#like I do have to prepare myself for my own exams too and I could have done that instead of preparing this session that no one showed up to

[the-impala-is-my-home]

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[caitchercatlady]

Sleeping Over at Ramshackle w/Jamil

*Note: I meant to start writing these when Jamil's new birthday card dropped, and I apologize for being late. I hope to get Ace's story done soon, so I can drop Jack's story for his birthday.

Kalim invited you over to Scarabia for a slumber party. What you failed to understand was that Scarabia slumber parties were not the usual slumber parties. There were no card games or spooky stories being told with the lights out. Every light in the dorm house was so bright that you would have thought it was four o’clock in the afternoon for eight hours of the day. Kalim thought it would be a nice gesture to let the other Scarabia students have a night off of training and studying. Per usual, he greenlit, organized, and commenced the party all without Jamil’s consent, and the poor Vice Housewarden was already preparing for an Astrology exam, which was going to take place the next afternoon.

Feeling awful for Jamil, you accepted Kalim's invitation to the party, but you also let Kalim know that you wouldn't be able to sleep the night over because you also had a test coming up tomorrow (You hated lying to Kalim, but you also owed Jamil a favor). At first, the Vice Housewarden was hesitant to leave Kalim alone with the rest of the house. (Knowing the naïve Housewarden’s reputation for taking charge while also accidentally forgetting safety and order, you didn’t blame Jamil.) You offered to spend your time at the party helping Jamil with organizing some security techniques around the dorm, and once those were in place, the Vice Housewarden could come over to Ramshackle and get the rest he needed for the test tomorrow. Though concerned, Jamil went along with your plan anyway, starting at six o’clock. When the clock struck nine, you said your goodbyes to your friends, and you snuck an already-packed Jamil through the Mirror to the school’s main campus, so you two could walk to Ramshackle together.

At the rickety, old dorm, once you convinced Jamil that the shower did indeed have running hot (and cool) water, you adjusted the guest bedroom once more, so that all of the sheets were rid of all of the wrinkles. You fluffed the pillows to their peak softness, hoping they met Jamil’s standards. As for blankets, you took the spare ones that Kalim gave you as a birthday present and set them at the foot of the bed in case Jamil needed them. In terms of temperature, Ramshackle was not the warmest.

Jamil finished his shower, and he was fully dressed in his comfortable athletic-looking pajamas when he was approaching the stairs. You heard his footsteps pass by your room, which was not what you expected.

“How was the shower?” you asked him.

He stopped in front of the open doorway. “Better than I expected. The silence was odd to get used to, but I spent the last two minutes with the water pounding on my face. I was so comfortable; I didn’t know I was doing it until I opened my eyes again.”

“You’re not getting into bed yet? It’s pretty late.”

“I want my hair to dry before I do. I was going to make myself some tea. Would you care for a cup?”

“I’ll make it for you. You are the guest here.”

“If you want to make it for me, I’ll teach you how to make tea the proper Scalding Sands way.”

You were not expecting Jamil Viper to bring his own tea to Ramshackle. Furthermore, you weren’t expecting to bring his own tea set. According to him, there was only one way he liked his tea, and no other teapot could do his drink justice. Jamil was correct for indulging in a cup before bed. The contents of it eased your body into a state of relaxation. He found you so cute when you yawned.

Jamil helped you back up the stairs and to your room. When he put you to bed, the chill of the room attacked each of your skins. Jamil looked at the circumstances of your bed, and said that you would be too cold if you didn’t have Kalim’s blanket presents for yourself. You tried to explain that it wouldn’t be fair to take them when Jamil’s room was also cold.

“Nonsense. You stay here. I’ll be back.” Jamil fetched the spare blankets from his guest room and began to arrange them on your bed.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand your way of working even when you’re outside your own dorm.”

“I consider it as asking for forgiveness of putting myself in your dorm in the first place, Prefect.”

“I was the one who offered my dorm to you firstly, Jamil. I couldn’t let you suffer with all the noise, especially with that important test of yours coming up.”

“I don't believe you know how grateful I actually am,” Jamil confessed. “If you let me…” He cloaked your frame in the nest of blankets. Once the arrangement was to his satisfaction, Jamil broke a clean gap in the layers to join you under the covers. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his embrace. “How is that?” he asked.

Your response was a deep, cozy sigh into the fabric. Your head leaned back into Jamil’s shirt, and he sat his chin on top of your crown, breathing slowly and deeply. The both of you were sure that tomorrow was going to be the easiest test day of Jamil’s life, and he had you to thank the most.

[always-andromeda]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Frankie Morales x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 3,038

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ After recruiting you to be his plus one for yet another wedding, Frankie can't help but ruminate on and regret the last one he brought you to.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ Hey, Lolabee!! I'm super excited to finally share that I'm your secret Valentine!! I apologize in advance for posting this so late in the game; exam week has been super hectic. That being said, I decided to give myself a little bit of a challenge and write something for Frankie for the first time ever. I should preface this by saying that when I read your prompt for rom-com vibes, I immediately began filing through all of my favorite rom-coms. And since my current favorite is Plus One, this fic is very much inspired by it!! Happy late Valentine's Day!! (dt: @thelightsandtheroses) (divider credits: @cafekitsune)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ fluff with little bits of angst (regardless, minors, please do not interact), no physical description given to the reader except for the fact that she wears makeup, mentions of alcohol and references to the reader drinking, the slightest references to Frankie's past, this fic is almost entirely removed from the movie's canon (these characters are basically my paper dolls that I'm making do cute things<3), idiots in love, they tease each other, they go to a wedding, misunderstandings occur, but it all works out <3

“You’re bringing your own tissues this time, right?” Frankie called from where he sat at the edge of the bed. He’d slept in far worse places. But he could already feel new knots forming on top of the old ones in his back. Needless to say, he wasn’t looking forward to spending yet another night attempting to sleep on the dense hotel room mattress.

You replied from the bathroom, “Oh, yeah, don’t worry. I’m prepared.”

“You better be. Because you’re not using my tie to blow your nose again.”

If you were in the room, Frankie could’ve practically felt your glare burning a hole through him. But instead he only heard the clear exasperation in your tone when you answered, “I did not use your tie to blow my nose.”

“Might as well have…” he mumbled. Santi’s wedding had claimed that casualty. By the end of the ceremony you’d soaked his tie in tears and covered it with a fine layer of translucent powder from dabbing your face off. And as much as he teased, he hadn’t minded it. He hadn’t minded it any more than he’d minded the distant friends and relatives who’d assumed that you were his girlfriend. Which…wasn’t an insulting assumption by any means.

The next time – at Benny’s wedding – Frankie brought you tissues. He didn’t like to think about Benny’s wedding. But if there was one thing he was happy about, it was that he’d thought far enough ahead to bring them for you. He was glad to see your smile. To feel your arms wrap around him as you thanked him and told him he was such a sweetheart. He was also grateful for the Hawaiian sun; for the developing sunburn that had prevented you from seeing how much that one nickname made his cheeks flush in that moment.

Your head popped out of the bathroom doorway, your makeup only half done, to aim a smartass smile at him with your lined lips. “Hey, I like to think of it as a gift. You should too.”

“Your ability to cry at the drop of a hat?”

“You're damn right,” you said indignantly.

Frankie sighed, pushing his hair back for about the dozenth time. He then laid back on the bed and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. “If we’re lucky, this is the first and last time you’ll need to worry about packing some to begin with. Will’s the last stop on the wedding train.”

The thought almost made him misty eyed. Within a few hours, he’d be the last single man in his crew. The last one awake at the sleepover. Eyes so wide they were practically ablaze staring through the uncertainty of night. Unable to find sleep. Unable to believe he’d ever find it to begin with.

Your voice cut through his trance. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Maybe next year we’ll get an invite for Tom’s second wedding,” you teased. 

Frankie rolled his eyes. At least he could take some sort of comfort in that. Redfly had tried out the whole settling down thing. And it just didn’t work. Frankie wished his buddies well, but he couldn’t help but feel deep down that they’d never be made for domesticity. They weren’t made for teary-eyed speeches and destination weddings. 

“Don’t count on it,” he drawled.

“Don’t count on it,” you mimicked Frankie’s slow, gruff voice which earned a small laugh from him. “I’ll tell you what, I bet you that Ben’s best man speech isn’t going to be nearly as good as Will’s was.”

He attempted to recall what Will had even said only a few months prior. It had to have been good, the man was a public speaker, for Christ’s sake. He guessed, “That one was long, right?”

“Yeah…don’t you remember it? Frankie, were you even there?”

“I was there alright.” He laughed to mask the wince he wanted to let out. Then he cleared his throat, throwing out another vague guess, “But I seem to remember that by the end of it, he needed some damn tissues too.”

“If you had a shithead little brother who managed to get married before he could experience massive head trauma, you’d probably get a little choked up too.” You added more to yourself than to him, “God, Frankie, how do you forget a speech like that? It was fucking beautiful.”

There was a very high likelihood that he had forgotten. Frankie spent almost every day following that entire night trying to forget it. And he wondered how in the world you remembered it either considering how much you’d drank.

If you could remember what Will had said…you should’ve remembered what you’d said too, right? You, standing in the bathroom and observing yourself in the mirror as you combed through your lashes to separate them, had to have known what you said to him that night. Because he knew it. Whether he liked it or not, he had that particular speech memorized with the way it ran through his head.

Frankie had known you were in a tough spot. Hell, it was part of the reason why he’d brought you along; part of the reason why Benny had insisted Frankie take you. 

She just got broken up with, Frankie had tried to reason.

Benny had merely smirked, Which is the exact reason why you should invite her out. Give her a chance to get fucked up. Spend the night with one of the bachelors. It’s the quintessential wedding experience.

Frankie couldn’t have even pretended to mask his disgust at the idea. But he couldn’t lie…bringing you along again sounded leagues above going alone. 

And now, sometimes he wished he had toughed it out instead.

No matter how much he tried to forget, the details always flashed through his mind. The way your fingers ran through his hair. How your touch managed to stay so soft despite how completely out of it you were. But that’s how you’d always been with him. Even at his absolute worst points when he was a less than ideal man, you found some shred of decency inside him that you never hesitated to cradle and nurture.

Maybe that’s what had made those tangles form in his stomach; the idea that he was taking advantage of that kindness.

Because that wasn’t…you. You wouldn’t have done that in your right mind. If your boyfriend hadn’t just broken up with you. If you hadn’t just found out that the entire time Nick had been cheating on you with that woman from accounting in his office. If you hadn’t drank way too much. None of this would be happening if you weren’t at your absolute lowest. 

So he wiped the slate clean. It’d almost always been easy to do that. To simply forget. But he should’ve known better by now. Those things he somehow managed to lock up always found a way to ooze out of the cracks in his facade.

There were a few times Frankie thought you might crack during the ceremony. Especially when Will read out his vows, because of course the guy went the extra mile, delivering them with that stern reverence that made him the kind of guy you wanted on your team. 

But you didn’t cry. This time…you grabbed his hand. It almost didn’t occur to him that you had until Will kissed his now wife and you squeezed Frankie’s hand in excitement. For a moment, he wondered if you’d managed to get a drink in before the ceremony. You couldn’t have; the bar wasn’t supposed to open until afterwards. He knew it couldn’t have been an alcohol induced action but he was still afraid to acknowledge it. 

So he kept as still as possible. Even when the ceremony ended and you began to pull him around the venue. Though he knew his hand was getting clammier with every minute that passed, he let you drag him around the little circles of friends and family of the bride and groom. He had checked out enough that he didn’t quite realize what he’d gotten himself into until you were bringing him to the dance floor and positioning his hands on your hips.

Only when you let go of his hand and placed your own on his shoulders did it strike him how similar this felt to that night at Benny’s wedding.

You spoke like you were treading thin ice. “That speech was…surprisingly alright.”

“And you didn’t cry,” he remarked equally as carefully.

“I didn’t cry!” you exclaimed.

“It would’ve been fine if you had.”

You shook your head, “That wasn’t the kind of speech you cry at. It was simple. Sweet. I liked it. Who would’ve thought Benny’d have it in him, right?”

“So what do you do for that kind of speech?” Frankie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A polite clap. Maybe a cheer.”

“A cheer? Maybe you should’ve brought your pom poms instead of tissues.”

The way you scrunched up your nose into a playful grimace tugged at his heartstrings. Then you laughed, “Shut up.” God, he loved when you and him fell into this groove. 

So he continued with the bit, “You should get some for Tom’s wedding. The guy deserves a whole damn squad if he gets all tied up again.”

“Thought you said I shouldn’t count on it?”

“If you’re gonna count on anyone getting married soon, it’s better if it was him.” Frankie clicked his tongue, “Not like I’m going off the market anytime soon.”

“Oh, Frankie, stop it.” Your smile dropped ever so slightly, eyebrows turned inward as you gazed at him with something akin to pity or sympathy; he wasn’t sure which was worse. “You have no idea what the future could bring.”

“Not a wedding, that’s for damn sure.”

Your expression only intensified. He recognized it well after the amount of times you’d talked him off a ledge. “You can’t just discount the possibility entirely,” you argued.

“I can and I will,” he said stubbornly.

You were quiet for a few seconds, “So you’re telling me you’ve never thought about it? I mean…who would your best man be?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Your lip quirks to the side of your face as you feign a contemplative look before concluding, “Probably Santi.”

“Look at you, you did it for me,” Frankie deadpanned.

“I could plan the whole damn thing for you, don’t test me.”

“Why’s that?”

This time you pressed your lips together. And Frankie swears he felt you stumble over your own feet ever so slightly; like he’d caught you off guard with the query. “Oh, you know…weddings usually aren’t those things that people are eager to plan.”

“But why would you specifically be planning it? Unless you’re–”

A beat passes before you break out into an incredulous grin. “You’d want me to marry you and plan our wedding? That’s a tall order. I’m afraid you’ll have to pick one or the other, sorry.”

Frankie chuckles. He let the remark pass. He always enjoyed this back and forth. How you and him had always been able to bounce off of each other. It was hard enough keeping up with some of the guys. But keeping up with women was a whole different story. He always seemed to be a few steps behind most of them. For some reason, your pace was just perfect. Your humor, your timing, it all clicked with his personality.

Just like you were prone to doing, you broke the silence with an awkward laugh and big eyes staring right into his. “So…which one do you pick?”

He almost didn’t catch the question; almost didn’t want to. “Hm?”

“Would you rather marry me or have me plan your wedding?” you clarify.

“Come on, you know I’m not answering that.”

And the tide shifted once more. Just as quick as you were to smile, your expression melted into one of muted mortification. Like you’d just tilted your hand a little too far

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled to yourself. Your hands slid off his shoulders and you wiped them off on your dress before wrapping them around yourself. That was when you retreated, leaving him standing there looking like more of a fool than he ever thought he had.

He stared after you for a few seconds, struggling to process what had just happened when it finally registered.

Soon he was following after you. How you knew to navigate the venue so quickly, he couldn’t be bothered to wonder. All he knew by the time he got to the lobby of the wedding hall was that something was wrong.

He spotted you rushing down the sidewalk as he stepped outside. In all his exasperation, all he could get out was, “Hey, what the fuck?”

The cool night air of the fall settled in and billowed around him like a curse. He wasn’t quite sure if the deep chill that ran down his spine was from the weather or the sight of you turning around, eyes already wet with tears that you were desperately trying to blink away.

Your voice came out hoarse as you shouted back, “You’re asking me what the fuck? No, Frankie, what the fuck is up with you? I kissed you…God…how many months ago? And you don’t say a fucking word. I keep talking about Benny’s wedding and you keep acting like none of it fucking happened.”

Frankie threw his hands up. “You were drunk. I don’t even remember how many fucking drinks you had.”

“I had a couple virgin cocktails,” you scoffed. The admittance wasn’t stubborn. But it did come with a tone of disdain, “I wasn’t drunk.”

“You wouldn’t–” he stopped himself. You wouldn’t have done any of that unless you were drunk.

“You acted like you were drunk.”

You shook your head. “I was having fun. I was with you and I was having fun, you dumbass.” Then you sighed, gaze darting towards the street nervously. “And I woke up the morning after and I thought that…I thought you would’ve at least said something. I thought you would’ve asked me how I felt. I thought you would’ve had the decency to at least check in. But you were just…you were completely fine.”

“I wasn’t fine…”

“And now you want to crack jokes about marrying me?”

Frankie wagged a finger in your direction, an almost childish defense. “You brought that shit up first.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Frankie, that doesn’t matter,” you muttered before raising your voice once more. “What matters is that I kissed you. I looked into your eyes and told you I fucking loved you and you said nothing.”

Hearing your voice say it again, even filled with such frustration, such anguish, he could help the way something fluttered in his chest. And even still, he shoved it down deeper than he ever had before.

“Because I wasn’t going to hurt you the way that Nick did.” He watched your gaze soften. “It would’ve killed me to hurt you like that.”

With the sounds of the city passing you both by, Frankie caught one of the worst sights possible. The tear that rolled down your cheek. And then the few more that followed, all shamelessly continuing their desolate stride down your neck. How you unclenched your jaw and unfolded all of the pain you’d kept since that summer into a few words. “You hurt me worse than Nick ever did.”

Your whole being compacted in on itself once more, recoiling from the vulnerable admission with a breathless conclusion. “Fuck you, Frankie. Fuck you.”

There it all was. And all he could think about was that night at Benny’s wedding. The night you told him you were glad Nick was gone. The night you smiled softly at him, thumb running over his bottom lip as you whispered.

I love you.

They were such fragile words. Words he hadn’t wanted to put any weight on, lest they shatter from beneath him and leave him falling face down in his own hopes. Because a small part of him had almost always hoped it was you. He never let himself truly believe the idea for long. But, God, he wanted to…could he still? He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back his own tears.

“I’m sorry.” His voice trembled in time with his hands. And he’d fully come to terms that it wasn’t just the cool air. He wasn’t a stranger to fearing for his life, with the work he’d once done, it was a given. But this wasn’t that. This was different. It was a fear of something a little more abstract. Because following this risk, there wouldn’t be oblivion. On the other side of his eyelids was a world where you either forgave him or you brushed him away. He certainly believed he deserved the latter with the way he’d been. But he’d never know unless he took the plunge.

When he opened his eyes again again he was grateful to find you still standing in front of him. He wouldn’t let this night steal his courage again. He repeated, voice firmer than before and charged with certainty, “I’m sorry.” Then finally replied, “I love you too. I love you.”

You gave him those hope filled eyes once more. He saw how it slowly morphed into joy; the kind that carried peace. You stepped closer, fingertips brushing against the material of his jacket as you reached for him.

Frankie closed the gap without any hesitation, his own hand moving to cradle your face as he moved in to kiss you. None of his recollections of the first time he’d done it could’ve ever lived up to the second one. There was no dread, no looming guilt, no fear. Only excitement and hope.

“If I could only pick one. I’d marry you. Any day…I’d marry you,” he mumbled against your lips.

You pulled back. And with his eyes still closed, he felt you smile as you answered, “Maybe I’ll ask you again next year. For now, let’s have this.”

“I can handle that,” he smiled then melted into you once more. And already it was something he knew he could easily get used to. Next time you asked, he’d be ready.

[taylorsburner]

K.I.S.S.I.N.G

✧Summary✧ An unexpected treehouse date turns into an unexpected meeting with Conrad's younger brother

a/n: first Conrad fic over here! something cute and fluffy so I hope y'all like it🫶🏾

How exactly you ended up in Conrads treehouse, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. All you knew is that in one of your nightly FaceTime chats over Thanksgiving break, Conrad had managed to somehow persuade you to fly back home with him have a little more time together at his house before you went home and didn’t see each other for a whole month. He even went as far as to come prepared with flight prices, times and anything else that would be needed to convince you. Including the justification of “My brother and dad aren’t going to be there for a few days. Do you want me to be all by myself at home?” with a little pout (a pout that he knew you couldn’t say no to) at the end to sweeten it up.

And to his surprise, and yours to be completely honest, you agreed to this little plan of his. You were going to miss him when you went home after all. Plus, you lived on the east coast too so it wouldn’t be that much out of your way, and even though you missed your family, it’s not like you were in a complete rush to get home. And you hadn’t bought your tickets at that point anyway so this in and of itself forced you to get that done.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and too many exams later and here you were, standing in the hideout Conrad claimed as his growing up.

“What am I in the girlfriends that have been up here roster?” You joke, looking through the bin of action figures in the cubbies against the wall.

“Number one actually.” Conrad honestly replies. He’d brought a girl home before, but never up to the treehouse.

“Really?” You ask turning back in his direction, not fully behind the idea of you being the first girl he chose to bring up here.

“Mhm.” He hums in response, a proud little smile threatening to break through in the process.

“Well I’m honored.” You proudly return, going back to looking at the relics of his childhood. On the outside, you were calm and collected, happily looking around. On the inside though, there were a million butterflies swarming your stomach and a pleasant warmth spreading through your body. Not that it really mattered, but hearing that you were the first girl he’d brought up here made you feel a little special. He showed you in other ways how much you meant to him of course, but being welcomed into a special space of his was just a nice cherry on top.

“This is too cute!” You gush, taking in all of the very Conrad touches around the space.

“My dad built it for my brother and I, but once Jere was no longer interested I made it my own hideout.” Conrad further explains, deciding to take a seat on the floor against the wall, focusing all of his attention on you.

“Well all of this is very you, very Conrad.” You hum with a little smile, deciding to join him on the floor. When you do this, you’re immediately being pulled over to straddle his lap, to which you had no complaints in the slightest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He quips, quirking his brow up in your direction.

“It’s so neat and tidy in here. Plus, you have those little single player games you love so much for some reason. And there’s enough books for you to stay up here for god knows how long.” You reply, a small smirk forming on your lips.

“You may have a point.” Conrad concedes with a smile, his mind immediately flashing to the many times his mom had to practically bribe him to come down for dinner, even coming up there herself at times.

“I know.” You reply, pridefully beaming down at him.You could feel his arms wrapping your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, prompting you to rest your arms on his shoulders, immediately playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck out of instinct. A wave of comfortable silence falls over the room, both you and Conrad basking in the simple state of being together. And being closer than before. Even though it was a small thing to see his childhood home and treehouse, the both of you whether it was verbalized it or not, no doubt felt closer. Conrad chose and allowed himself to open up and bringing you deeper into his life, something he did very sparingly.

“Thanks for bringing me along babe.” You whisper, ducking down slightly to plant a small kiss on his cheek.

“There’s no one else I’d rather be here with.” He whispers back, with the utmost sincerity in his tone and eyes. Conrad then proceeds to tenderly bring his lips to yours.The two of you were in absolutely no rush, just wanting to soak up any and every moment you had together. You and Conrad were in a bubble. Better yet, an island all to yourselves. The privacy you two had to seek out for the past three or so months was all yours now, at least for the next three days until you yourself went home for the holidays. And because of that, you and Conrad were going to make the most out of this time together.

All either of you could focus on in this moment was your mouths moving against each other’s. Just about anything could’ve been happening around you both and neither of you would bat an eye in that direction. There was this sort of force that held you both tightly wound in each other without being overpowering. Your fingers were nestled within his hair as his glide back and forth across the expanse of your back.

The kisses from Conrad remained soft and tender, however you could feel a bit more power behind each one. A power to which you gladly reciprocated. He manages to slip his tongue past your parted lips, only intensifying the already heavy atmosphere. Not only had he taken claim of your mouth, you could also feel him quickly growing beneath you (and since you were straddling him, your center was pressed right against him) and you could feel his hands sneak underneath your hoodie and t-shirt to take claim of your warm skin beneath.

When it came to time or how cold it was outside, neither of you were paying attention. At this point, the both of you were turned on and wrapped up in each other to even care for how long you’d been up there. That is, until the youngest of the Fisher boys stated yelling at the bottom of the tree for him.

Originally, Conrad would be the only one at home for a few days before the youngest Fisher would arrive, followed by their father. This meant he’d have you all to himself for a few days, the much-needed calm before the storm if you will. And in the long run of his " plan ", he planned on introducing you to his father and brother when you came with him to Cousins over the summer. That is, if you said yes when he asked you (he had a good feeling that you’d say yes though). But seeing as Jeremiah had arrived earlier, that plan was now scrapped.

“Conrad, I know you’re up there.” Jeremiah says pointedly up towards the quiet treehouse.

At this, your boyfriend gives you the smallest shhh between his light pants before bringing his lips back to yours, hoping that the silence would send his brother away.

“Maybe we should go down there. You don’t want to be rude, that is your brother after all.” You quietly reason, catching your breath in the process.

“I just want you all to myself. Plus he wasn’t even supposed to arrive this early!” He pouts, pulling you closer if that was even possible. When he does this though, he slightly moves you against the very noticeable bump in his pants, causing the both of you to let out a sigh of momentary relief. Before you could even respond, Jeremiah is shouting again.

“I will come up there!” Jeremiah “threatens” from below. He would’ve stampeded up there already if he hadn’t seen two suitcases in the house when he went in. The last thing, like the very last thing, he ever wanted was to see was his brother in a compromising position. So he treaded on the side of caution, for his own sake.

When he says this, you give Conrad one look and at last, he’s throwing in the towel.

“No need! We’re coming down.” Conrad grumbles loud enough for Jeremiah to hear, giving your thigh a slight squeeze, signaling for you to stand up first. Moving your hands into his you move to stand up, your legs a little shaky from your “activities” and from being on the floor for that long. Conrad then follows suit, standing tall in front of you. As if there’s a magnet at your waist, his arms snake back around you to hold you again, to which you are more than welcoming. But before Conrad can plant a departing kiss on you, the nuisance below (at least that’s what Conrad would be referring to him as from now on) starts up again.

“Conrad and-“ Jeremiah begins, pausing to think about who and the hell his brother could possibly be up there with. “whoever he’s up there with, kissing in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G.” Jeremiah proudly sings from the ground. ‘How childish could he possibly be’, Conrad thought. While Conrad let out an annoyance filled groan, you had no choice but to let out a giggle at the indirect back and forth between the two brothers. Eventually, the two of you make it back down the tree (Conrad reminding you to be careful just about every five seconds) to find Jeremiah waiting on the ground with a look of complete shock and a touch of confusion.

“Jere, this is my girlfriend Y/n. Y/n, this is my pest of a brother Jeremiah.” Conrad quickly introducing the two of you. You send the blonde a quick wave and smile, completely caught off guard at even meeting him right then and there, let alone right after you just finished making out with his older brother in his childhood tree house.

“Now how in the hell were you able to get a girlfriend? And a pretty one at that?” The blonde asks, a look of patronizing yet slightly genuine confusion on his face.

“Well when you’re not an annoying ass it’s a bit easier.” Conrad condescendingly replies, tightening the arm he had wrapped around your waist. To diffuse some of the tension radiating off of him, you peck his cheek and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Okay fine, don’t tell me.” He replies, rolling his eyes in the process. “Anyways, it’s nice to meet you Y/n. And I’m sorry you got stuck with my brother, hopefully he isn’t boring you too much.” He pokes with a wide smirk.

“It was nice meeting you too. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to let him know if he ever does.” You reply with a smile, even though you knew that it was practically impossible for Conrad to bore you in the slightest. Jeremiah lets out a small chuckle at your comment before giving his brother a strong pat on the back and making his way back towards the house.

“I swear he didn’t tell me he was coming early. It’s literally impossible for him to be early to anything.” Conrad quickly explains once Jeremiah is out or earshot, worried that you may have felt uneasy about meeting his brother this early on in your relationship.

“I mean, I was going to meet him eventually. Right?” You softly reply.

“Of course.” He quickly replies back.

“Then we’re just a tad bit ahead of schedule.” You ration, pulling away slightly to face him. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he had the biggest and sappiest smile spread across his face. “I would kiss you right now but I can’t feel my lips.” You joke snapping him out of the small daze he was in.

“Well let’s get you inside. Don’t need my girlfriend turning into a popsicle.” He chuckles before picking you up bridal style and running you two back to the house, sending you into a fit of laughter.

request new stuff here♡

[medlarmeadows]

Life’s too short not to rizz up the beautiful stranger in the club

Charlie Slimecicle x fem!reader

Synopsis: Charlie rizzes you up in a club (respectfully).

Warning(s): drinking alcoholic beverages, clubbing (no grinding! Leave space for Jesus, kids), swearing.

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Just a little fic inspired by Charlie’s new clubbing arc (he posted going to the club once). Also, I’ve only ever been to the club once and have never interacted with anybody outside my group of friends there so if this is super inaccurate, I am sorry.

masterlist here!

The bass boosted music shook the room as Charlie danced amongst his friends. Sweaty bodies pressed against each other; drinks were passed around. The club seemed to be mostly filled with jovial college students who had just finished their final exams for the semester, giving rise to an even more chaotic atmosphere than normal.

The swivelling and ever-changing coloured lights barely lit the club up, and yet he saw you so clearly. He swore you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He struggled to tear his gaze from you so as to not stare for too long, especially when he almost locked eyes with you.

But goddamn, you were gorgeous.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw you leave the dance floor and head towards the bar, presumably to get a drink. All it took was a few encouraging words (and well-meaning teases) for him to muster up the courage to approach you.

“Hey.”

You turned your gaze towards Charlie, and his breath caught in his lungs.

“Hey,” you replied.

Charlie felt heat rise up to his cheeks, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just from the heat of the club.

“I, uhm,” damnit Charlie you can do this “You’re really beautiful, and I was wondering if I could buy you a drink if that’s okay? I’m Charlie, by the way.”

Your lips parted, almost as if you were surprised, before it turned into a coy smile.

“I’m Y/N, and you’re really beautiful too.”

Error 404 not found in Charlie’s brain.

Charlie stuttered for a moment, messing with his already messed up hair to take a moment to recalibrate. In that moment, he summoned every past experience he had flirting with his friends during DnD sessions.

“So,” he tilted his head at you. “What drink would the pretty lady like?”

Pink spread across your cheeks, and he would have mistaken it as a trick of the light if you hadn’t stuttered out:

“Whiskey, uhm, whiskey coke would be great.”

Charlie shot you a smirk before turning to the bartender to place your orders. The two of you stood in relative silence, bar the club music, as the drinks were prepared. Once the drinks were served, you immediately took a sip.

“God, I needed some of that liquid courage,” you admitted, cheeks still pink.

“So do I,” Charlie said, taking a sip of his. “God, do you know how much courage it took for me to approach someone as beautiful as you.”

“What?”

Your cheeks seemed to get even redder, and you took a larger sip from your drink.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at you.

“What, you don’t believe me? Look at you, at your outfit – ”

“I believe you about that, I know I’m gorgeous,” you joked, twirling a piece of your hair in your fingers. “I meant about the courage part.”

“I’m surprised you couldn’t tell based on how I was tripping over my words trying to offer you a drink.”

For some reason, that cracked you up, causing you to throw your head back as your laughed. In that moment, you didn’t seem to care how you looked in front of Charlie, and in that moment, he thought you were the most beautiful human alive.

“Oh my god,” you breathed. “I think – I think it’s hard for me to see that you’re nervous when I was internally battling my own nerves.”

At that, Charlie’s jaw dropped.

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“No,” he exaggerated.

You snorted.

“Do you know how long I had been working up the courage to come talk to you? I literally left the dance floor to get a drink in order to hype myself up to approach you. You just beat me to the punch.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, have you seen yourself?” Your eyes unashamedly checked him out as you gestured at his clothes. “You’re gorgeous. If I wasn’t so down bad for you, I would be jealous of your fit.”

Charlie hid his burning cheeks behind another sip of his drink.

“Now, what gentleman would I be if I let the lovely lady dish out all the compliments? We could trade all night long, or – ” He extended a hand towards you. “You could join me on the dance floor.”

You took a second to consider him, before you knocked back the remainder of your drink.

“I just met you, but fuck it, let’s go.”

You put your hand in his. A spark of mischief lit up Charlie’s eyes as he intertwined your fingers together, chuckling when your expression turned flustered.

“But none of that grinding shit, alright?” you said. “We’re technically still strangers.”

“Of course, my lady,” Charlie said, a spark in his eyes. “We’ll be super classy and refined.”

-

The two of you ended up on the dance floor busting your asses like no one else. Classy was the random macarena dance break, and refined was the failed ballroom dip Charlie attempted that almost caused you to fall onto the dirty club floor.

When you had been with your friends (who had teased your obvious immediate crush on Charlie), psyching yourself to talk to him, you didn’t think you would end up laughing your way through the night.

Of course, that didn’t stop the butterflies. The initial adrenaline from the alcohol faded eventually, and every brief contact with Charlie sent butterflies to your stomach.

You don’t know how he didn’t sense your obvious fluster when you so acutely felt your cheeks aflame. You don’t know how he didn’t realise how infatuated you were with him when he briefly held you close to his chest and you swore your heart was thumping louder than the music.

You spent the rest of the night dancing with Charlie, your cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling and laughing. At some point, your friends came over to bid you goodbye, insisting that you text them when you reached home and threatening Charlie with his life if they didn’t hear back from you. Subsequently, Charlie’s friends also left, and before you knew it, the club was closing.

“That was so much fun,” Charlie said, his breathing slightly laboured from the strenuous Rasputin routine he had done.

You were also panting, but from being doubled over laughing at him.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wiping away a tear that had escaped your eye, no doubt smudging your eyeliner. “I can’t believe the night is over, I really enjoyed dancing with you.”

You catch a glimpse of something in Charlie’s eye, before one of his hands barely cupped your jaw.

“May I?” he asked, the other hand reaching towards your eye, no doubt to correct your eyeliner.

Your breath caught in your lungs, brain stuttering at the closeness and intimacy of the gesture.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

His thumb brushed under your eye gently, smoothing over your skin and hopefully wiping away any smudge you had caused. You felt your cheeks warm with nervousness you hadn’t felt since Charlie approached you at the bar, and you bit your lip to try to hide it.

Charlie’s eyes darted to your lips, lingering for a second before he backed away quickly.

“Sorry,” he apologised, and you immediately missed the sensation of his hands on your face. “I hope I wasn’t crossing any boundaries – ”

“You weren’t,” you reply too fast, almost choking over your words.

Clearing your throat, you tried again, but Charlie beat you to it:

“I really enjoyed tonight with you.” He messed with his hair for the hundredth time. “And I was hoping if I could see you again?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, mind travelling a million miles an hour as you considered the fact that Charlie – handsome, beautiful, funny, Charlie – wanted to see you again after tonight. And all your mouth could produce was:

“Sure.”

Immediately, his eyes lit up.

“Could I have your number?” he asked, fumbling with his pockets for his phone.

“Yea – yeah, sure,” you repeated yourself, cringing inwardly.

He passed you his phone, and you shakily type in your number. After passing it back to him, Charlie typed a few things. Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

unknown, 5.38am: it’s me, Charlie :)

Grinning, you sent back a reply:

y/n, 5.39am: hey there, stranger

Charlie snorted, before pocketing his phone.

“I’m not kidding, by the way,” his gaze turned sincere, one hand reaching to hold yours when you let him. “Tonight was so much fun, and I really like you. I mean that beyond your amazing beauty – and you are so, so gorgeous – ” You flushed again. “ – and your questionable ability to do a floss – ” You smacked his shoulder with your free hand. “ – you’re an amazing person, and I would love to get to know you for real.”

You took a moment to collect yourself, barely holding yourself together as you gazed into Charlie’s soft, sincere eyes.

“I would love to get to know you for real, too,” you replied. Calling back to an earlier action of his, you took initiative to intertwine your hands together.

In a sudden rush of boldness, you stood on your toes and delivered a quick peck to Charlie’s cheek. When you withdrew, you were pleased to see you had managed to fluster the man as much as you were currently feeling.

“Okay, okay,” he stuttered, before taking in a deep breath to compose himself as you giggled. “I, uhm, I guess I’ll see you another time?”

“Of course, just drop me a text, stranger."

When you finally made it back to your flat, the sun was just barely starting to rise. You let your friends know you were back home safely before dropping Charlie a text:

y/n, 6.35am: heyy, I made it back alive :)

charlie, 6.36am: so did I! have a good rest :)

y/n, 6.36am: you too :D

-

charlie, 3.15pm: are you free Saturday for coffee? my treat

y/n, 3.16pm: only if you let me buy you ice cream after

Charlie, 3.17pm: sounds like a plan, stranger ;)

[lumaconstante]

Hey guys, how are you?

I decided that maybe it would be a good idea to share my fanfic here, so here is chapter one, you can see more on my profile, or on the wattpad links. I wish you all a good read!

Star — Chapter One

Did some bird beat its wings in Asia?

Did some force take you because I didn’t pray?

Everything that was to come turned to ashes

Because it’s all over, it wasn’t meant to be

So I’ll say words I don’t believe

— Bigger than the whole sky - Taylor Swift

"My house... it’s not here."

It was the first thought I had upon waking up alone in one of the guest rooms of Wayne Manor in the morning.

The impeccably aligned white sheets, the cream-toned, monotonous walls, and the pitcher with a glass of water on the table beside the bed only emphasized the thought.

"My house is not here."

I whispered to myself, closing my eyes, and my heart ached.

Home. That word feels so foreign on my lips. Home has many names for me: "家 Ie," "maison," "hogar," house... whatever the name, I feel like I never truly understood its meaning. Home was never a physical place for me. Home, "a place where you can create lifelong memories." Home, for me, was wherever my mother was performing her shows. Tokyo, Paris, Rio de Janeiro, Madrid. Wherever she was, I was too. She was my home. The only one I knew.

And now, I have no home at all.

Maybe that's the downside of making someone your home. Once you lose that person, no matter where you go, you become a stranger. Not that it’s a feeling I’m unfamiliar with. I’ve always felt like a stranger in my own skin.

The last time I felt at home, it was June 1st. I was on the balcony of our house in Whitechapel, London. A cup of Earl Grey tea rested beside me along with the candy jar, which was empty—cookie jars never lasted long, especially when they were within my reach—but the tea, almost spilling out of the cup, had gone cold. I had added milk to the tea, as recommended, but I didn’t like it.

— “Of course, there’s no backing out...” — I sighed after rereading for the thousandth time the email thanking me for participating but informing me I hadn’t been accepted into the selection process for joining another idol group.

In recent years, groups of young artists in the "idol" format had become astonishingly popular. A new revolution in art was unfolding before my eyes, with Asia leading the charge in innovation.

And more than anyone, I knew that if I didn’t keep up, I’d be left behind.

— “I took a year to study and train my performances, and I still couldn’t debut at the company I wanted... What’s the point of life, anyway?” — I sighed as my eyes wandered to the starry sky stretching above me.

— “You’ll do better next time,” — my mother said, placing a hand on my shoulder before turning her attention to a call from her producer.

I rested my head on my hands, watching the stars shining faintly in that dark sea of uncertainties.

When my mother ended the call, she excitedly told me she was going on a tour and that I could take a break from my classes to join her closely.

We traveled through Tokyo, Amsterdam, Paris, Sydney, New York... But nothing prepared me for Gotham.

"I love you." That faint whisper still echoed in my mind, staining my vision red.

"I love you." And then, a deafening silence, filled with anguish and despair.

"I love you." And now I’m here, in a place I don’t know, with people I’ve only heard about.

I sighed, trying to wash those thoughts away. I knew that at some point I’d have to leave that bed and interact with the other residents of the house, though I had no desire to.

I was about to roll over again in bed and bury my face in the pillow when my phone buzzed, alerting me to a notification. I dragged my hand across the white sheets to reach the phone, the screen lighting up as soon as the device recognized my fingerprint.

"Dear Alice Hoshi,

We inform you that you have been accepted in the Mystic group admission exam (2nd round). You will receive our integration guidelines and the agreement contract to join our company group.

Please complete the attached form to finalize the enrollment documentation. Once the documentation process is complete, your debut will take place on August 1st. You are required to attend our headquarters in Gotham to begin your training on September 1st.

Sincerely,

NextFuture Enterprises."

For a moment, the world went silent. All I could hear was the echo of my mother’s microphone hitting the floor and rolling to my feet.

That dry, metallic sound.

My eyes scanned those words again.

That was everything I had wanted to read for so long. A few days ago, I’d be jumping and screaming around the hotel room.

But now, I didn’t know how to feel.

What was I supposed to feel?

How was I supposed to act?

My eyes lingered on those words until the phone screen turned off. I remained still, staring at the device in silence.

The screen lit up again, and the phone began to vibrate and chime, overwhelmed by so many notifications.

I hadn’t been given an opportunity because the company believed I had talent. No, I knew what they had in mind. I was the novelty, the gossip that would make them profit.

Until the start of the tour, no one knew Kira Hoshi had a daughter.

No one knew; only she and my father kept that secret, and of course, my aunt. But beyond that, no one knew.

Until she decided to reveal it to her fans during the first show of the tour in London, causing an uproar among her fans by calling me on stage to open and close the show with her.

Over time, I could see their divided opinions. Most felt betrayed by my mother, dissatisfied. They hated the idea of her having a life they didn’t know about. Idols didn’t have children. They were angelic beings created solely to bless mere mortals with their art and talent. Idols didn’t have relationships; they existed only to illuminate and shine on those without the same light.

That was one of the first lessons my mother taught me when I said I wanted to be an idol like her.

Before it was revealed that I was her daughter, no one even noticed me, but now, it seemed all the spotlights were pointed in my direction. I skimmed through countless offers filling my inbox with disinterest and then dropped the phone on the bed, standing up.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, wearing the black dress someone had left at my door in a black box with a matching black satin bow, and applied makeup to hide the dark circles from a sleepless night.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me; I knew my father was waiting for me somewhere in the mansion to accompany me to the funeral, which he had personally arranged.

It was a kind gesture, considering he’d been absent for most of my life—not that I cared; I barely knew him.

Bruce Wayne was barely a name in my family.

— “All set?” — he asked softly as I descended the stairs, and I nodded silently in response.

“I’d like to introduce you to someone,” he said, and a boy with dark skin, green eyes, and hair as dark as Bruce’s appeared in the mansion’s entry hall, dressed in a fine, dark suit.

“This is my other son. Your younger brother, Damian.”

As for me, I almost blended into the white walls of the house. I was albino, a condition that had always bothered me. It wasn’t easy to go unnoticed; heads almost snapped when I walked through hallways. But my mother loved it.

"Kimi no kami ni wa hoshi no kagayaki ga aru (You have the brightness of stars in your hair)," she used to say.

— “Pleasure to meet you,” the boy who was almost a replica of Bruce approached, looking at me intently.

— “My condolences,” he added.

I studied him for a moment, trying to ignore the fact that my father had chosen to be part of one child’s life over another.

— “Likewise,” I murmured, looking away.

— “Thank you.”

— “There are more people I’d like you to meet,” my father said.

“Another time. The car is ready. Shall we?”

Again, I nodded silently and followed them into the car. The fifteen-minute drive to the mausoleum where my mother would rest was entirely silent.

When I stepped out of the car with my father and Damian, reporters surged toward us like vultures with insensitive questions.

The flashes blocked my vision; this was nothing more than a spectacle for the media. They would profit from my pain.

I didn’t answer the questions, didn’t look at the cameras; I just walked between my father and Damian to the front-row chairs as the priest began the sermon. My mother never considered herself Catholic; she wasn’t even a religious person, yet the people around seemed moved.

They tried to persuade me to say a few words about how she had been a good mother, but I didn’t want to.

Words weren’t necessary.

I had said everything I wanted to her while she was alive. We were never ones to leave what mattered for later.

At the end of the sermon, my father accompanied me to the casket so I could say goodbye. He left a bouquet of white roses on her eternal resting place, frowning as I removed them, replacing them with red tulips.

— “She always hated roses,” I said simply, looking at her eternally peaceful face. She looked more radiant than ever.

"The stars shine their brightest in their final moments, more than at any other time in their long existence," she once told me.

“You’re right,” I almost whispered but didn’t. I stayed silent, just watching her. I don’t know how long I stood there, but eventually, I left, leaving my father and Damian behind, waiting in the car with the butler until everything was over.

The butler, whom I learned was named Alfred, kindly drove around in silence and returned to the burial site when everyone was gone, giving me a few minutes alone with my mother.

— “NextFuture Enterprises accepted my application,” I said, looking at her pale, serene face. “I wish you were here to see it; you would have been happy.”

Warm tears slid gently down my cheeks, but I quickly wiped them away. I leaned softly over her body and kissed her forehead, feeling my heart tighten.

"I love you..." The voice echoed in my mind.

— “I love you too,” I whispered, stumbling over my own feet as I stepped back.

— “I’m sorry I don’t have any words for you now; I spent all I had on you while you were alive.”

Finally, they closed the casket and carried it into the mausoleum. I watched the wooden door shut, and then it began to rain.

I stood there until I felt the rain stop falling on me. It hadn’t stopped raining; it was just my father holding a black umbrella to shield me.

— “Let’s go home,” he said, gently guiding me to the car with his hand on my back.

Before entering the vehicle again, I glanced at that mausoleum one last time, with the certainty in my heart that Gotham City would never be my home.

[obsolescent]

I personally see Leon having a son and a daughter. We all know he’s wrapped around his daughter’s fingers. So I won’t go into detail with her.

But I see Leon being unintentionally very hard on his son.

Leon knows how fucked the world is. He knows just how dangerous everything is, and while he wants to protect his daughter from it, he wants to prepare his son to handle it.

Leon’s a protector. A warrior. And he wants to instill that same ethic into his son.

He doesn’t do it out of misogyny. Not at all. He knows if she wanted to, his daughter could take on the world. But there’s just something different about his daughter facing such danger vs his son.

If his son is the oldest sibling, it’s even worse. Leon unintentionally goes damn near military on him. Leon sees it as making sure he’s disciplined, hardworking, and a good man. But at the cost of Leon’s son feeling like he’ll never be good enough in the eyes of his father.

Until it all explodes. Maybe it’s when his son is a teenager. His boy breaks down finally and Leon sees the worst thing he ever could. Leon sees himself in his son. The exhaustion. The depression. And Leon *hates* himself for what he did to his boy.

Even taking the steps to undo what’s been done, with therapy and time, Leon despises himself for what he did. He cries one night after his son had a full on panic attack over a C on an exam.

Yea, his son has become hardworking, driven, intelligent…but his son also became anxious, depressed and exhausted.

But Leon loves his kids. He loves his family with every fiber and cell in his body. So he puts in the work to change. He apologizes properly. Hugs his darling little boy and doesn’t let go. He changed his habits. His thought process. He does everything to help break his son out of his unintentional conditioning. It takes time, Leon isn’t perfect. But damnit, he tries his best.

It takes time, but Leon and his son repair the damage and become extremely close. Like, never could be closer type of close. when Leon’s a grandpa, his son is gonna hand him his own grandkid with the middle name ‘Leon’ type of close.

You sent this in a bit ago but I’ve been sitting with it, my apologies. I’ve been trying to see it from your perspective and I’ll have to say, this is one headcanon we don’t share.

But I did agree with the part that Leon knows the world is fucked, how dangerous it is, and with what he went through? The training he had to endure, what the government did to him. I feel like in turn, he would be soft to his children, and would do so regardless of gender.

Though, I do see this through the lenses of being trans, and I feel like if Leon did have a partner like someone like myself, he wouldn’t push those gender stereotypes onto his kids.

Leon’s been through so many things, I think he would have a lot of anxiety about how he’s treating them. Like you said, he knows he isn’t perfect, so he would wonder if he’s doing a good job, raising them well and making sure they’re protected, but can keep themselves safe, too. He would lay awake many nights picking apart his interactions with them.

He would absolutely train any of them to defend themselves, using different types of methods and weapons. He wouldn’t go into detail with them about his job for the obvious reasons, so they would probably be like ??? At his defensiveness, lol.

He would write it off as being prepared for any and all things, no matter what. He may mention some things he saw on the news for his actions, saying “Look, kids. I just want you to be ready for anything, you never know.”

He would be so close to his children. After being away on missions, he would spend every waking moment of his time with his family. Outings and vacations, doing whatever they want; as long as he gets to create memories with them, ones he wasn’t able to have with his own parents.

Though I do see his kids helping him grow regardless, making him more optimistic about the future, about life. I also agree with the part where you said Leon loves his family with every fiber of his being. You and your children would be the ones that keep him going, head held high and fighting like hell to get back to ya’ll.

I know this probably wasn’t what you were expecting from me, sorry if this is a bit disappointing, but this is my take on it! Once again, sorry about the delay in this (and the other anons, I’m still trying to get back into the swing of things).

[lavender--fairy]

hi, just wanna share a "success story." i'm choosing to stay anonymous because i don't want to be bombarded with questions, because the asker can find answers within themselves.

i'll just cut straight to the chase. throughout high school, especially when we were online during the pandemic, i would cheat on all my exams. i'd say this started mid 8th grade until mid 11th grade. mind you, it wasn't threshold based, so i wasn't really harming anyone. me cheating basically stopped the class average from dropping down 70% lol.

the act of me cheating alone reveals many things; i was unconfident in myself, insecure, and cared what other people thought of me.

11th grade is where people here start to get really anxious. pulling all nighters and getting caffiene addictions. but i was lazing around, and did what i always did. of course, online exams don't last forever, especially not when it comes to an international exam. it really only hit me months before the real tests that cheating wasn't gonna get me anywhere.

how was i supposed to do these exams? ones that people take at least two years to prepare for? that people study their asses off for? with all the high expectations i falsely gained from my peers and parents, i knew that if i failed these tests, not only would i be ashamed, but everyone would begin to doubt me and inevitably find out about my cheating habits. and i didn't want that to happen.

i did everything i could. i tried to study, but i was inefficient because i basically never opened a book on my own before that, then i tried to get tuition, which only worked to some extent. the highest i have everr gotten on a practice paper was a B, and it was a low one.

i took eight subjects. most people here take 6/7, but i didn't wanna drop one because i didn't want to feel the "shame." again, i really cared about what others thought of me.

so, at this point, i thought. well, i'm screwed.

then i came across subliminals while looking up focus music, which lead me to manifestion -> law of assumption -> neville goddard -> the 4D -> the inner man.

started to implement the law. thought i'd pass all my exams because hell, why not? i persisted that i was just gonna pass because i said so.

i gave the inner man good grades because i could. i saw a good report card in my head because i could. i imagined myself happy on results day. despite the fact that i was underprepared by a mile. why? because i could.

i got straight A's for my exams and got an outstanding reward. this truly revealed to me the power of the law, because just a month back, i was pulling my hair out and stressing like crazy. i'm not proud of my old habits. but with the law, i was able to live the lazy life of my dreams (lol) and still be awarded with praise, smiles and trophies.

wanted to share this story because i feel like knowing the law is so important. it's so easy too. all you have to do is give it to yourself, the inner man, the true self.

don't stress about getting those grades, getting that girl, that dream body, clear skin. don't stress about getting. just give it to yourself, because you can.

hope this helps someone out there realise something :)

heyy butterbean!! This is amazingg thank you so much <3

[filmbyjy]

hi its me, the one who asked u for the exam prep fic w jay.

i want some angst. Its because im going through that rn. HE FELL FIRST BUT SHE FELL HARDER, where jay gives up on their "friendship" because the reader was too busy denying her feelings for him. (u can end it w some fluff if u want heh) Doesnt necessarily havw to be with jay btw any member from enhypen u think fits best for this works.

its alright if u dont want to!!

a/n: oh hi anon☺️ oh my god but this request phew😮‍💨 prepare the tissues bc I feel like i’m gonna make this too angsty. of course, i’m gonna end it off on a good note. my heart can’t handle not getting a happy ending.

pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader

genre: angst but fluff towards the end

warning: talks about cutting/self-harm and depression (do proceed with caution). mentions of dead parents. I believe I made this too angsty so i am sorry. you do end up with jay though so that’s the good part. i did also change up a bit bc i believe that i have triggered someone with jake like ‘slut-shaming’ you. i am so sorry for that part.

word count: 1.5K words

taglist[perm]: @ja4hyvn @ahnneyong @milklix @kar0ki @sugarsunoo

our friendship

10 years of friendship.

down the drain just like that. all because of your selfishness. you couldn’t forget the way jay’s hands trembled as he voices out his feelings.

you felt like the villain for not believing him. denying your own feelings for him. you couldn’t love him. it was impossible, not when jay was for someone else. you couldn’t provide him with the affection he deserves. you were a broken record.

“why did you hurt him?” sunghoon asks.

— placing this in case the read more messes up —

“i didn’t mean to.” you nonchalantly say. the boy sighs.

“i know you didn’t mean to but I know you’re just hurting yourself too.”

“i’m not hurting myself.”

“when was the last time you ate properly?”

you kept quiet. jay usually made sure you ate on time, even if you didn’t have enough money, he made sure to buy you a meal. your life wasn’t the best. your dad did drugs and was absent most of your life. your mom ran off with a foreigner. you were left alone to fend for yourself. no family member to care for you. you matured quicker than most kids because of that.

sunghoon places a carton of milk. your favourite. one that jay usually buys for you.

“take this. you haven’t had lunch.”

“it’s alright. I don’t like this flavour.” you lied.

“that’s a lie. both jake and I have seen you happily drinking it after jay places it on your desk.”

“well, i stopped liking it.”

“after jay left.”

“well, he left for a reason.”

“because he was heartbroken.”

“his mom wanted him to study in america. that’s his real reason.”

“he would’ve stayed for you, (name).”

“i don’t want to hold him back, sunghoon.” you glared at the boy. sunghoon sighs.

“you aren’t holding him back, he just loves you.”

“well, i don’t love him!”

“stop being in denial. you love him just much as he loves you. actually no, you love him way more than he could love you.”

“you’re bullshitting, sunghoon.”

“you’re going to regret saying this (name).”

you left sunghoon. you didn’t want to hear what he was saying because if you stopped denying, you’d hurt yourself. falling in love with your best friend was something scary. falling hard for your best friend was the worst.

it had been years since you graduated from high school. you haven’t heard much from sunghoon, jake or even jay. you had fell out of that friendship ever since the talk. for some odd reason, your old classmates had organised this get together since it had been a while. you were not preparing yourself to meet your friends from high school.

“(name).” heeseung yells out. you gave him a little smile.

“class president.” you say. he chuckles.

“it was for 1 term, (name).”

“you were still our class president.”

“the best one.” jake slings his arm around heeseung. heeseung groans as he attempts to push jake’s arms off.

“it’s been a while, (name).” jake says. his voice laces with venom which wasn’t how he was normally and how he was back then. you nearly wince at how his tone sounded.

you could feel a shiver creep up and you were actually scared of jake.

“uh, yes. i-it’s been a while.” you say. afraid of saying something wrong to get jake angry. honestly, he had a very good reason to get mad at you. you hurt jay. one of the first few people jake cared about.

after you hurt jay, jake had followed jay to America. where they both continued their studies to together. sunghoon visited them and eventually moved there a little to spend time and possibly study there too. eventually, all of them moved back here to continue college since they missed Seoul.

seeing jake in a long while, you realised you missed him and the friendship the both of you had. jake was sort of like a brother to you. he was the closest to you but of course he clearly chose jay. you wanted to walk away but jake grabs on your wrist. heeseung leaves, he could feel the heavy tension.

“I see you’re happy with how your life turned out.”

“what?”

“cut that bullshit. iseul told us. you go to parties and have fun as if you didn’t do anything wrong! it’s disgusting, after you hurt your own best friend’s feelings?”

“jaeyun-”

“don’t call me that. we aren’t friends anymore.”

it fell silent between the both of you, the sound of EDM playing in the background. tears prickling at your eyes. someone comes to pull jake off you. you knew that familiar cologne.

“jake, you shouldn’t fight here. just leave her alone.” jay says.

“she hurt you, jay. how could you just ignore that? she’s been living her life happily while you cried everyday back in America.”

“don’t.” jake shoves jay’s arm and walks away. jay turns to you. he attempts to touch your wrist but you moved back.

“(name).” the way he says your name was perfect. it felt right but you shouldn’t.

you shook your head. tears falling down.

“jay, please.”

his eyes caught sight of slashing marks. they seem pretty recent. he knows you were never one to harm yourself but what exactly happened?

you left the place that day. it was when you started to really close off. you see, after jay left. a whole series of bad luck just dumped onto you. your dad got into car accident and died on impact. your mom was diagnosed with cancer and she died months later. you were left alone having to work hard to earn your own money.

you could feel the burden of living alone just pile over you and you couldn’t take it anymore. everything was overwhelming. too overwhelming. even the feeling of pain wasn’t as immense as the burden you felt. which was why you started self-harming yourself. you loved the feeling of the blade cutting your skin, it was numbing.

“(name), could you please tell me the answer?” the lecturer asks as you were daydreaming. you easily answered and the lecturer hums.

the bell rings soon after and students start pouring out of the class. you tugged onto your hoodie arms, hoping the hide the latest cut. it was itchy and it started bleeding again when you went to pick on it. you simply placed a bandaid over it.

you were packing your things when you felt a tap on your shoulder. you looked up.

“hi.” sunghoon says. you looked away, you couldn’t let him see you like this. you shouldn’t associate yourself with your old friend group. you walked away quick but sunghoon was fast. curse his long legs.

“(name).” he stops you and pulls back your hood. that’s when he realises the bloodshot look you had. he gasps a little.

“what happened to you?”

“didn’t sleep.”

“you look like you got hit by a truck.” he winced.

“maybe I did. what’s your problem?”

“look about what happened that day with jake at the reunion…”

“I forgive him. I deserve it after all.” you walked away but sunghoon tries to catch up to you.

“yeah but that doesn’t account for what he did to you.”

“he didn’t punch me. he just talked to me.”

“(name).”

“please, sunghoon. i don’t want to live in a world with guilt. I’ve already hurt jay enough and I don’t want to hurt jake too.”

“yeah but like I’ve said a long time ago. you’re hurting yourself too. I heard that you rarely ever go out besides actually spending time in school. you’ve gone from a social butterfly to an introvert.”

“what’s wrong with being an introvert.”

“it’s just not who you are (name).”

“so what if I am not who I was. people change sunghoon. i think it’s best if I stayed away from jay. we should have never cross paths.”

“but you like him.”

“yeah, I do. what will happen? hmm? jay doesn’t like me anymore, I know it. he’s probably already dating someone hot. someone that suits him. someone who isn’t me.”

“you are someone that suits me, (name).” jay voices out. you shook your head and turned around to jay.

“I am not right for you. you wouldn’t want an emotionally and mentally broken girl. I already lost my parents, I don’t want to lose anything anymore.”

“your parents are gone?”

“they’re dead. it’s been a year or two. after i graduated from high school…”

“(name).”

“jay, i’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my feelings but it’s too late. i am too broken.”

“you know I wouldn’t care if you’re too broken. I would’ve held you tight and cared for you.”

“jay, I just think we were on different levels. you were someone popular, smart and good looking. i’m just whatever this is.”

“I never cared about the stereotype. I loved you for who you were.”

“love is a strong word to describe how you’re feel about me.” you say. jay holds you close.

“but I do love you.”

“you wouldn’t understand, how much I feel for you.”

“then show me.”

“I can’t. not in public, where sunghoon and jake are staring at us.”

jake rolls his eyes, “go ahead and kiss. this idiot has been rooting for the both of you since high school.” he smacks sunghoon.

“what’s so wrong for hoping they’d get together. I thought they fit each other.” sunghoon glares at jake.

jay pecks your forehead, “we’ll take this slow until you feel better, hmm?”

and he did make you feel better.

[illarian-rambling]

So this has been looooong overdue...

Character Introduction: Duchon Avymere Kalaphon Spearsong III, Heir to the Icy City

“So.” The Duchon pulled a silken rope and a blue-clad figure brought out a tea set almost faster than Astra could blink. “You seem a curious sort. My last tailor was an old, stodgy fellow—I always worried one needle prick would be the end of him.” They smiled mischievously. “Tell me about yourself, Ms. DuClaire, and I’ll tell you a bit about myself. Nothing you don’t want to, of course. Just anything you find fun or worth sharing.”

Somewhat surprisingly, the Duchon began to prepare two cups of tea with their own hands. Silently, they tapped the bowl of sugar. Astra held up three fingers.

Was this some sort of ploy? Astra honestly couldn’t tell what the motive would be, much less if there was one. The Duchon seemed almost child-like, humming softly to themself as they stirred their servant’s tea.

Alright, doll, I’ll play your game. But I ain’t gonna— Astra took a sip of the tea they passed her and almost fainted for how tantalizing the flavor was. Ok, maybe I’ll like it.

“Well, like my papers said, I’m from the Republic.” She cleared her throat, blushing a bit under the handsome elf’s undivided attention. “What they didn’t say is I’m most a’ the way to a book mage, I just never ended up gettin’ my license. Your, uh, your grace, I mean.”

“What a remarkable path!” The Duchon blinked eyes as bright as a bird’s. “As a note, when we’re in my personal quarters, you may call me Avymere, if you wish. I know you don’t have our slew of titles down in the Republic. Trust me, even I find it all confusing sometimes!”

They laughed, a light, airy sound that reminded the witch of wind chimes. She found herself relaxing into the chair, smiling as she sipped her tea, even as her mind whirled. There was just something about this person! It snagged at Astra’s core like a loose tooth. Maybe it was just her general distrust of fine folk, but no one was that chipper—not at eight in the morning with a total stranger.

“Why did you decide to quit before taking your licensing exam?” Avymere asked, they themself also sitting in a more relaxed manner now. “I understand it’s a very difficult exam, though I never had a head for runes. My father tried, by the gods he did, but nothing ever stuck.” They shrugged in a ditzy way. “I suspect he was always a little disappointed I never took to it.”

“The exam was more money than I was willin’ to spend,” Astra answered, skirting the truth by an inch or two. “’Sides, I don’t need it for what I’m doin’ now.”

Was it possible that the Duchon was just… dumb? Well-meaning, but it was just so out there that a noble would be asking such intrusive questions to the help. If a library worth of runic knowledge hadn’t been on the line and she wouldn’t’ve been hung for saying so, Astra would’ve told anyone else to stuff it. Her reasons for not having her license were no one’s business but her own! Yet, Astra couldn’t honestly look into those starling eyes and work up any true indignation. They were just so genuine.

“I heard a description of the skirt you made,” Avymere continued with a conspiratory grin. “I think that’s a beautiful marriage of the arts—runes and fashion. Though I guess runes aren’t technically art, are they? They sure are pretty though. Do you have a favorite rune? One you think is the prettiest?”

Another… well it wasn’t really a nosy question, just a weird one. Astra decided to answer honestly. “On a visual level? Fire,” she said. “It’s one a’ the simplest shapes, yet elegant too. ’Course I don’t use it much in this line a’ work.”

“Oh, I suppose that’s a shame. But you wouldn’t want clothes catching on fire, now would you?” Avymere laughed again, drawing an unexpected chuckle from Astra’s lips as the elf’s mirth spread through the air.

“So, you had another line of work, then? Not magic if you don’t have your license, I’m guessing, and not clothes because that’s what you’re doing now. Were you”—Their eyes flicked to her hands, to the slight stiffness with which she held her left arm—“a farmer? Oh, or a fighter! You’ve got a tough look about you. Is it true all people in the Republic can swing a sword?”

“I, uh….” Astra paused, then really considered what she was about to say. Potion hunting wasn’t too far from what she’d been doing for six years. That was probably exactly the sort of answer Avymere wanted though.

Astra considered further what she’d said already to this chatterbox elf, what she’d given up as answers to those silly questions. Avymere knew she was an unlicensed mage with the skill to pass the exam, just not the funds. They knew she had a proclivity for fire. They knew she had the hands of a physical laborer and a previously injured arm. In short, they’d picked up on everything that might make her dangerous in less time than it’d taken the witch to finish her tea.

She grinned. So this was a game then. Just one she’d never seen played before.

And by extension, one she herself didn’t know how to play.

“I did freelance work for a few years on the road.” Astra shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “I assume you’re a spy a’ some sort.”

“That—” Avymere coughed, choking briefly on their tea. Astra’s grin grew even wider. They caught the expression and a cautious smile began to creep onto their own features. “And why ever would you ask that?”

“Just the questions ya asked, is all. That and I ain’t too trustin’ a’ nobility—no offense. It all lined up too neatly, ya didn’t have any questions in there that were pure nonsense.”

Avymere’s smile grew more coy. “I’ll take that into account, Ms. DuClaire. Your insight is an honest pleasure. And I take no offense, I probably trust my peers less than you do. Now, shall we dispense with the interview and start our day?”

Full backstory is under the cut ;)

Avymere is the only child of Archduke Eluan Spearsong and Duchess Amarell Spearsong. The Spearsongs have long ruled the city of Salis, within the icy elven country of Skysheer, and are counted as the second most important family in the nation. In addition, they are known to possess a powerful inherited sorcery, augmented by their study of runes. Eluan Spearsong has been long considered one of Illaros's most powerful mages, while his wife steered the city's politics like a well-broken mare. Avymere should've been born with everything, and in a way, they were. In others, they were not so lucky.

For starters, Avymere was born without a trace of sorcery - the first Spearsong in a millenia to be fully mundane. Secondly, though their father tried and they studied and struggled, book magic never clicked for them either. They exist as a break in the grand chain of Spearsong arcane tradition. Thirdly, when they were no more than eight, their mother was assassinated by an unknown faction. The culprit was never found.

This isn't to say Avymere's childhood was all dark. Apart from his sadness in his child not being able to practice magic, Eluan was a model father. He encouraged Avymere's passion for martial arts, even though such a thing is considered unseemly for Skysheerian nobility. He instilled them with strong ideals of stewardship and leading as an act of service, and always made time to care for them while running the city. It's no surprise then, that as an adult, Avymere is doggedly loyal to the Archduke.

Apart from their talent in martial arts, Avymere also has a skill for spycraft. This was recognized early on by the Archduke's spymaster, and since there are simply some places a Duchon can go that a spy disguised as a servant can't, they were trained extensively from the moment they hit adulthood. For their part, Avymere is happy to serve as a spy. It is their duty to the nation and they enjoy the challenge.

This spycraft has had a significant impact on their personality. Though they've never reflected on such a thing, Avymere would hardly recognize their true personality. They play the charming ditz in front of the court, the benevolent library builder in front of the citizens, and the terrifying specter for any rebels or political enemies who manage to get close. The one thing that remains consistent among their many faces is a sense of unyielding duty. They don't see themself as a person, but rather as a tool to protect Skysheer. It's not really an unhappy experience - more that they don't know what it means to be truly happy. The only time they take for themself is when they practice martial arts, often sparring with their bodyguards in the palace garden. They are impeccably polite, deeply cunning, and completely unaware of their worth as a person. They don't wear the crown - it wears them.

Can you see why they're one bad adventure away from a severe breakdown?

Anyways, here are some fun facts!

Avymere is 153 years old. Given that elves in my setting can live to around 500, they're the equivalent of mid to late twenties.

The martial art they practice is called Talmel Valkys, and it's a holdover from before the Skysheerian elves split from their more militant Nabafyrian cousins. Its closest real-world equivalent would be muay thai mixed with a little aikkido.

They, like everyone in their family, are very nearsighted.

Given how their mother was assassinated, Avymere is extraordinarily paranoid about assassins targeting their father.

Their gender would be defined as fe'penche specifically. Elven culture recognizes six genders, and fe'penche roughly translates to nonbianary but female leaning. This means Avymere dresses more femme and engages in traditionally feminine work (politics). In the human tongue, they stick to they/them.

They can play the pianoforte with a very medium level of skill.

That's not quite a wrap, as I have one more present for you. A proper portrait! (Finally!)

Though they are lily white to human eyes, Avymere is considered quite tan for a Skysheerian. Their hair is also a stark white typical of their people, while their eyes are a pale gray.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far! Let me know if you have any questions and you have yourself a bitchin day <3

@amandacanwrite @elsie-writes @riveriafalll @kosmic-kore @kaylinalexanderbooks

@bard-coded @carrotsinnovember @patternwelded-quill @somethingclevermahogony @whatwewrotepodcast

@the-angriest-author @mk-writes-stuff @frostedlemonwriter @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @watermeezer

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[farfromstrange]

A small update from yours truly—and a little over sharing, so I’m putting it under the cut.

I've been in an awful mindset these past couple of weeks since I was diagnosed with PCOS. I haven’t talked about it yet because it’s hard for me to even think about. But the fatigue and the pain are getting worse again, even with the supplements I’m taking so far, and I wanted to share it with you so you know what’s going on. My doctor referred me to another doctor, but the earliest they could get me in was January. Until then, I have to deal with the symptoms on my own. I honestly thought once I knew what was wrong I’d get better, but learning that chronic illness is actually chronic is a really hard pill to swallow. It’s manageable once you figure shit out, but getting a doctor’s appointment these days and being taken seriously when you can’t stomach birth control is like the Hunger Games. You have to be really fucking insistent when you want to get things done.

I’m still slowly working my way out of my writer’s block, and I'm proud of myself for getting there. I'm trying not to set expectations for myself and just take it one day at a time, which is working so far. I think I’m writing more consciously now, too. As someone who needs to create because she has too many thoughts it can get frustrating to burn out so quickly, but at least I’m starting to have fun with writing again (thanks to the DDBA trailer I’m still not over and it’s been idk how long you guys feel me).

On a slightly better note though, and the reason I’m writing this is that I’ve been spending the past two weeks since my last post preparing for vacation. I’m flying to Croatia on Sunday for a few days, which I very much need after the year I’ve had so far. I’m taking the time to recharge before I have another module exam at the end of September. So, I probably won’t be posting a lot the next two weeks, BUT I am writing. I just don’t have enough time to edit anything to the point I can comfortably post it. I will, however, use the time I have to catch up on some reading and do some reblogging. It’s a good use of my flight time, plus my parents will be driving back so I’ll have twelve hours to kill in the car. And who knows, maybe I can finish at least one update before I have to head to the airport. Just wanted to let you know that I’m not gone again, I just really need that vacation before I have my last exam this semester. After that, I have almost three weeks of nothing, which means I'll be able to focus on myself, my health, and my writing.

I’m also writing this to tell you guys I will definitely be participating in Kinktober again this year, though I decided to put a little twist to it. Last year was fun, but I want to do it a little differently this time. I’m currently working something out, and the announcement will come sometime in the next couple of weeks!

Maybe a different climate will give me some more writing inspiration, too. Thank you guys for reading this far. Take care of yourselves 🤍

[matthyeu]

tim hortons ― smt.

pairing ⇢ seok matthew x gn!reader

genre ⇢ comedy, fluff

warnings ⇢ this was just self-indulgence as you will see </3, mentions of a car crash but nothing happened lol

word count ⇢ 1377

synopsis ⇢ this is how matthew's life would be if he didn't get 3rd place on boy's planet. hey, at least he met you.

notes ⇢ HEYYY GUESS WHOS BACK,,, well not really i’m just like popping back in after the comeback bc like WOWWW but hi i’ve been really stressed back in school doing a lot of exams and applications for nursing school. i just finished my teas and like the semester’s almost over so i’m so STRESSED AAAAAA and this has been in my drafts for so long bc yk i’m just manifesting myself getting into nursing school but i will def try to get more uploaded soon but i’m always tired from work and school eueueu got some drafts tho so i’m hoping to get that done soon. take care!!

perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to get an early start to studying for your pharmacology exam. not, it definitely wasn’t the best idea. every professor had always told you to review and study more than you thought you needed, so you tried your best to do just that. it was just that one confused topic led to another…and then to another until you realized it was nearing two. 

late nights were no stranger for a nursing student, but they were not recommended if you had plans for the morning after, especially if the morning after was your weekly 12-hour long clinical rotation. 

that was how you ended up with two and a half hours of sleep, a frantically thrown together lunch, missing materials, and a need for caffeine after you overslept your alarm by twenty minutes. you cursed your ability to sleep through alarms but also thanked yourself for setting alarms every five minutes in case this ever happened. 

the facility you were stationed at was a little over an hour from your apartment, so you would barely make it in time. there was realistically no time for you to stop by for coffee. usually, you would just make your own, but your unfortunate luck continued to prosper as you had forgotten to purchase more instant coffee in your last grocery run. however, seeing as how you nearly fell asleep behind the wheel the first ten minutes of your drive, you knew you needed it. if you died in a car crash, there was definitely no chance for you to make it to your clinical on time. 

you pulled into the parking lot at the tim hortons nearest to your apartment, seeing only one other car there who you assumed belonged to whatever employee was on opening duty. it was only 4:43. this location opened at 5. if you waited for it to open, you would definitely be late. even if you had just told yourself it was alright to be late, you were sure your instructor would not be pleased if you were, especially since this was an obstacle you could potentially get over. 

reluctantly, you shuffled your feet to the entrance, not worrying if you would wear the soles of your white shoes quicker than they were supposed to last. you didn’t want to bother the poor worker, but it was your only choice besides sitting in your car waiting for 17 minutes, which was definitely not practical. 

reaching the entrance, you peered in to see a young man diligently preparing for the day. you figured he would be far too busy to notice you (or it was just your excuse to walk back to your car and wait). still, mustered up the courage to wave at him from outside, refraining from knocking on the glass. 

by some dumb luck, he noticed you and came to the door from around the counter. he gave an apologetic smile as he opened the door, popping his head out. “sorry, we aren’t open yet.”

“actually, i was wondering if you could make an exception. i have to be at the hospital in an hour and it’s an hour drive from here,” you explained as you fidgeted with your watch. 

“oh definitely i can do that for you. that hospital must need you as soon as you can get there,” he commented as he opened the door wider for you to come in.

“oh no, they do not need me. yesterday i put on my sterile gloves wrong 4 times because of nervousness. if anything, they hope i’m not there,” you casually blurted out, which caused the employee to give you a concerned look. “i’m a nursing student, not a licensed healthcare provider. everyone always thinks of nurse or doctor when they see someone in scrubs, but i’m just a stressed person in college trying to get through.” 

“ah, makes sense. i thought you looked young to be finished with school already, but i didn’t want to say anything in case it was offensive,” he commented once you both were at the register, “what can i get for you?” 

“just a medium iced latte please,” you ordered as you dug through your wallet for the right card. 

“go ahead and insert your card whenever you’re ready.” 

and you did just that, receiving the receipt from the employee once the transaction was over. “it will be out shortly.” 

there wasn’t much for you to do but stand off to the side as you watched him work. as time went by, there was something familiar about him you couldn’t catch. it was as if you had seen him from somewhere, but the only places you really frequented were the library and hospitals. was it from tv? 

“here you go,” he announced as he slid the cup over the counter. 

as he was about to head back to finishing his preparations, you took a sip of your latte. with the newfound courage taken over you by the caffeine, your thoughts spilled out of your mouth. “do i know you from somewhere?” 

he chucked. “no, i don’t think you have. if so, it was a long time ago since i just got back to canada.”  

“you have a celebrity lookalike or something? i swear i’ve seen your face somewhere before,” you asked. 

“ever heard of boys planet?” 

then it hit you. you looked at his nametag. matthew. of course, he was the canadian from that korean reality show one of your friends had shown you. in fact, she begged for you to help her vote, and she was devastated when her one-pick didn’t make the group. and here he was, standing in front of you at tim hortons. 

“ohhh that makes a lot of sense. my friend had me voting every day for you when the show was airing. interesting seeing you working here. totally thought you’d continue trying to be an idol if you didn’t make the lineup.” 

“i missed home too much, i guess. i had it planned out during the finale too, the part time job i’d get if i didn’t make it. didn’t think i’d actually end up at timmies, but alas, things happen. thanks for your support though.” 

“don’t thank me,” you insisted, “i’m just an unsuspecting victim to desperate fans who wanted the best for their faves.” 

“i think that’s the best feeling though, meeting someone who doesn’t really care about what you’ve done or who you are. you’re the first person who’s actually recognized me, and i’m glad it’s not someone who would leak this information. though, i’m sure it will spread eventually.” 

you finally noticed what he was doing throughout the conversation: packaging a 10-count box of timbits. “here,” he called as he pushed yet another item over the counter, “on the house.” 

shaking your head, you quickly responded, “no i can’t.” 

“trust me, you’re going to need the boost of energy from the sugar for your shift. just take it, or else you’ll be late.” 

“oh shit,” you cursed, realizing you had spent too much time in the shop already, “fine, but i’ll be back and next time, i’m going to buy something for you to enjoy.” 

“mhm good luck!” 

you ran back to your car, relieved you decided to come in when you did when you saw a plethora of cars pulling in with two minutes until opening. the coffee was placed into the cupholder and the box onto your passenger seat. 

before beginning your long drive to your impending doom, you decided to have one of the timbits matthew had given you. that was when you noticed the small message written on the top of the box. 

good luck! you’re doing great things for the world :) come back anytime! i always open on fridays and will take you after 4:30. 

you smiled at the little note, popping one of the pieces into your mouth. it tasted way better than timbit you had ever had. you weren’t sure if that was just because they were fresh in the morning or the care you knew was packed into them. needless to say, you would wake up a little earlier on your fridays to go back to this location to see matthew. 

[insipid-drivel]

My Surgeon Ghosted Me For Having A Panic Attack

My surgeon ghosted me, devastated me and my family, and I only found out through their legal representative 2 weeks before a surgery I've been begging and waiting for almost 20 years for.

I'm a 32-year-old trans person with PTSD and a very, very rare mental condition called DDNOS-1B. Since I was 13 years old, I've been fighting for a hysterectomy both for my gender identity, and to cure a horrendously painful and life-threatening condition called Menorrhagia that causes me extreme agony and to spontaneously hemorrhage when I menstruate. I've been hanging on to life by my fingernails, and my own surgeon just stomped on my hands.

Today, with just 2 weeks before my surgery date and my insurance approving of everything, I received a call from my OBGYN's legal representation accusing ME, the patient, of accusing my OBGYN of assaulting me when I had a panic attack during a routine pelvic examination so my insurance would cover most of the medical bills of my surgery.

While I was panicked, I partially dissociated and one of my male alter personalities - who I had already told my OBGYN about in appointments before the examination - experienced the examination with me. In addition to having been assaulted by a previous doctor during pelvic examination years before, I'm trans, and the alter personality that manifested is staunchly male and found the sensation of the examination alarming. While trying to calm down from a panic attack and gain control of myself again when the pelvic exam was over, I followed my therapist's guidance to verbalize my emotions when I felt my trauma manifesting again, and said, "That felt violating," to myself without really thinking. I was on Valium specifically for the examination due to the severity of my trauma, but still panicked enough that I babbled the words without thinking, and asked to please be allowed to go home if my OBGYN had gotten everything they needed from the appointment.

My OBGYN confirmed they'd gotten what they needed, said, "I only want to help you," while I nodded and could only stare at the floor and tremble while I gathered my things to leave. My ears were ringing. I was fighting tears and hyperventilation. It was a normal pelvic exam, but they just happen to be triggering for me because of my past trauma. When I'm that stressed, I become functionally mute and can't speak at all if I can't relax. It took me 3 days to fully relax after my OBGYN's examination, but in no way did I feel like they had behaved inappropriately or been too rough or forceful with me. It was just an experience and sensation I don't tolerate well without re-experiencing my past trauma. I wanted to go home, recover psychologically from an odious and frustrating panic disorder, and prepare for the surgery that, I hoped, would make my quality of life better than it's ever been.

I was not aware that I had to be responsible for my doctor's feelings when I was the patient in distress, and now feel that there is no way for me to receive the surgery I need unless I can magically do it without showing any fear or trepidation that could be misinterpreted by medical professionals and send them running to their lawyers for instructions.

Today, I received a phone call from my OBGYN's legal representative, just 2 weeks away from my surgery, announcing that my OBGYN had canceled the appointment and come running to them with fears that I would file a malpractice suit. I was forced to write a humiliating apology letter to my OBGYN's legal representation trying to set the record straight - that I hadn't accused my OBGYN of anything and thought they provided me with the best care they could, and it was my own reaction from pre-existing trauma that had been witnessed. Nevertheless, I could not have felt more betrayed, embarrassed, or shattered. I've needed a basic hysterectomy since I was 13 years old and have spent my entire reproductive life begging doctors and surgeons to please perform it, but have been refused every time because of my age, my gender, and/or the fact that I hadn't had any children myself and "would change my mind" as I got older.

I never changed my mind about having children. I don't want to, because I am trans, and my body needs work done on it before I can feel truly like I'm comfortable in my own skin. Now, I don't think that will ever happen.

I'm writing to different news outlets and here because it is absolutely unconscionable that a licensed medical doctor could tell me to my face that my dream since age 13 of being pain-free and living with a body that feels normal was going to be realized… only to send their legal representation 2 weeks before the date to tell me that, because I panicked and babbled the wrong thing TO MYSELF that the doctor found threatening to their job security, my dream was gone. It would've taken just one question, "Are you okay?" from my OBGYN to clear up the direction my babbled words were aimed in, but instead, they assumed I was accusing them of something horrendous, and terminated my care without bothering to tell me why, or that they were going to do it at all.

My family is absolutely devastated. I'm devastated to the point that I just feel numb. My mother has been inconsolable, as she's nearing 70, can't retire, and has been my only caregiver for most of my life because of the severity of my disabling pain caused by a part of my body that, as a trans person, every fiber of my being screams isn't supposed to exist. I feel deeply discriminated against, and like we now live in a state where, regardless of how distressed you are as a patient, you must perform to a certain standard to receive the attention and dedication of your own doctors. You're allowed to be traumatized and struggle with it, but only so long as your doctor feels completely exempt from what triggers you, and that you have to shut up and take any procedure you're required to endure for further care without showing any fear or pain.

Is this really the case? Are our doctors getting so scared of their own shadows that people like me can have their care terminated on the grounds of Not Being Brave Enough? I thought that I was safe to be trans and seek gender affirming AND medically necessary care without discrimination by medical professionals in Washington - my birthplace and the only place I've ever really called home - but now I feel like there's nowhere I can go to receive the care I need, and would be better served if I waited until I developed a terminal illness and used my right to Death With Dignity to end my life on my terms than bother to go to the doctor again for preventative care and regular checkups. What's the point? If I have one panic attack and say the wrong thing trying to comfort myself, I'll lose my doctor completely.

Why is it taking almost 20 years or more for a single doctor in Washington State to perform a hysterectomy on a desperately, desperately willing patient that also medically needs it? What is going on? Do all transgender Washingtonians deal with this level of discrimination and hand-wringing from their doctors? If I weren't trans, or didn't have DID, would I finally receive the care I need? Or is it really a matter of having to be the emotional support for your doctor in order for them to feel cushioned and safe enough to do an effective job in caring for you without them getting spooked and clutching their licenses like they're a breath away from being revoked?

Why am I, a disabled layperson on SSI that can barely even get out of bed most days, forced to be emotionally responsible for my doctor's sense of job security when I'm the one coming to them for help? It's been 20 years, and all I need is a hysterectomy! Not a single surgeon in 20 years will help me, my family has been destroyed by this, and I don't know what to do anymore but cry for help from the press and public to shed light on what is, at least in my experience, an increasingly broken, dysfunctional system that I fear is going to get me, and people like me, killed.

My state should be better than this. For how proudly my state's representatives boast about Washington being a shelter state for women and LGBTQIA+ people fleeing other states, why won't anybody help me? Have I been secretly blacklisted somehow from receiving the care I need? How is it that our doctors can just ghost us while accusing us of POTENTIALLY taking legal action against them? And why on god's green earth was I spoken to as though I was a criminal that had just been stopped from committing a crime and forced to apologize?

Just… what the hell? If this isn't worthy of a little attention from the journalists in my state, I don't know what is. I need help. I need surgery. But I can't even so much as show a little fear - much less talk myself through a panic attack - without my own doctor dropping me as their patient after promising me that the surgery I needed was going to happen. How can a patient even address this? Who do you call when you can't find a doctor because you're too traumatized to make your doctor feel secure in doing their job?

I want to live, my family is suffering, but I can't find a single surgeon that will help me. Is it this bad for everyone?

[piedpiperart]

Menagerie part 1

Izuku’s eyes widened at the tall building of UA. He almost wanted to cry. All his dreams were riding on this one day. If he doesn’t make it in, of course, he can always try for gen ed and transfer during the sports festival, but… He really, really wants this to work out. All his life people told him to give up, no one relieved he could be a hero. Not even his own mom. 

Izuku shook his head, no, don’t think about that. Mom tries her best with a worthless son like me, but she’ll see his worth when he gets into the hero course. He thinks. I trained for years, I can do this! Even if the exam is something ridiculous like robots, I’ll at least be prepared to do my best!

Taking a deep breath he takes a step forwards and- trips over a loose brick in the walkway. “Wah- huh?” Izuku opens his eyes to see the bricks a foot away from his face. He wasn’t falling anymore? He went to reach out to touch the brick when he heard a nervous giggle. 

“Sorry for using my quirk on you!” His eyes snap up to see a cute girl with brown hair and caramel eyes. She gently drifts him upright by her hand on his shoulder. “I just figured it would be bad luck to trip and fall on a day like this, you know?” 

“T-thank you!” Izuku smiled, in awe at the weightlessness disappearing when she pressed her hands together. 

“Anyways!” The girl smiled,”We better get going, it should start soon!”

“O-oh! Right!” Izuku stammered, following after her. “I’m Izuku Midoriya, nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you Midoriya! I’m Ochako Uraraka!” Ochako replied. They made their way into the building entrance without any problems, whispering quietly about how nervous they were. 

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the familiar blonde hair of his childhood friend and hoped they wouldn’t be near one another. “Ooh! Let’s sit over here-” Ochako exclaimed quietly, dragging him over to sit next to her. He was grateful for that, because it looked like the only other seats available were around Kacchan. 

They still had a few minutes before the written test started, so they continued to talk to ease eachother’s nerves. “Your quirk is Gravity manipulation, right?”

“Sort of! It’s called Zero Gravity, so I can negate something’s gravity if I touch it with all five fingers,” Ochako says. 

“Woah! That’s so cool, and you can use it on objects and people right? Can you negate your own gravity? What’s your weight limit?” Izuku asks, fingers itching for a notebook to write everything down. 

Ochako laughs lightly at the rapid-fire questions. “Yes, and I can use my quirk on myself but it makes me nauseous, and I think around two tons? I haven’t been able to test it all that much.” 

Up ahead, people start to quiet down so Ochako lowers her voice. “Is that your quirk? Analysis or something?”

“Uh,” Izuku stammers, suddenly finding the table really interesting. “No.. I’m um, quirkless.”

For a moment Izuku is afraid to look over at her. He doesn’t want to see the disgusted look everyone has when he mentions it. Ochako had been so kind to him, and he just ruined it. Izuku felt a familiar pressure from behind his eyes and wondered if it was too late to change seats. Surely she would be more comfortable wit-

“Woah! You must have trained a lot to take this test, huh?” Ochako smiles, and Izuku is so, so relieved she doesn’t hate him like everyone else. He ignores the thought that she could always change her mind later, and sends her a blinding smile of his own. 

“Yeah!” He nods determinedly. 

“Let’s do our best then!” Ochako exclaims quietly, and they both turn to the front where the pro Hero Midnight takes the stage. 

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

“No way! We’re in the same group!”

“Wha- really?” Izuku’s eyes widened, looking from his card to Ochako’s. “Youre right!” 

“Thats so cool, maybe we’ll see each other!” Ochako said. Izuku nodded, that would be nice.

Moments later, Present mic entered the stage, and a bright spotlight shone right on him. Izuku shook with nervousness and excitement. “Alright!! Let’s start the introduction, can I get a YEAHHHH?!” Present Mic announced, using a bit of his quirk to anticipate the last word. Silence permeated through the auditorium. Izuku and Ochako exchanged glances, and she had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. Izuku nudged her as Present Mic continued to explain everything on the pamphlet they were given. 

“S-sorry-” Ochako whisper- laughed. “I just feel so bad- n-no one responded,” She breathed. Izuku bit his lip, trying to hold in his own laughter. Ochako was making it contagious. “I was too nervous, but I didn’t think no one would respond!”

Izuku nudged her quiet again, they were starting to get looks. “We can cheer next time?” Izuku offered hesitantly. 

Ochako nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! We can cheer him on together and he won’t be sad!” She whispered back. 

Their plans were ruined not even a minute later when a teenager with blue hair stood up. ”Excuse me!” He shouted, gaining the attention of the entire audience and interrupting the pro hero. “It says here there are four villains, but only three were mentioned! If this is an error then UA should be ashamed of such a misprint!” Ochako covered her mouth again to prevent her laughter from escaping when the blue-haired teen chopped his hands like a robot. Izuku tried and failed to keep his smile down at their actions. 

“And you two! Green and Brown hair!” The boy called out, causing the two in question to exchange confused glances. “You two have been talking this whole time! If you are not here to take this exam seriously, then I must implore that you leave immediately!”

“You’re the one interrupting Present Mic!” Ochako exclaimed, her cheeks puffing out a bit at the boy’s rudeness. 

“He was just about to explain the fourth robot too,” Izuku added,”It’s just an obstacle!”

The blue haired boy spluttered, but didn’t get a chance to respond before the pro hero took the spotlight again. “That’s right kiddos! The fourth robot is a zero-pointer!” He exclaimed, pointing to the screen dramatically. “They aren’t worth any points, so it’s best to avoid them!”

“Anyways, enough with all the rules, amiright?” Present mic said, posing dramatically. Ochako nudged Izuku in anticipation, and they both prepared for the cheer. “Get ready and get on out there listeners! YEAHH!!”

“Yeahh!!” Ochako and Izuku cheered along, as loudly as they could muster. Izuku almost regretted it when all the eyes turned to them, but he spotted Present Mic perk up and look toward them. 

“That’s the spirit, listeners!” Present Mic gestured with his open palm to them,”I got my eye on you two, good luck!”

Ochako waved enthusiastically back at the hero. Izuku’s face reddened at the attention, but he was smiling softly. “That was fun!” She laughed, taking Izuku’s hand. He suddenly felt this warm feeling build up inside him as she pulled him out of the audience and towards their area sections. 

The feeling disappeared when she let go, and Izuku realized they had reached the lockers. “Well, I’ll see you at the start line! Good luck!” Ochako waved. 

“Y-you too!” Izuku waved, and she disappeared into the girls locker room. He looked down to the hand she was holding, rubbing it a little. What was that feeling? Am I getting sick? Noticing the time, he hurried to the locker room, shrugging it off as an effect of her quirk. 

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

At the start line, Izuku couldn’t see any signs of Uraraka. He frowned, cursing his short genes when he suddenly caught a glimpse of short brown hair. Izuku straightened up and started forward, only to be stopped by a giant hand chopping down next to his face. 

“If you're going to bother that girl before the exam I suggest you refrain!” The boy declared. “You shouldn’t bother other examinees!”

“I- I um, she’s my friend-” Izuku stammered, backing up. The boy only pressed further into Izuku’s personal space. He tried to step back further but bumped into another kid. 

The boy continued to rant, and Izuku looked for any way out of that conversation when suddenly he heard a familiar voice shout ”GO!” and he was off running. He took a deep breath and let it out. He felt a lot better away from the other boy, and slipped into hs familiar mindset of fighting. 

Izuku had gone to one of the community gyms near his house for the past seven years, learning everything he could, from weapons and self defense to parkour. He even cleaned a whole beach full of trash over the summer.  Which was why during Present Mic’s warning to the other students to get going, Izuku had already climbed one of the buildings, jumping roof to roof.

Izuku was aiming to get a good vantage point where no one would bother him and there’d be plenty of robots. He didn’t see any zero pointers yet, but he had a feeling they were saved til the end. He panted, leaning over a roof to get a good view of the street below. There was a line of robots- perfect. He’d found where the robots waited to be sent out into the city. 

Pulling out a piece of pipe from the rooftop, he swung it a few times before nodding. Then he leaped off the roof, aiming for one of the robots in the middle of the pack. Just like that, three robots were down before any of them had registered what was going on. After the first three went down, many of the robots struck each other in their haste to get to him, and in close quarters they ended up falling a bit like dominos. Izuku laughed, turning back to make sure he got all the robots in his vicinity. He didn’t bother to count them, it would just waste time. 

Climbing back onto the rooftops, Izuku kept his sturdy roof-pipe with him as he leapt to find another area like the one he’d found. It was exhilarating, leaping from roof to roof on his own. It was nice to not worry about bullies and his mom, instead just flying across buildings with nothing but adrenaine. He hoped this would be what his life would be like when he became a hero. 

Grinning all the while, Izuku managed to take down four more spots full of robots before the ground started to shake. Turning, he could spot a giant robot with a big red zero painted onto it. He almost laughed. Of course the zero pointer would be a huge monster robot. Carefully, he made his way to where the robot was, just to make sure everyone could make it out okay. 

Izuku was about four buildings away from the zero-pointer when he heard a call for help. Without thinking, he ran towards it. Thankfully, he was closer to the voice than the robot was, so he didn’t have to worry about them being crushed by the robot. Yet. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a blur of blue and frowned. Izuku put the thought into the back of his mind as he slid off the last roof and flipped off one of the dead robots, landing safely to the ground with a controlled roll. “Ah! Izuku!” 

“Ochako?” Izuku’s eyes widened when he looked over to see his new fried trapped under some rubble. “I’m here to help, where are you hurt?”

“My hero!” Ochako laughed, then winced. “It’s just my ankle, I think.”

“Alright,”Izuku said, analyzing the situation. “I’m gonna try to move some of the debris, but yell if anything starts to hurt.”

“Okay!” Ochako called as he walked to the side, out of her eye-range. “I kinda over-used my quirk, sorry. I don’t think I can lift it just yet.”

“That’s okay,” Izuku said, shifting some pieces, and wedging his makeshift pipe staff into part of the heavier concrete piece. The ground under them started to shake, and Izuku made his way back to Uraraka. “Okay, I made a bit more room for you and stabilized it, so I’m gonna carefully slide you out if thats okay?”

“Yep!” Ochako grinned, holding up her hands for Izuku to take. He grasped her hands and the familiar warmth came back, tingling his skin. 

Izuku thought nothing of it at the time, only focusing on getting his friend out of the rubble quickly before the robot got too close. “Three, two, one!” Izuku called, and pulled her as quickly and carefully as he could. 

Just as suddenly as she was free, she was gone, and in the excitement, the two had fused together into a single person. “U-uraraka?” They asked hesitantly, looking around. 

“Wait-” They stopped,”Wait wait wait-” They looked down at themselves, noting they were several inches taller than normal, and was their hair longer? “I thought you didn’t have a quirk??”

“I thought so too??” They exclaimed, looking at their outfit. It was a mix of Ochako’s plain black tanktop now with a teal stripe, and Izuku’s teal pants with one now gray pant leg. “Is this- Is this my quirk??”

They suddenly burst into laughter. Half of it was in joy and the other half a little bit hysterical at the suddenness at having a quirk after fourteen years of absolutely nothing. “Well?!”

“Well what?” They tilted their head, still amazed at themself. A sly grin formed on their flushed face, turning towards the giant robot. “Why don’t we test out what your quirk can do!”

“W-” They started to object, but really, with all the excitement ant the oncoming robot towering over them, they found a want to try something new with this crazy opportunity. “Okay!”

“Okay!” They exclaimed again, rushing towards the robot. They felt a slight twinge in their ankle, but it was faint. They continued to run, not even slowing after jumping from pile of rubble to dead robot to atop the roofs and toward the giant robot. Laughing, they leaped tapped themself, activating zero gravity on themself and floating steadily towards the robot. They landed on its shoulder gracefully, and released their gravity. 

“Wait,” They started. “What?” They looked over to the robot’s head and out across the arena. “I have an idea,” They smiled, putting all five fingers onto the robot. After the robot was tapped, they jumped off the shoulder, slid down the arm and back to the rooftop, all in time to see gravity slowly increase on the robot.

“Oh my god,”They smiled, excitedly. “Oh my god, look! This is so cool! Can I do that by myself?? Can you??” They stood there and watched with awe as the robot crumpled to the ground like a soda can. They found themselves unable to stop smiling at the absolute chaos of what became of the day. “Something like zero gravity evolving under the other quirks influence- maybe call it fusion? Or think of a name later- into gravity manipulation, where we can increase or decrease gravity on something.” 

They paused, pressing their hands together to release the robot as Present mIc yelled for the exam end. “Did I get enough points? I think so.. I’m sure you did great! You too!” They laughed. Suddenly tired, they sat down on the roof ledge. “Do you.. Know how to turn it off?”

“It’s my first time- Oh wait how would you know- oh my gosh what if we’re stuck like thi-”They exclaimed, only to be cut off when suddenly they were thrust part, both teens now sprawled out on the rooftop. 

The two of them immediately got to their feet. “Oh my god!” They said in unison. 

“You got a quirk!” Ochako squealed. “You can merge with people?!!”

“I- I don’t even know how??” Izuku freaked out,”Did you- are you sure it wasn’t your quirk??”

“Nope!” Ochako giggled,” But oh!!” She exclaimed,”Maybe we can ask one of the staff to help- maybe they can figure out what your quirk is!”

“But- School isn’t even in yet and I- I’m sure they’re busy-” izuku stammered, very much freaking out. 

“Nonsense! Let’s go!”

“No- wait! We’re stopping by Recovery Girl first, you’re still hurt!”

“Fiine!”

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

“And you’re saying.. His quirk just manifested?” Eraserhead squinted at the two teens in front of him, one practically vibrating with excitement and the other on the verge of a dissociative episode. “During the exam?”

“Yep!” The girl responded. “He just sort of- we kind of formed a whole new person? With a new quirk and everything?”

“I-I thought I was quirkless…” The boy- Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa’s brain supplied- stammered. “I- I really didn’t know, I promise!”

Aizawa sighed. “I’m aware. I was watching the exam, kid.” 

That was also how Aizawa knew the boy had passed, it was just lucky for him the kid had come to the staff room after the test to ask for advice. The kid had gotten 45 villain points and assuming the rescue points for saving the girl only increased it, the kid was definitely getting in. It was only logical to start training him personally before the school year to catch him up on everything he needed to know about his quirk.

After telling the kid such, Midoriya thanked him profusely and vowed to do his best. Which was all Aizawa could ask for. Honestly, he was amazed to see such a late quirk manifest, and was a little more than worried about the kid suppressing a quirk for so long. 

“Now go home, get some rest, and tell your parents about it,” Aizawa reminded. “Meet me here tomorrow, both of you, and try not to use your quirk in the meantime.” He said. 

“Thank you!” Izuku bowed,” I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I really appreciate it!”

The girl nodded along, and thanked him for helping her friend. Minutes later, phone numbers exchanged and more thanks, the teenagers waved goodbye. “Thank you again Eraserhead!”

Shouta huffed in amusement before walking back to the staff room. 

“Problem child,” He grumbled fondly. He could already tell the kid was going to be a handful. 

Minutes later, Shouta realized he never gave the kid his hero name. 

PART TWO

[fulloflambing]

just yap about my most recent work (how i made it, the alternate plots or endings), and my future posts :D

writing that story took soooo much brain juice from me i feel like my brain has become a wringed sponge. im honestly rlly proud i managed to finish it😭

ive had writing experience before here on tumblr but i never rlly put alot of effort into it and it often made me feel bad about how i finished my stories. i always just thought about a vague plot, typed away, and posted it. some people enjoyed it n i was grateful for that but whenever id reread my own stories it would make me criticize myself and make me unmotivated to write, which eventually made me delete my old writeblr.

but ever since i've come back, and especially with 'heaven can wait', i rlly took my time to rewrite things i didnt find fitting. ive stopped writing just to post, but writing to actually enjoy and better my skills. im honestly proud of myself for taking the time to do that because i am, truthfully, a very impatient person n i hate redoing things. actually, i rewrote the story by like the 3.5k word mark TWICE and made sure i was truly happy with it. the plot was actually supposed to go two ways!:

kinich would find reader in their home, and they could comfort eachother real quick in the house before kinich escorted them to the survival shelter. kinich would then make a promise to reader to come back alive and boom boom fighting wham he comes back to them and boom emotional reunion!

^ i changed my mind halfway while writing this because i wanted the story to have more depth and to make it more about reader and kinich both experiencing grief and negative emotions more. this plotline was just too lovey dovey and chill for my liking.

2. kinich reunites with the reader in the end by finding her dead asleep in the tribe's infirmary.

^ i didnt like this ending because i felt like it would've been a boring climax to the heavy emotions of reader as she was separated from kinich thinking he was dead. does that make sense? like it felt like a boring way to end off y/n's part after building up all these negative thoughts swirling in their mind just for her not to even see kinich come back from war to have those negative thoughts be swooped away from her in a romantic light. it was cute tho, kinich would've been whispering 'im home' as he admired reader as they recovered but i didnt want a calm ending for the story. i wanted a passionate, emotional reunion type :) like very 'light after the storm'-esque type of ending!

some parts of the story i dont like but i feel like is the part i could do for the story was how mavuika defeated the abyss? i CANT WRITE ACTION FOR SHYT!!!! so it took so much deleting and rewriting and paraphrasing it actually got me a headache just to write that small section 😭😭

on a more exciting note, the next thingy ill write is probably for kinich's birthday! im very torn about what ill write and when ill write it because i have exams right after kinichs bday so i dont think ill have time to write for it.

but after i figure out and post a birthday special for kinich, i'll be writing a more angsty, heartbroken-y story kind of related to 'heaven can wait' but if things went wrong. its really not an alternate ending, more of like "if it ended this way, this would've happened." its been a plot thats been marinating in my head for awhile and i think you guys will rlly like it! its gonna be angst with comfort but still sad ending hihi sorry.

i have alot of canon fanfic ideas that i wna write as soon as possible but i feel like i should switch it up and write some modern!au fics. and maybe with other characters (my other favs! capitano, xiao, thoma, etc.). i also feel like i have to prepare a 100 follower special soon but i have nooo idea what to do for it huhu THANK U BTW GUYS FOR 81 FOLLOWERS AAA IM SO TOUCHED

in short, i have a lot and i mean srsly alot of kinich ideas rn but my schedule is gonna be cramped this week. but after ill be free again! my problem is i just dont know what to write first 😔💔

anyway, maybe ill do a poll or something :) ILL SEE WHAT I CAN DO!!

if you've read this far, thank u sm and i appreciate it >< ill do my best to write as much as i can.

[sebsallowapologist]

Little Bird || Part 4

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Rated: T

Warnings: 18+ not feeling good enough, flirting with Gareth, 

Little Bird Masterlist

After I stormed out of the Great Hall I just felt embarrassed. I normally hold my cool so well- I never let my emotions get the best of me like that.  I should have been able to just keep shit to myself but instead I blew up at Ominis and I was going to have to apologize. And probably to Sebastian too. 

To avoid everything about the situation I spent the rest of the day in my vivariums, popping around and making sure all my little beasts were taken care of, pruning my plants and practicing my potions.

Wiggenweld, Thunderbrew, I’d brewed them enough times to have the process memorized. Fifth year I was an incredible student, Professor Weasly even called me a gifted witch. But after everything that happened at the end of that year, after spending year Sixth trying to patch my friends back together, dealing with the death of my mentor and maybe the coursework just got too hard.

Now. Now I felt like a bloody idiot most of the time.

I try out a new potion, one that I know Sharp is going to have on the next exam and I just- can’t do it. I must not be preparing the ingredients correctly, or adding them at the right intervals. I feel like I follow the steps to a T and the potion just looks like water with leaves and sticks in it.

In a fit of frustration I smack the hot caldron off the burner, the metal burning my hand as it crashes to the floor, spilling the mix of ingredients all over the floor. Deek apperates next to me, looking at the mess.

I wipe the tears off my cheeks and he puts his hand on my leg. “Deek can clean it up miss.”

“No- no Deek I got it.”

“Miss-”

“I promise Deek. I want to.” I sigh and look at my red palm, it just looks flushed now but I know the burn will become worse overtime. I grab a cloth and wrap it around my palm, keeping the wound safe. I could use a wiggenweld, but what's even the point.

“Master Sallow is asking for you.”

“He’s here?”

“Deek didn’t let him in.”

“Can you tell him I’m not here.” I mumble, eyes locked on my mess on the ground. I just wasn’t in the mood to be around him, for him to tell me how easy it was, having him take over and try to teach me.

Deek nods and pats my leg. “Deek will be in his office if Miss needs him.” I smile and nod at the house elf. His office is a little room I had conjured last year. I shrunk down a bunch of furniture and surprised him with his own little space. “Thank you, Deek.”

I pick up a rag and get on my hands and knees to clean up my mess.

When I’m finally finished and ready to retire to my room, there's a wrapped plate of food waiting for me next to the door.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The next day I had apologized to Ominis for my outburst, and all was well, he even dropped the topic of Sebastian and I after that, so it was nice to not be constantly reminded of the situation I was in.

I still, however, was utterly lost at most of my classes. I had a few hours in between my last class and when Sebastian and I were meeting in the undercroft to continuing honing my ancient magic, and I was desperate to spend it in the library.

I had been sat alone at a table for a while when I heard a throat clear. I look up and find Gareth, looking at me with a small smile on his face. “Can I sit?” He quietly asks. I nod and he grabs the seat next to me. “You can tell me to shove off if you want, but this fell out of your potions book in class the other week.” He puts down a sheet of parchment. My notes from our last lesson. “I was just reading them and- I think you’re... thinking about it wrong.”

He unfolds the parchment and I see little notes written along the sides. “You’re all about following the book- which is good. But potion making is almost... like art. These things have helped me and I thought next time you try-”

He cuts off after I throw my arms around his neck, his hands slowly sliding around my waist in our awkward embrace from the chairs. “Thank you, Gareth. Truly.” I sigh and look over is neat notes.

“I just think- you’re doing a great job. You shouldn’t be so discouraged. You’re one of the smartest witches in our year.”

I scoff and roll my eyes, tucking the notes into my bag. “No!” Gareth laughs, “I mean it! Perhaps the smartest in the whole school.”

“Oh hush.” I blush, pulling our my potion book. “While I have you- any tips on this potion?” I ask opening it up to the right page.

Gareth and I get lost in the book, he flips through pages and gives me tips on things that I would have never thought of, hunched over the same book, inches from each other. I hadn’t spent a lot of time alone with Gareth, but he was sweet. Seemed to have really grown up since I’d first met him.

“There you are!” I hear and look up at Sebastian comes around the corner. “Fuck.” I sigh and close my eyes. “What time is it? Sebastian I’m so sorry.”

“We were meeting a half hour ago.” He mumbles, looking over the scene in front of him.

“Gareth, I have to go.” I sigh, closing my book quickly, not wanting to make my friend wait any longer. “I can’t thank you enough, I’m going to try all these trucks and maybe Sharp won’t hate me for failing.”

“You’re going to do great.” He says and I pat his hand in farewell. Sebastian takes my bag from me and throws it over his shoulder. “Weasley.” He says in both greeting and goodbye and we’re off to the Undercroft.

As soon as we’re out of the library he asks me, “What was all that about?”

“I just got caught up. I’ve been struggling with potions and Gareth was helping me through some of the things I wasn’t sure of.”

“Right.” he mumbles, clearly not happy with my explanation. But to be honest I wasn’t entirely happy with it either. Sure the whole encounter was very innocent, and it was truly just about potions, but I couldn’t help but feeling a.. warmth when I was with Gareth. Him being patient, kind, the little touches he kept giving me, it made me feel good. Wanted.

Sebastian puts my bag down on the couch in the Undercroft and takes his robe off, setting up the practice dummy. I put the potions book I was holding down on top of my bag and a small slip of parchment slips out, resting on the stone floor. It’s in Gareth’s handwriting:

Would you like to get a butterbeer with me at the three broomsticks this weekend?

“What's that?” Sebastian asks, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt over his forearms. 

“Loose paper.” I mumble and shove it back into the book. I stand up to my full height and ditch my cloak as well, tossing it over my things. I felt so guilty at even the thought of saying yes, but some part of my brain wanted to. Liked that attention that Gareth was offering. 

“Alright.” Sebastian smiles. “I’ll forgive you for your tardiness, even if you were hanging out with Weasley.” 

“What's wrong with Weasley? Beisdes being a Griffindor.”

“He’s just... Weasley.” Sebastian laughs, “Im surprised you survived studying with him and that you didn’t lose your eyebrows in the process.” 

I don’t respond, wishing he would just drop the line of conversation. “Are we picking up where we left off last time?” I ask. While Sebastian didn’t have any real experience with Ancient Magic, no more than I did, he took it upon himself to read everything he could on the subject, frequently sneaking into the restricted section on her behalf. 

“No- I feel like we’re stalling out on how to contain the magic, I’m thinking it would help if we left some of it out.” He notes and I narrow my eyes at him. 

“I thought thats the exact opposite of the thing I told you I wanted to do. I don’t want to use it, I want to make it not a problem anymore.”

He sighs, this isn’t the first conversation we’ve had about this. He’s always seen my magic as a gift. But he hadn’t been there when it killed Professor Fig, when it thought legions of people who now wanted me dead for simply having it, people who wanted to possess it. This magic was a burden that should be kept hidden.

“What if containing it for the rest of time isn’t working. What if it never works?” 

“That can’t be an option.” I seethe, fighting to keep my voice from wobbling. I close my eyes as those feelings bubble up from deep in my stomach. I feel warm as the magic starts to fill me up, overwhelm me. 

I drop my wand and it clatters to the floor. “Bird.” He mumbles, coming to my side and places his hand on both of my shoulders. “Breathe.” 

“Don’t tell me to breathe.” I snap, eyes opening to meet his. His warm, normal brown eyes widen at the sight of my glowing ones. He takes a step back in fear. He was afraid of me, thats why he didn’t want to fucking be with me. I lose control and turn to face the practice dummy. Without lifting my hand the wood explodes in blue flame. 

Tears prick my eyes as I look at the destruction. I glance at Sebastian who hasn’t wiped the look of pure fear off his face yet. I grab my wand off the floor, grab my cloak and bag off the couch and run out of the Undercroft. 

I get back to my dorm, throwing my bag on my bed, my roommate making an annoyed sound at the at the noise. I grab a piece of parchment and write on it. 

Gareth, I’d love to. 

I fold it up and tie it to my owl’s leg. She rustles her father's at being woken up. “Bring this to Gareth.” I whisper. I turn around and fall into my bed, still seething as she stretches her wings and flies out the window.