#just some silly little creature that i made during my physics class | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notnctu · 4 years ago

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push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details - hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical

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Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances.

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you��re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.”

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression.

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander.

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room.

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?” He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head.

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years ago

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Redacted verse - Badass Listeners Headcanon

We have some pretty badass Listeners in the Redacted ASMR worlds so I wanna have a shot at making a list on how exactly the Listeners are amazing. Some are inspired from Canon and others are from video games, movies and whatever else.

These are not the entire cast of Listeners. Just a few that I’m somewhat familiar with!

1. Angel

Bubbly and silly but physically protective over David behind his back. Their Dad taught them how to fight and was a delinquent during their time in school. So much so that they were a champion at underground fights (their stage name was Berserker) - they know exactly how and where to hurt opponents that are twice their size, physically. However, they settled down and quit the rings after deciding that they wanted to go to university. Their protective instinct surfaced after being with David, and their street brawler side accompanied it. By the way, David is not aware of this side of his Mate.

2. Babe

A smart cookie! They're exceptionally skilled at manipulating events to their advantage using gambits and information that rely on subtlety and misdirection. Especially when it comes to words, which is why Asher's little pep talk to them worked wonders. They would never do this out of malicious intent - just something that could help out their loved ones if circumstances arise. During that Halloween incident where David got a call from the Department for Asher to attend the classes about covert, they already have a plan on how to get Asher out of trouble even from what little information they knew about the magical world. It's more than enough.

3. Sweetheart

Can throw knives, darts, arrows with crazy acute accuracy and strength. Throwing darts was their childhood past time and from there, they occasionally upgraded to small blades. Now, they use this skill to catch enemies off guards or support Milo from afar. Yes, this means they're also good at archery and can be a potential sharpshooter with a sniper.

4. Darling

In terms of who is the strongest (physical-wise) in the Shaw pack, they're the third; below David and Asher. So they're one of the main bruisers in the pack. They're the juggernaut. In gaming terms, they play the role of the Tanker. They're good fighter and can be ruthless when push comes to shove. They also highly respect David as an Alpha and silently support him in this sort of way: "If my Alpha wants me to jump, I ask how high. Not why." David has to consider thrice whenever he hands them an assignment because of how devastating they can be when left alone.

5. Lovely

Their favourite subject was human biology back when they were Non-Empowered. After attending classes at D.A.M.N as an Electro Energetic, they're wondering if they could manipulate the electric nerves of a human body. And who knows? Maybe once they thoroughly mastered their powers, they could use that to control anyone who tries to harm Vincent without having to resort to violence.

6. Bright Eyes

Super good at math. Especially counting their odds and probabilities with 90% accuracy. They always win during every gamble because they know where the dice would fall and the exact number of cards their opponent holds. When in a pinch, they can count their probabilities of survival and, from there, figure out how to save themselves.

7. Love

They're built to be a bloodhound and a weapon against the magical communities and empowered creatures. Basically, like Mr. X from the Resident Evil 2 Remake. When they're on a hunt or investigation, absolutely nothing can stop them or made them go off track. They will persistently stalk their targets. Because they're an android, they have enhanced hearing and will head towards your direction if you so much as open a door. They're also equipped with magical sensors, so even empowered creatures will struggle to outrun or hide from them. If anyone tries to hide Marcus from them, there's nowhere on Earth or even Aria that they couldn't find him. (I really like the idea that they’re an artificial Weaver).

8. Sunshine

Work as a white hacker. They're trained to go after billion-dollar companies and crack through their firewalls and security system to pinpoint weaknesses so their clients could improve them. They could work almost anywhere due to their job, and they help Elliot find out information about Close-Knit from a relatively safe distance.

9. Starlight

Photographic memory and very acute attention to detail. Whenever they make a mistake, they would only do so once in their lifetime because they remember everything they do and decided. Which often leads them to takes some big, risky moves. This helps them and Avior out when experimenting on how they could escape from Blake's bubble.

10. Freelancer

Was a successor to a conglomerate of various companies that became an empire over the years. They were taught from birth to take over as a business mogul once they graduated from university. So they had a very high-class lifestyle. However, after finding out their magical abilities, they choose to run away to Dahlia and stop all contact with their family and advisers. That includes their financial safety net. Because of their childhood upbringing, they're skilled in any business-related acumen, managing resources and talents, and adapting to changes at a moment notice. Whenever they have to work together with Damien, Caelum, Lasko, Huxley and Gavin, they're the main figurehead (mission control) while the boys act as offence or support (in Caelum's case).

#redacted ASMR #headcanon #angel (listener)#babe (listener)#sweetheart (listener)#darling (listener)#lovely (listener)#bright eyes (listener)#love (listener)#sunshine (listener)#starlight (listener)#freelancer (listener)#gender neutral s/o

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pillow-anime-talk · 4 years ago

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mistletoe. {pt.2}

synopsis: Killing cursed spirits with Satoru, winter prom with Metori and sincere conversation with Juuzou.

# tags: scenarios; christmas!au; current relationships & crush culture; romance; fluff; a bit of angst; sfw

includes: female reader ft. satoru gojou {jjk} + metori saiko {saiki k. no psi nan} + juuzou suzuya {tokyo ghoul}

part one {click}

— SATORU

“... Y/N-chan, on the left!”

“... Hey, hey! Look up, sweetheart!”

“... Oi! Behind you!”

“... Behind you too! Kick their asses, Satoru~!”

“... YEAH! Here’s my super strong girl!”

You two have been in the forest; for over twenty minutes you dealing with killing smaller or larger curses that frightened mushroom pickers or wild animals. You had a lot of fun doing it, all the time competing to see who killed more evil creatures. Of course, your boyfriend was winning so far, by three, but how could you know that some of them would come out of the forest litter, literally letting the white-haired man kill them all in a few seconds? Well, but at least you killed about twelve curses yourself, and that was a really nice result.

On the one hand, you enjoyed spending time with Gojou like that, because it was very rare for the two of you to be together on a mission, but on the other hand... It was the time of Christmas that you wanted to spend in your own home, surrounded by delicious food and desserts, hot wine or beer, loved ones, including your boyfriend’s cute students or your mutual friends. From a long time, that is, from the moment you became a sorcerer, you didn’t spend any holidays, birthdays or anniversaries as you would like. There was simply no time and energy for it because every day, apart from some Sundays, you worked to make life better for vulnerable people. It wasn’t a bad job, but sometimes... when you looking at ‘normal’ couples you envied their ignorance to the fact that some evil had appeared around them. You envied them that they could spend their free time together doing stupid things or relaxing in front of the TV.

So you sighed softly, raising the hand in which you held the small pocket knife. Small as your anti-curse tool was, it was also extremely effective and dangerous. Therefore, you cut the throat of one of the evil souls without any problems, thus defeating the last enemy.

“Ahhhh. Finally...! You’re not hurt, baby?” The young man said in a cheerful voice, and you shook your head in disapproval. Second later, you cleaned the little knife and then, hid it in one of the pockets of your black pants. “Would you like to get some hot chocolate and cake?”

“Huh? Have we finished all our work for today?” You asked in surprise, and the man just bit his lip with joy, putting his finger to his mouth after a while.

“Yes, although you forgot one thing, love.” You raised an eyebrow at his amused words. However, Satoru quickly got rid of your unawareness as soon as he raised his right hand and pointed at something above with his index finger. For a moment you were sure that he meant a curse that hadn’t been killed before, but as it turned out, it was mistletoe growing on one of the tall trees; you were surprised that during the fight he was able to additionally notice a small, green plant. Anyway, you just chuckled lightly as you stood on your tiptoes and tugged at the twenty-eight-year-old by his jacket.

You were happy that at least this one, very sweet Christmas moment could happen to you during the winter season. Thanks to this, these holidays weren’t so bad and devoid of spirit.

— METORI

Every year there was a winter prom at your school; it was the third time for you, while for Saiko, who only joined your class this year, it was something new. Of course, he was skeptical about it from the start and generally discouraged by the very idea of spending time with all PK Academy students, classmates and teachers. That’s why he immediately told you that if you want to go to the prom, he can arrange whatever prom you want; he literally said if you wanted Beyoncé he could call her.

But you just smiled warmly and said that school party is enough for you and you really like it. So he couldn’t refuse you... after all, the gray-haired young boy had a huge, indescribable weakness for you. Plus, even though you’ve been dating for a few weeks, Metori still couldn’t understand how... gentle and simple you were. You weren’t interested in luxury, his money, where his father worked. Instead, you asked every day if he had breakfast, if he would like to go for a walk with you, if he would like to come to you for dinner because your mother cooked a delicious Mexican dish. It was something new and nice for a teenager who had grown up in prosperity and splendor throughout his life. It didn’t bother him, but the prom... it was quite strange and mysterious. But he agreed, so he couldn’t take his words back because he didn’t want you to get sad or disappointed.

Thus, he bought a new, well-fitting and expensive suit – one that would fit perfectly with your delicate dress, which at the same time matches to the color of your shiny eyes. He also paid for new shoes, a watch, and a hairdresser visit, but even that couldn’t compare to your soft, natural blushes and the sweet facial expression you gave him when he came to your house with his butler.

“... You’re stressed?” You asked quietly as you sat in the car and he squeezed your little hand between his much larger ones.

“I’ve just never been at a prom... public... especially at school.” He muttered, and though he turned his head, you could see a hint of blush on his nose and both cheeks. So you chuckled lightly as you cuddled up against his shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.”

The school hasn’t changed much; only a few holiday decorations have been added here and there. However, the gymnasium took your breath away because it was magically decorated. But before you had time to take your seats on the other side of the door, your physical education teacher stopped the two of you.

“Couples enter after payment.” Mr. Matsuzaki said, and the Santa Claus hat on his head added to the charm of his muscular figure.

Of course, Saiko was already taking out his wallet, but you quickly stopped it, pointing in a specific direction. It was, obviously, the smol mistletoe, which was the aforementioned entry ticket for couples who decided to show up at the ball together. So you smiled slightly at your boyfriend and he looked at you confused.

“What is it?”

“O-Oh, you never kissed under the mistletoe?”

“Kissing under it has any meaning?” He asked, still surprised, and you just moved closer to his face, stealing a short, really sweet kiss.

“It’s a tradition, love. You have to kiss under every mistletoe if you notice one.” You said happily and then thanked the teacher for going inside the gym.

Of course, Metori in his head was already calculating how many tons of mistletoe he should buy so that you could continue kissing him as sweetly as you just did.

— JUUZOU

You put two cups of hot, beautifully fragrant chocolate on the table; one was with two white marshmallows and the other with six. Of course, it was easy to guess which portion was for Juuzou and which was for you. Nevertheless, you smiled gently and then sat down next to the white-haired boy, staring at him out of the corner of your eye.

“... About what did you dream, Juuzou-kun?” You asked softly, taking the purple cup between both hands. The warm ceramics pleasantly burned your all fingers, which made you breathe blissfully. “Of course, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to tell me. We can just sit in silence and drink our sweet cocoa.” You added after a brief second so as not to put unnecessary pressure or general stress on the nineteen-year-old.

“It’s no big deal. I dreamed about my mom.” He admitted hesitantly, also taking his dark-green mug. “When I woke up and looked at the calendar I realized we had Christmas time and... Well, my mom never gave me any, not even a small gift, nor did I ever spend that time like other children my age. It hit me a bit. Not that I regret it, but... what Christmas really is?” His short speech made you look at him with a very sad expression on your face and after a quick while you just put your warm chocolate on the table, getting up from your wooden chair and walking to a random cupboard in your smol kitchen.

This year you didn’t have time (because of work) and no idea (because of fatigue) for presents for loved ones, and even more so for the unexpected guest – Suzuya, who loved to sleep in your house because, as he once said, ‘He felt at your place very safe’, but you managed to come up with a little surprise fastly; you wrapped a red ribbon that was in the cupboard with needles and scissors around an unopened box of nut cookies. You also managed to find a piece of paper and a black pen, so you wrote a concise but sincere wishes to the inspector, which ended with a tiny heart and a star. Out of the corner of your eye, you also noticed the mistletoe lying next to the clock, which was a little joke your dear friend had made to you two days ago. So you took everything and went back to the quietly sitting Juuzou, smiling slightly at him, even a bit silly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about gifts before, but... I hope that’s enough. After today’s work, we can go to the gallery or the park to see the decorated Christmas trees, you will surely like them. Happy Holidays, Juuzou. I hope next year will be a good one for you.” You said shyly as you handed him ribbon-decorated cookies. At the sight of them, the boy only blushed, then looked at your other hand, which was still gripping a little twig. “Ohh... it’s... such a small tradition where you get a kiss under the mistletoe.” You picked up the plant and then placed it over the white-haired young man’s head, bending down after a while and giving him a short peck on the left, smooth cheek. “Merry Christmas once again.”

“Merry Christmas to you too and... thank you for that.”

You only smirked, reaching for the mug of already cool drink. However, you weren’t disappointed in drinking the cold cocoa, because the honest, slightly timid smile of the boy you liked from the beginning of your work at CCG warmed your whole body better than any other hot chocolate, tea or coffee.

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whimsicalbumblebee · 3 years ago

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Omori KH AU! CONTINUED

So uh it has been... a while, but I have more thoughts in relation to Sunny getting his Keyblade and how he met the rest of the group so heres a bit of a prequel bit!

In Faraway town, kids are given a test on their 12th birthday, to see if the Keyblade has chosen them.

(remember, this is prior to the events of BBS in KH Canon so there are potential keyblade wielders in each world but the number is falling because of growing darkness in hearts)

This has gotten long.. .so under the cut it goes!

MASTERPOST

The nature of the test is secretive, most people unaware of the keyblade existence, kept secret to prevent it from causing more people to fall to darkness.

The test is one where you're supposed to face your darkest fears, if you call upon the keyblade to fight it, you pass, if you cannot, you, fail.

Sunny faces the test on his 12th bday, its a room with a singular mirror. All he was told is he has to defend himself. There is no weapons or tools in this room he could use...he knows *some* magic, noticing a pool of water surrounding the mirror and hoping thats enough for him to call upon blizzard or water magic strong enough to fight.

He faces the mirror, and sees Omori facing back, but he doesn't recognize it as Omori at the time, just himself. He steps out the mirror, Darkness enveloping him, forming into a spider like monster.

Sunny is... terrified.

His vision starts to darken, he steps back. Spidersomething steps forward, Sunny steps back again, swaying, sweating, unable to scream. He starts tearing up.

Spidersomething strikes. Sunny brings his arms up, a glow of light enveloping him for a second before he blacks out, falling into the water.

He could have sworn he heard a familiar voice yelling his name as he hits the water.

Mari was one of the people watching the test. She had permission to, already entrusted with the Keyblade and thus allowed to be present as her baby brother tested for his. That is to say, Sunny had no clue Mari was watching.

When she saw Sunny summon the keyblade to defend himself before falling into the water, she didnt hesitate to jump from her spot looking down on to the room to save him.

Sunny awoke to yelling. He recognized the voice, it was...Mari. She seemed to be outside the room he was asleep in...wait.. asleep? He was in a bed, it wasnt his...he didnt recognize the place. But Mari is here... so its okay, right?

But she was upset, yelling, Sunny has never heard her raise her voice like that.

"You said he was going to be safe!"

"And he was! We weren't going to let him get hurt"

"But he almost drowNED!"

"I can assure you someone would've saved him if you hadn't gotten there first!"

There's a scuffle and a yelp... it sounded like the person Mari was upset at.

"Please Mari, I'm sure your brother will wake up soon!"

"Its been 2 day! If he's not injured then why isn't he waking up???!"

"I- I'm not sure but it has to be because of the shock of the situation!"

"You better be right."

There is another sound, a thump. The other guy must have fallen.

The door to the room opened and Sunny saw Mari's face go from anger, to shock, to tears as she rushed to him, hugging him.

Sunny...started crying too. He recalled the test, how he cowardly passed out... he failed Mari... and now he made her worry.

He mumbled apologies into her shoulder, and Mari pulled back, asking why.

He mentions he failed her, the test too and now he won't go to the same school as Mari.

Mari made a "O" at that, before breaking into a smile, her thumb wiping Sunny's tears.

"Silly Sunshine, you passed the test."

Sunny...passed? Was she just saying it? But Mari didn't give him room to say that, moving to the side of the bed.

"Hold out your hand Sunny" She instructed.

And so he did. What he didn't expect was... a beam of light, a key, appearing in his hand.

She explained to him the true purpose of the test, how the Keyblade chose to protect him.

Soon, Sunny would be going to the same school as Mari. It's what he's always dreamed of.

He starts school the next day, and is introduced to a handful of new people, or rather, Mari is the one to introduce him to them.

"This is Henry, but we call him Hero! He's my age so we're training together!"

"Nice to finally meet the Sunny, Mari kept talking about!"

Hero, to Sunny, was kind, his voice gentle like Mari's. Not loud at all. He didn't like it when Hero ruffled his hair though.

Next up was Kel.

Mari didn't get to finish introducing him before Kel butted in, excited and eager.

"I'm 12 too! But older than you, obviously! Can I see your keyblade?"

Sunny was a little overwhelmed but he summoned his keyblade for Kel.

"Oh its so small! Just like you! Look at mine!"

Kel Summons his keyblade. "Heh, its the best one!"

"No its not!" A third voice intrudes. "Don't listen to him, he's just like that all the time! I'm Aubrey! I'm also 12!" The girl introduces herself.

"What do you mean its not the best, it clearly is!"

"Nuh uh, thats mine! See its PINK!" She summons hers. It was indeed, pink.

"Pink is gross!" Kel made a face at Aubrey.

"He-hey thats enough both of you! We don't want Sunny to get a bad impression of either of you, do we now!" Mari breaks them up.

"Sorry Mari, but Kel started it!"

"No I didn-"

Hero thankfully comes by to separate Kel from the group before he and Aubrey start fighting. Mari explains that Hero is Kel's older brother.

Sunny goes to Hero, looking at him expectantly. Hero looks confused for a moment before holding out his hand and summoning his Keyblade. It was...pretty cool. Wow...

Sunny thinks this is all of them but then he spots a person in the distance, watching from afar. Mari follows his gaze and her eyes go wide.

"Oh Basil! Are you feeling better?" She rushes towards the person, Sunny following behind.

"A...little.." the boy gives Mari a small smile.

"Sunny this is Basil! He's been feeling ill for a bit but hes your age too! Basil, this is my little brother, Sunny." She introduces them.

"Hi Sunny!" Basil smiles, he looks pretty fragile, Sunny notes, and like he hasn't been sleeping well.

Sunny waves with his free hand, bringing attention to his keyblade in his other.

"Yours look a lot like Mari's!" Basil points out.

"It does, doesn't it?" She smiles holding out her hand so Sunny could see hers.

It really was similar...

Sunny looks at Basil expectantly but Basil only averts his eyes.

"Maybe...some other time, I think I should head back to bed."

Theres something curious about the way Basil was acting, but Sunny doesn't know him quite enough to be sure.

In any case, Sunny starts classes.

There are major introductory ones, where rules of keyblade are taught. About keeping the secrecy of it, how they aren't allowed to let anyone hold it or present it outside of the school unless of an emergency.

There are basic magic courses too, as well as training grounds for physical attacks.

The others are quite a bit ahead of sunny, with him being the last to join.

Mari and Hero are training for their eventual Mark of Mastery and... Basil still hasn't been coming to any of the classes.

Sunny almost forgot Basil was even a student until he found him sneaking off after training.

Sunny follows Basil into a part of the building he's never been to before. Basil doesn't notice Sunny until after he's stopped in front of a door, Sunny standing besides him.

"Ah! I wasn't DOING ANYTHING MA- wait... you're Mari's little brother, Sunny...right? Wa- wait what are you doing here?"

Sunny just looks at Basil.

"Oh- you followed me.. didnt you? You can head back, I was just...doing something."

"..." Sunny knows Basil is hiding something and doesn't quite budge.

"Ah... alright, I'll tell you... the truth is.. there was an accident during training a while back and now.. I can't summon my keyblade." He opens the door, "I found the mirror they use for the test and I thought.. if I could summon my keyblade like the first time, everything will be better."

Sunny nods and follows Basil inside. Basil doesn't expect Sunny to stick around, why would he? But he does, giving Basil two thumbs up as he returns it with a weak smile.

Basil faces the mirror, a shadow stranger looks back at him. Something envelopes the shadowed figured and escapes the mirror, tendrils coming out from all ends.

Basil is... terrified, holding his hand out waiting for the keyblade to appear. It doesn't and the creature attacks Basil. Sunny....rushes over, using the basic Blizzard spell at the creature to freeze it in place before pull Basil to the side.

"It ... was hopeless after all, huh Sunny?" Basil has tears in his eyes.

Sunny summons his Keyblade and holds it out to Basil. "Sunny?" Sunny nudges it towards him, hand out towards Basil.

"You want me to take this? But the rules-"

Sunny simply points to the shadow demon. "Not strong enough..."

"Oh right, I guess you...don't know how to fight..,alright, I'll fend him off, get somewhere safe"

Sunny's keyblade in hand, Basil fights black smoke and tentacles coming from the shadow figure.

Basil's fighting is sloppy... compared to how he's seen Hero and Mari fight, but he's still weakening the beast, the shadow backing into the mirror with each attack. A sudden attack knocks the keyblade from Basil's hand, it hitting the ground and vanishing. Basil is knocked back, huffing in pain as he watches the tentacles lash out towards Sunny further back.

"Sunny!" Without thinking Basil rushes over towards Sunny, leaping into the air and slashing down with a glow of light. In his hand, a keyblade, glowing gold and green. The creatures hisses, completely vanishing into the mirror. Basil stares at the rematerialized keyblade, his keyblade in awe, before realizing the situation and turning to seal the mirror.

He's smiling as he faces Sunny, happy tears in his eyes.

"All I could think of was protecting you... and my keyblade came to help...T-Thank you Sunny, I couldn't have done this without you. You wanted to see my keyblade right? See! This is it!"

He holds it out proudly, basically glowing. Sunny couldn't help but smile at him back, "Pretty."

Its after this day that Basil rejoins classes, and becomes closer to Sunny, his best friend from those in his class ^^!

And this is! it! A lot longer than expected with more dialogue than anticipated but! here it be!

If you've read this far, thank you! Please lemme know your thoughts!

-Bee

#Omori KH AU #Omori au #Sunny Omori #Basil Omori #Mari Omori #just tagging those three

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years ago

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duet | love notes and roses

DUET MASTERLIST

desc: george weasley wants nothing more than to catch your attention, and what better way than with a valentine’s gift? he’s got it all figured out; ribbons and roses, and jokes about nifflers. what he doesn’t have figured out is your oblivion when it comes to his feelings.

A/N: hi everyone! here’s the second installment of the collab with @thoseofgreatambition; we’ve been pretty much squealing like a bunch of schoolgirls as we work through this story together, constantly placing ideas onto the table and fangirling over our favorite boys. we hope you enjoy smol bean, thirteen-year-old george and y/n!

warnings: none

George was thrilled to be on your good side. Fred, on the other hand, was rather peeved off at his twin’s hesitation when it came to pranks now.

George was worried about hurting you again. Seeing your lip tremble and tears well up in your eyes was something he never, ever wanted to see. It nearly broke his heart. You were soft and gentle and delicate. He didn’t want to ruin that. So he was careful.

Charms had already been his favorite class, but now that you were in the seat next to him, laughing yourself into oblivion at all of the spells he purposefully messed up, he knew it was his favorite.

He was cautious, though. He made all of his purposefully messed up charms harmless, just like that one when he’d first met you. He wondered if maybe he could make most of his pranks harmless, too.

“Professor Flitwick is going to give you bad marks!”

When he heard your laugh, he was almost certain his heart had stopped. It was just about the sweetest thing he’d ever heard, and that included his mum’s silly Muggle music she’d play during the holidays on something his dad liked to call a ‘record player’. Sweet as sugar, that laugh was. He did everything in his power to hear it all over again.

“I reckon he doesn’t know a good charm when he sees one!”

Another laugh from you caused another thunderous beat of his heart. George found himself grinning giddily throughout the entirety of the lesson, completely ignoring Fred on his other side, who was looking rather annoyed as he gruffly poured over his Charms book.

When the bell signaled the end of the lesson, you both headed off in your respective directions. George was sitting rather grumpily in Potions with Professor Snape and other third years, very upset about being so far away from you in the dungeons, but his head and his heart had followed you all the way to your Transfiguration lesson.

____________

You were standing at the front of the Great Hall when you’d accidentally bumped into George. Accidentally, and quite literally. You turned the corner a bit too quickly, rammed into someone completely and dropped your spellbooks in surprise. Before you could reach down to grab them, George was already picking them up and placing them gently in your hands. His smile was soft against his rounded cheeks. You felt your own flush pink.

You huffed a bit. George asked, “You look famished! Where are you coming from?”

Your eyes widened at his question; you felt the excitement bubbling up inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you were divulging a lot of information. “Care of Magical Creatures! We learned about Nifflers today, have you had that lesson yet?”

George’s grin only grew alongside his admiration for you; he shook his head and let you ramble on about your lesson. He couldn’t believe that the smiley girl from Charms seemed to be getting cuter by the second.

“Oh, George! I’m so excited for you to have that lesson, they’re quite interesting creatures, you know. I’d love to have one as a pet one day. I’ve just got to make sure not to have a lot of jewelry lying around.”

George let a laugh escape his lips, and you were quite certain that the pink color on your cheeks was only becoming more evident in the sunlight streaming in from the high windows in the hall. You yearned for him to laugh more. “And why is that?”

“Well because they love sparkly things, silly. I reckon you’ll learn all about that when you begin your lesson soon!” you told him. Your heart rate seemed to increase when he reached out and touched the top of your head.

“What about this?”

Of course. The yellow ribbon in your hair. Yellow for Hufflepuff, but also because it seemed to make the color of your eyes stand out. That’s what your mum had always said, anyway. It was your signature. “Not shiny enough,” you replied, trying very desperately to swallow down the nerves that were rising up in your throat, “they tend to like jewels and things, more sparkly. Not shiny hair ribbons.”

“Well I reckon that’s a relief, isn’t it?”

You grinned brightly at him; he playfully tapped the top of your head with two fingers again. You couldn’t help but smile like a fool. “Wouldn’t want those little buggers getting a hold of it now, would you?”

You were almost certain you saw a different type of brightness appear in George’s eyes when you told him, “Of course not, silly! It’s my favorite thing.”

____________

George was running around the castle like a chicken without a head, if you will. Fred was chasing after him, and he could not understand what on earth was causing his twin to become so bewilderingly flustered. He finally caught up with him in the relatively empty common room.

“Mate, what’s going on?”

George had the end of his quill in the side of his mouth and he seemed to be chewing nervously. Fred noticed a bright grin spread across his lips before he hovered over a bit of parchment and finished whatever he’d been writing.

Cautiously, Fred snuck up behind George, but his twin was quicker, and very stealthily placed his parchment into his bag and placed it right out of Fred’s reach.

“What’re you working on?”

“Just my Potions essay.”

Fred didn’t believe this, but George stayed silent. He swallowed thickly as Fred crossed the common room to join Ron and his friends, and when he knew he was safe, he pulled out the bit of parchment again for one final reread. He didn’t want Fred to see what was arguably the corniest letter he’d ever written, in his absolute neatest handwriting.

Dear Y/N,

Red and pink seem to be the stereotypical colors associated with Valentine’s Day. I figured you’d maybe like to wear similar colored ribbons in your hair, since you love your yellow one so much.

Perhaps by the end of our schooling, you’ll have every color of the rainbow.

And don’t worry, the nifflers won’t be able to snatch them. I’ve charmed them, you know. ;)

Yours truly,

Your Secret Admirer

When he was positive that Fred was immersed in conversation with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, George gently pulled out three things from his bag and placed them inside the folded letter: a red ribbon, for your hair; a pink ribbon, perhaps to be used as a bookmark of some sorts, or something; and a rose, for which he hoped you’d consider it a Valentine’s gift.

He grinned to himself as he slowly tucked everything back into his bag, and he skipped nervously out of the portrait hole before anyone could question where he was off too.

____________

Fred was being a right git. All afternoon, all he did was make disgusted faces at all of the happy couples strolling through the castle, and was becoming seemingly more annoyed with all of the floating paper hearts sifting through the air as they attempted to find their respective Valentine’s. He tried very hard to catch them and throw them across the room at unsuspecting students, earning himself grunts of annoyance. This seemed to help lift his spirits, though.

But George, on the other hand, was positively giddy; he couldn’t wait for you to open your gift. This is the perfect way to catch her attention, he thought to himself. He waited all day long, making sure you were both finished with your lessons before stealthily placing your gift right at your spot at the Hufflepuff table.

He spotted you walk in with a few books held tightly in your hands as you made your way over to your table for the feast. George was delighted to see your eyes brighten at the sight of the gift; you’d actually stopped in your tracks and checked the tag for a name maybe a few times too many. You were so cute, it physically hurt him to smile, because he was pretty sure his goofy grin could not be any bigger. He watched closely your smile grow as your eyes skimmed down the note, and when you brought the flower to your nose and breathed in the scent. George found himself becoming even happier, if that was possible, when he watched you wipe a single tear away from your eye before removing your yellow ribbon from your hair, and replacing it with the bright red one. Those were the only types of tears he wanted to see from you. He breathed in deeply; he was sure his heart was directly in his throat now. You looked around the Great Hall, as if the sheer fact of you holding the bit of parchment in your hands would send out a signal to you about who your admirer was. George quickly looked back down at his food, pretending not to notice, but he let his gaze linger a bit longer when he watched you giddily tie the pink ribbon to the strap of your bag, and bring the flower to your nose multiple times throughout the feast, too many times for him to count.

____________

When George had walked into his Charms lesson the next day, he didn’t expect you to tell him and Fred about your secret Valentine’s admirer, but found himself growing both even more nervous and also more exhilarated.

“Look what I’ve got!” you called to them both, hurriedly making your way toward them and sliding in your seat next to George. Fred furrowed his brows in confusion; George stayed quiet, hoping the steady pounding of his heart could not be heard by either of you.

“What’s that?” Fred asked, pointing at the bit of parchment you were removing from your bag. George just smiled a bit. He was overly happy to see the pink ribbon in your hair today.

“Someone sent me a love note!”

Fred looked stunned. “A love note?”

“Yes!” you squealed excitedly; you opened the bit of parchment and showed them both. Fred looked down and read, and George pretended to do the same. He smoothed his hand over it and peered at the slightly smudged date in the corner. He could practically recite it by heart, he’d read and reread it so many times. “Who d’you reckon it could be?”

Fred examined the parchment again. “Why does that handwriting look so familiar?”

George’s heart was pounding thunderously against his ribs, and your eyes began to sparkle at the prospect of Fred Weasley perhaps knowing who your secret admirer was. “It does? Oh, Freddie, please tell me you know, I’d love to thank them personally,”

The majority of Charms class was spent half listening to Professor Flitwick, but mostly you and Fred agonizing over the bit of parchment in front of you. When the bell signaled the end of the lesson and you all had nowhere to be as it was lunch time, the three of you stayed seated.

“It’s just.. so sweet, and considerate,” you continued on, running your fingers gently across the end of the ribbon. Fred was still examining the parchment rather closely. Your cheeks were completely flushed from the excitement of it all. Someone had noticed you, and had gone out of their way to give you a gift, and not just any gift.. A Valentine’s gift! George felt his insides tighten when you suddenly jumped and said, “Ooh, perhaps it’s that cheeky Ravenclaw from my Transfiguration class.”

George cleared his throat and tried not to sound so bloody obvious. “How d’you reckon, Y/N?”

“We needed to work on an assignment together last week, McGonagall partnered us up,” you began to tell them, pulling another bit of parchment from your bag. You pointed down to it, “Look here! We’d been taking some notes, and he wrote this bit here,”

Both George and Fred peered at you quizzically.

“What makes you think it’s him?” George asked.

“Well, he’s got rather nice handwriting, don’t you think?”

“Y/N..” Fred began, looking back and forth between both bits of parchment, “the handwriting doesn’t even match to the one on your love note.”

You didn’t look at either of them. Instead, a lazy grin appeared on your face and you asked dreamily, “So?”

Fred continued on, “I don’t think it’s him. But no worry, we’ll help you figure it out.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” George agreed, trying his best to sound impartial. “Whoever gave this to you must really fancy you.”

Your eyes widened in absolute admiration. They were sparkling and George was certain they were brighter than any stars in the night sky. “You think?”

“I know,” he told you.

It’s me, he wanted to say.

But he held back.

And that’s when realization hit Fred like a ton of bricks; he opened his mouth to begin his normal teasing, when George kicked him very rudely in the shin, and Fred had to bite down on his lip to keep from muttering words he very much knew his mother would not approve of. George shot him a Lay off, you prat, sort of look, and then turned back toward you. Your eyes were still glistening, your grin was still bright, and even though you hadn’t the foggiest that it had been him to gift you these things, he didn’t seem to mind. He meant it, too. Helping you figure out who it was. But he was in no rush, and it was okay if you didn’t figure it out.

He’d tell you one day.

tag list: @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant@slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess@wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl@theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot@chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme@illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12@obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld@shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester

#George weasley #fred weasley #fred and George weasley #Weasley twins #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley reader insert #George Weasley imagine #Weasley twins imagine #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #George Weasley fanfic #George Weasley fanfiction

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years ago

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Remoras Full Chapter XXXVIII: Four Pomegranate Seeds

Back in elementary school, I had a crush on this girl named Pomme. Being as young as I was, I didn’t know how to act on my feelings. All I knew was that I wanted to be friends with her. But those feelings were uneasy, as well, and it would present itself as a silly mixture of wanting to be near her at all times and also wanting to steer clear of her at all times.

What resulted was us spending time together on the playground, playing and having fun, but also a strong desire to hide and find somewhere else to be whenever the opportunity presented itself. Another thing that would happen was that I would act in ways that I should have known better than to have acted.

One defining instance was in third grade when our class took a field trip to the local beach. Everyone had plenty of fun and splashed others with water, made sandcastles, and little sand angel imprints. Pomme and I, however, sat off away from the others. She too was building something out of sand, but it wasn’t a castle. It didn’t look like anything in particular. Maybe she just wanted to make a pile. I recall trying to help her, adding little sticks to the top.

At one point, she leaned close to me said, “I wanna tell you a secret.” I felt little things in my arms and legs do a funny dance and my heart performed circus tricks.

“Wh...what is it?” I asked, a little bit on the nervous side.

She then pressed her face up to my ear and whispered, “I want to eat sand.”

It wasn’t what I expected to hear, but some part of me still saw it as an opportunity. Opportunity for what, I didn’t know, but I stood up anyway.

“You should go for it! I think if you want to eat sand, and if it makes you happy, then you gotta eat sand!” I felt so proud and I was sure I imagined myself as some kind of superhero.

Next thing I recall, however, was that the teacher dragged a crying Pomme toward me while I played out on the beach.

“Did you tell Pomme to eat sand?” The teacher asked. I looked over to Pomme and she was bawling her eyes out and saying how it tasted gross. I knew I was in trouble. I just nodded my head real slow.

“That’s not right. Proserpina, I have no choice but to write you a referral,” the teacher’s grim expression sealed my fate, and my perfect record was about to be tainted. “Now, apologize to Pomme.”

I looked over. It was a horrid sight.

“Sorry…” My voice trailed off as I only managed that one word.

“For?” The teacher pressed.

“For telling you to eat sand,” I added on, my words weak and flimsy.

“It’s so grody!” Pomme whined, and she spat out bits of sand from her mouth while at the same time I noticed snot run down her nose.

After that fateful field trip, Pomme and I stopped talking to each other. We avoided each other and word spread that I was some kind of bully that made other kids eat sand. Not a great time to be alive. In the next grade, I didn’t see her at all, and I heard she changed schools. From time to time I would think about what became of her. How I wondered if she ever came around to the taste of sand, or if she ever came up with a different wish. But whatever the case may be, I never knew. Once she was gone, I never saw nor heard from her for the rest of my days.

So what was the point of that recollection? Was it to say that I’m bisexual? No, because that would’ve only taken two words: “I’m bisexual.”

There, I said it. OK. So was it to say that I knew what it was like to act weird over a crush, so I could relate to my former roommate/friend? Well, sure, but the difference back then was that I was a little kid and my former roommate was in her 20s. In other words, I was justified.

Nor was that recollection meant to foreshadow that I would see that childhood friend again. There was no, “or so I thought.” Nothing like that. As much as part of me wishes it were so, I didn’t mind if it never happened. Some friends came and went through our lives and as great of a time as we may have had, they end up not leaving much of an impact. Maybe it was that when we parted with friends as kids, it was during more fun or carefree moments, so it didn’t seem to matter as much. Or it could have been that there were so many other friends to make due to being surrounded by people your own age.

That could have just been me. I wouldn’t say my experiences were universal, but it may have been easier to move on when there were others to flock to when one person left. I wasn’t really sure what the differences were. Things were the same at university, weren’t they? Maybe growing up took from me that carefree innocence or maybe I just found myself a stranger in what was once so familiar to me.

It was hard to say.

Those memories resurfaced, as if washing ashore after being lost at sea. There wasn’t any particular feeling attached other than the feeling of nostalgia. But it wormed its way in, found itself a home and dwelt in my mind rent-free.

“I think we should be apart for a while,” I told my boyfriend, Hades. I loved that cute, redheaded boy with his puffy hair, but it was just the environment.

It wasn’t the memory which spurned such a decision, but there was a general sense of longing.

“You mean like a break up?” He asked.

“No, nothing like that. I just think I need to go back to university. Like, physically. I still want to finish my education and it’s just been hard to do while living here. Please understand.”

“I do,” was what he told me.

Still, I was hesitant as I re-enrolled and opened the door to the dorm room.

“Looks like I’m back,” I muttered to myself and gulped.

In a strange sort of luck, I had been assigned the same room I had before I left – when I thought I had left for good. School had become too much for me as more and more of my time was spent living with Hades at his mom’s house. He exhumed corpses for a living and his mother was a mortician – I helped her out with that, made myself some money in the process. It was a nice, humble sort of living. But maybe hanging around stiff, dead folks wasn’t my cup of tea. Maybe it never was, and I just thought I could do it because I was doing something that my boyfriend loved doing.

Oh, how foolish that was.

The dorm’s setup was just the same as I had left it, as well: rather than multiple rooms, it was all one room and it had a bunk bed at the corner of the wall.

Yet the room was empty, save for the backs that I set upon the floor. Not just an empty in that there wasn’t much there, but that there was an absence present, one I couldn’t quite articulate.

Or maybe I can articulate all too well, I thought as the image of my former roommate came up. How her absence was felt, yet the absences of all those friends who came and went throughout childhood seemed to mean so little. That was another reason I dropped out: after she left, abrupt and without explanation, I was so focused on trying to find her, hoping that she was alive and well and save, that I just couldn’t focus on my studies. Whether it be the environment or the distress, it just wasn’t the right time.

I plopped down, headfirst on the bottom bunk of the bed. Fresh floral scent of clean sheets filled my nostrils and a serene smile forced its way out of me.

“It’s the right time now,” I sighed, a hint of ecstasy, “I’m back home.”

There were still things in my mind which wouldn’t go away. My registration said that I had a roommate already chosen, but didn’t provide a name, and I also didn’t see anyone upon entering.

Heh. Wasn’t it like this when I first met Demetria as well? I was already situated and made comfortable and I thought she must have been my roommate’s younger sister. Man, I feel bad about that. It feels like I was making fun of her height, which I did not mean to do at all. But I’m guessing I felt bad at the time too. Maybe nothing changes after all.

Somehow I had passed out. What brought me out of my sleep was a ticklish sensation as I felt something nudge against me. In a jolting panic, I bolted up and almost hit my head on the ceiling of the top bunk in the process.

“You. You’re in my bed,” groaned a hoarse, yet high-pitched voice. While that may have sounded like a contradiction, it wasn’t: I heard both a bird-like chirp as well as the tone of someone who had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed or went all day during the height of a heatwave without a drop of water.

I turned to see a cloaked girl, on the hinges of five feet tall and with messy blonde hair.

“Demetria?” I asked, surprised, and my voice just a little groggy as well.

“No. Hecate,” my new roommate corrected, “I don’t know who this ‘Demetria’ is, but that’s not me. Now get out of my bed.”

How specific of a denial. Hmm…

“What makes you think this is your bed?” I argued and scowled for good measure.

“I need to sleep closest to the floor so I can have easiest access to my rituals!” She explained, which explained nothing, but for emphasis, she slammed her stick down. “Especially because I have not yet mastered broom riding, so sleeping closer to the ceiling is not recommended at my current level as I could accidentally end up floating out the window in my sleep and falling to my death upon waking up.”

I...had no words. So instead, I tilted my head, let my jaw hang, and one word escaped from me:

“What?”

She sighed and shook her head.

“I can’t believe I have to explain this to you. No, of course I do. Mortals don’t know any better. Very well: I am a witch. Get it now?”

“Like Wicca?” I asked in earnest. Far be it for me to make fun of someone, especially if it was a religious thing.

“No, I’m a creature of dark arts and forbidden sorcery, bound to this earth to curse any who dare cross my path. Animals cower before me, save for this frog I found the other day,” she reached into her cloak and pulled out a small box, opened it up, then a frog hopped out. I freaked out and stood on end away from the bed.

“You released a frog in our dorm!” I was outraged.

“Yes, that frog is my familiar,” she stated all proud with her hands on her hips, “also, my bed now.”

She curled up all snug on the bottom bunk. Somehow I felt as if I had been tricked. Bamboozled, even.

“Come on, really? I was here first!” I whined.

She glared at me. Somewhere around the bed, the frog was still nearby, hopping and croaking about.

“I’ll relent and give you the bottom bunk if you decide to become my apprentice. Deal?”

It really wasn’t worth it, I could have just taken the top. I used to love the top. But there was a nostalgia attached, something which told me it was only right, it was just, to take the bottom bunk.

“Sure. Deal,” I agreed, though it all seemed ridiculous, if I was being honest.

“The contract has been sealed. You are now bound to me,” she stated in what seemed like the lowest voice she could muster.

“I’m what now?”

Rather than answer, she got up and took to the ladder. Once she was on the top bunk, she poked her head down and glared at me.

“Just so you know, if I fall to my death in my sleep, I will curse you and your bloodline for all eternity.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I shrugged off the vague (possible) threat. For what it was worth, I didn’t think there was much of a bloodline to curse in the first place. I had no intention of raising any children. Besides, Hades couldn’t have gotten me pregnant even if he wanted to, though he did express some desire to undergo bottom surgery, just not any time soon.

While every cell in my body begged for me to stay in bed, I had other business to attend to and the day was far from over.

“I’m going to the campus bookstore. Gotta pick up stuff for my classes,” I told my roommate.

“Don’t know why you feel the need to tell me that, but okay,” Hecate replied, and it rubbed me the wrong way. If it had been my past roommate, she would have said something much different. Things like:

“I’m proud of you.”

(Okay, that one was a stretch)

“That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“Good for you.”

Or even, “make sure you keep focused on your studies and actually use your textbooks.”

Even if she could be rude at times, and it always seemed like she was in her own world where nobody else mattered, I really appreciated that she tried to keep me focused and stressed the importance of study.

Once, I recall ranting about relationships and romance, two things which occupied about 75% of my mind at any given time.

“What am I going to do now that Myron dumped me? Man, I thought we were perfect,” I complained just the day after she saw me break down and confide in her.

As usual, her nose was stuck in a book. Knowing her, it was one about fish or other marine creatures.

“Uh...I wasn’t paying attention,” she commented, “I don’t care, but give me the rundown again?”

I sucked in a large amount of air, even coughed up a bit of dust particles (our dorm really needed an air purifier or a better ventilation system), then explained in the most concise way fathomable: “So I was dating this guy named Myron, right? Boring name, but seemed like a cool dude. Then I was walking out from one of my classes and he stops me in the middle of the hall and goes: ‘Sorry, Proserpina, but Athena is just hotter than you, so I’m gonna pursue her instead’ like a total asshole and it seemed so out of left field. I was pretty attached and it left me devastated and now it’s still on my mind and it’s hard to focus on my schoolwork as a result.”

“Mm...that sounds dumb,” Demetria replied in the blunt manner that she could at times, “but did you know that jellyfish are mostly water?”

“Yeah, I think I heard about that one before. Maybe from you,” I answered her question without much thought, then realized that I had distracted myself from the topic at hand, “but anyway! What do you think?”

“Uh...do you really want my advice? Because I don’t have any advice.”

“Yes! Something, please.”

“Okay...uh...so he’s dating Athena now? Also, what are up with these names? Like, do we go to some goddess school or something?”

I waved my hand away.

“No, he’s not, he just wants to.”

“Okay. Maybe try dating Athena, then? That’ll show your ex...guy...thing.”

“No, that sounds too petty. My heart wouldn’t be in it, anyway. I’ve never even spoken to Athena.”

I’m amazed that she didn’t even think to question whether or not I’d be into girls. Maybe I haven’t given her enough credit.

“If you’re so keen on dating, why not that Apollo guy? Is there an Apollo guy? I think there is. I heard he’s into justice and whatnot, so he seems like an upstanding guy. Better than whoever Byron is.”

“Myron,” I corrected, “and I don’t think there’s any Apollo.”

“There isn’t? Then where did I hear the name Apollo Justice before? Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t even be thinking about that stuff. We’re here to learn, not find the love of our lives. Focus on your studies and you’ll be fine,” she advised.

Despite her insistence that school was more important, it was just hard for me to concentrate on what was important. It was always that way, which made it a miracle that I even managed to graduate high school, let alone make it to university.

Besides that, she didn’t know my history, what it was like to live in my head. How could she when she was always in her own? Not to disparage her, but it did appear to be the case, no matter how much she nagged at me to get a good sleep and eat well and study. Yes, it probably seemed like I was the popular girl in high school, or that I dated around, couldn’t ever make up my mind, but that wasn’t quite true.

Friends were hard to come by. Like actual, good, honest friends. Yes, I had a few and we liked to laugh together and stay up late chatting over Facetime. But there wasn’t really much in the way of parties or big get togethers. Maybe I seemed like the type who would take part in those things, yet I just didn’t for whatever reason. It was actually somewhat of a shame when I thought about it, since I was sure I’d enjoy big hangouts or parties. It wasn’t a shyness or a pretentious feeling that I was too good for such things. It was just...I didn’t know what it was.

But it is true that I might have put more of an emphasis on relationships than I needed to. Dating, romance, they were things I longed for, enjoyed, but...well, I was in a happy, loving one now, and so I just didn’t need to think about such things. Friends, too, were a thing of the past, as first there was Demetria, and soon after, I lost contact with the few other friends I had. Hades counted, but…

I wasn’t sure. He didn’t come to mind very often anymore, even while I lived with him. When he did, it was usually made as an excuse to something rather than anything else.

There was little of note at the bookstore, few people were there and the whole thing looked like a ghost town. Even had there been more people, I wouldn’t have paid them much mind. I saw no reason to do so.

When I returned to my dorm room carrying several books in both hands up several flights of stairs, I noticed how quiet everything was.

It was quiet back then, too.

After I set the books down on the floor next to my bags (I’d put them in the closet later) I looked up and saw Hecate fast asleep with her frog on her lap.

“I guess she’s allowed to. She probably had a long day,” I remarked. From that angle, she actually looked peaceful and not an immature child fresh out of high school. Even her frog was still, aside from the little croaks.

Maybe there’s some validity to that frog being a familiar, I thought, but soon dismissed that same thought just as soon as it appeared.

I tried to pull out some of the textbooks and read in bed so as to get a head start on my classes. But it wasn’t long before all the words started to flow together and made less sense the more I went on. My eyelids fluttered, then turned heavy, and soon I passed out with my head in the middle of a textbook. When I awoke, sticky drool had flowed from out of my mouth and ran off until it found a home in the crevice between the two pages of the book.

I jolted up in a panic.

“What? How can this be?! I’ve never drooled before!” I shouted, enough that I woke my witchy roommate by accident.

“Ugh...can you keep it down? Witches require twice the amount of sleep that a normal person does,” she groaned above me.

I’ve got a feeling that’s not true, but I’m not gonna call her out on it.

“Yeah, sorry,” I mumbled, then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped up the drool. Just by that, it was clear that I was off to a terrible restart.

How did Demetria do it? How did she keep her nose in a book at all times and do nothing but study, study, study? It’s driving me mad just thinking about it.

As days passed, I attended classes and did my best to concentrate on what was taught. Without fail, however, something else always seemed to pop into my head and I would end up missing everything that the professor said.

There are so many students here staring with intent. It’s admirable, but how do they manage to do that? Are they all robots programmed to look at whoever’s in the front of the room? Lecture hall? Whatever it be? What if I were to stand up and walk to the front and just start pacing around, would they all look at me as well? That sounds narcissistic. I wouldn’t want them to. It’s just a little thought. For some reason I get the eerie feeling that they would. I wouldn’t even have to say anything.

By the time that whole string of thoughts ceased, I focused back in on what the professor was lecturing about.

“– And that’s how no-till farming works,” he explained. Our professor, Prof. Breeder, was a burly man with a long beard and tight fitting overalls. He spoke in a Southern drawl and it was like he lived everything he taught. At least that was my impression of him. I forgot everything he said about himself during the first day, so I could have been totally wrong and just making assumptions.

Class was soon dismissed without me having learned anything. I headed back off to my dorm room to give myself a break before the next class. I had two classes on Wednesdays, one ended right at noon, and the other started at 2 PM. Which gave me a two hour break to wind down and prepare.

As soon as I opened the door to my dorm, I was paralyzed in fear.

“What. Is. Going. On?” I stammered out the words.

There, seated in the middle of the floor, was Hecate, with a large black ceramic pot. She had a large ladle in her hand and seemed to be stirring something. I looked below the pot to see a portable hot plate.

“Hi. I’m brewing potions,” she stated without looking up, too focused on her concoction. I peered over to see a brownish tinged liquid and little potato and carrot pieces. Steam billowed from it, a faint scent of chicken permeated through the air.

Great. And I just got this place air freshened, too.

“Why are you making soup in our dorm?” I balked.

“I’m not making soup. They’re potions. I already told you that,” she groaned, then held up a wooden spoon that I failed to notice had been sitting beside her, “would you like a sample?”

I leaned in and wrapped my mouth around the spoon, then swallowed its contents in one fell swoop. Despite its searing heat, I didn’t mind, and the taste seemed to seep into every one of my taste buds and overtake my tongue. There was no denying it: there wasn’t just a faint chicken scent, but the exact taste of chicken stock broth. More than that, the potatoes seemed to have melted into the broth to create an equal measure smooth and creamy taste, something I didn’t even think possible.

“Oh. Oh wow,” I was near-speechless.

“It’s a love potion,” she explained, “I will not hold myself liable for any adverse side-effects.”

A...what potion?

“Uh, just so you know,” I spoke with an uncomfortable amount of hesitance, “I’ve got a boyfriend already.”

“That’s nice, though I never asked.”

How...how bold, I thought, before I realized that my thoughts were wrong, so changed course, no, what I should say is, “how rude.”

“It’s...it’s just that people don’t usually feed other people soup, don’t you think?” I tried to justify myself, something which I didn’t really need to do.

“It’s not soup, it’s a potion, and I wasn’t feeding you, I was just letting you have a taste. The rest of it’s mine. If you want a vial of it later, I will sell it to you.”

Is she seriously going to sell soup as if it’s a love potion?

“Anyway, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a short nap before my next class,” I announced. To my surprise, she had something to say which didn’t involve being a witch.

“I don’t mind. I have chronic fatigue, so I get it.”

It really did feel like I was beginning to learn more about her.

Demetria also used to feed me. It wasn’t a lovers thing, though. Heaven’s no. In fact, I found it kind of annoying sometimes.

I’d wake up past my alarm, running late for class, and she’d berate me for not getting to sleep at a better time. When I was ready to head out the door, she’d always stop me and go.

“Make sure you’re eating well! Here, take this apple! And I made you a PB&J!”

Reluctant, I would take the sandwich bag and apple, and scoff.

“Thanks, mom,” I rolled my eyes, then ran off to class.

Now, I would’ve given anything to have that again. Someone like that there to remind me to eat well, sleep well, keep me focused. Even if it could get annoying, or if there was some possibility of her doing those things for some selfish sense of superiority (maybe she found me pathetic), I still think I took all of those things for granted back then.

In some ways, I admired her desire to focus on studies and lack of interest in relationships. I remember once I stayed up late chatting with a friend over the phone.

“So I think everyone knows the History Professor is banging the English Professor but nobody wants to say anything because it’s none of our business, but it’s just so annoying how obvious it is,” my friend, Clytie, relayed to me.

“Yeah, it’s really not my business, either, and they’re both adults and as long as they’re being professional, why should I care?” I tried to be engaged with her topic, but it was of little interest to me, I’ll admit.

I felt a painful thud as my mattress jumped about an inch or two in the air. I knew what it was right away: Demetria kicked her leg up against the top bunk.

“Keep it down,” she rasped, “I’m trying to read about electric eels. You need your sleep, anyway.”

“Who was that?” Clytie asked.

I waved my hand away.

“That was just my roommate. I’m sure I told you about her before.”

Clytie gave off her little dolphin laugh.

“Maybe, but I don’t remember much unless it has to do with me, tee-hee.”

“To be honest, she can be kinda annoying,” I admitted to Clytie.

“If that’s what you think of me, then I guess I’ll stop making you breakfast and packing you lunches,” Demetria threatened.

“No! Don’t!” I pleaded. As embarrassing as it was, I really didn’t want her to stop.

“Ha ha, well, I’ll let you two have your little spat. Goodnight,” Clytie teased, then hung up.

I scowled, but I really should have been trying to sleep.

What? Did Clytie think it was a lovers’ quarrel? Because it’s nothing like that. I’m not even sure Demetria’s ever thought about romance. Well, now I’m a little bit curious.

“Hey Demetria. Romance?” I inquired.

“Not tonight, busy,” she replied.

“No, not with me!”

“Wait, what were you asking?” She was clueless. Lost in her studies once again.

“Never mind. I’m going to try to sleep,” I dismissed.

“Good, doing the right thing for once,” she commented, all smug, too.

There were times when I thought she had an interest in me, what with how attached she was and she acted all disapproving with any relationship I was in and how she was always telling me to eat more, eat better, sleep better, study. But a quick thought made me realize that it was just her acting like a mom. Sure, I scoffed and rolled my eyes, but that must have been what it was the whole time. I wasn’t even sure if she was aware of it, herself.

As it so happened, the longer I went at things, trying to finish up my education, the more I thought about Demetria. It felt odd, and I wish I didn’t have to. It would have been much better to have moved on and accepted that I probably wouldn’t ever see her again. But there had to be some reason why she lingered on in my mind, right? It couldn’t have been coincidence.

I might have grown desperate for any sort of sign, I’ll admit, but I started to wonder if maybe Hecate was Demetria, but in disguise? It made no sense, yes, but like a conspiracy theorist, I started to hold onto the slightest of connections:

Short

Blonde hair

Weird

I’ll admit, that wasn’t much to go off of and could have applied to a great number of people and there were certain things that should have tipped me off that it wasn’t her. For example, I once tried to get her to open up about herself just a little more. Aside from the witch comments, she seemed really reserved and guarded.

“Hey Hecate, what do you study, anyway?” I asked.

“Chemistry,” she replied, buried under the covers of her bed.

“Really? I would’ve thought culinary arts, since your sou...potions.”

“Witches are already born with the knowledge to make potions, silly. But chemistry is a magic I’ve yet to master.”

“I see. So you have no interest in fish? Marine biology?”

“No. I don’t like water. Ever seen Wizard of Oz?”

Okay, that just seemed silly, but as long as she still drank water, I wouldn’t argue.

“So no interest in fish, then?” I tried to press further.

“I’ve already got a frog, isn’t that enough?” She asked in a pleading voice.

It was possible that she didn’t have interest in marine biology. I remember before she left, she had express losing interest in her studies, something which surprised me, and should’ve been a sign that she had changed. So maybe it wasn’t a stretch to think that she had changed her name, or found a new field of study. But just to be sure…

“How old are you, Hecate?”

“In this current life, I’m 19, but I’ve been older in past lives. Are there any more questions, because I’m having brain trouble and need to recover.”

“Oh. Sorry, sorry. I just thought maybe…” No, I shouldn’t say anything more. It’s not right. If Hecate was telling the truth, then she couldn’t have been Demetria, as if Demetria was still alive and out there somewhere, she would have been 24.

“What?” She asked. I should have known better than to say those four words. I should have stopped at ‘sorry, sorry.’

“I just thought...uh…maybe we met before?” I tried to keep things vague.

“Hm. I don’t know. Memory’s not good right now. How old are you?”

“23,” I answered.

“Okay. Then probably not.”

Hecate scrunched up her face and turned away, and I couldn’t tell whether I had bothered her, or if it was part of her condition. That really made me wonder, too: how did she get to and from class? For the life of me, I’ve never seen her leave the dorm. At least I knew with Demetria that she’d attend all her classes, even if her mind was preoccupied with whatever book she held in her hand.

There were other things I wondered, too, like why she wore that cloak around all the time. Was she hiding something? If I were to see her without the cloak, would it reveal something about her? It didn’t seem like she’d take it off if I asked her, and that would have been an odd request anyway, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

Despite my best efforts to put my suspicion to rest, it all culminated in one night, midway through the first semester: I had come home late, as I had further questions for my professor after the afternoon class ended, then I was hungry, so I got something to eat out at the town. By the time I got back, it was already close to dusk. All that to say, I was wiped.

Of course, I should have expected some sort of wacky activity to take place, seeing as it often happened, and that night was no exception. When I opened the door, I saw her with a large sheet of construction paper and letters and numbers written all over. She sat, head down, slumped, and I wondered if she was in some sort of trance.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Oh. Hey. I had to draw my own spirit board because my mom doesn’t want me having an ouija board. She’s very superstitious even though she already knows that I’m a witch, so any demons I end up in contact with I can just make them my familiar, or kill them, as I’m more powerful than them. Anyway, I can communicate with the dead.”

“Really now?” I raised an eyebrow, skeptical of the prospect.

“Yeah. Do you know anyone who died? I can talk to them,” she sounded elated at the idea, so much that I couldn’t help but indulge her.

“Well, I had a cat when I was little who died.”

“What was their name?”

“Zagreus,” I answered, though I had to think hard about that one. I wasn’t the one who named him and my parents never really explained their reasoning as to why or how they came up with that name.

“Humu, humu…” Hecate hummed, then started to lower her voice to a chant, “I call upon the spirit of Zagreus to use my body as a vessel as to communicate with Proserpina.”

A few seconds passed and she moved her hand around the paper, though rather than spelling out any words, she just went, “mew mew.”

Then she opened her eyes wide and looked up.

“That was all I was able to get out of him,” she explained, “I’ll be honest, most of the time I don’t know what cats are saying.”

Really, I didn’t know what else to expect.

“Zagreus is the son of Persephone, right?” Hecate asked.

I stood, stunned and unsure how to react.

“Probably. I don’t really know,” I replied. That was more something Demetria would have known. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged.

“Your cat told me.”

I wanted to call her out on how ridiculous that was, but before I could, I heard a knock at the door. I opened and in came three girls, all cheerful and laughing.

“Hey, nice to meet you! We’re Hecate’s friends,” one of them greeted, a girl in a striped T-shirt and beret and about my height. She looked like one of those people who would be hard to spot in a crowd.

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” I mumbled and was rather surprised to meet any friends of Hecate’s, let alone some who would come to see her.

“I hope she hasn’t given you too much trouble. I know she can be a handful sometimes,” another one of the girls mentioned, that one with short, blue hair, and braces.

“No, not really. We get along okay,” I replied, and I was still just a little speechless and, dare I say, a little nervous to boot. I really wasn’t expecting guests.

The third girl, one with red hair and two pigtails went up to Hecate. She wore glasses and looked rather thin and frail and seemed about as tall as Hecate. Much of her resembled Demetria, but her face seemed just a little too round and was just a little too pale to have been her.

“Here’s the notes I took for your class today,” she handed Hecate a sheet of paper and I watched as Hecate took it.

“What’s that for?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I have trouble getting to my classes sometimes, so I often ask one of my friends to take notes for me. I always make sure to take classes that don’t grade based on attendance so it’s easier for me,” Hecate explained.

Oh. Because of the fatigue...jeez, I never realized.

“Here’s this, too,” the blue haired one handed Hecate a book. It could have been a textbook and innocent enough, but when I saw the title, my eyes lit up and my mind went into overdrive.

‘Bluefin Tuna and Other Creatures of the Deep’.

“No...no way…” I muttered.

“What? What’s wrong?” One of the other girls asked, but I didn’t take note of which one, because I was caught up in such a frenzy. In that moment, I was so sure that I was right.

“I knew it! You are Demetria! How long were you going to keep it from me? Huh?” I shouted. Everyone around me looked confused, but I was so sure.

“What are you talking about?” Hecate asked, but I didn’t want to play anymore games. I reached down and grabbed for her cloak.

“Hey! Leave me alone!” Hecate cried out as she squired. I pulled the hood down and sure enough, I saw: blonde twintails.

“Ha! You even have the same hairstyle as her! There’s no way it’s not you!”

Hecate grabbed for her hood and looked around in panic. She looked ready to break into tears.

“I’M NOT YOUR STUPID FRIEND!” She yelled, then pulled the hood back over her head.

She may not have always acted in a smart manner, but I refuse to let her be called stupid, I thought, and I balled my hand into a fist, ready to throw down.

“What’s wrong with you?” The striped shirt girl asked. “Are you a bully?”

I paused. I noticed my arm was pulled back and without even thinking I must have prepared myself.

“Yeah, what gives?” The blue haired girl joined in. “Those are her comfort clothes. Even if you wanted to see her with her hood down, you shouldn’t invade her personal space,” her arms crossed and she too looked cross.

“N-No...you guys don’t understand...I’m not…” I stammered. I really was awful, wasn’t I?

“C’mon, Maize, let’s go,” the blue and the striped girl left for the door, with the redhead in glasses left to follow after her.

After Maize left and slammed our door shut, I turned to Hecate, who had dived into the bottom bunk of the bed and buried herself there. I heard her sniffles and sobs.

Never mind that that’s my bunk for now, there was more important matters.

“Hey...I’m sorry,” I croaked out. Funny enough, her frog was nowhere to be found.

Not knowing what else to do, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked to my side.

“I know, that really wasn’t called for on my part. I jumped to conclusions, and to be honest, I’ve not been in a good headspace for a while. I shouldn’t have dragged you into that,” I sucked in my pride and admitted.

Hecate poked her head out from the covers and looked up at me.

“I’m sorry...too...for calling her stupid,” she muttered, her voice a weepy high.

“It’s okay,” I didn’t really find it okay, but I didn’t think she meant it out of malice, and it was just her retaliating against my actions.

“She must have meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “more than I thought she did. I miss her. A lot.”

“Did she die? Because if she did, you should have asked me to contact her instead of a cat. I have a much easier time talking to people than cats.”

I shook my head.

“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. But I’d rather not think so.”

“What happened, then?”

“Well...it’s kind of funny,” I started laughing and noticed I had shed a couple of tears as well. I wiped my face before continuing, “I used to share this dorm with her, and before she left, she had been acting kinda strange.”

“Strange how?”

“I had spent the spring living with my boyfriend,” I explained, “and when I got back to university, it was like she made a radical change. She had a bunch of lesbian romance comics, and she talked about Sailor Moon a lot, and she’d get obsessed with a ‘Remora’. She was always obsessed with fish, but the fact that it was that one in particular was strange.”

“Why was that?”

“Because it was, like, all she talked about. Hell, it reminded me of a conversation we had once when she was reading an encyclopedia of fish and started laughing at one entry, which happened to be about the remora fish. She’d go ‘look at that thing! It’s ridiculous! It looks someone stepped on it and the bottom of the shoe left an imprint! Definitely wouldn’t be in my top 10 of favorite fish.’ Just for fun, I indulged her and asked what her favorites were, and she’d go, ‘Hmm...swordfish, definitely, then sharks. Probably angler fish, too. Piranhas have to be pretty high up there, too.’ So when she started talking about them all the time...yeah, it seemed off to me.”

“So that’s why you asked if I was into marine biology?” Hecate asked, and yeah, she figured it out.

“Yeah. Then when I saw you take that book…”

“I gave Grape some cash and asked her to buy it for me because I thought you were into that, so I wanted to know what made it interesting,” she explained.

Oh. To think someone would think of me.

“No, I’m studying agriculture. But thanks for the thought.”

“So she left?” Hecate continued where we left off.

“Yeah, and I didn’t hear anything from her for a few months, and her mom was really worried too. I admit, I jumped to worst case scenario and assumed she had been kidnapped. When her mom and I received a text from her saying that she got a job studying fish in the arctic, her mom was relieved, but I still had my doubts. So I texted her and told her that if she was in danger, I’d come get her. I was surprised when she answered, and it was definitely in her style, too. She denied such claims of kidnapping, but I couldn’t help myself, I was worried. She then said, ‘at least I didn’t leave my education to go live with some guy’, and I was pretty pissed at that remark...then, nothing.”

“So you had a fight? That’s it? Then she’s probably still alive, she probably just doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Yeah...I guess that’s a possibility…” Not one I wanted to entertain, but sure, “to be fair, I didn’t try to follow up and check in on her, and I don’t really know if she ever blocked me or not because I never tried to contact her after that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I was hoping she’d say something first and then when she never did, I just forgot about it?”

“Well, in any case, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I think talking about it will help me move on easier. It’s hard because I used to have more friends, and now there’s no one. Sure, there’s my boyfr...actually, never mind, point is, I’d like to have a friend again.”

“Well...I can be your friend?” She perked up.

“Thanks. I’d like that,” I smiled.

So while it may have started as a bad evening, my night ended up being okay in the end. Since she already looked exhausted, I let Hecate sleep where she was at, and I climbed up to the top bunk. Somewhere in the room, her frog familiar croaked. Despite that, I imagined myself getting a restful sleep, and was hopeful that I could soon begin to concentrate more on my studies.

Things didn’t quite work out like that, though. Come graduation time and I was still short a few credits. All those months of trying to study, trying to focus, and most of my classes consisted of Cs and Ds.

No, it was pretty frustrating, actually. Like I sacrificed a good home, away from that shitty university, so I could focus and even then it was hard. But I persisted, I persisted and worked my butt off, and in spite of all that, I still couldn’t graduate on time. It was enough for me to throw in the towel, quit right then and there. I don’t really know why I didn’t.

So yes: come graduation day and there I was, not graduating. Nor would Hecate, but she was still fresh to the university life, so it made sense for her. Just hearing all those happy people cheering in the background pissed me off and I walked away from the campus and almost left the grounds, but chose instead to sit at a bench near the front of the campus. There, I stewed in my frustration.

To think I would get this far and still fall short. What’s even the point? How do I know that this is even what I still want to do? Such thoughts ran through my head and I did nothing to prevent them from running. Hell, they weren’t wrong, anyway, why should I stop when it’s the truth?

Behind me was a tall oak tree. Not very notable, I know. There was a bit of rustling in one of the limbs above me. Again, not at all notable.

“Those squirrels are probably fucking again,” I grumbled. Let’s ignore the fact that I said that out loud, yeah?

“No way. Could it be…?” I heard above me, a sort of incredulous, but quiet squeaky and high pitched voice. That was when I thought the same words.

No way. Could it be…?

I got up from the bench and took a few steps back, then looked up into the tree. While I couldn’t make out much, I could see, and quite distinct, too, someone laying on their back against the tree’s limb.

“Well, well,” they began, “hey Proserpina.”

“Demetria?” I asked, and gulped, afraid of being wrong.

She dragged her back along the limb, then sat up against the base of the tree. Indeed, it was her, and her hair wasn’t green like it had been the last time I saw her, but blonde again.

It really was her. My Demetria.

“Are you really here? I mean, is it really you? Are you alive?” Please don’t tell me I’m imagining this whole thing.

“Damn, don’t give me an existential crisis,” she replied, then turned her head and smiled. With one hand, she waved, but with the other, she tossed what looked to be a knife up into the air and caught it. Even though it was no doubt her, a part of me questioned who this ‘Demetria’ was, “but yeah. It’s me. Never thought I’d see you again, either.”

“But...why? Why are you here?” I demanded this time.

She continued tossing and catching the knife. In both hands were a pair of fingerless gloves. Her outfit was much different than the type of garb she wore when used to know her: her shirt was a black long sleeve, and it looked rather thin and form fitting. As if to match, she also had a black pair of short shorts, and they seemed to be nylon or spandex. In any case, it showed off her muscular legs, something which I never thought I’d see, considering she always looked kinda scrawny.

“I decided to finish what I started, so I took online classes. I just stopped by because to get my degree and didn’t expect to run into you. I thought you would have graduated by now.”

That really got to me, though I tried not to let it show.

“I took a bit of a break,” I told her. It wasn’t really a lie, “but yeah, I finished up too. I just took classes in person because online classes weren’t really working for me.”

What a fool I was for letting that slip. But to my credit, she didn’t notice.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I really had to force myself to finish, and the worst part is, I stopped being interested in marine biology ages ago.”

How? How were you able to do it? How could you just force yourself, for something you weren’t interested in, no less, and you still came out on top? How? How does that work?

“I guess I get what she meant now,” it seemed like she was talking to herself rather than telling me anything, “having something be important without really caring about it.”

I really can’t say I understand.

“What happened with you, anyway?” That must have been the most pressing question. Hell, it should have been the FIRST question I asked.

“Aah,” she let out a sigh, “yeah, I guess I should come clean with that, huh? It sucks, but you deserve the truth, don’t you?”

“Well...I don’t know about deserve! But I’d like to know!” I cupped my hands and yelled to her.

“Yeah. Well, I’m sure you could guess, but: I lied to you.”

My heart skipped a beat, but pride took over.

“I knew it! You WERE kid –” She stopped me before I could finish.

“No. Maybe it would have been better if I was, because at least then it would have been far more understandable why I left. But no, the truth is, I developed a crush on a girl one day while you were away. So there, you were right: I’m gay. But I acted all wrong and my head was a mess. I was obsessed and you could have called me a stalker, if you wanted, because even though I had no idea where to find her, I wanted nothing more than to see her again and be with her.”

All that over a crush? Somehow I think the ‘got a job in the arctic’ angle was more believable...now that I think about it, she probably said that because of how more believable it was.

“Anyway,” she went on, “I saw her again one day, and decided to follow, you know, like a creep, and before I knew it, I was in the arctic. In order to stay there, I took a job at a local diner and lived there. Yes, not as dignified as a researcher.”

“Wait, so you weren’t lying about working in the arctic?” I stood, incredulous about what she told me.

“Yeah? Why’s that the thing you’re hung up about? What about the part where I stalked a poor woman? Isn’t that terrible?”

“Now that you mention it...that does seem out of character for you…” I gave it a good thought. Well, even the way I saw her now seemed out of character for her. It was hard to believe she’d change at all.

“Yeah, it surprised me too. It still does. I don’t really think I can justify that, to be honest.”

“So what happened then?”

“Well, I worked as a waitress to a near-empty diner. I got to know the diner owner and his wife, and this kid who lived there even started to grow on me a bit, despite not getting along with her at first.”

“What about the crush? What drew you to her?”

“I was getting to that. She seemed strong, confident, like she had things figured out and knew what she was doing. And she was blunt, like she just said whatever seemed to be on her mind. I admired her, or who I thought she was, but then, I think I admired those things because I wanted to be like that. Once I came to such a realization, I figured those silly feelings would fade and I’d move on and that thought scared me because I had already come so far, and it would have felt like a waste just to stop then. It was just like with marine biology. That shit was my life, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore, and the thing was, it was like all I knew: I never allowed myself the chance to live.”

“That’s not how you seemed to me,” I was almost choked up to say, “yeah, you were dedicated to your studies, but to me it just seemed like you knew what you wanted. I kind of admired that.”

She laughed.

“Ha. I didn’t know what I wanted, it was just what I thought I wanted because I studied it for so long. I’m still not sure if I’m on the right track, or if I’ll ever be.”

“So did your feelings fade as you feared?” Part of me hoped so, as hurtful as it may have been.

“Sorta. The crush, yeah. Even before it did, I tried to do my best to ease up. I mean, I may not have known how to act, but I knew I should have done better, so I tried to make an effort. But you know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“As those feelings faded, as I seemed to have gotten better, well, her and I got closer. Or it seemed like we did. Turns out I was still just a little bit misguided. The last thing she told me was that she could never bring herself to care about me, and that’s when I realized how stupid I had been. I mean, I worried my mom, I worried you, I threw my life away, and for what? Because I wanted someone to care about me?”

Another hurtful thing she probably didn’t think she said.

“I cared about you,” I rushed to my own defense.

“Yeah, and so did my mom. Well, I guess it was bad, because I didn’t really think either of you did. I thought I had to lie so as not to disappoint my mom, and on the inside, I felt like a disappointment to both her and myself. With you, well, I guess I just never noticed, because I never really thought I mattered that much to you.”

“That’s not true,” I shook my head, “maybe I should have been more clear. To be honest, I thought you had a crush on me because of how attached you were. That’s why I suspected you were gay.”

“No, I never had a crush on you,” she stated, “I was so attached because I never really had a friend before you and I didn’t want to lose you. When you got with that Hades guy and started to spend so much time with him, I figured I was starting to lose you, and the worst part is, you seemed so happy to be in a relationship. Maybe part of that’s why I wanted to be in one myself, so I could see what all the fuss was about. I’m not sure.”

“Aw, Demetria. Romance was my thing, sure, but that doesn’t mean it had to be yours.”

“Eh. I guess. I’m not saying that’s what it was, but it could be what it was, y’know? Say, what about you? To be honest, I never liked that Hades guy, but are you still with him?” She probed. I wasn’t expecting her to ask anything about me.

I can’t tell her the truth. She expects me to be doing well. I mean, technically I am still with him, so would it even be a lie to say that I am?

“You know you can be a real asshole sometimes, right?” I deflected.

“Yeah, but I make it look cool,” she stopped tossing her knife to give me finger guns.

“No. You’re just a dork,” I denied, “but yes. We’re still together. In fact, I give him the strap.”

“The strap? What is that? Like, an accessory?”

“Uh...yeah, kinda,” I just about blushed. I really didn’t mean to say something like that.

“Would you like another one? I’ve got some money, I could probably get you one for your birthday. Hold on,” she pulled out her phone and I saw her type and mouth out the words, “give...her...the...strap.”

“What? What the hell is wrong with you?!” I shouted, but it was too late. She must have already seen something, as she fumbled and tossed her phone in shock, then she fell down from the tree, along with her knife.

“Demetria!” I cried out, but she raised a thumb up in the air, and with her other hand, she caught the falling knife.

“I’m okay…” She groaned, then added, “I see I still have more to learn.”

She stood up and brushed herself off.

“Well, good for you. I may not like the guy, but...I don’t really know him, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you,” she concluded.

“Thanks,” I replied, though I felt a tinge of melancholy.

She shrugged it off.

“So yeah. That’s me: I’m gay and something of a disaster. I’m also single so I guess you can say I’m ‘on the market’ and I can always find someone else, and if the opportunity arises, I’ll know to act better.”

Her smile persisted, but I noticed tears forming her eyes.

“But also, I don’t want anyone else. Try as I might to deny it, but I still have feelings for her, and I still think of her, but the thing is, I don’t even think I’d want to see her again. She’s fine, and maybe I’m fine, but I just don’t want to devote my time to someone who won’t care about me. It hurts too much for me to do that,” she shook her head and the tears came harder and she wiped her face.

“Sorry, it’s not so dignified of me...but I’ve never been one to do things with dignity,” she laughed, though was choked up with tears. “But you know what’s the worst part? I also care about that family in the arctic. I want to see them again, I want to tell them how much I’ve grown, if I’ve even grown at all. So I’ve resolved to do just that: I’m going to go back there, for them, and for myself, and I may not look the same way that they remember me, but I hope they still accept me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I wanted to give her a hug, but I wasn’t even sure if she’d want that, “I hope things work out. Just know that now that I’ve seen you once, I’m going to want to see you again.”

She nodded.

“It may be a while before I can do that, but I’d like that as well. Is it fair to assume that we’re friends?”

That time, I started to cry and I reached out to hug her.

“Of course!” I wailed. She reached out and wrapped her arms around me and it was so tight that I was worried she’d squeeze the lights out of me.

“Jeez, when did you get so strong?” I wheezed.

“I’m not as strong as I look, trust me,” she replied.

“It doesn’t seem that way,” I rebutted. “It’s like you’ve changed so much, in so many ways.”

“Maybe you’re right, but it’s just like you said, I’m still a dork,” she chuckled, then let go, “anyway, I think I should take off. Got big plans and all. I hope we can talk again, though!” She began to run off and I called after her.

“Stay safe out there!”

“No promises, but I’ll do my best!” She called back. Before long, she had disappeared out of sight.

After she left, despite what an emotional wreck I was, at the same time I felt just a little more hopeful about the future. That no matter how difficult, I may figure something out as well. Or at least, I could hope. In any case, I knew I had a story to tell Hecate once I got back up to my dorm.

#remoras full #writing #chapter #story #melancholy #drama #comedy #witches #nostalgia #friendship #college #hecate #persephone

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 16: The Forbidden Forest

The breath of fresh air was like finally stepping out of an exam. Your brain turned back on, you could remember an answer you couldn't ten minutes ago, and they finally weren't surrounded by walls! There were no buildings, no castle, for once the lack of human civilization felt right...then Remus really looked around and saw where they were, and had to fight back the urge to scream.

The dark trees towered over them all, some pressed so close together it was as if they were hugging, others spaced almost evenly, as if someone at some time had actually intended to plant them. There were all different species as well, weather of magical properties or simply the transitions of very many years introducing new to this Forbidden Forest. The Marauders knew them all, not particularly by name, but of what could be inside them. They each could have taken a quick look around and pointed which direction Hogwarts was, how to navigate to a manticore den if one were suicidal enough, contact the centaurs or even go chasing after some spiders. They also knew what else would soon be in this forest, that only appeared once a month.

Remus had been feeling sick since this all took off, and not for the same reasons as the others. After he'd told his friends about his secret, they soon didn't even have to ask when the full moon even was, they could keep track of it themselves. Not by looking to the stars, but the werewolf himself. His body, so physically tied to the endless cycle, seemed conditioned itself to run in phases. When a new moon, Moony was at the peak of health, as bright eyed and laughing along with anyone. The heavier the orb became, the heavier his eyes grew, the paler his skin got, as if the curse itself were to match.

Ignorant as they'd been of the true meaning of time in all of this, they'd all kept a careful eye on him through every time jump, and none really liked what they saw. That last potions class, the last clear marker of anything they had, meant only four days tell a full moon again. Remus had been so quiet and withdrawn it could have been that night. Through several bunts across this universe though, they'd gotten so lost and muddled it was impossible to keep track of anything, let alone something so far above they couldn't even see.

Now all four looked up, but the thicket of branches was as revealing as a ceiling, and their friends luminescent pallor could still mean anything.

Then Lily did scream.

At first she'd simply thought it was a pile of snow. That was wrong though, there was a slight chilly breeze creeping through, but it had the taste of spring tease, not nearly cold enough for a whole mound of undisturbed pile so breathtakingly unpigmented.

The tangled legs, silky mane, and spiral horn had formed next. She'd started forward in concern, her mind offering up a foal sleeping. The deep silver of blood dripping still warm from its neck was the last click.

To the others credit, no one ran. They all had wands out at once and tried to draw closer to each other even in this circle of mistrust, but as one by one they all saw the same, a deadly silence fell as surely as this mythical creature.

Potter spoke first, inching towards her and hissing, "Evans, get away!"

It was true she had seemed to land nearest the mare, she could have reached out and touched the alabaster hindquarters.

"And go where," Regulus uneasily demanded.

Pettigrew shot a glance at him, and immediately turned on the spot and tried to shoot some purple jet of light into the darkness. It, like every spell before, simply vanished with no visible trace of ever being there, but the moment he stepped in the same direction, there again was an invisible barrier blocking them from stepping out of this clearing.

"Okay, well, at least whatever did it isn't in here with us," Frank offered, straightening from a defensive position near Alice and doing a quick 360 to confirm there was nothing lurking nearby. Shadows were aplenty, but certainly whatever had done this would have attacked at their arrival...right?

"Lily, come on, please get away from it," Potter insisted, the genuine fear still there finally sinking through her shock. Carefully, still on hands and knees like she'd landed, she backed away as far as she could, unintentionally putting herself right beside Potter as she stood, the book in her hand though none had seen it before.

"It was right by her heart," she muttered, running her hand uneasily over the cover and looking up at him. Then just as quickly, she turned and walked away, over to Alice and Frank, flipping through pages for her place and reading the chapter title without surprise, she'd figured that out all on her own.

James watched her go before turning eyes back on the unicorn. They didn't see many running through the Forest, though they weren't shy creatures, as they had no natural predators. One had even come across Moony, but though he'd stared it down, he'd instead continued right back to putting his nose to the ground after some griffins nest still five miles out.

Regulus spoke what all of them still couldn't get past, "what could have done this?"

Even those who hadn't taken Care of Magical Creatures knew a thing or two about this beast, for Professor Slughorn stressed when using their hairs or horn shavings in potions classes how valuable they were, and the only part they'd use in class. Even Professor Flitwick had once treated them to a lecture when one student asked about the wand core. Everybody said the same thing. They were a purely good and innocent life, and to slay one for any reason was a curse. To continue the act, to drink the blood as something had clearly done...it was unheard of.

For the first time, none of them had really stopped to consider the fact that though all people had vanished during their time of this, what about other things? If the unicorns body could still be here, than very likely what had done this could be as well.

With that lovely thought in mind, Lily read with more unease than she ever thought a book could do, about Harry getting something silly like a detention. The Marauders at least were momentarily distracted from everything by wondering just what Harry had done with their cloak, surely the boy wouldn't leave it up on the tower forever!

They did feel for Harry of course, and even more for Neville when he got dragged into all this for doing the right thing. McGonagall's punishment was admittedly ridiculous, but now that the others were distracted but the Marauders could just shrug off something so silly like losing house points, they kept on track with their friend who may be facing a very real problem soon.

Throughout all of these time jumps, any one of them could have been during a full moon, and none of them could do a thing about it. Knock out the other four so they didn't realize what, or who, was happening and transform? Protecting all of them while in some enclosed space!

This was so far the only solution James had thought up, and Remus hadn't a chance to tear it down then in their common room, but he did now where hopefully the wind snatched away their words better than the Quidditch team acting a prat to Harry.

"This just isn't safe! I nearly killed someone last time, I won't let it ever get that close again!"

"That was my fault," Sirius hatefully pointed out, tense and looking nearly as sick as Remus at the reminder, but he had to make this clear. "You're right Moony, it won't ever go that far again because we'll make sure it won't, none of this is on you!"

"What do you want us to do anyways?" Peter demanded with a little huff, he couldn't be on look out forever, he'd already seen Frank grow suspicious of them at least once. "You keep griping about this, but I don't hear you coming up with any ideas." Then, at a much more conversational tone of voice, "Glory, Harry would be the one to come across Quirrell at a time like that."

The others had to quickly play catch up to what they'd been listening to in the background, but clearly no one else noticed, so their inane chatter to each other about all Harry's varying luck was given no more thought than the whispered conversation.

"Wait, what's Harry doing out on the grounds for his detention?" James did turn and look at Evans fully again, glancing to Peter and really feeling like he'd missed something, but the other shrugged with no more clue than Filch was giving.

Then Remus slumped to the ground, looking utterly exhausted and likely to faint any moment as it seemed his own worst fear was going to play out in Harry's time at the exact moment it was here.

They were all admittedly thunderstruck at such a punishment, but the fact that it was taking place with Hagrid made them think that somehow the gamekeeper had pulled this off himself. Likely feeling bad for getting the kids into this, in his warped mind he probably thought he was giving them a treat.

Alice just snickered at the young Malfoy, and how Filch was no help at all. "Honestly, any decent teacher would have just told what you should do when facing a werewolf, not him though."

"Wouldn't be Filch if he didn't traumatize one kid a year," Frank agreed.

Remus tried to keep breathing evenly that they were just blowing this off, that surely the teachers wouldn't have them out there during a full moon...but there was no longer a werewolf on those grounds even trapped safely away, so what if they didn't care about such things anymore? Filch nor Hagrid were denying a full moon tonight!

News of the unicorn brought them up short at least, all eyes turning back to the very same.

"Please," Potter begged, "someone tell me that we're just getting an unpleasant first hand look at this thing! Let the record be broken that we aren't where Harry likely will wind up!" His voice was near screaming at the end, and Sirius shifted uneasily from rubbing Moony's shoulder to patting James, now both looked likely to vomit.

"See, he's going in with Hagrid," Peter tried his best to keep looking on the bright side of this. "Nothing in this forest is going to mess with him!"

"Nothing in the forest now," Remus said hoarsely, the others were just pleased he was still bothering to make conversation. "Twenty years from now? Clearly something got in."

"Do we need to separate you two next?" Sirius snapped.

"Yes please," Remus bitterly grumbled, glancing again at the heavens like he hoped they'd swallow him up.

"Moony, listen," Sirius crouched down beside him, James and Peter striking up a loud conversation about what they hoped ate Malfoy as a distraction. "Nothing's going to happen, alright! Time's been a bit screwy around here lately, I know, but that has to mean it's also working on our side! No full moon," he finished, practically breathing in his ear by the end, "and Merlin help it if there is one, we won't let you hurt anyone, not even yourself, just like always."

Remus turned to face him, and in the practically non-existent lighting all he could really do was trace his face. Their noses were inches apart, and that electricity seemed to snap between the two again. Remus couldn't help it, he believed him. He could still vividly recall that look of shock, the horror only just setting in as Sirius told him what had happened, and then he'd gone all defensive and tried to play it off like another joke. This time his expression remained open and sincere, which was all Remus had wanted to see the past month. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed right then not to kiss him, his hand twitched involuntarily anyways and brushed against Sirius fingers.

Padfoot just smiled and let them stay overlapped like that, it was dark enough nobody would notice.

James paused in describing the details of bowtruckle eye removal as he glanced between the two, certainly sensing something, but he was just so happy they were even speaking to each other again he didn't press them for whatever that was.

Of course Malfoy ruined the whole thing, all of them jumping in shock at the red sparks and wanting to pull that blond head off for doing that to Neville at a time like this. Maybe it was just because they saw the danger right in front of them, but it felt even more suicidal than facing down that troll for Harry to be going off alone now!

Sirius would even take Norbert back! This was something that could actually kill the kid, again!

Indeed that seemed exactly what was about to happen! Whatever monstrosity that was drinking unicorn blood and then turning its attention on that little boy was as good as dead if the centaur hadn't arrived.

Lily couldn't help but sink to the leafy ground herself as, whatever that thing could be was run off. For the first time, she'd really felt invested in that danger, had wanted to shield and protect Harry from this! All of the other situations he'd either gotten himself into or she hadn't believed a danger was there, she'd either just seen Potter in her mind being an idiot or trusted Sev wouldn't let anything happen. Now though, that little boy was just doing a detention for the school, one he'd gotten while helping a friend, and this was by far the most heart stopping thing to become of that!

The night just couldn't end there. They got more information from Firenze than anything else so far, none of it at all pleasant, and all putting a much larger scope on this problem.

Regulus hadn't even been sure how he'd felt about the demise of the Dark Lord because of this Boy Who Lived. He'd spent his whole life up until now wanting nothing more than to join the prospering future of the Death Eaters, but in fact the world seemed to have gone on without the Dark Lord. Now though, from the word of a centaur, there was absolute proof this was no glory for money as they'd all believed before. Now it made sense why Dumbledore wanted that Stone right under his nose.

The Dark Lord was trying to come back, and he seemed determined to kill Harry to do it.

Lily nearly pissed herself all through the conversation of Harry catching up his two friends on all of this. She'd barely given herself a moment to even admit how invested in this story she'd slowly been before it was all slammed down on her with pure adrenaline. A world without You-Know-Who was so far just a fairy-tale in this future, now just as quickly it was all about to be stripped away? She had no clue how Harry was being so calm about this!

The end note still managed to hold its own surprise, though at least it was a decent one. Getting his cloak back could only be a good thing, right?

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #Wolfstar #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #James Potter #Peter Pettigrew #Regulus Black #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith #Marauders

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the-chanteloup · 4 years ago

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InuYasha RP Bio

Omg. I’m alive! Things have been so hectic, I forgot I had a Tumblr! Silly me. Well, I’ve returned, and with that return, I give you my finalized InuYasha RP bio!

So, I created this character about 18 years ago when InuYasha first aired on Adult Swim. I debuted her on Yahoo!Chat, and when that died, she sort of went into hibernation. With the series coming out, and this sudden surge of InuYasha, I really wanted to finalize her, and get her out into the world. :3

Name (last, first): Setsuna ( Of the Karyukai, The Flower and Willow World )

Nickname(s): Hanyou, Runt, Pup, Geisha

Age: 55 (Youthful appearance, commonly mistaken for 20-25)

Species: Half-Dog Demon, Half-Human (Hanyou)

Gender: Female

Birthday: Around the Winter Solstice

Life Story:

Left on the doorstep of an orphanage in the village of Sawara, in a shabby reed basket during a harsh winter was not the ideal beginning, but, all great legends must start somewhere. Luckily, warm hearts were in good spirits this cold night, and the overseers of this particular orphanage just couldn’t leave a bright eyed, bundle of joy out in the elements. Brought in out of the cold, and raised alongside human children, the pup never really knew she was different, other than having two black fluffy ears atop her head. As she grew, she was given a general education along with the other children, nothing fancy since they were considered the lower class, but enough to get her by should she ever take to selling turnips.

Unfortunately, all fairy tales have to end, and when her 16th year rolled around, she was tossed out into the world to fend for herself.

Being a small Hanyou had its benefits job wise, roaming gangs of thieves were always willing to have her tag along for heists, at a quarter of the profit for most of the dangerous work. But fate is a fickle mistress, and while perusing through a shop during a heist one night, she was detained by an older man named Ino Tadataka, with nun chucks. How embarrassing. She didn’t need superb Demon hearing to know her comrades had bailed, leaving her the scapegoat. However, before she could decide which hand she was okay with having chopped off, the old man offered her a deal. She would assist him in mapping some of the harder to reach places in the area, and in return he would house her, feed her and teach her to read.

Since climbing trees for an old man was a much better option than losing a limb, she hastily agreed, and spent many years assisting “Old Man Ino”, as she called him, in completing his map of Japan.

In the Spring of her last month with Ino, he referred her to an old friend in a village called Kanazawa in the Western Lands for another job. With no other real work leads, other than going back to stealing, she took the lead. When she arrived at the mapped destination Ino had given her, it turned out to be an exotic tea house. She swore on all the Gods above and below that she would knock the taste out of that old pervert’s mouth for this. As she stood outside making her proclamation to bash an old man’s head in, she was interrupted by the tea house’s 'mother', Kikuya. Seeing a rare opportunity to be the only tea house in the district with a Hanyou entertaining, Kikuya took her in instantly.

Amazingly, after several rough years of learning, she was finally “promoted” to the highest rank, Geisha.

Fast forward a few short years, just a few months from fully paying off her debt, she is one of the more popular girls advertised at the tea house. Fully skilled in playing the kokyū, flirting with men in a proper way, starting and losing games of Janken or Daruma Otoshi gracefully, and pouring hot tea in hazardous ways, courtesy of her quick Hanyou reflexes, she has acquired several frequent guests.

A Samurai named Yorimoto quickly became her favorite “customer”, and though they saw each other as nothing more than siblings, she developed a connection to the Human. He was never short on adventurous stories about fighting, and war, which she soaked up like a sponge, enjoying the romantic way he told of their honor code. Being half-Demon, she was naturally drawn to weapons and all their convenient ways of killing things, and eventually convinced Yorimoto to teach her how to use the Naginata. Unfortunately, it was highly un-Geisha like to swing around a “blade on a stick”, as her mother called it, so, under the guise of certain services, they met and trained. Several months passed, and her Samurai was called away to battle, but before he left, Yorimoto gifted her a Naginata all her own, for emergencies, of course.

Even though she was content to stay at her tea house and practice her Naginata in peace until the day when she could afford to open her own business, she also wouldn’t mind a little bit of adventure sneaking in and stirring things up.

Appearance:

Setsuna stands an intimidating five feet tall at her black ear tips, which has earned her the nickname “Runt”. Thanks to her Demon genetics, despite her small stature, she is sturdily built, muscular and has a curvy frame. She is a milky skinned Hanyou with loosely curled raven black hair that trails down to her rear, and cobalt blue, cat like eyes rimmed in coal eyeliner. Her ears are slightly fluffy, and sport two small silver hoops in each, a gift from her Geisha mother, Kikuya. Her claws are a soft pearl color; however, they are kept at a shorter length due to her kokyū playing and aesthetics for the tea house, but they still remain filed to a point and sharp.

Her only truly intimidating feature is a deep, guttural growl that could easily be mistaken for a much larger demon. Setsuna’s normal attire is that of a typical Geisha, minus the white makeup. Elaborate silk kimonos and obis, along with jeweled hair trinkets and pins. Her hair is never tied up, allowing her ears to remain out in the open. When she is training with the Naginata, she dons a black hakama, with a royal blue sash around her waist. Setsuna is almost always barefoot as she likes the feel of Earth on her skin.

Like all Hanyou, she reverts to a mortal Human form on the night of the new moon. She becomes weaker, as she loses all of her Demon abilities. Her hair fades to a dusty blonde color, and her eyes dull to a pale gray.

Personality:

Setsuna is usually the center of the party. Having trained with her Geisha mother, she can strike up conversations easily with almost anyone. She has a laid-back demeanor, seeming to just roll with the punches. A smile of some sort is usually found on her face, giving her an easy to approach look. She has an old wisdom about her, and is always available to offer advice or find an answer to a question. She tends to have a soft spot for animals and children, but she prefers both go home with someone else. Her one true weakness is a field of wild flowers, or flowers of any kind. Though she hates to admit it, she’s a sucker for romance and intimate physical touches.

Unfortunately, with a decent amount of Demon blood in her veins, Setsuna is not the quiet, demure creature one would expect when they see her in full Geisha attire. Having been raised by thieves, her mouth is dirtier than a sewer grate, and her mind has been likened to that of a lecherous old man’s. Even with traditionally excitable genetics, she is calm, collected, and calculating, preferring her enemies to either make fools of themselves or to wander right into her trap. Though she has never been in a true battle, the canine in her usually wishes a mother fucker would so she could let her Naginata bathe in blood. Of course, that doesn’t mean she goes looking for a fight, but should one happen to peek around a corner….

Good Habit(s):

She is very understanding, and a good listener. No problem is too dramatic, or small for her ears. She offers honest advice (This could be good or bad) She is fiercely loyal to those who have earned it. Her colorful background and lifestyle have given her a wealth of wisdom and knowledge, both useful and not.

Bad Habit(s):

Hot headed, she finds a boiling point rather quickly over certain things. Decently excitable, the World is a big adventure to a young Hanyou. Territorial, what’s hers is hers. Cursing bad enough to make perverts blush.

Like(s):

Walking in the forest, feeling the sun on her skin and the Earth on her bare feet. Having her hair done/played with. Food. Training with her Naginata. Playing the kokyū. Listening to stories, mostly battle and war stories. Thunderstorms at night. Wildflower fields.

Special Powers/Abilities:

Aside from the typical Hanyou speed, flexibility and agility, she has a natural ability to hide and camouflage herself due to her small stature. She’s also decently formidable in a fist fight. Intimidating low, guttural growl usually used for intimidation. Rapid healing.

Ambition/Life-long Dream:

Even though she longs for the thrill of battle, a more reasonable ambition would be to finally pay off her debts to Kikuya, and to open her own tea house that specializes in ‘unique’ Geishas like herself.

Love Interest:

Unknown.

Occupation/Job:

Geisha, entertainer, Hanyou

Notes:

Now, I know y'all who follow the series are looking at me like, "Uh...THAT NAME IS FAMILIAR" And, yeah, I know, trust me. I had a moment when the official announcement was made, but when I created Setsuna, I actually used the name from the manga Angel Sanctuary ( showing my age here ), and this character was never meant to follow any sort of canon story line, ever, she was always strictly AU. With all that being said, please don't come for me. xD I am smol and anxiety ridden. I really just wanted to have her bio published, because I love this little shit of a Hanyou. She was one of my very first creations and holds a pretty special place in my cold black heart. A few more notes: I'm totally up for RP! Feel free to send me a note or whatever. I'm pretty laid-back, and open to most scenarios.

I usually ship Setsuna with Sesshomaru, because it's adorable, but, I’m open to any ship.

She has no art. Like I said, this has been a long time coming, so I haven't had any art of her commissioned, but maybe in the near future I will. ( -eyeballs the extremely talented @destinyfall) But, I can give you details and photo references if you decide you would like to RP.

#roleplay #rp #literate rp #inuyasha #demon #original character

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bbreferencearchive · 5 years ago

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Viola Bonaldi interviews Bobby BeauSoleil

This is the raw interview Viola Bonaldi did with Bobby BeauSoleil in the summer of 2018. Viola Bonaldi wrote an article incorporating the raw material below for Salmuria.

You can read the English version here: https://salmuria.it/emailing-with-bobby-beausoleil/

… Or if your first language happens to be Italian, read it here: https://salmuria.it/corrispondenza-con-bobby-beausoleil/

How did your passion for art — first music and then visual art — come about? Do you remember a specific moment or an episode that enlightened you? Did the Sixties atmosphere play an important role?

As far as I can tell, I mean, to the best of my recollection, I already had a passion to express myself in creative ways when I was born. According to what my mother told me later, about the time I took my first steps I was playing her pots and pans and making drawings on the walls of the house.

Honestly, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel like I had something to say in the arts. I believe this is the case with most if not all artists. For some a passionate desire to express in the arts may lay dormant for a time, and then suddenly something happens that triggers the calling, awakening the latent artist within. In my case it seems that I was born turned on. I didn’t need the social explosion that happened in the 1960s to bring the creative urges out of me, but it did provide a playground for them, and sometimes I found inspiration in the passions of people I encountered during that period.

When you haunted the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles you were known as “Cupid”, the archaic Roman primordial god of love, because of the way girls liked to be around you, a young, vibrant, beautiful, multicolored artist. From that capricious god you eventually turned yourself into “Lucifer”, the “angel of light”, fallen from Paradise as a consequence of his pride. Your life is largely connected to archaic myths, and this is often reflected in your work as an artist, both musically and visually, which is full of esoteric symbolism. Now, more than four decades after your work on Lucifer Rising, who are you? Lucifer, Cupid, or some other “creature”? And how do you explain your interest in the arcane?

Wow! Big questions! Well, first of all, I have never pretended to actually be any “creature”, as you put it, that I’ve been associated with. I am just me, an innately nameless soul. As an artist, I have sometimes used my own physical being as a canvas, willingly adopting personas from mythology that others have seen in me. My parents gave me a name at birth and I have been happy to be that person most of the time. Occasionally I have taken on the personifications of archetypes from myth as a way of allowing them to live for a brief time, and in a limited way, in the world of the mundane. There are, by the way, some common traits between Cupid and Lucifer. Both of these mythological beings are imagined as angelic, both known to have a naughty streak, to be creatively rebellious, and both are associated with love. I can think of far worse things to be known for expressing in the world.

What attracts me to the myths is the wealth of story and allegory that can enrich our larger capacity for understanding. Myths are often used as a tool for deepening cultural identity, and to give a hand up by way of providing context and instruction to those who aspire to higher truths. And mythology is an artform that can inspire new art, and thus myths can be alive and continue to grow and influence. As for other arcane interests, I have found little of any real substance in the so-called “dark arts” or silly practices like devil worship. However, as a mystic seeker I have found that treasures are often hidden in dark places. Following a shadow to its source will invariably lead one to the light.

You write that your works are rarely borne out of direct observations of the natural world, from the perception of real things, but come instead from your own mental reinterpretations and from the world of dreams. Is this a consequence of your limited conditions in terms of the space you live it? What is your process for drawing subjects from your recurrent dreams?

Certainly, there are no beautiful vistas to be seen through the dirty windows of the place where I live. I can see moving images from nature in photographs and films, and sometimes these inspire me to produce a visual interpretation. For the most part, though, I tend to see the beauty of nature as paintings made by God, ever changing in the light of consciousness, awesomely inspired and breathtaking, far beyond the capabilities of any human artist to do them justice. Rather than producing poor imitations of the moving paintings created by God, my natural inclination is to make a few humble additions to God’s creation, as one of the forces of nature.

So, for the most part, I draw inspiration from my unfettered and fertile imagination. You can fly in your dreams, right? What can be seen, imagined or experienced is not limited to what is possible in the physical world in some states of mind. I cultivate some of these states of mind, such as lucid dreaming, as a source for concepts that may be made manifest in the physical world through my arts. This works for visual imagery and for music as well, and even sometimes for written words, like poetry. In the vast territories of dreams especially — both daydreams and the kind that happen during sleep — the mind plays freely, in safety, amorphously creating odd mash-ups, evolving patterns, astonishingly wonderous sounds. Much of my work is an attempt to bring these experiences into the physical realm, or at least to hint at them.

What does a young man think when he is sent to death row? You couldn’t play an instrument or have contact with other people, right?

When I arrived on San Quentin’s death row in 1970 I was a total wreck, broken and shattered, far more devastated than I ever let anyone know during that period. As difficult as it was, in some ways that 26 months I was on death row was a blessing. I needed that time alone to grapple with my conscience, to fully face what I had done head-on, to begin to learn how to think things through and begin the process of accepting responsibility for how I was going to deal with the consequences of my actions and eventually find a way to redeem myself. It was a tall order, one that seemed utterly insurmountable at the time. Think of a complicated picture-puzzle with about a million pieces.

Having a guitar was not allowed on death row, like you say, but I could get a little manual typewriter and a few pencils and sketch paper. Writing and drawing helped me to focus on my inner world and begin the process of putting the pieces of myself back together.

Where did you learn to create musical instruments? How did you manage to do that in prison?

Finding ways of making new or different kinds of sounds has been a fascination for me since I was a small boy. The first time I built a musical instrument was when I was about 8 years old. It was a contraption I called a “jazz band” — basically a percussion instrument made out of a wooden crate, with a variety of found objects like tin cans, pie plates, glass jars, spoons and whatnot nailed or attached to the crate in some way. I made a lot of noise on that thing, beating on it with sticks. A couple of years later I made an electric guitar — or rather, something that looked like a guitar I had seen in the window of a music store — in the workshop class at my school. It didn’t work, but from that experience I learned a lot about what is needed to make one that would. I have customized, or “hot-rodded”, every guitar I’ve had since, and built a few guitars from scratch.

In the mid-1960s, when I was putting together a band that would become known as The Orkustra, I was faced with the challenge of figuring out how to go about electrically amplifying different kinds of woodwinds and stringed instruments. This was a necessary step in fulfilling my desire to assemble the first electric orchestra. This experience became invaluable ten years later when I took on the Lucifer Rising soundtrack project. After I was given a permission from the warden at the prison to produce recordings for the project I successfully sought an additional permission to build some of the instruments I would need in the prison handicraft shop. I was allowed to build several guitars and keyboard instruments, and to experiment with music electronics and synthesizer design. This led to the invention and development of some instrument innovations.

Things have changed in prisons since then, with most of the prison handicraft programs having been shut down. Though I’m not able to build instruments at present, I still manage to find ways to hot-rod guitars. Fortunately, the technical skills I acquired earlier opened doors to my being in prison jobs that have given me access to advanced tools for producing work in various media, including video and sound design. I have been blessed with some unusual opportunities to employ my abilities in ways that are helpful and beneficial to others. Despite the imprisonment, I count myself fortunate to have had these opportunities, and I am grateful.

How can a human being detained for decades in prison survive in such a place without becoming a “monster”, as you have reflected in some of your writings? Can we say that Lucifer Rising saved you?

Prisons are unnatural places. They are ill-conceived responses to social problems like crime and mental illness — and in the US, anyone who breaks a law, mentally ill or not, is subject to incarceration in the prison system. In practice, imprisonment worsens these types of problems, generally speaking. Imprisonment warps the mind, not only of prisoners but also of the people who are paid to supervise them and keep them locked in.

Fairly early in my incarceration I became aware of the effects being in prison was having on me, and on others around me. By that time, I had already begun to slip into involvement in violent situations. When I saw what was happening I began to take steps to mitigate those negative effects. I resolved that I would never allow the prison environment to define me. Making a personal vow of non-violence that I have maintained to this day was one of those steps. By pouring myself into creative expression as an artist, along with promoting and maintaining healthy relationships with people on the outside, I have been able to gird myself against the insanity around me. It takes continuous effort and resolve, and a lot of vigilance, but it is possible to empower oneself to rise above the snares and pitfalls of prison life and maintain one’s personal integrity.

Yes, you could say that the Lucifer Rising soundtrack project saved me, in a way. It took years to complete the soundtrack compositions and recordings. During that time the project consumed me utterly. And it did so in a positive way. My concept for the Lucifer Rising themes was to musically describe the fallen angel’s desire to redeem himself, tracing his path through the dark passages he would pass through in his journey toward reconciliation and the light. The story, as I decided to interpret it, has certain resonances in my own life, so working on the project was cathartic.

Did you like Charles Manson’s music?

Sometimes I did and sometimes I didn’t. Charlie was a uniquely talented musician, but he had a tendency to be inconsistent in the way he approached musical performance. Much of this had to do with context. Some of his songs were a lot like songs for children, and were obviously meant to be sing-along songs for the people in his commune. Those songs would not have had much appeal to a general audience, and I have seen them used in sensationalist media to ridicule his musical ability. There were songs of Charlie’s that would not stand the tests of time, like much of the music that was made during the sixties, but many of his songs were entirely relevant for that period and some of them had real depth of meaning. The ones I liked best were those that he sang and played spontaneously, in a stream-of-consciousness style, like some rappers of today. As an improvisational player, I particularly enjoyed playing with him on songs he created in this mode. My accompaniment seemed to inspire him and helped to bring out the best qualities in his performances. This type of collaboration formed the basis of my relationship with him, such as it was. Unfortunately, no good recordings have survived.

You appear to have a deeply spiritual conception about purpose in relation to destiny. You have written that every person is born with some special ability or message they are meant to express in the world, a unique hand of cards to play in life. If you had not done “a bad thing” as your Professor Proponderus character said in the animated film you made, and been sent to prison, what do you think your life would have been like? Who would Bobby Beausoleil have become outside of jail? How would he have played his cards?

Taking my cue from the cards metaphor seems like the best place to begin a response to your questions ... The thing is, most human beings are not dealt only one hand of cards in life. Each time one makes a major decision in life, or has a significant accident, Destiny deals the individual a new hand of cards to play. It is impossible to say what my life might have been like had I not made the dire decisions that caused me to be sent to prison.

Some imaginative writers have postulated that each major decision creates a new timestream in a parallel universe. Well, I don’t know if that’s true, and it’s doubtful any of us ever will in our lifetimes, but let’s play along for the sake of giving due respect to what you are asking. Had I played my hand of cards differently in 1969 it’s conceivable that the Bobby Beausoleil of that alternate universe would have become a famous rock star, as I once hoped to be. Just as conceivable, the Bobby Beausoleil of another parallel universe might have wound up in some dark alley, dead of a drug overdose, something I have never had any aspirations to be.

We don’t get to choose beyond playing the cards we are dealt as well as we can in the hope that our decisions will take us to where we want to go. It is when we play our cards willy-nilly, without care, that we may instigate disasters in our lives and the lives of others. That said, I have done my best to play my cards well in the intervening years, and to overcome, to the extent that may be possible, the failings of my past. We shall see what the cards I play now will bring in the future.

Reading the transcript from your last parole hearing one can note that your artistic activity, and publishing communications with people outside of prison via the internet, has sometimes been used against you and your release. But you still do it. Do you do this out of a philosophical sense of duty, or because you feel safer in prison and don’t really want to be released? I mean, it seems like you’re shooting yourself in the foot ...My idea is that it’s only an excuse. It doesn’t matter what you do. For some people you will always be condemned because you have the Manson stigma on you.

Excuses are made by people who shirk the responsibilities they have agreed to accept, and who fail to have the courage to do the right thing and uphold those responsibilities. After long and very careful consideration, I resolved years ago that I would not restrict or limit my life in accordance with the excuses made by other people.

This is not an act of defiance by any means. I carefully follow the rules I am given to follow; none of my art or publishing actually violates any of them. And I assure you, I have no desire to wrap myself up in the dubious security of prison life. I want to get out of prison as much as any imprisoned person ever has. In the end, what it comes down to is that my spiritual obligation to fulfill my purpose in life trumps any of the rationalizations or excuses that may be used to justify keeping me in prison, and all the nonsense related to them.

A soul comes into the world for only a brief time and for the purpose, however slight it may be, to contribute to bringing sentience to the physical universe through expression of a God-given ability. This is called dharma, the purpose in life. Failing to uphold this responsibility is a breach of the sacred covenant a soul makes when coming into the world.

As an artist, it is my role to express creatively and to share the work I produce in such efforts with the world. Perhaps this will serve to uplift another soul, or to inspire someone to make their own dharmic contribution to the human mission. Or maybe it’s of no real value at all. In any case, I feel very strongly that I must remain true to my calling, and to fulfill my sacred obligation as a sentient soul, come what may.

In the years past I fought long and hard to restore myself to integrity. Too great an investment has been made to retreat from what I know I’m here to do, or to otherwise compromise my integrity out of fear of some arbitrary, politically motivated resistance. Clearly, nothing in the work I create is indicative of any violent tendencies. Excuses aside, this is what should be the focus in a parole consideration hearing. At some point I may be fortunate enough to have my case in front of arbiters who recognize that my creative efforts have been the instrument of my rehabilitation, restoring me to a responsible human being, and who will, in consideration of this, support my release from prison.

From your experience, what do you think of the use of social media and the internet?

My direct exposure to the internet has been limited by restrictive prison policies, but studying technological advancements is a hobby of mine. I won’t be left behind like Rip Van Winkle! As a multi-media artist, I am interested in how computers and computer devices like tablets and cell phones can be used to express creatively in new ways. There are artists out there who are doing amazing things with these new technologies!

The internet is a mixed bag, mostly because it is still like the wild west — a work in progress. For the everyday person to have rapid access to so much information is truly marvelous, extremely empowering, but this is only beneficial if the information is accurate. With every person able to have their very own pulpit there is way too much fake news and click-bait gossip poised to ensnare the unwary. I believe this will improve in time as the search engines incorporate better algorithms to snag and tag the suspicious content. On the other hand, there is the wonder of streaming media. I can’t wait to be able to catch up on come of the films and music I’ve been missing!

There is a lot about social media that doesn’t seem very sociable to me. The ability to communicate across vast distances in real time via texting and chatting on Facebook and other social media sites, with pictures and video, makes for an extremely valuable tool. That’s just it: a tool. There is no replacement for real sensory contact between human beings. We are hardwired for touch and direct eye contact. There are reasons why suicides are occurring more frequently in these times; it seems to me that too much reliance on social media platforms is part of the reason for this. It worries me that many young people will sit side-by-side and text to each other instead of looking at one another and talking. And too many people are cocooned in their personal bubbles, insulated from empathic connection to humanity, making derogatory, harsh, even hateful judgements of other people, often only because they are isolated and lonely and need to share their misery. Emojis are cute but they are a poor substitute for communicating real emotions. Humans are complex creatures. We can actually choose to be less anxious and depressed as a species by relying less on virtual socializing.

You took your freedom early, still a child, but soon you lost it. Unlike the stories of most prisoners, however, you affirm that your family situation was very positive when you were a child. Do you remember the happiest episode of your childhood, and the saddest one? Do you recall your childhood home and the scents of that time?

I remember my childhood home vividly, smells and all. Although I tended to be more adventurous than most of the kids I knew, my childhood was pretty average, growing up in a tract house nearly identical to all the other houses in the neighborhood. My happiest times were when I was sent off to stay with my grandmother during the summer, because the world seemed so much bigger in the Los Angeles area where she lived. My happiest memory there was finding an old guitar in my grandmother’s attic. Destiny dealt me a new hand of cards that day! The saddest day of my childhood was, at age 15, going with my family to my grandmother’s funeral. That was the day I left home for good, for some reasons that didn’t actually have anything to do with my grandmother’s death. I loved my family, but the family home was just too small.

Silvio Pellico, an Italian writer and patriot imprisoned for life in 1820, then given a commuted sentence and released after 10 years, stated that, without a doubt, free living is much better than living in prison, yet even in a miserable prison you can enjoy life. What do you think about this?

Prison is generally a pretty miserable place, that’s a fact. Spending my time in a puddle of self-pity has always been an option, just as it is for people on the outside. Choosing that option is what turns a miserable place into a hell. Many people in prison do just that. There is not only misery but a good deal of anger and rage in here as well. I mentioned earlier, I made the decision to not allow prison to define me. As a result, I have managed to do the extraordinary while in prison, and I have inspired some other prisoners to do similar things. While prison is a miserable place, being a miserable prisoner is not a must. Transcendence of misery is always possible no matter how hard it gets.

Your answer to a question no one has ever asked you ...

“Do you wear boxers or briefs under shorts?” No, I don’t.

Describe the room you live in and what your days are like at the prison where you live. What do you do for entertainment. How are you feeling?

My mind is much younger than my body, so naturally I have my share of aches and pains to deal with. To help preserve my health and activity I do hatha yoga on a semi-regular basis. I am also one of the two teachers for the yoga class here. A couple of times a week I play with other musicians here and once in a while we perform together in the prison house band. We have a music class once a week and I help with teaching guitar to students. Even though my spiritual orientation is grounded in the traditions of West Asia, I’m perfectly comfortable playing in the Gospel band in the prison chapel. Also once a week I take my guitar to the Hospice part of the prison hospital, and play music for men who are in the process of dying.

My cell is about the size of a typical bathroom in someone’s home. There’s a door in one end and a window in the other end that lets in daylight; there is a small sink, a toilet, and a large metal locker for storage. I use the top of the locker as my work surface. I’m using it now while typing these words. My bed is the size of a cot, a concrete block with a mat stuffed with jute fiber; of course, it serves also as a seat and a place where I set my art materials when working on a painting or drawing. My guitar shares the space, and I’ve got a small television and a radio. I would say that I live like a monk if my cell were not so cluttered with stuff for work, play, eating and sleeping. I manage to figure out ways to make the space work for me fairly well under the circumstances.

I currently have a job five days a week in the prison library. It takes up a bit too much of my time and sometimes conflicts with things I’m trying to do. But then, most people who have jobs have similar problems.

Much of my time has been going into writing and editing. A couple of books are in the works, one of which is scheduled for publication in 2019. This leaves me little time for reading, though I manage to find some time to read, mostly books on spiritual philosophy, mythology, media technology. But when it comes to words it’s the writing that gets most of the juice. I love good films and some television dramas, if they are done well. I will watch the TV for two or three hours in the evening if there is something on worth my attention. Some of my writing time naturally goes to communicating with family and friends, creative collaborators, and, when I can fit it in, some of the fans of my work as well.

My long-awaited double vinyl LP, Voodoo Shivaya, a concept album I worked on for seven years, recently debuted. The response has been gratifying, quite favorable so far, even though the music does not fit in any of the established categories or genres. So I’m feeling pretty happy that I’ve been able to share this music with the world.

Do you have a suggestion you can give us?

Try to avoid killing anyone, if you can. It is very very difficult to come back from something like that. And if you find yourself faced with a seemingly insurmountable challenge, don’t be too shy to ask for help. The best place to look for help is deep within yourself where you will surely find great resources of strength and courage you may not yet be aware of. And remember, there is always at least one way to play your cards that will allow you to prevail over and ultimately transcend any challenge.

#bobby beausoleil #bobby beausoleil interview #bobby beausoleil salmuria #bobby beausoleil viola bonaldi

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theoldgods · 6 years ago

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A Discovery of Witches is a silly, frothy show based on a silly, frothy book, for both good and bad, and it’s fascinating to watch as a case study in adaptation.

It’s visually quite gorgeous--the production design and cinematography, as well as the use of the scenery of Oxford, Venice, and France, are overall great, quite possibly the strongest aspect of the show. The sparkling, slightly swoony (in love, in fear) atmospheres they set go a long way toward paving over the myriad sins inherent to the story. The acting is reliably good to great, doing the best possible with the material given, though I am not such a fan of Teresa Palmer, whose sometimes wooden/awkward deliveries are often usptaged by far more experienced and naturalistic actors (Alex Kingston, Valarie Pettiford, Owen Teale, and Lindsay Duncan, most notably) in their scenes together. (I think half of Palmer’s problem is trying to maintain an American accent; I suspect if she didn’t have to do that, her vocal delivery would be that much better, and I do like some of her physicality and her general look as Diana.) Palmer also does have good chemistry with Goode, which is key to any romance and which helps to sell the show and their super rushed relationship as much as possible.

[more post-rewatch TL;DR and spoilers under the cut]

In many ways the show is an improvement over the books. Matthew is far, far less abusive in the show than in the books--there’s no presumptively ordering Miriam to guard over Diana (a creature he barely even knows!) in the Bodleian, just for starters, and most of his outrageously possessive and controlling moments are washed away or severely toned down. (Even their big fight at the end of episode 4 when he temporarily leaves her involves far less horrifically controlling and taunting physical behavior from Matthew; really the only time we see him being knowingly, physically menacing to Diana is during the dinner scene in episode 3, which is much pared down from any of the myriad instances of him doing this in the book.) Diana emerges as someone with much more chutzpah from the get-go, as opposed to a clueless-about-her-own-world special chosen one with barely more impetus than a dishrag who goes wherever Matthew tells her to go and has to grow (mostly in books 2 and 3) into any semblance of agency at all. She’s still an adult Chosen One (™), but she’s somewhat less...naive about the world, somehow? It makes their fraught relationship easier to handle, for me, with a little less fetishized power imbalance than in the book. (Their relationship has never been my favorite part of the books, honestly--the reason I’ve read them multiple times now is all because of the side characters, Harkness’s conception of witchcraft and weavers, and a bit of Diana’s character development.) I also almost forgot while watching about the entire LET’S TALK ABOUT GENETICS AND HOW YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE MAGIC JESUS BABIES TO RESTORE MAGIC TO THE WORLD! subplot that takes up the last quarter of the book, and although it’s crucial and will end up being seeded into the show somehow, I’m sure, I’m glad that so far the “let’s have baaaaaabiessss”-ness is absent.

The quality of storytelling is also much more even in the show. The book, told strictly from Diana’s POV, has a terrible habit of throwing entire subplots and characters at her and Matthew out of nowhere (the most egregious of which is possibly Sophie and Nathaniel just randomly showing up unforeshadowed out of nowhere and magically dropping plot solutions at Diana’s feet at the Madison house with ~5 chapters to go), while the show seeds these side stories in much earlier and gives us a much fuller and more coherent vision of this world much earlier than the books do. (Seeing the intravampire and intradaemon politicking, and bringing up more directly how daemons are basically third-class citizens in this world, is also appreciated, even if the casual viewer will leave the series with no real sense of wtf a daemon can do, a problem that, to be fair, is hardly better addressed in the books.) Harkness has a tendency to show multiple versions of the same thing (multiple dinners, multiple horse rides at Sept-Tours, etc.), as if she’s stalling for time while waiting for Plot Inspiration to strike her again, and those have been effectively compressed and the timeline in general streamlined. And although there’s still a decent amount of telling and not showing and cringy on-the-nose dialogue in the show, the show does use visual storytelling to quite efficiently cut down on the worst of Harkness’s waffling about furniture or wine or long asides about Diana’s family, mostly for the better, and the infamous yoga subplot has been mercifully killed.

That said, the show still suffers from some of the inherent limitations of its source material: a magically fast instalove, awkward at times pacing (mostly re: the love story), and an extremely side-eye-worthy treatment of a black character (Juliette is given more backstory in the show, but I’m not sure it helps to further develop her via lots of onscreen torture only to unceremoniously kill her off in about 2 minutes at the start of an episode, all for the glory of a white protagonist), to name three I can think of off the top of my head. It also has a couple scenes that aren’t as powerful as they are in the books: the witchwater mostly looks like cheesy music video drama-rain as opposed to a real cataclysm that threatens to actually kill Diana, as it is in the book, and the entire confrontation with Juliette is rushed, their vision of the goddess as a giant-ass light like in a made-for-TV biblical movie incredibly cheesy in a bad way. Harkness, for all her mediocrity with a lot of her prose, is indeed imaginative (her main fault as a writer is that her line-by-line prose skill just does not match her ambition and her sense of character- and worldbuilding); she does have a fairly good sense for what makes epic show-stopping moments suitably rich and emotionally moving when they need to be, and the clipped pace of the show shortchanges her there with some of these moments.

All that said, I’ve obviously gotten something out of this series over the past year, and I actually find this to be a fascinating case study for exploring book-to-television adaptation, given the mediocrity of the book in question. I’ll be curious as to how they handle the much more plot-unwieldy second book, especially if the second season stays only 8 episodes--if that’s the case, a lot will have to be streamlined, especially if they also want to keep the show’s broader focus and not simply cut away from everyone in the present for 80+% of the season, and I so far think they may be able to do that pretty well.

We’ll see!

#all souls trilogy #a discovery of witches #deborah harkness

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sam-i-am-27 · 6 years ago

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Dive Right In

(Previous) (Next)

Word Count: 2182

Summary: Virgil never suspected that anything was different about him, his town or his family. However, just like in most stories, that all changes when he meets someone who proves him wrong.

“You were almost late again,” Logan said, waiting outside of their biology lecture hall as Virgil came jogging up the hallway, accidentally knocking into some of the other students waiting to go into their class. He ignored their annoyed grumbles and tried to keep his attention on his own problems rather than what they thought of him.

“I know, I know,” Virgil said, adjusting his messenger bag. “My dad didn’t come home last night so I was just, you know, waiting… on the water… with water, don’t worry.”

Logan pursed his lips and nodded. “You know he’ll come back, Virgil. He’s almost a day late anytime he has to go out, so I don’t know why you worry so much.”

“He’s my dad, Lo,” Virgil replied, sitting down at their seats near the back of the hall. “I worry about him for the same reason that I worry about you: you guys are the only family I have.”

Logan visibly didn’t react but Virgil knew he was feeling something behind those stone-cold eyes. “Well in that case, if he’s not back by tonight, call me and I’ll come over with some leftovers. My mother made meatloaf last night so I’m sure she won’t mind me bringing some for you.”

“Thanks L-”

“Did I just hear that your house will be empty tonight?” Virgil turned around to see his classmate, Remy, leaning over and listening in on their supposedly private conversation. As usual, he was holding one of his seemingly unlimited supply of Starbucks drinks and his sunglasses that hid his somehow-golden eyes were beginning to slide down his nose again.

“No, you didn’t, Remy,” Logan said irritably, pushing his own glasses up his nose as if to set an example. “You simply heard what you wanted to hear as you eavesdropped yet again.”

“It’s not eavesdropping if there’s no teacher or other friends to listen to,” Remy said, taking the hint and hiding his eyes behind the lenses. “So your house is going to be empty? No parents, no supervision but Mr. IQ over here?” Remy cocked an eyebrow at Virgil. “Want me to bring some weed? Some booze? Girls or boys? Whichever and whoever you prefer?”

“There is not going to be a party at my house, Remy,” he said firmly. “There is going to be supervision; my dad is going to be coming back in a few hours so if you even think of bringing even a drop of booze near my house, he’ll make sure you and anyone you bring stay away for the rest of your time in this town.”

Remy smirked. “Whatever man. You’re missing out on a seaside party, especially one where I’m the one running the show.” He turned his attention to the front of the class as the teacher walked in and started writing instructions on the board. Virgil glanced down at his phone, hoping that his promise to Remy didn’t become a bluff by the end of the day.

But there was no sign from him by the end of the first period. Nor the end of the second. Virgil could hardly concentrate on what his teachers were saying. He just barely picked up on due dates, homework. Hell, even the notes he involuntarily took throughout the lesson didn’t make sense to him when he read them over during his free-time.

“He’s fine, Virgil. As I keep saying today and every day he’s late from an expedition, he found something that made him stay out longer than anticipated,” Logan commented as Virgil checked his phone for the tenth time in five minutes.

During third period, psychology, Virgil figured that if they were learning anything about emotions or how the human mind became distracted easily, it would have been the biggest irony in history. Alas, they were learning about decision making and Virgil’s closest thing to a friend in that class, Emile Piccani, was deep in thought about what their teacher was scribbling across the board.

“Virgil, this is amazing!” he said as he drew an arrow between a new definition to a doodle of what looked like the scene from ‘I Am My Mom’ where Steven had to turn himself over to save his friends. “I could use this in everyday life, not just in therapy! Aren’t you glad you took this class?!”

“Sure, Emile,” he murmured, lazily copying down whatever the teacher had written. Emile kept muttering things like ‘I love this class’ and ‘Ooh, I gotta compare this to those new episodes later’, but Virgil was more distracted by the sudden light coming from his phone. He snatched it up and stared intently at the screen, his heart pounding.

Sorry I’m home later than I said I would be. I got a little turned around. Home right now and currently making pork chops.

His heart leapt and he let out a sigh of relief, setting down his phone and slumping back in his seat. Not only was his father home safe and sound, he was making Virgil’s favorite dinner as an apology. Maybe he could forgive him this time… just as he did all the times before.

“Was he out late again?” Emile whispered, glancing over Virgil’s phone. Virgil tensed up at the sudden closeness but despite Emile being the top student in this psychology class, he didn’t see the physical sign of discomfort and kept close to Virgil’s face.

“Yes, Emile, and while I thank you for your concern, two things: one, personal space, please.“ Emile scooted back until Virgil gave a satisfactory nod. “And two, please don’t read my text messages over my shoulder.”

“Sorry, I’ll keep that in mind,” Emile replied, giving a soft smile. “Any idea as to how he got turned around? I mean, he has more than a few degrees in marine biology and over a decade of sailing. He went just over two dozen miles off the coast; even an ameteur could naviagte back from there.”

“None, but I guess I’ll find out when I get home,” Virgil said, shutting off his phone and finally able to turn every bit of his energy towards learning again. The rest of the day seemed to pass in a slow blur. It wasn’t fast but it definitely felt as if the world wanted to keep him in that hell-hole for as long as possible. Even lunch - with the constant movement and talk as he tried to make his way to his normal patch of grass with Logan (and occasionally Remy or Emile for reasons both beyond his control and explanation) - seemed to take days to live through.

Finally, the bell rang and he sped towards his car.

“If you need me, just call me, okay?” Logan called as they crossed paths. Virgil gave him a thumbs up, clambered into his car and drove off.

Roman and Patton slowed down as they reached one of the many entrance to their kingdom; nothing inconspicuous, a hole in the coral just big enough to only allow creatures their size in. The surrounding coral reef hid this entrance well enough so one could only find it if they really looked. Patton slowed down and raised his arms for Roman.

“You first,” he said to which Roman chuckled and bowed.

“Thank you very much, sir Patton.” Roman swam into the hole and Patton soon followed once only the tip of his red fin was visible. With a flick of his tail, he swept in after Roman, leaving the beautiful coral reef behind in exchange for darkness.

“I always hate this part,” Patton muttered, his voice echoing around them. He took a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of water passing through his gills rather than the crushing darkness around him.

“Patton, if anything attacks, I’ll protect you, don’t worry,” Roman called back. “Has anything bad ever happened while anyone has been traveling through here?”

“No…” Patton whined, keeping his eyes focused on what he thought was towards the kingdom. They swam in silence for a few more seconds before passing through what felt like a wall of ice cold squid ink. Patton shivered and pushed forward, finally passing through the darkness and emerging on the outskirts of the kingdom, lit by a mix of natural sunlight a large glowing orbs that bobbed in place no matter how many fish were silly enough to try and go through them.

Here, there wasn’t much to see; a few small stone houses and a couple schools of fish flitting back and forth between them. But as the two mers grew closer to the center of the kingdom, the houses became bigger, closer together, and more elaborate, the material used to build them going from stone to coral to polished shell. The mer population began to grow visible, tails of all shapes, sizes and colors; a rainbow of frills and fins.

Patton waved to a group of his friends currently buying some snacks from a vendor. When they waved him over, he smiled sadly and pointed to Roman, mouthing ‘King business’. They shrugged and turned back to their order.

“Why don’t you join them?” Roman asked, bumping against his shoulder lightly. “You always make a point of saying that I need to make friends.”

“I know, but we need to get back to Thomas to make sure that there’s nothing that there’s no reports or assignments,” Patton said, keeping his smile, no matter how sad it may have looked. Roman sighed and kept swimming towards the very center of the kingdom.

Nearest to the center, the houses suddenly stopped, giving way for a castle large enough for at least half the mer population in this cavern alone. Sometimes Patton didn’t understand why Thomas needed so much room for himself, his staff, and his lead advisors; there were only like one hundred of them compared to the thousands out there.

Either way, the castle was a sight to see. Ebony walls inlaid with only the best and most beautiful stones and shells. Spiraling pillars made of polished pearl guarded by mers wearing and wielding steel weapons. The entire thing seemed to let out a silver glow that made Patton feel warm and fuzzy inside. He had lived in this glow his entire life and basking in it always meant he was home.

“Roman,” the guard at the front gates said as they drifted towards him. “Shouldn’t you be in a cave somewhere? Far away from here maybe?”

“Hello to you too, father,” Roman muttered. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a full moon, tonight, Roman,” Roman’s father said, his grey tail flicking slightly. “Now, I’m no expert, but the full moon is when Sirens are supposed to be singing their shallow hearts out, luring in every living thing that hears their false promise of happiness? Or are you the only exception?”

Roman’s lip twitched upwards and his fist tightened into a fist. Patton hit his own tail fin against Roman’s and grabbed his wrist firmly, rubbing it lightly until Roman’s fist unclenched. Even than, Patton kept his grip relatively tight.

“Yes, father, I am supposed to be out of the kingdom before the moon rises tonight. I simply need to see if there are any reports from the King and after that, I will be out of what little hair you have left and you get yet another night without me. What’s that make? Over six hundred, I’m sure,” Roman replied tightly.

Roman’s father sneered and drifted to the side. “Just go to his royal highness and leave before you pose a threat to anyone else.”

Without another word, Roman swam past his father and into the castle, pulling Patton with him.

“The nerve of that man,” Patton muttered under his breath, letting go of Roman and swimming to catch up with Roman’s powerful tail strokes. “Roman, I suggest we stop for a second so you can calm down. You don’t want to go up to Thomas like this. It’s both disrespectful and something that will get him worried about you.”

Roman didn’t answer but did slow down and begin to take deep breaths. The gills on the side of his neck were flaring with anger and the attempt to breath normally. Patton didn’t say a word, just rubbed Roman’s wrist slowly.

“I hate him,” Roman finally muttered. “Sirens haven’t taken lives intentionally in hundreds of years…”

“I know, I know. But on the human land, racial differences were supposed to have been abolished hundreds of years ago and yet other things I’ve found say otherwise. Some things can’t or won’t change,” Patton said softly. “We can try our best but there will always be opposers to what we say.”

“How come that’s what calms me down every single time you say it?” Roman asked, a trace of his normal smile popping up again.

“I just have that kind of voice,” Patton replied, still smiling. “You good to see the King without sounding disdainful and like all the hate towards your father is actually towards him?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Roman said, coughing slightly and blinking furiously. “Let’s go.”

Holy shit. The amount of reception that came out of that first part was fucking mind-boggling. I was in the living room with my parents and I just checked and bam... a ton of love from so many people. I started crying right then and there.

Thank you so much. Seriously, thank you.

Taglist is still wide open!

Taglist: @octopushugs @ryuity @fandergecko @rileyfirstname @spectacled-renegade @ijustreallylovesanderssides @fireflies-and-pattons-eyes @fireflies-and-pattons-eyes

@redqueen29, I’m not sure why but your URL isn’t working in tags, so I hope you find this.

Have an absolutely incredible day!

#Mermaids #Thomas Sanders #Sanders Sides #Virgil Sanders #Deceit Sanders #Remy Sanders #Emile Picani #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #AU #Fan Fiction #Writing

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magicxlimagines · 7 years ago

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Starting backwards // Neville x Reader // SMUT

Request: Hello could you please do an Neville Longbottom X Slytherin!Reader? So, (Y/N) is seducing Neville but he thinks she's just kidding because someone HOT AS HELL as the reader wouldn't like someone like him. Cute ending and smut (dominant reader please) please. Your works are amazing!

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Thanks for requesting! + Thanks for the compliment <3 This is gonna be a fun piece! Reader and Neville are both in their seventh year. Reader is also Slytherin as requested here. Most of the other characters are my oc’s, other than who you’d recognize, like Ginny or Luna. *** indicates smut starting.

Warnings: Swearing, smut

Word count: 2,667

“Neville- she’s looking at you again,” Ginny whispered, nudging the oblivious boy. No one could honestly call it ‘looking’- you were practically eye-screwing him. Ginny had only said it that way so Neville wouldn’t choke on his dinner and make a fool of himself.

He turned to look at your intense eyes and felt his face go hot. “N-no, she was probably just staring at how I just ate my piece of pie weirdly.” He shook his head as he turned from your burning stare and back to the Gryffindor table.

Ginny made a face at Neville, who was using his fork to play with his food. Neville cleared his throat, feeling Ginny’s annoyed and exasperated stare burning into his soul. “So- err- do you think Harry, Hermione, and Ron are all right? It hasn’t been too long, it’s just the start of the year, but I do hope they haven’t given up on trying to basically save humanity…”

Ginny then gave Luna a pointed stare, urging her to say something, as Neville probably wouldn’t listen to her at the moment. Luna caught her stare and spoke up. “Neville, I am sure the three are doing just fine. Although I’d like to inform you about some Fangwig Bizzid’s- a brand new find on new creatures based on my father's observations, I think you need to talk to Y/N. You know, the pretty, clever and ‘hot’ Slytherin you always talk about?”

If it was possible, Neville flushed even more than before as he shook his head. “What? I never talk about her…” He muttered.

Ginny rolled her eyes and continued to eat her breakfast, as well as Luna who watched Neville with a concerned look in her eyes.

When Charms rolled around midday, the Gryffindors and the Slytherins started showing up in Flitwick’s class. You were one of the first ones in, getting your books, parchment, and quills ready for the class. When more fellow classmates started to arrive, you waited for your friend to come in and sit by you.

As soon as she did- her being the last one in, Professor Flitwick spoke up from his desk. “Alright, class. Although I have nothing against any of the houses, mind you, it seems that your two houses right now- Gryffindor and Slytherin- seem to… quarrel more often than other houses. You may think it silly or strange of me but as of now and today, you will have new seats. Permanent seats for this whole year. One Gryffindor next to one Slytherin.

“You will see your names glow, hovering above the new seat you will be at for the next number of weeks you will be here at Hogwarts- until you graduate and leave. Please try to find your name and take your new seat.”

Most of the class groaned, but you didn’t mind. All the houses were great, but because you were just a tiny bit biased, you knew Slytherin was the best of the best.

When you saw one new name appear hovering above your desk; John Welborne, you stood up, gathered your items and went to the side of the classroom to try spot your new seat.

Your best friend (from Slytherin) Olivia frowned sadly at you as she watched you move away. A Gryffindor- whom you learned to be John, took the seat beside her and gave her a small smile, introducing himself.

At least Olivia wasn’t going to be stuck with someone that didn’t seem horrid, yet.

When you spotted your name, you saw that it was next to the boy who caught your attention; Neville Longbottom. Although you were extremely giddy on the inside, you walked coolly and calmly towards the boy who diverted his attention elsewhere when you sat by him.

“Hi, Neville,” you started. He nodded in acknowledgment. You huffed, knowing this was probably all the interaction you’d get with him if you couldn’t help it. As the teacher started, you decided to try show Neville that you really liked him (in more ways than one). Whilst the professor was facing the blackboard, you ‘subconsciously’ pushed your quill off your desk.

Muttering a very quiet ‘oops’, you slid off your chair, stood up and bent down instead of squatting, hoping that not many other guys are watching you- that Neville had his full attention on you. You heard someone clear their throat from in front of you, it was Olivia. She watched the whole spectacle and smirked. She mouthed at you when no one else was really paying attention.

“You minx!” She grinned. You smirked back at her and turned around quickly, catching a few guys snap their heads towards the professor. You smile knowingly to yourself. What disappointed you was that you didn’t see Neville staring at your behind.

He was still facing the blackboard, taking some notes casually as if nothing happened. You frowned, not knowing that Neville was having an incredibly hard time controlling himself, not to pin you to the wall and take you right there.

Neville was struggling, mentally and physically. He couldn’t help his heightened sexual male hormones when you bent down, but at the same time, he was thinking if you did that for him, or for the other boys behind him.

Surely it was for the other boys… right? She’d never like a guy like me. He thought disappointedly. You, on the other hand, were still thinking of ways to drop even bigger hints.

During the times that Flitwick was talking to the class about the subject, you made little moves, like brushing his hand when you got something from your bag, biting your lip while you were writing, thinking or listening, bringing the tip of the quill to your lips and so on.

When Flitwick went to talk to a group of students far in front of you and Neville, you mentally smirked. Leaning towards Neville, you begin to whisper. “Hey Neville, do you think you could help me with something tonight? I need a little extra help on… something.”

He flushed profusely, glancing at you, your face bowed down a tiny bit to accentuate the intense atmosphere surrounding the two of you. Neville gulped before replying, hoping that his voice wouldn’t crack.

“Uh- sure? W-what do you need help on?”

“Just wait outside my common room tonight, midnight.”

He nodded, turning back to the front, still dazed about your proposal on him helping you with something. He was confused on why you didn't clarify, but nonetheless wanted to see you at such a late time.

When Flitwick returned to the board to talk to the class, Neville took a quick glance at you- something he regretted.

You were staring at him, mouth twitched into a smirk. And then, you winked.

Neville was flabbergasted- packing up slowly when the Professor looked at his watch and dismissed the class. You had packed up and left as quickly as you had winked, leaving Neville sitting by himself.

When the time came to go to your dorms and get some rest, you were taking a shower in the bathroom. Stepping out and getting dressed into a silky and thin nightdress with a fluffy robe over top and some fluffy slippers, you wandered into the common room to stay up and chat with some friends. When half-past nine rolled around, you headed up to your dorm to quickly freshen up.

You lay on your bed, pretending to rest and get ready to sleep when you felt your eyes starting to actually droop. “Shit!” You muttered. You shook your head as hard as you could in your slightly sleepy state.

“Lumos,” you whispered, wand alighting slightly at the tip. You felt for your watch by your dresser and looked at the time. It was 11:57 pm, Neville was hopefully at the Slytherin entrance in a few minutes.

You crept out of your bed and into the common room, frowning at the fact that you were below the lake. “This is ridiculous… The best house is under the damn lake…” You quietly talked to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief as you made your way to the entrance.

You quietly said the password and from the other side, you saw a shocked looking and sexily disheveled looking Neville.

“Y-Y/N? You said you needed some help, from me?”

You nodded shyly, a tad too sleepy to try too hard. “Come in, please.”

“Y-you look sleepy, perhaps I should help you with it tomorrow?”

You shook your head vigorously, suddenly becoming wide awake. The look on his face, him so flustered, looking a bit tired, still ready for whatever you were getting him to do… It overwhelmed you in more than just a sexual way.

***

You bit your lip, pulling his sleeve. “Y/N? W-what are you doing?”

You said nothing, silently enchanting the common room for no disturbances from anyone or anything. You went to sit comfortably on a big couch, staring at him invitingly.

Unsurely, he sat down beside you, looking as confused as ever. You smiled encouragingly as he took a seat near you. Keeping eye contact, you disrobed and sat slightly shivering in your thin, silky nightdress.

You saw him take an obvious gulp, adam's apple bobbing, turning you on even more.

“W-what are y-you doing?”

“This.”

You pulled him by his collar, making the first move. You pressed your lips against his, passionate and needy. He froze in shock, moving his large hands to your waist.

One of your hands moved to his nape and started to gently tug on his hair. He moaned into the kiss, you smirking. Your other hand moved down to his lower region, palming him through his boxers.

He stopped kissing you to groan and noticed you whine at the loss of contact. He pressed his lips to your neck, placing sloppy kisses everywhere. You moaned in satisfaction, body getting hot all over despite the slight chilly nip to the air.

You guided him and pushed him lightly till his back hit the couch. His hands moved upwards towards you, trying to get a grip on your hips. You tutted, shaking your head. “It’s not your turn yet.”

You leaned downwards and held his hands above his head, teasingly kissing his face and neck; everywhere but his lips.

He pouted slightly, clearly impatient. You slowly leaned down, getting closer to his lips. As your lips were just about to touch his, you rolled your hips, right on top of his rather large boner.

He let out a throaty groan, bucking his hips lightly to grind into yours. You silenced him by pressing a kiss to his lips. “If you stop moving your hips… I just might give you something better than just grinding…” You whispered near his ear.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

You smirked, using your wand to turn the couch into a wide bed with four posters. You felt extremely dirty doing this in your house’s common room, but at the same time, it excited you so very much.

You muttered an incantation to tie his wrists to the bedpost and worked your way downwards. You kept your eyes on his hooded ones as he watched you go down. You pulled off his boxers, his previously restrained cock now free.

Licking your lips, you took the base in one hand and used the other to massage the head. “Who’s gonna be a good boy for me?” You whispered.

“Fuck, m-me,” he replied, clearly struggling not to just rip the ribbon and push your head down.

You smiled sweetly, causing his heart to flutter at the sight.

You licked from the bottom of his shaft to the very tip, swirling your tongue. “Fuck!” Neville hissed, the ribbon tickling at his wrist.

You pressed light kisses all over his cock, his head being thrown back each time you got closer to the tip.

Out of the blue, you took him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks.

After a while of sucking and teasing, you could tell he was close. Releasing your lips from his cock with a slight ‘pop’, you hear him whimper at the loss of touch.

“Patience, baby boy.”

You slipped off your nightdress and watched as his eyes roamed around your naked figure, you feeling a bit self-conscious but not showing it.

You moved towards him more and hovered above him, pressing a lingering kiss on his lips.

“Are you ready?” You softly ask. Gulping, he nodded. Using your hand to guide his dick to your entrance, you slowly lowered yourself on him.

Throwing your head back, you moaned, feeling the bliss of his cock finally inside you.

"Fuck, you're huge! H-holy sh-shit Neville!"

You started to bounce up and down, rotating your hips every now and then.

He bucked his hips upwards in time with you to reach deeper angles and soon, you were a whimpering mess above him.

Neville wanted so badly to reach up and grab at your breasts, but the ribbons prevented him from doing so. He felt so restrained, so annoyed that he couldn't touch you.

You leaned forward and kissed him. You then untied the ribbons, seeing the way his fists clenched at not being able to touch your body.

His hands immediately went up to your waist, him pulling you closer and thrusting harder.

"Fuck! Neville!"

You scratched at his back, letting him take a bit of control. He groaned at the feeling of your walls clench around him, slowly teetering more towards the beginning of his orgasm.

"Neville!" You screamed, him hitting your g-spot. You climaxed around him, panting hard, body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"Fuck! You're so tight, Y/N!"

You felt his dick twitch in you and felt his hot seed spill. After a few last sloppy thrusts, he pulled you into a tight embrace, face buried in the crook of your neck.

You were still a bit unsure of whether he genuinely liked you or not, so you stayed still in his arms, not turning to face him but not escaping his embrace either.

He might just be sleepy... You thought sadly to yourself. You shut your eyes, enjoying the feel of his arms around you.

You were still wide awake but you pretended to be resting.

He reached for his wand and soon you hear heard him mutter something, and out of nowhere, he pulled a thick blanket over the two of you.

Then, he whispered your name.

"Y/N? You still awake?"

You nodded, gulping, and turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Would now be an okay time to tell you that I love you?"

At that statement, you were extremely puzzled. "Y-you love me?" You whispered back, unsure if this was a dream or not.

"Yes, and I know it might seem weird, hell, it is weird, you probably don't even really like me back, although you did just screw me, you probably don't like me because why would anyone as gorgeous, kind, clever and witty like me back-"

You interrupted his incorrect rambling, kissing him hard.

"This relationship may be starting backward, but yes, I actually love you. And don't ever believe no one would like you, you're the most likable guy in my eyes. You're amazing in so many ways, especially bed-" you winked at him quickly, seeing him smile sheepishly and flush- "and you're extremely sweet and caring. Now, come closer and cuddle me, boyfriend."

His heart exploded at the last word, saying no more as he instantly wrapped you in his arms again, kissing your forehead as you both drifted off to a peaceful sleep, tangled together and officially in love.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom imagines #neville longbottom x reader #neville x reader #longbottom x reader #neville longbottom smut #smuuttttt #smut #hp smut #just smut #smutty smut smut

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necrococo-creations · 4 years ago

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OC intro: Physicker Nicodemus Mariangely Godefroy

Nico is my Aasimar aberrant mind sorcerer whose angel’s mind was shattered by contact with the Far Realms. They currently work as a gleefully unhinged mortician.

(Piccrew link here).

I wrote this down for my own reference originally, but given my plans for this blog to be a personal creative outlet I’ll probably talk about characters a lot so if you’ve found your way to this page and you are curious about this batshit un-doctor I keep mentioning, I give you their Deal.

This is definitely a character that would be at home in an eldritch horror story. CW for gore, compulsions, and self surgery.

Once upon a time...

Nico was an accomplished physician, sought after not just for their talent with brewing innovative medicines and tinctures but also as a surgeon, as much as surgery can exist in the time period. Thanks to their inherent healing touch granted to them by their celestial blood, they were able to perform operations that would normally be far too invasive for the level of technology available. They took on two promising apprentices who they trained in basic alchemy.

The descent...

Nico had received occasional guidance via dreams from their angel since they were a child. The dreams had led them to many novel discoveries in the medical field; new applications of herbs, imaginative procedures that cured the uncurable, and more. In the winter of their 25th year, the dreams began to take on an odd flavor. Nico was guided towards invasive surgeries more and more often, even when their waking medical knowledge would make them believe there were other safer options. These urges grew, and soon the dreams shifted from rare single images or ideas to nightly vivid scenes of wild visceral possibilities. It didn’t take long before Nico struggled to perform even the most simple procedures without being tempted by the beautiful and nightmarish possibilities of their dreams. They struggled to ignore the voice in their head begging them to find out what would happen if they made various “improvements” to a patient’s natural anatomy. Waking from a particularly visceral night of dreams, Nico was forced to accept that they were not well enough to operate that day. They went to the scheduled patient’s home in the morning, intending to tell them from a distance that they had contracted an illness from a previous patient and would need to recover away from others to prevent spreading it. This was the plan; however when the patient opened his door, Nico saw the seeping, swollen wound in his abdomen. They remember pushing the injured man onto the table before eagerly digging into the wound to see what was on the other side, and felt their conscious awareness fading while they ignored his panicked and pained protests and begging for some sort of anesthetic. When they came to, it was dark outside. The man was cold and dead on the table with his entrails, bones, and muscles hideously rearranged and neatly stitched together. Half out of their mind with fear and horror, Nico set the man’s cottage ablaze and stumbled home through the dark. They quickly changed out of their bloodied clothes and stuffed a traveling pack full of essentials before fleeing the town. They’ve never returned, and their dreams continued to grow more vivid and more grotesque.

Something broke...

After fleeing the town, their dreams from their angel continued to grow more and more intensely disturbed. They soon completely lost grip on reality. Visions of nightmarish creatures, worlds with impossible physics and truths, and phantasmagorical possibility overwhelmed their previously starkly logical mind. Nico has very few memories of the years following their initial flight from their home, and what little they can remember makes them grateful for the amnesia. Their dark hair turned starkly white during this period, their skin unnaturally pale, and their eyes, always an unusually intense green, took on an unsettling yellowy lime tint that ever so slightly reflects light like a cat’s on occasion with a subtle vertically elongated pupil. They avoided looking at their reflection as much as possible, partly because these changes disturbed them when they were lucid enough to notice, and partly because seeing any twitches or movements of their muscles gave them powerful, often irresistible craving to open up their skin to watch the muscular action responsible. They performed a large amount of experimental and exploratory self surgery during this time and bear a number of scars from it, including one prominently crossing their entire face. Luckily, they kept their skilled touch with the scalpel and just enough sense to avoid doing any major or irreversible damage.

Ten years later, present day...

A decade after their initial mental break, Nico has managed to adjust to their new mental landscape. They are conscious and in control of their actions outside of occasional episodes, and no longer dread sleeping, welcoming the mind bending visions their dreams bring. Their new understanding of the nature of reality combined with their scientific mind has produced a unique form of madness- and one that they can manifest. Whether it’s through sheer power of will and belief, some sort of science or magic from beyond, or twisted channeling of their angel’s warped influence, they now have the powers to bring some of the reality of their dreams to their waking world. They didn’t recognize their powers for a while, initially assuming the phenomena they created were purely hallucinatory. They still aren’t always sure what’s real and on the material plane and what exists solely in their mind or elsewhere, but they have started to experiment with controlling this newfound power.

They’ve found employment as a mortician, applying their anatomical knowledge in a way that they can’t cause any harm to the living. They rarely get the urge to tamper with cold bodies, and when they do, they’ve developed mental strength enough that they are usually able to resist the impulse. They do their best to avoid exposing themselves to visibly ill or injured people, and generally keep their cravings for self surgery in check with piercings and other relatively harmless body modifications.

Their internal experience is incredibly intense, riddled with hallucinations that turn out to be glimpses at things beyond this plane just often enough to make them question the truth of them all. Compared to their mental state, the world tends to feel incredibly dull. Because of this, they tend to seek extreme forms of stimulation or mental numbing including substance use, risk taking, and intense sensory experiences. They also try to “spice up” the natural world and bring it closer to their own visions of reality on occasion and enjoy confusing and unsettling people, though it’s never truly malicious.

On occasion, when suddenly presented with an unwell person, Nico slips back into a fully lucid mental state, as clearheaded and logical as they were before their angel was corrupted and the nightmares began. As long as they don’t realize it’s happening and there isn’t a concentrated location of visible injury or illness, they can often successfully treat the patient. They lapse back into their post-break state afterward and don’t usually remember their moment of clarity, or if they do, they pretend that they don’t. They are aware that they weren’t always like this, and while they generally seem to revel in their condition, there are times (such as when they’re intensely sedated by intoxicants or severely wounded) that they sometimes drift into intense melancholy or clearheaded introspection.

Gameplay and other player thoughts

I’m really hoping to implement some sort of wisdom save for this character in game when they’re confronted with heavy gore or other things that would activate their obsession with looking at and “fixing” The Inside Parts. I’m not sure how I’d balance it in a way that didn’t make literally every situation involving an attack that broke skin by a player or enemy a roll, but it’s something I’d be hype to work on with the DM.

I can tell I’m going to put myself in a tight spot using spell slots out of combat/for RP for spells like spider climb and dimension door/misty step to just... walk up and down walls and go behind one tree and walk out from behind another lol. I’ve made characters before that I adore from an RP standpoint but I don’t think I’ve had one I’ve loved so much from both a gameplay and RP standpoint. I was really dreading actually making them a playable character since I tend to develop characters extensively narrative and then when the time comes to give them a class and stats it’s never a great fit. I actually hadn’t read about aberrant mind sorc until I went to pick a class for this guy, I was assuming I’d go for a Great Old One warlock for flavor even though I didn’t like the actual mechanics of locs for them. I absolutely lost my mind when I discovered it! Tasha’s couldn’t have come at a better time.

I plan on keeping the fact that they’re an aasimar a secret until a good time presents itself. Not a dramatic or heroic time, a suitably “wtf” moment. Like they pop out their wings for a silly reason very shortly after everyone topples off a cliff and Nico takes a bunch of fall damage that could have been prevented if they remembered they had wings. And yes, their middle name “Mariangely” is absolutely an on the nose “angel” pointer. I’m going to play them as a scourge subtype, and if the DM allows it, I might tweak the scourge AOE effect to be psychic damage rather than radiant or emitting darkness rather than light for Flavor since their angel is doing an absolutely piss poor job being angelic and radiant.

Anyway, that’s Nico! If someone other than me or a potential play group member read this, uh, damn, hope you enjoyed a stroll through my eldritch garden or whatever, thanks for coming by.

Bonus playlist since I was getting into Will Wood right as this character was solidifying in my head which was DEFINITELY integral to how they came out, particularly the song Dr. Sunshine is Dead.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7fBrMVFovQhDf8AD9QMbLg?si=CManfyxCTqmGrzw8jIQxwg

#original characters #ttrpg character #dnd oc #ttrpg oc #aberrant mind sorcerer #nicodemus mariangely godefroy

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anytutor37-com · 4 years ago

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How to make online learning a success.

This article is part of Open Book, a Slate series about the new school year.

When I began my teaching career in 1999, I never imagined I would spend my 21st year in the classroom outside of the classroom, teaching my fifth grade students from the quarantined comfort of my own home. I’ve shepherded students through national tragedies like 9/11, a space shuttle disaster, and the Sandy Hook shooting just down the road in my own state, but this past spring demanded more from me than ever before. I have never worked so hard as a teacher, nor have I ever felt so ineffective.

But as March turned to April and May, I became more adept at distance learning. By June, my students and I had settled into a routine—one that included both mundane and imaginative ways of connecting with one another, as well as weekly individual meetings, small group sessions, whole class lessons, and even lunchtime gatherings. I have no doubt I’ll have occasion to put the strategies my students and I developed together into further use next year. And as my colleagues around the country scramble to wrap their heads around a fall teaching landscape vastly different from the norm, I thought it would be helpful to share some of the videoconferencing teaching tricks of the trade I’ve developed.

Teachers are used to setting up classroom expectations at the start of the school year—a sort of student-teacher contract. These will be even more important this year. I established these ground rules last spring with my fifth graders, and they served us well:

Be fully present. It’s perfectly fine for a student to work on the couch, the patio, or even the bed. Comfort is important, and sometimes, the only quiet place in the house might be inside a closet (which was one student’s preferred workspace). But wherever a student worked, the expectation remained the same: Sit up straight and engage the camera with your eyes, the same way you would any person speaking to you.

No pajamas allowed. The mindset of students should be that it’s a school day, even if they are not physically present in school. This means getting dressed and ready for the day.

Cameras on. I expected all students to leave their cameras on whenever possible. Unless an older brother was walking through the living room in his underwear, or a student needed to blow her nose, there was no need to hide behind a deactivated camera.

Treat online class like classroom class. Students were not permitted to eat while engaged in videoconferencing, nor should they be using their phones or any other software or video game on their computer. The latter was more difficult to monitor, but setting the expectations is important.

Attend individual meetings. Every week, I set aside time for one-on-one meetings with students, which I encouraged parents to attend as well. These meetings were critical to student success. In these meetings, we reviewed the previous week’s performance, discussed changes in the home—like the arrival of a new puppy or Mom’s new work schedule—addressed any new challenges that had arisen since we last met, and set expectations for the coming week. If a parent could not attend the meeting, I recorded the meeting and sent it directly to the parent for review at a later time. As a parent myself, I knew full well that not every parent was available to monitor their child during the school day. But the communication with parents helped, and I was thankful for every little bit of help they could offer.

The Practical Stuff

It can be tough to get through to students via videoconferencing. A supportive or disappointed look through the camera pales in comparison to a private in-person nod of encouragement or a stern warning. But the following practical guidelines really helped with my communication:

Light yourself well. Students should be able to see you clearly, and if you’re recording videos, they should also be well-lit. Simple lights that can be affixed to a laptop screen help, but opting for a room with strong overhead lights also does the trick.

Get eye level. Camera placement is important. Prop your laptop or phone up on something eye level. Don’t look down at your screen. The kids don’t want to look up your nose. Well, they might enjoy that—for a laugh. But they don’t want to regularly look up your nose.

Look into the camera on your laptop or phone. This will give your students the feeling that you are making eye contact with them.

Stand up! At least some of the time. Your energy will translate so much better than if you’re sitting. And if you’re energetic, your students are more likely to listen.

Avoid using digital backgrounds. Authenticity and vulnerability are much better than an unrealistic or falsified background. For the first time in human history, students have the opportunity to glimpse into the home of their teachers. We all remember thinking as kids that teachers had no life outside the classroom. Make the most of this. Allow your students into your life. When the physical distance between us makes it difficult to connect, these little windows into our home life can bridge a bit of that distance and allow us to forge connections in new and interesting ways.

YouTube is your friend. My students have always told me, “You can learn anything on YouTube.” They are right. As you record videos for your students, YouTube has a wealth of information for how to make them better. When I wanted to make a video of me positioned in the corner of a Word document so that I could explain and demonstrate simultaneously, YouTube taught me. When I needed to purchase an external microphone to improve my audio, YouTube told me what to buy and how to integrate it into each platform. When I needed to find a way to use a game-based learning program like Kahoot in conjunction with Google Meet, a YouTube video showed me everything I needed to know. Turn to it often, and share your findings with your colleagues.

How to Connect

The following larger guiding principles had an impact on my ability to connect with my students. As we head into a new school year, I know these guidelines will be even more imperative. Finishing off the last three months of the school year online was hard, but my students and I already had foundations for our relationships. If we begin our school year online, it’s critical for all of us to get to know one another well.

Move. Try to include some physical activity into your lessons. Once per week, my students and I would have a virtual scavenger hunt using a random object generator to determine what we would bring to the screen. Not only did this get my students moving, but they often brought objects back to the screen accompanied by stories that helped bridge the distance between us. Other movement activities we engaged in included yoga, calisthenics, plank competitions, and Simon Says. An increased level of physical activity can translate into increased engagement.

Vary where you teach every day. Give the kids a reason to join you by surprising them with new locations throughout your home and the outdoors. Throughout distance learning, I taught from seven different rooms in my home (eight if we include the staircase), as well as places outside like my deck, front stoop, and garage. One day I even took a bike ride to a park and taught from a bench using my phone. I parked myself outside our classroom, accessed the school’s Wi-Fi, and taught a lesson with our classroom as a backdrop. I also changed my position in each of these rooms, allowing my kids a new and potentially interesting peek into their teacher’s life. As we all know too well by now, quarantine days bleed into days, and any variety is appreciated. By turning each session into an almost “Where in the World Is Mr. Dicks?,” it helped make students excited to sign in, increased their interest, and made each session as memorable as possible.

Welcome guests. Acknowledge and even encourage the appearance of cats, kids, spouses, and any other living creature onto the screen. This type of variety can keep students curious about what might happen next. A curious student is an engaged student.

Be a role model. As teachers, we constantly set examples for our students. I took full advantage of this by strategically showing off aspects of my home that would serve me well in this regard. I showed my students the pile of books that I was reading, and the bookshelves of books that I’ve read in the past. When teaching from my bedroom, I made sure that they saw my bed was made, my room was clean, and there were books on my bedside table. One day I joined a session immediately after a bike ride and kept my helmet on to emphasize the importance of fresh air and exercise.

Have fun! Give students a reason to join you each day by creating opportunities to be creative, silly, or personal. I encouraged students to send me photos and videos throughout the day of anything they wanted, and what I received was extraordinary. Some students began seriously studying photography, taking photos of flowers and clouds. Others staged hilarious photos of pets and siblings. Some took embarrassing photos of their parents dancing or struggling with a lawn mower. We opened many sessions with these photos as a means of connecting and laughing together.

Other times I might ask kids to arrive to a lesson wearing their ugliest shirt, a homemade hat, or accompanied by their favorite stuffed animal. Show and tell became a part of our day, as did the sharing of poetry, stories, and angry screeds about the coronavirus.

Storytelling should play a crucial role in teachers’ “classrooms” this year. Telling stories is one of the best ways to foster connection between human beings, and thankfully, it can be done via Zoom. When we tell stories and allow ourselves to be vulnerable and authentic, people get to know us, trust us, believe in us, and feel connected to us. Students work hard for teachers who they understand, respect, and love. I know that opening my heart to my students and encouraging them to do the same will be the best way to forge a relationship that will allow learning to take place.

Get to know the parents. It’s going to be critical for teachers to make the same kinds of connections with parents. While the teacher-parent partnership has always been important, it’s more important than ever in distance learning. As a teacher, we can only see and do so much through a computer screen. We will need parents to assist as best they can in support, compliance, practice, reteaching, and so much more. They’ll also be key to letting us know how their kids are faring emotionally. In lieu of a summertime letter to my parents and students, I will be sending videos instead, hoping that a voice and a face will connect more than ink on a page. I’ll introduce myself, my wife, my kids, my cats. I’ll let them into my home and my life. I’ll also be sure to spend the first weeks of school speaking to parents as much as kids, in order to gain a better understanding of the specific needs of each child and the particulars of their home life, like schedules, siblings, technology needs, and more.

I recognize that some of this advice may seem unconventional. For many teachers, the blurring of professional and private life can be unsettling and seem unprofessional. As unsettling as these suggestions may seem to those teachers, these are radical times that demand radical teaching methods. Our students need us to do everything possible to bring stability, connection, and engagement to their academic days. “Unsettling” cannot be a barrier to teaching our students.

For those who find this advice unprofessional and worry that parents will not respect them, or that students may take advantage of them, or that they may be less effective teachers if they employ these methods, I can assure you that—pandemic or not—I have taught this way for 21 years, and I have only found the opposite to be true. While of course there are lines of professionalism teachers must always respect, the more I let students in, the more they let me in. The more they trust me, the more effective teacher I can be. The more I share with parents, the more they support and respect me. And when we have a screen between us, we need these connections more than ever.

Distance learning will never be an adequate substitute for the learning that students do alongside teachers and peers. But as educators, we must ensure that it is as effective as possible. Committing yourself to this remote learning craft will be an important part of every teacher’s development until this pandemic is in our rearview mirror. I hope that when you find yourself staring into a computer screen at a class of students—some enthusiastic, some disinterested, and some playing Fortnite but trying like hell to hide it—these tips will be of service to you.

For advice on how to get a raise—even during the economic downturn—listen to the latest episode of How To! With Charles Duhigg.

This content was originally published here.

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d-reamingwideawake · 5 years ago

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another writing contest, different site. this time loosely around the lore there. I used a pair of my own OCs and got first place ~

sorryIdon’tposthereasoftenasIshouldIjustneverfeellikedrabblinganymoreIguess I guess this sort of counts as a drabble though. I miss my bby Sinaht ~

While Esta, the daughter of his clan leader, possessed knowledge in every corner you could name, Sinaht had been less inclined to pay attention in almost any given class as a child. Her ability with stratagem and negotiations in particular were rather astounding, sometimes even better than her father's--though maybe she'd been forced to study those harder with her social standing looming over her. There were times as they grew older that he wondered if the other elf somehow magically absorbed everything she learned, to simply pluck from the back of her mind when a given situation demanded it. However, that was absurd. Even with all the known magic upon their vast continent, and despite the advances made by their very own region, such magics didn't exist. Or maybe he'd missed that memo? It wouldn't surprise him. Esta wouldn't take such an easy, ill-earned path though, so the notion was again, in fact, quite absurd. It wasn't that he lacked capacity for learning, but simply that books and such didn't suit him. His affinity with magic was passable; he was a brown elf after all and earth magics came to their race rather easily. Esta was more adept with magic than he was, but then, she was better than most elves at various, countless things. Because she had to be. It was both admirable and very annoying to Sinaht, but she was a dear childhood friend nonetheless and he couldn't hate her for excelling flawlessly. Physical activities, though, are where Sinaht had always shined and thrived. During sparring matches he nearly always came out on top. The man could even win now and then against his mentor and strongest elf in the clan, Ryfon. He could win out bouts with Esta...sometimes. Sinaht was one of the most skillful warriors in his clan, yet this woman was the only elf he had trouble besting. He blamed it on her ability to think critically while she fought without it slowing her down. Whereas he often let his muscles and instinct take over, only on occasion needing to scheme in the middle of a fight to get the better of his opponent. It was certainly no surprise that with his rank and skill he was often found helping patrol the north-east borders of the Dark Forest now that he'd grown into his more adult years. He was by no means part of the specialized group that dealt with closer patrols, but all of the forest's edge couldn't be watched by a handful of elves alone, no matter how good they were. If Esta wasn't held up learning to be heiress to her father, he was sure she would be at his side showing off how much better she was at topping off the magic on the sigils in their area, or chasing off the creatures that sometimes strayed too close to the outer edges of the eerie cluster of trees. Of course he'd been told all the stories as a kid. Who in Sine hadn't? To this day it did little to faze him. But, during the previous autumn season, there was that one time he'd watched a man suddenly break from their group to wander through the trees until he couldn't be seen any longer. He hadn't said a word, just veered from the path. It hadn't taken long for a piercing scream to fill the air around them, only to as quickly be silenced. His body was never even recovered. The memory chilled him. That incident gave credit to the bedtime stories, certainly, but Sinaht firmly believed the strong-willed wouldn't so easily be lured into some monster's clutches. While that had been unfortunate, it led him to often wonder that the stories never did tell of what exactly the awful creature used to ensnare its prey. Could it be a sickly sweet song, much like a siren? Or a whisper that burrows deep inside the target's ear, coercing them into actions they cannot refuse? Or were those who fell prey to it simply too curious for their own good? The questions were endless. The morning's trek was uneventful thus far. The sigils were strong and the Dark Night was many months away, therefore the less-than-friendly creatures that dwelled within the dense forest likely wouldn't fight the magics that kept them at bay. The troupe of elfin warriors were thinking more about what they might have for lunch than what they might do if a wendigo were to approach them from the forest looking for a snack as well. Crack-krrrsshhhhpfff!! A loud crash came from deep inside the forest, putting the men on their guard in the blink of an eye. The complaints of hunger and boredom ceased as they watched and listened. He and the others had drawn their swords, or other weapon of choice, and stood, waiting. Sinaht's guess was that the noise was a tree sent falling to the ground. And by something large enough to do it. The Dark Forests trees were by no means small or frail. Deep, repetitive thumping could be heard rumbling from somewhere through the fog. It was impossible to tell from which direction, but it was getting closer, that was obvious to him. Then a gravelly howl sounded and they had barely enough time to scatter before what he recognized as a gnennaron burst through the tree line, speeding its way toward them, and toward the closest town to wreak havoc, no doubt. The creature was twice Sinaht's own height, and ten times as wide. Gnennarons were beefy things, and had armored skin too. But they had a single sweet spot if he could just...he lost his chance as it sped right by him, nearly squashing him in the process. It appeared spooked, not malicious like so many creatures did that resided inside the Dark Forest. From his memory, Sinaht vaguely recalled these massive quadrupeds as being one of the gentler residents of the forest; they preferred darkness to light, usually, as well as took quite a fancy to how large the trees were--good for back itching, as well as hiding from the harsh rays of the daytime sun. The sigils didn't effect them simply because they had no evil intents. What could have happened to make it so fearful? He glanced back toward the Dark Forest as if it might give him answers, then shuddered at the thought of the gnennaron being chased by something even bigger than it was. He returned his attention to the problem at hand once he assured himself that terrifying scenario wasn't the case. All he knew was that it needed to be stopped. And fast. Grabbing the attention of a stampeding well, anything, was difficult on its own, let alone one which was several times larger than the elves chasing after it and out of its usually much calmer mind. As he ran after the giant creature with deft footing, Sinaht summoned a bit of wind magic to carry his already long strides even farther and faster. It being his clan's specialty, the effort to multitask was minimal on that front. They surrounded it on its sides shortly, but were unable to slow it down as it charged across the fields that would soon give way to cobblestone walkways and buildings. Orders were being shouted by the elf in charge of their troupe to get ahead of it, and above if they could, to distract the beast. He snorted. Easy enough. At least the first part was. His robes billowed out behind him as he focused the wind under him to propel him through the air at greater speed. He held back the urge to guffaw with laughter when he heard an elf on the ground shout "no fair!" below him. The brown elf brandished his sword while balancing upon the clouds of swirling air beneath his feet. He didn't wish to harm the frightened beast, and if the men on the ground couldn't perform the necessary spell, or spells, to halt it, he might just have to. Sinaht frowned, tapping the blade upon his palm in thought as he flew backwards so as not to get run into. The gnennaron clearly didn't care that he was floating in front of its face. He motioned how useless he was up here down to the others. Steadying his sword between him and the giant creature, Sinaht took in a heavy breath, hoping it at the very least wouldn't try to take a bite out of him in its confusion. "Excuse me, my friend. I don't want to hurt you. I know you to be gentle. I've seen your kind grazing in the open fields upon late hours. You don't want to hurt anyone either, I am sure..." His head tilted to the side, wondering if even his kind tone might calm it down some. "Why are you so scared, you silly thing?" It howled at him in response. That guttural scream could be heard miles away. It shook him to his core being directly next to the source--and also deafened and...wettened...him a bit. He let out a whistle and gathered his wits back about him. He wiped away some of the slimy spittle that had exited the creature's mouth and gotten all over his new tunic. "Excuse you," he muttered. Sinaht lowered himself halfway to the ground and kept pace beside the beast, deciding to search for that sweet spot he'd missed as it ran past them closer to the forests border. He sheathed his sword and wrapped the fingers of one hand around an armored plate on the gnennaron's side while he used the other to search behind it's front leg where the armor was not present. In hindsight, he probably wouldn't have been able to reach this spot from the ground earlier even if the creature hadn't bulldozed passed them. Just as he thought he'd found the sweet spot that would make the gentle giant relax and, hopefully, pass out from the pinched nerve, a magic shield was erected not too far ahead of the stampeding beast--

Of which it slammed into with considerable force, concussing itself and collapsing heavily to the ground. Sinaht was barely able to whiz out from where he would have surely been crushed otherwise. He landed with a skid upon the ground, further sullying his clothes. "Could have warned a guy!" he shouted over his shoulder toward the rest of the troupe as he stood and wiped more of the gnennaron's spittle, now laced with dirt, from his person. A lilting laugh reached his long pointed ears, which twitched slightly in response. He whirled with surprise at the familiar voice that came next, "As if I had the time, Sinaht Immeril!" His green and gray eyes landed on Esta, looking bemused as she walked up to him with only a couple elves behind her who had helped erect that powerful barrier in no time at all. He wondered if the men with him had done anything useful at all! "Is that the tunic I gifted you this past seven-day?" she asked, mock-horror and outrage laced each word. The only reason he knew she wasn't actually angry with him was the mischievous look upon her face. Anyone who couldn't see it would surely think Sinaht was about to get his throat ripped out by the clan's heiress. "Look how disgusting you've gotten it, and so soon!" All he could do was give her a shrug. How was he supposed to know a gnennaron would charge out of the forest and bellow at him while he attempted to calm its panicked rampage? "It's a tunic, Esta. It can be washed," was all he could think to say. "Or so I hope," he added with a bit of chagrin. He felt daggers being stared into the back of his head for speaking to such an esteemed elf so casually but couldn't be bothered to care. "Poor thing," he mumbled, looking over to the unconscious beast. Her gaze followed his and she nodded her sympathies, the tunic forgotten. "How ever did this happen? They don't exactly have predators." "Can't say. It was inside the forest when we heard a crash, and then it was stampeding out. Better than anything else that could have come out of those dreary trees at us, I suppose," he added. "Thank you, by the way." "I hope I didn't hurt it too badly," she said quietly, reaching a hand out to pat its huge snout. A grunt sounded behind them as the elf leading the troupe approached. "I apologize for your intervention becoming necessary, ma'am," he intoned, glancing sharply at Sinaht. Having not known their shared childhood, he was annoyed with him. He was from their clan yet he didn't know the slightly older elf well. He fixed his eyes respectably on Esta once more, "We nearly had the spell ready, but the speed we had to travel to keep up with--" "It's no issue," Esta interrupted,holding up a hand. "I wanted to be here in the first place today but my father...well. You know," she said, cracking a smile at Sinaht and digressing from the topic that only he, out of all the others here, knew about in the first place. She waved off the pair of elves behind her to take leave for other duties. "Those of you in this troupe may help bring the beast back to the shade of the forest where it should awake and wander back inside with no harm done. You said a crash? Maybe a tree?" "That was my assumption," he affirmed, wondering where her mind had wandered and interested to find out. The look on his face invited her to share. "I think it may have had a tough itch upon its back to reach and toppled a tree in doing so! Spooked itself, poor creature!" Her laugh trilled as she motioned for them to gather their magic together to haul the gnennaron back toward the Dark Forest border before it might awaken and cause another fuss.

#Sinaht #elves #Pantheon #pantheononline

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