this one?” She asked-- now that Dimitri was playing, the tavern was again quieting down in respect.

“Hm, there are none,” Dimitri said, his eyes closed contentedly. “The music speaks if you listen.”

And Sonya did listen-- she felt the music wrap around her limbs, clutch her heart, and flow over her like a veil. Dimitri took a look at her out of the corner of his eye, observing her knowingly.

“Dance if you want,” He said. “I think you’re dying to.”

That made Sonya smile a little-- she wasn’t sure how he could tell until she glanced down, noticing her feet had begun making miniscule movements almost on instinct. It seemed the music was actually calling her to dance, giving her invisible counts like how Alexander would whisper: one, two, three, four, five, six…

So, with a bit of reckless abandon, Sonya began to dance. She made it up as she went along-- the music would tell her what to do. An arpeggio, she would pirouette; held out chords, and she would slowly move to the next position, her arms gliding through the air. She moved with precise flexibility, every movement feeling as natural to her as breathing. It was so incredibly freeing to abandon all thought-- all grief for Anna, stress about capturing a titan, embarrassment about Kurt resurfacing from her past-- and simply dance, allowing the piano’s beautiful, foreign sound to influence what already came naturally to her.

Dimitri finished playing, and Sonya finished dancing; and all was quiet. It seemed that everyone was stunned, and the lack of response made Sonya incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. Was dancing like that not normal above ground? Was it offensive? Did she look like a fool?

But then-- someone in the back of the tavern began clapping, and then another, and another, until the whole room was applauding Sonya and Dimitri. Sonya let out a little laugh, incredibly relieved that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?” Dimitri asked, now having joined her side.

“My…” Sonya wasn’t sure what to call Alexander. “My friend from childhood. He taught me.”

“He’s an amazing teacher.” Dimitri said, his cheeks red from all the wine he had drank. With a hiccup, he clasped Sonya’s hand, raising it in the air. Sonya tensed up, almost completely going into defense-mode at the foreign contact.

“What are you doing?” She snapped, but Dimitri only brought their hands down together, taking her with him in an elaborate bow to the tavern.

“You’ve gotta relax.” Dimitri flashed her a dopey smile as they came back up to stand. “If you ever wanna dance again, I’d be happy to play for you.” And he brought her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles lightly before stumbling back to the bar to get more drinks.

Sonya felt a blush heat up her face and chest, and as she made her way back to the table with her fellow soldiers, she found that she couldn’t stop smiling. She hadn’t danced in so long!

“Sonya!” Hange exclaimed. “What in the world was that? You were amazing!”

“Thank you!” Sonya put her hands on her cheeks, feeling how warm she had become. “I was so afraid that nobody knew what I was doing or something-- I’ve never seen how you all dance up here.” She laughed, taking a look at Levi; she wanted to know what he thought.

He was taking a sip of his tea, and caught her gaze, surprised that she was looking at him expectantly. Just as he was opening his mouth to speak, a certain someone had crept up behind Sonya and placed his hands on her shoulders in an overly-familiar gesture.

“Sonya, sweetheart!” Kurt exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “Never thought I’d see you on the surface-- but I guess you did make it through training, after all…”

Sonya whipped around to face him; she would recognize that voice anywhere. She narrowed her eyes as he sat in the empty chair next to her, making everyone uncomfortable.

“Say, Herschel was askin’ me about you,” Kurt continued, well aware that he was being a pest. “She just couldn’t understand why you-- hic-- left! She was real hurt.” He pouted his lip, and Sonya looked away, feeling like she had been stabbed in the gut. She could just picture Herschel, with her dark, silky hair and comforting embrace, sitting at the kitchen table where she taught Sonya how to play and cheat at cards. She saw her mother sitting with her there, smoking a cigarette with the sly smile she shared with Sonya. She missed Herschel-- she even missed her mother. But… she had to leave that awful place.

“Well… I had to get out of there.” Sonya muttered.

“Y’know, I never did get the chance to give you a proper birthday present…” Kurt said, running his finger along her bare arm. Sonya caught that, and made a move to grab his wrist with the intent of breaking his arm, but before she got the chance to, Levi was already standing and had grabbed Kurt by the lapel of his jacket. Despite the height difference, Levi had pinned him up against the wall-- the disturbance caught the attention of the tavern, and everyone looked on in alarm.

“L-Levi!” Kurt exclaimed, surprised to come face-to-face with the infamous Survey Corps Captain in a tavern like this.

“You’re annoying as all hell.” Levi said in a low voice-- Sonya saw that his eyes were dark, and not just because of the lighting. “I’ll thank you not to lay hands on my cadet again.” He let him go, and stood back to give Kurt free passage back to his posse of MPs.

Kurt, despite being inebriated, understood very clearly. He hurried away like a punished dog, and Levi let out a sigh.

“I think it’s time for us to leave.” Erwin said just as the barmaid came over to put an end to what could have been a potential fight. “Thank you for the pleasant evening.” He left money on the table, and the four Survey Corps soldiers exited the tavern without another word.

[-]

“Awh, I never even got to eat my soup!” Moblit complained as they walked through the brightly lit streets back to HQ.

“I’m really sorry…” Sonya said, looking down in shame.

“Hm? Sorry for what?” Hange asked incredulously. “Oh-- you mean Kurt? Well, it was Levi’s decision to cause a commotion in the first place,” She cast a playful glare to her friend, “and in the second place, it’s not your fault that creep came on to you like that. I’m surprised you didn’t break his arm.”

“I would have,” Sonya said, and knocked her elbow with Levi’s, “if my knight in shining armour hadn’t come to my rescue.”

Levi sighed, quite annoyed with all this extra attention. “Can we figure out what we’re going to do about food, please? I’m starving.”

“Check it out! A street vendor!” Hange exclaimed, pointing to a small stand, with delicious-smelling steam rising from it.

“Oh, it smells so good!” Moblit cried, and it was then decided that they would be getting their dinner from there.

Sonya got the roasted brussels sprouts and carrots-- they were delicious! She let out an emphatic, “Mmmm!” as soon as she ate one, even though it sort of burned her mouth.

“Oh, can I try one?” Hange asked excitedly, abandoning her vegetable fried rice. Sonya nodded emphatically, and held one out for her to bite. Hange, amused by this strange way of offering food, nonetheless accepted happily. “Ohh, they are good!”

Sonya laughed, wiping her hand on her skirt. “Want to try one? You’ve been eyeing them,” She held one out to Levi, with her signature grin. He glanced at her; he had gotten the fried rice, as well. With a glance at Hange, he knew he would have to accept the food in the same way she had-- though inwardly, he decided it wasn’t all that bad.

With a shrug, he nodded (much to Sonya’s delight). She smiled, and brought the little vegetable up to his mouth, and as he bit down, his lips brushed with her fingertips for just a moment, causing Sonya’s breath to hitch. He held her gaze as he chewed, and raised his eyebrows in approval.

Sonya smiled, glad that he liked the food she liked, and just as she was about to look away, he brought his thumb up to the corner of her mouth, wiping away some of the sauce from the brussels sprouts. Her skin felt red-hot where he had just touched her, and she fought back a blush with all her might. This was definitely payback for her comment as she laid on her bed earlier.

“You’re a mess.” He shook his head. She smiled, and bit the inside of her lip to keep from giggling like a complete idiot. Erwin, Hange, and Moblit pretended they didn’t see a thing.

[-]

The walk back to HQ was relatively peaceful, now that they were fed and relatively happy. Hange and Erwin were discussing their debate tactics for tomorrow, with Moblit listening intently at Hange’s side. Levi and Sonya walked behind the three in silence-- Levi staring at the ground, Sonya gazing at all the houses and buildings on either side of them.

She glanced at Levi, and felt she needed to actually thank him for earlier.

“Um, thanks,” She said awkwardly, “for earlier. It was nice to see Kurt scared shitless.”

Levi half-smiled, nodding. “He is an ass.” He kicked a rock in his path, which went scuttling across the cobblestone street. “I know his kind-- so many of those MPs visit the whores Underground.”

Sonya winced at that word; if Hange and the Survey Corps hadn’t come along when they had, she would have been one of those whores forced to pleasure those disgusting MPs. She looked down, avoiding saying anything to indicate that it bothered her.

Levi noticed, though-- he cleared his throat. “You know, my mother was--” He halted, glancing at Sonya who glanced at him. From the look on his face, she understood. She couldn’t help but be surprised.

“Oh.” She nodded. “To be honest, I thought you came from some noble family that bred assassins.”

Levi let out a quick breath through his nose; Sonya assumed that was his way of laughing. “No. I came from the Underground.”

“Oh!” Sonya almost stopped dead in her tracks-- that was incredibly surprising. Although, now that she studied him upon closer inspection, he did carry himself like the gang members Underground; as if he were expecting an attack at any moment, calmly aware of everything on all sides. That was probably why he was such a skilled killer, she thought solemnly. Their conversation had taken a heavy turn-- she hated that. So, she fixed it in the best way she knew how: humor. Sonya playfully linked arms with a surprised Levi. “It’s like we’re made for each other.” She sighed as they ascended the steps leading in to HQ.

Sonya laughed, leaving Levi’s side to follow Hange down the hallway to their room. Before she completely separated from him, though, she spun around to face him once more.

“Oh, and at least I learned some valuable information tonight!” She said happily, hoping he would catch on her hook and play along. With a half-smile, Levi crossed his arms and leaned against the stone wall of HQ-- he looked incredibly sly, standing like that in the flickering torch light.

“And what’s that?”

“I’m your cadet.” Sonya lowered her voice and gave him the most sultry look she had, one that Herschel taught her: draped eyelids, pouted lips, head tilted back and to the side, and for extra emphasis, she placed her hand on the wall next to him, and dragged it down, holding eye contact as she performed the overly-dramatic display of seduction. She laughed at herself, breaking character almost instantly, and spun around, walking back to her room (though she walked a bit more with her hips this time).

And Levi smiled to himself, making his way back to his own room, thinking to himself how amusing Sonya had just been (and how he kind of liked it).