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thesudokukid · 20 days ago

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@artsideblogofsorts

I saw your tags on the Machine Connor version of this:

#idk why but machine Connor hurts my heart #love the pov of being inside his brain #but id personally be cutting wires #deviant Connor my beloved uwu

There is, in fact, an (Eventual) Deviant Connor version of this. There it is. Much nicer than the one that you read. Hopefully you enjoy it etc.

By default my work features a Connor that eventually Deviates. Personal Question is also the first chapter of my recently completed fic Basic Decency so if you want to read that after, you can find that here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55637674/chapters/141220783

I haven't done a full write-up of Hostage yet. By my reckoning it will be one of the last things to get a full write-up.

But anyway, here's what I've written for Hostage. About 810 words or so. Re: "He's been caught". No idea what that's about. He will not let me delete and in fact insists it's absolutely vital. I don't know.

Connor kneels down and picks up the fish lying on the floor before gently depositing it back where it belongs.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^

When he straightens back up, he notices an officer standing at the far end of the hall.

He's been caught. His facial scanners tell him this is the third youngest detective in DPD history, Detective Anderson. Only living child of its youngest lieutenant, Hank Anderson. He wonders for a moment if the man feels threatened by their success.

Detective Anderson smiles at him warmly. Almost as though they're proud of him for saving an ultimately meaningless fish.

"Good idea. Today's been bad enough for that kid. Best she doesn't have to grieve the loss of her family's fish on top of everything else that's happened today."

"It's a Dwarf Gourami," Connor can't help blurting out. "They're a South Asian fish known to thrive in a small groups. Perhaps due to their shy and peaceful nature. If the owner has a pair of them they'll even swim together."

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^

Rather than telling him to focus as anyone else might, the Detective smiles and nods at him.

Connor wonders at their high approval for something so irrelevant to the mission at hand but decides to leave matters are and continue on ahead.

They follow shortly thereafter and both of them are waylaid by the hostage's frantic mother, Caroline Philips, who grabs Detective Anderson by the collar.

He watches them blow out a breath, "Ma'am please let go of me. I'm trying to help save your daughter."

"But you're just a kid," the mother says, looking down at the Detective. "You can't possibly be a day over twenty."

Detective Anderson clears their throat.

"I'm nearly thirty and as I said, we're trying to help save your daughter. If you could let me go so we can do that please?"

She pulls her hands back and in the moment it takes Detective Anderson to catch their breath, she notices the Cyberlife branding on Connor's clothes. The LED at his temple.

Detective Anderson sees the moment of shock and uses it to continue on. Connor decides to imitate them and do the same.

Not even a moment later she begins shouting about sending a "real person" rather than an android. That the Detective's low empathy means they're autistic and surely they can't expect an autistic person to properly monitor an android's behavior.

SAVED AUDIO FILE: NOT_REAL_PERSON.wav

Detective Anderson issues an exasperated sigh.

"That's not the first time someone's assumed incompetence because of my autism. And on account of the stigma around autism it won't be the last."

—

Detective Anderson stops and he does too.

They turn to face him, "Do you want me to take you to Captain Allen?”

He has an objective marker guiding him to where the man is sitting but since they were kind enough to offer even despite his being an android, Connor feels it's only right that he accept.

On the way there they then begin offering him information he suspects he'd metaphorically need to pull teeth for if they were anyone else.

"The Deviant's name is Daniel. We tried the deactivation code. It didn't work."

Five footsteps later, he's arrived at Captain Allen's location and Detective Anderson takes their leave.

"I'll go and see if I can figure out why that Deviant's shouting about having a daughter."

Captain Allen scoffs at Connor's nod.

"Best you don't listen to them, Detective Anderson's always been a fuckin' freakshow. Whatever they told you, just ignore it. It's all naive, delusional garbage anyways."

Connor goes back over the memory of Detective Anderson, frightened by the vise grip on their collar, and yet determined to push through it. Dedicated to doing the job and doing it well. Meaning he can disregard everything Captain Allen just said and quite probably, dispense the idea of listening to him altogether. He'll need to verify his analysis however.

"Has the deactivation code been used yet," Connor asks.

"Of course it was. That was the first thing we tried. As you can see, it didn't work," the man says gesturing to all the chaos.

"Detective Anderson was the first person to tell me the deactivation code didn't work. So clearly their words are not in fact, 'all naive, delusional garbage'. Do you know the Deviant's name?"

"Why don't you go ask Detective Anderson if they're so fuckin' smart?! I've got work to do here. Scram."

SAVED VIDEO FILE: NAIVE_DELUSIONAL_GARBAGE.mp4

Connor decides to check the case on the floor that was probably used for gun storage. The gun is gone. As is the ammunition. Meaning the Deviant stole the gun while it was pretending to do something else. Knowing that, he leaves the room and the most unhelpful man he'll probably ever meet behind.

He needs to go and find the person he knows will actually cooperate with him.

Finished one of my fics recently, added a surprise one-horse to another. Figured it couldn't hurt to poke my toe into the water with my most popular fic. See if posting on Tumblr is a good idea for me.

Personal Question (why are you apologizing)

Pairing: Autistic! Connor x Autistic! Nonbinary! Reader

Word Count: 2433

AO3

Machine Connor Variant on AO3 (coming soon to a Tumblr near you)

“Why are you apologizing?”

Four words you have always wanted to hear after an infodumping session. Four impossible, sacred words induce the sweetest pain you've ever felt.

You can't have heard him right. That has to be wishful thinking on your part. Right? Right?

In which Connor asks you a personal question, as he does, you infodump in response, and experience two miracles in the same day.

This is aimed at other autistic people. I wrote this in the hopes of giving myself catharsis and am sharing it on the grounds that other autistic people may find it cathartic too.

Alternating POV fic under the cut!

“Detective,” Connor says. “Would you mind overly much if I asked you a personal question?”

He reminds you so much of you with that question, you can't help but shake your head and grin, “Of course not, go ahead.”

“This ought to be fuckin' good,” your dad grumbles.

“Why did you choose to pursue a dual degree and not a double major? From my understanding, attending university as a neurodivergent student is hard enough, a dual degree on top of that must have been…”

Oh, that. It's a good opener for a casual conversation with you. Curious and sympathetic to what you must have suffered without tripping over itself to do so.

“It was hell on earth some days, make no mistake. The workload alone-”

At this point you laugh so long he looks honestly alarmed by it. Seeing this, you shake your head.

“I figured if I’m gonna fail, I might as well fail because I dreamed too big and not because I couldn't hack it in general. The fact that psychology is one of my special interests was also pretty helpful.”

For a second Connor looks interested. Actually genuinely interested. This is interrupted by your dad coughing out of nowhere. And also Connor looking around like there's some kind of active threat happening. As soon as he realizes there's not, he comes back to the conversation and just…tilts his head. Maybe that interest wouldn't mean much to a neurotypical but for you? For you who’ve masked so long you don't even allow yourself to engage in your special interests anymore? It's everything.

You can't help the smile that breaks onto your face. Because for a minute, for a moment, for just a little while…someone actually wants to hear you talk about your special interests. And since it's been so long, you go at it a lot harder than you otherwise might have. Even mentioning your first special interest.

—

“Using my first special interest of Titanic as an example, if the devil were to walk up to me and tell me that I would be able to learn everything there is to know about the Titanic, absolutely everything, within my lifetime in exchange for my soul? Could not make that deal fast enough. Wouldn't read the fine print.”

Connor leans forward as well as he can. At the moment, nothing matters more to him than this. He doesn't quite understand why. Only that the social integration protocol isn't even a factor at this point.

“Explain?”

The resulting smile is so bright it could outshine the sun itself. The Detective begins to speak more loudly, more quickly. Stumbling over their words in their excitement to share their interest.

“Devil would be utterly terrified of how quickly I agreed. And not only that, I would honestly feel like I got the better end of the deal out of that one. By a long shot. The Devil would have to give me absolutely everything and even then it still wouldn't be enough. I would annoy the Devil so much I would be given my soul again just so I’d stop being so much of a bother about it and as you can probably surmise that absolutely would not work.”

The Detective laughs and shrugs casually, for once, perfectly at ease. There's even a sunny smile on their face.

“By virtue of being my first special interest it’s also the most intense but that's generally how I feel about psychology as well. You can imagine how much of a boon that was under those circumstances I’m sure.”

They blink and perhaps three seconds later, the joy recedes and their bright smile fades. Only to be replaced by a brittle smile.

—

That last sentence… You’re infodumping. You get your first chance to talk about your special interest to someone outside your family in years and you fucking blew it by infodumping. Of course you did. Of course you did. Your throat’s gone dry, your face has gone hot. You're maybe five seconds of bursting into tears at best. You force yourself to disengage. To avoid thinking about how desperately lonely it is to not be able to talk about your special interests at all. To force yourself not to infodump. You're so tired of hiding. But even still, you have to.

You give yourself one last moment to feel grief for who you're not allowed to be. To feel pathetic for not having a normal level of interest in something so deeply important to you. And then you claw off the part of you that clings like a barnacle to such childish things.

“And I just realized I did a fucking infodump. God that's embarrassing.”

It tries to hurt. It wants to hurt. You smother the feeling and roll your eyes at yourself as you explain what infodumping is.

“It boils down to dropping a whole lot of info about a topic at once. And I don't typically notice when someone has gotten bored or disinterested or is trying to leave the conversation and I…got too emotional. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

Detach. Detach. Detach. Detach. Don't feel interest. Don’t show interest. You feel nothing.

You only realize that your past self is clinging to its special interests again when it digs in at Connor’s apparent “no, wait” look. Is-Is he actually interested?

There's no way. There isn't. It's absolutely impossible. You're just seeing what you want to see.

And then… And then… A miracle.

—

“Why are you apologizing?”

Four words you have always wanted to hear after an infodumping session. Four impossible, sacred words induce the sweetest pain you've ever felt.

You can't have heard him right. That has to be wishful thinking on your part. Right? Right?

You blink at him a few times and take a sip of your drink. You look up at the rainy sky, half expecting to see a winged pig fly by. You look back at Connor.

“Genuine question so please hear me out,” you say. Connor nods instantly and you're so relieved you could cry, “Did you actually ask what I’m hoping you asked? Because I’ve wanted someone to say that for so long I am honestly afraid that I’m hallucinating.”

“You aren't imagining or hallucinating anything,” Connor says. “I did in fact ask why you were apologizing for infodumping. Is there a specific reason you felt imagining it was the more likely option?”

There are tears trying to come out of your eyes right now. If you tell him now, right now, they're going to fall and won't stop falling until you can finish your grief of having to suppress who you really are. Feeling childish for having genuine all-consuming passion. The kind of emotional breakdown that’s best to have in private.

He seems genuinely interested in getting to know you and as much as you would be delighted to allow him to, you can't. At least, not right now.

“As much as I’d like to answer that question, that's best saved for a long drawn out conversation. You can call me Ainsel by the way. Internal systems only. For your specific serial number. To make up for the fact that I’m not answering that personal question yet. Sure we're all on a lunch break now but that's gonna end eventually and then it's back to work. Also, I might have a breakdown about it. Lot of grieving to do there.”

“Oh,” he says. It feels like a stab to the heart the way he looks like a wounded puppy about it. Not unlike the way you probably did when you first realized most people don't have a special interest in psychology. That most people will never understand that you express affection by studying them like a bug under a microscope. Most people are in fact deeply offended by it. In his case the worry seems to be that he hurt your feelings or brought up painful memories.

“I’m sorry.”

He gets up and gets in the car. If you don't follow him now, he's going to start suppressing his interest just like you did and oh God he's autistic isn't he?

You were done with your lunch anyway so you toss its detritus and go sit in the car with him. Your dad is still sitting there, eating his lunch.

You look in the general direction of the rear view mirror where Connor is staring at you. Watching, watching, analyzing you. He's like you. The thought settles your stomach more than you imagined possible.

—

Connor is keenly aware of Ainsel's presence the moment they enter their father's vehicle. Eyes sticking to them like a magnet via the rear view mirror, unable and unwilling to let go.

Fortunately they don't seem to be offended by the attention. His eyes move away the second Ainsel's eyes catch his, suddenly forced to remember his place in the world. They're a human. He's an android. They don't owe him anything. They never did. They're meant to have a one way relationship. He owes them an answer to their questions. Not the other way around. He certainly has no right to ask them something so immensely personal without warning.

He opens his mouth to apologize for the discomfort he previously caused them and finds himself surprised by Ainsel's shake of the head.

“You don't owe me an apology. I wasn't offended. About the staring or asking about something personal. I never said that I wouldn't answer the question or that I had better things to do with my time. I didn't even say that it was too painful to answer at all. I only said it was too painful to answer that question during work hours. That is a whole separate thing and idea from your perception that your personal question brought up too many bad memories for me to answer it at all.”

It's here that his programming confirms it would be a waste of time to ingratiate himself with the Lieutenant rather than Ainsel. For someone so immensely private to tell him their name, or something akin to their name, can only speak well of how much goodwill they have towards him already.

And even aside from that, it doesn't make what just happened right. It's him who should be comforting them, not the other way around. He shouldn't even need it.

Decision made. Connor gets out of the car and into the backseat where he closes the door.

—

Your hands start to move, ready and willing to tap out the rhythm of Shave and a Haircut. You force them to be still. You don't want them to be. You really, really don't want them to be. But you’ve had too much good luck today. You don't want to press it by stimming in a way that's actually noticeable. Once you uncork that bottle it won't want to be recorked. Connor might be fine with it. Maybe. He was fine with your info-dumping at him after all. And not even that, he seemed honestly upset that you stopped info-dumping.

But just because he's fine with one visible autistic trait doesn't mean he'll be fine with another. His coin tricks might, maybe, be a stim but you haven't known him too long so it's hard to tell.

You bring your hands closer together, to interlock them in an effort to keep yourself from stimming. They start trembling as if in response. Almost like they're trying to reassure you that you can stim, really, it's fine.

You bite your lip and prepare to ignore the reassurance. And then another miracle.

Connor sticks a hand between both of yours and very gently, very carefully stops you from locking your hands together by pulling them apart.

There's someone else it wouldn't have worked for. Hell, for you, that may not have even worked if you hadn't realized he was autistic like you. But right now, in this moment, for you? It was exactly the right thing to do.

Apparently your calmness is showing on your face because Connor pulls back his hands and watches as you sigh from relief and lean back against the window for a minute.

You shake the previous tension out of your hands and then let them do what they wanted to earlier. They clap out Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits loud enough your hands actually hurt afterwards. But it's a good kind of pain. Necessary. Because it means that you're healing.

—

Seeing that Ainsel seems to be feeling much better, Connor tries to reassure them he isn't going to think less of them for their autistic traits.

“Perhaps sharing the level of information you did earlier at the speed you shared it would have been too much for a human. But I’m not human, am I? You needn't feel contrition or have any qualms about potentially being unpredictable. After all, adaptation to human unpredictability is one of my many features. As for the other issue…”

Connor takes out his coin and rolls it over his knuckles once or twice before returning it to its place in his pocket.

Connor grins wolfishly and tries tossing in a wink for good measure, in an effort to help Ainsel know not only that he's on their side but that he truly means what he's saying. And for… something else. He's not sure why. It doesn't matter what the other reason is in the end. His point is made all the same.

He's made a gaping hole in Ainsel's ability to self-reproach for infodumping at him. And in so doing is tacitly encouraging them to do it more. The aim, in general, is discouraging any attempts to blame themselves for giving him heaps of information on something they're so obviously exuberant about. Because he's one of the few people in the world who can actually keep up with them. Who can process it as fast as they share it or even faster.

He stays in the backseat a while longer. For the sake of getting to know Ainsel better. So he can more easily predict their behavior. Or so he tells himself.

The Lieutenant knocks on the window in the middle of Connor asking Ainsel a safe, inoffensive question about their favorite animal, startling them both.

“Am I interrupting something,” the Lieutenant asks.

Ainsel squints at the man and shrugs. “Depends on your definition of interrupting.”

Connor takes this as his cue to head back to the front passenger seat. As he gets into the seat, trying not to be disappointed by having his conversation with Ainsel interrupted.

#my writing #dbh connor #dbh #detroit become human #my fics

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actualcannibalgirl · 2 years ago

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7 Steps For More Effective Decision Making

If you are considering becoming a leader, it's essential to understand and realize, you'll have to make decisions, so when you aren't comfortable taking them or feel at ease with it, either reconsider your choice or, if you're a beginner, learn to control yourself and become comfortable with the concept, it's time to be a quality, reliable decision-maker! In the more than three decades I have spent identifying, qualifying, training and consulting with thousands of actual and/or prospective leaders, I've realized that this is a vital skill, that must be developed, as part of the leadership training process. In this post, we will examine 7 actions to help you make better decisions.

1. Find out the entire story

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3. Think about alternatives:

There's all the time a different way to proceed? What are your choices, possibilities, and potential negative or positive ramifications from each?

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It is then time to move towards the next step one that is often regarded as the most difficult: deciding to choose the correct course of action.

5. Strategic Plan:

Every business should be planning strategically. Strategic planning should consider what the business needs in order to stay relevant and viable into the coming years. The best strategy is determined by taking into account the group's heritage along with its background, history, purpose, its current developments and their requirements, as well as issues that they face, and their concerns. This can get bogged down by those who make use of it to complain and blame the other.

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Your choices that matter until unless, you move the procedure forward from mere speculation, theory and ideas, to real application. Get started!

If you're looking to be an effective leader, you must be prepared to make the right choices. The steps listed below will assist you be a better decision maker!

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taylors-fourth-cat-meow · 3 years ago

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Acowar Chp: 44 - The High Lords Meeting.

Okay this is from the chp tamlin enters because tbh I am not interested in anything before that lol

If u don't like Tamlin and love ic and feyre kindly leave now you have been forewarned.

Absolute silence. Absolute stillness.

Yeah baby that’s how you honour my king

I tried to school mine into the cold caution with which Nesta regarded him, or the vague distaste on Mor’s. I tried—and failed utterly.

Is there anything this loser doesn’t fail?

I knew his moods, his temper

What moods??!?!?! What FUCKING TEMPER BITCH??!!! See, this how tamlin is being viewed for having ugly trauma. Feyre brings up his trauma constantly. She throws tantrums and spits out rubbish without thinking how it might affect him. And when it ultimately does?? hE HaS mOoDS.

Here was the High Lord who had shredded those naga into bloody ribbons; here was the High Lord who had impaled Amarantha on Lucien’s sword and ripped out her throat with his teeth.

KING 🤌🏼🤌🏼🥵🧎🏽‍♀️

I didn’t know what to say. What to do with my body, my breathing.

Don’t worry babe you’re feminist king mate will tell you soon enough. 🙄

No more masks, no more lies and deceptions. The truth, now sprawled bare and open before him. What I’d done in my rage, the lies I’d fed him. The people and land I’d laid vulnerable to Hybern. And now that I’d returned to my family, my mate …

What in the? See? See? THIS BITCH FUCKING KNEW WHAT SHE WAS DOING??? PEOPLE I LAID VULNERABLE TO HYBERN. I. SEE THAT BITCHES?? Feyre herself is taking accountability for it? Maas herself is admitting Feyrug comitted a war crime only Feyrug is a Girlboss™️ for it. Djdjdjnsksla

Not as Tamlin surveyed the hand Rhys had resting on my sparkling knee.

How does your knee sparkle bitch? Like- are u Barbie? No what body wash are u using? Tell me don't be shy.

No, Amarantha hadn’t really known me—her loathing had been superficial, driven from a personal history that poisoned everything. Tamlin … Tamlin knew me. And now hated every inch of what I was.

SO WHY TF IS HE STILL NOT OVER THIS VANILLA COAT RACK IN THE NOVELLA?!?

“I’m not in the business of discussing our plans with enemies.”

Helion, across the reflection pool, grinned like a lion.

“No,” Tamlin said with equal ease, “you’re just in the business of fucking them.”

HOW- LIKE HOW CAN U NOT STAN THIS SAVAGE KING?!?

But whether Tamlin noticed or cared that three of the deadliest people in this room were currently contemplating his demise, he didn’t let on.

Deadliest? Bitch u kidding right? Tamlin is a high lord he cud kill your pet bats in a sec if he wanted too? And miss ma'am is sitting in a room full all the high lords and two bats who wear colourful stones and a lie dectector are the most deadliest? Like damn sjm how do u even fit all that bat dick in your throat?

Rhys shrugged, smiling faintly. “Seems a far less destructive alternative to war.”

So he can apologise to Kallias for not doing anything while children in his court were killed but can't apologise to tamlin for standing by and actually helping to put his ppl in concentration camps and torture them?!

I said quietly, “The sun was shining when I left you.”

Those green eyes slid to me, glazed and foreign. He let out a low snort, then looked away again.

Dismissal.

HOW IS HE SOOOO HAWT?!?!???????!!!!

Like idk feyre is trying to make it seem Girlboss that miss ma'am left tamlin with the guy who assualted her, who slaughtered Tamlins family and can control minds and hates tamlin, and thought to say goodbye via a letter? A letter written by an illiterate? Miss girl trying to be poetic and badass. Uk what is actually badass? "DISMISSAL" 🤌🏼🤌🏼🥵🥵🧎🏽‍♀️🤰

“I bartered access to my lands to get back the woman I love from a sadist who plays with minds as if they are toys. I meant to fight Hybern—to find a way around the bargain I made with the king once she was back. Only Rhysand and his cabal had turned her into one of them. And she delighted in ripping open my territory for Hybern to invade. All for a petty grudge—either her own or her … master’s.”

OOFFF POP OFF MY LOVE!! YASSS "all for a petty grudge" YESS CALL OUT THAT BITCH!!

“You don’t get to rewrite the narrative,” I breathed. “You don’t get to spin this to your advantage.”

Okay this is so fcking ironic cause this statement is basically acomaf in a nutshell. I feel like one her editors told sjm this and she just used it as a 'fck u to them' lol.

“They peddle tales of defending our land and peace. And yet she came to my lands and laid them bare for Hybern. She took my High Priestess and warped her mind—after she shattered her bones for spite. And if you are asking yourself what happened to that human girl who went Under the Mountain to save us … Look to the male sitting beside her. Ask what he stands to gain—what they stand to gain from this war, or lack of it. Would we fight Hybern, only to find ourselves with a Queen and King of Prythian? She’s proved her ambition—and you saw how he was more than happy to serve Amarantha to remain unscathed.”

YES BABY!! He is legit the only character that calls these ppl out on their bs? Istg Tamlin is the most sensible person in this series. Like my man's talking business. He is literally the only one smart enough to notice Rhysie Gaslighting? He's is literally pointing out on a silver platter that RHYSAND IS FCKING MANIPULATING FEYRE and yet she doesn't understand lmao

Rhys let out a dark laugh. “Well played, Tamlin. You’re learning.”

See? This what they do? The second tamlin brings out valid points and starts calling them out they start condescending him? Exactly how women have faced this all these years. The second they take a stand they are labelled crazy.

Kallias’s eyes flared like blue flame. “You stood beside her throne while the order was given.”

I watched, stomach twisting, as Rhys’s golden skin paled. “I tried to stop it.”

So we are just going to go ahead and forget that fact in Acotar it was Rhysie the who killed the kids? Really?

Rhys’s mouth tightened. “There is not one day that passes when I don’t remember it,” he said to Kallias, to Viviane. To their companions. “Not one day.”

Says the guy who wanted to fck his mate in safe place of SA survivors.

Not … what he might have been forced to witness, too. Forced to endure, bound and trapped.

And standing by, leashed to Amarantha, while she ordered the murder of those children—

Okay u have no fcking idea how MAD this makes me!! Two dozen children died? Their parents lost their children?! And somehow the man who stood by and did nothing is the victim? What like what?!?!??!

“I believe you.”

“Says the woman,” Beron countered, “who gave an innocent girl’s name in her stead—for Amarantha to butcher as well.”

Yes old creepy guy call her out! See the ppl who actually do call her out and just deemed irredeemable villians who just talk shit about Feyrug just cause they are evil.

I blocked out the words, the memory of Clare.

I- what that's it? That's it?!?? Beron just rightfully called her out on causing Clare's death and she just "blocks out the memory" wtf?!

“Who knew,” Beron mused, “that a cock could be so persuasive?”

Pls 💀

“Stories and words,” Tamlin said, lounging in his chair. “Is there any proof?”

YES ANSWER HIM U LITTLE BITCH

“No,” Rhys cut in as Mor blocked Cassian with an arm, forcing him to sit. Rhys added to Kallias, “But I swear it—upon my mate’s life.” His hand at last rested atop mine.

Not good enough for me bitch

Tamlin rolled his eyes

I literally loosing my shit like how is this "your hair is...clean" man literally roasting these bitches. My man really said break up = glow up 🤌🏼🤌🏼🥵

“I once told you I would fight against tyranny, against that sort of evil. Did you think you were enough to turn me from that?” His teeth shone white as bone. “It was so easy for you to call me a monster, despite all I did for you, for your family.” A sneer toward Nesta, who was frowning with distaste.

YES YES YES DRAG HER BABE!! Like he is do right!!! Tamlin did do A LOT for those two ungrateful idiots. They were starving and poor even when feyre was hunting. What tamlin did WAS NOT THE BARE FUCKING MINIMUM. Uk what wud be bare minimum? Giving them a piece of meat and bread every two weeks because that was literally what feyre was providing them. Idk I kinda hate Nesta here. Distaste? Girl u shud thanking him on your knees.

“Yet you witnessed all that he did Under the Mountain, and still spread your legs for him. Fitting, I suppose. He whored for Amarantha for decades. Why shouldn’t you be his whore in return?”

Yes. I said this before too? Tamlin is LITERALLY the only one to point out that their relationship is based on SA!??! And uk... Like idk what I said before. But this isn't slut shaming to me. Nope it isn't. Srry. He is harsh and he gets to be that after what Feyrug did to him but he's rightfully pointing out the truth.

“Watch your mouth,” Mor snapped. I was having difficulty swallowing—breathing.

Tamlin ignored her wholly and waved a hand toward Rhysand’s wings. “I sometimes forget—what you are. Have the masks come off now, or is this another ploy?”

How- how do u hate a person like this? Like can I just say if tamlin was a female in this relationship and Feyrug the male let's see how many not call feyrug abusive and cheer tamlin on.

“You’d be all too happy for war, considering how well you made out in the last one.”

(Tamlin to Helion)

Wait a damn minute. Which war is this? Is he talking about the humans war? DOES HE KNOW ABOUT THE AFFAIR???! like what is the fcking context?! Djdjdjsksksm

Okayyy this is all for now. There's more about Tamlin nd hybern but I made a seperate post altogether about it so no point in discussing. The rest of the chp is boring and too much...even for me. Hope u liked it!!

#anti sjm #anti acotar #tamlin #anti feyre #anti feysand #anti rhysand #anti acowar #tamlin supremacy #pro tamlin

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annaphoenix1994 · 3 years ago

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Masterlist Here:

Long Violent History

"What're you going to do for work, Mia?" Michael asked the same evening, the house quiet in the night and the two sitting on their bed, each facing each other from opposite ends.

"I've been wanting to quit my job back home anyway," She scoffed, crisscrossing her legs and gripping her knees. "It's way in my budget and is perfect for us, Michael. I know it's a far ways away from home, but it's quiet, with no neighbors, and peaceful. The perfect place for us."

Michael shook his head, "I don't know, Mia. This is a big jump and something I'm not used to."

"I know. It is for me too, but with just the couple of hours I was there, I felt at home."

"How far is it from town? What if something happens to you or Ella? How far away is any resources we need? Schools?-"

"Michael, you think I didn't think this through at all and fell in love with the first place I found-"

"-No."

"It's twenty minutes from Billings. We have a few years before worrying about school for Ella. Even if it came down to it, she can be home-schooled. The realtor told me about a few openings she had in her office that sounded perfect."

"I don't know, Mia." He sighed.

She frowned, crawling towards Michael's side of the bed, straddling his lap as his back was against the headboard. Instinctively, his hands rested on her hips as she looked at him with worried eyes. "Just come out and look at it with me. Please?"

"When?"

"Tomorrow?"

He nodded.

"Just have an open mind about it. I'm not trying to pressure you into moving. I'm just saying that it looks perfect and safe."

"Nothing is safe as long as I'm around." He frowned.

She cupped his bearded cheek, "Correction: nobody aside from us is safe as long as you're around." She giggled.

Sharon sighed as she answered her phone on her desk, the ring interrupting her concentrated mind on her sales quote for Mia prior to emailing it to her. "Sharon Childers' Office, how may I help you?"

"How are you? It's Kevin."

She chuckled, "Half-brother Kevin?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, how are you? Haven't spoken to you in months!"

"It's been hectic here... With work and all."

"Sounds like you've been pretty busy."

"Oh, I have. I'm actually calling you for some help."

"Sure thing!"

"I'm in an important investigation. Homicide. I think the suspects have fled and I got word that they have fled towards Montana. I was calling to see if you had maybe heard of anyone from Illinois looking around?"

She furrowed her brows, "No?"

She knew who he was talking about, just as she knew Kevin was always one to have malicious intentions.

"So... A woman with a baby didn't come and look at a house you're selling?"

"No."

"Really? Because I'm looking at my emails here and I see my suspect's email address on a thread with yours."

"Kevin, please," She sighed. "She just asked me about the house. I'm not selling it to her."

"Is that so? Because I have a sales invoice request from her email with your reply stating that you were working on it."

"H-How do you even have access to my account information anyway?"

She heard him chuckle from the other line.

"You're forgetting I have connections with your corporate office. I guess you're forgetting who helped you become a realtor, huh?"

"N-No."

"Forgetting on who cleared your criminal record to help you get this job?"

"...No." She huffed.

"Good. I suggest you tell me exactly what happened. I already have the address."

"All she did was come and look at the house. Said that it would be perfect for a fresh start, but didn't say she would take it. I knew I recognized her from somewhere. If I recall, you treated her like dirt, Kevin. She's always been a sweetheart and you took advantage of her. Just leave her alone," She scoffed.

"You've always been one to take sides."

"You've always been one to not let things go."

"I suggest you watch your mouth, Sharon. I'm asking you for help here, not a fight."

"I'm afraid I can't. You leave her alone. She has a little girl for God's sake."

She shivered as she heard him chuckle from the other end.

#michael myers #james jude courtney #halloween2018

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

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A Series Of Mutual Feelings, 1/3 (Scarjah) - Pazinae

chapter 1: i hate u (and the feelings mutual)

Chapter Summary: Ra'jah is determined to have a fresh start and be a better person, now enrolled as a first year fashion school student- but Scarlet has a way of always making her newfound plans falter. With a rocky high school history, the (not so) fortuitous pair endure some mutual hatred

A/N: enemies 2 luvers scarjah everyone xoxo meant to be a oneshot, but got a little carried away n my doc for this is currently 19 pages long ahaha so to be more palatable it will be a 4 chapter story (its says 3, but you'll see). this one is mainly the intro for the story to understand where they're at emotionally in the present, and is mostly ra'jah centric on her growth + kylie friendship fluff bc theyre the cutest, and a bit of scarlet pov. feedback super super welcome, enjoy !!!

***

Scarlet strode down the hall with a sway in her hips, her heels clacking on the laminate floor. What kind of tacky ass bitch wears heels to school anyways? Ra'jah scoffed internally, watched the girl saunter like she's on a tightrope, each tantalizing step brought her foot exactly in front of the other. Her body fell into a rhythm, stomping the fucking campus like a lion stalking the jungle for the sheer fun of watching it’s prey scamper. Scarlet's bouncing skirt, her signature grin and luscious ginger curls sprouting out her scalp made her gag. And not in the stunning way. Just as quickly as she came she was gone, and, to be fair, she was just another girl sandwiched in the masses just getting to where she’s going. But she could pluck that arrogant little redhead bitch out of any crowd. Not a conscious choice of course, hell, being reminded of her sheer presence causes a battle of trying not to roll her eyes behind her skull. She can't help that she sees her. Not when Scarlet's lips are painted the same shade of bold crimson as the tight, sleeveless top she's wearing, like a fresh drop of blood in a sea of grey clad bodies swimming around in their hoodies.

This isn't high school anymore Ra'jah. A repetitive reminder that needs to be said evermore until it's understood at her core. Because It's different now, she knows that- it has to be. No fucking way are her dreams going to get caught up in everything again, they're too big to be put at stake. She can't live just to be like that again, and this time she's too grown to waste her time on useless people. High school was a bubble, a 4 year trance that she's left and is more than ready to forget about.

"Hey, Ra'jah!" That southern, velvety voice could only belong to one stunning woman. She turned around to spot her speed walking to catch up.

"Aye! Kylie!" Ra'jah stopped and gave a little wave as Kylie approached, her highlight shining even in the shitty indoor light. The two moved over to the side of the hall, and leaned against the wall. "If it isn't Miss Kylie Sonique Love," With such a pleasing name, Ra'jah doesn't think she will, or, really can ever get tired of saying the other girl's name. "What's up?"

"Nothin', just tired as fuck," It's kinda cute, the way her accent gets stronger when she's grumpy. "I'mma pass out at some point, I did not get enough sleep." Even as a grumble her voice is so soft and angelic, Ra'jah could probably fall asleep to the blonde reading true crime murder stories.

"Goddamn, it sure as hell doesn't show!" Which is true, Kylie was as effervescent as always, any visible messy hair from under her beanie looked intentional. Even in her oversized t-shirt and shorts, there was an undeniable, captivating charm about her that made it impossible for her to look bad "You look gorgeous girl"

"Awh, thanks honey," She smiles a soft, hazy smile. "You don't look too bad yourself." She hums, eyeing her up with a grin. Before she could even argue a response, the country girl quickly perks up and slaps her hand on Ra'jah's shoulder in excitement. "Oh also! I want your opinion- I'm thinking about dying my hair pink." She can see the visible sparkle in the pair of eyes looking at hers. "Thoughts?" She asks, voice becoming giddy "Oooh bitch! You better, that'd be so fierce!" The (mostly) purple haired girl exclaimed, delight evident in her voice "For real, you'd look so good. And you know, ba-BY" she claps her hands together just for added emphasis, "I support ALL the impulsive hair decisions".

"Yess, obviously I want input only from bad bitches with the best hair"

"I told you I did these myself right?" she asked, running her shoulder length hair through her twirling fingers. "I've been really into doing hair recently"

"Wait, really? It looks so pretty, the fade to purple is so good"

"What'd you mean 'wait really' hoe, what you implying 'bout my hair skills?"

"Just that a talented woman like you should share your expertise!" Even when she was loud her voice was just as comforting, the tone reminiscent of a silk blanket on her skin

"All it took for me was bleach, a bottle of violet Arctic Fox dye, and the holy spirit of Brad Mondo"

"First of all I'm not trusting no mans named Brad," Ra'jah cackled a little because, yeah that's fair. "And secondly, if you're free, come an' help a girl out then!

"You're inviting me over? Wow we're moving kinda fast Kylie"

"Oh shut up bitch" but the undying twinkle in her eye confirmed the unsaid agreement that Ra'jah would be doing Kylie's hair, at some point.

"I'm free on Thursday, can I visit then?"

"Yea that works" She smiled, and the closeness between the two wasn't something the taller girl ever planned, or really felt before. But she had it now, a friend she really cares about, and she never wanted to lose it.

"Shit what time is it?" Even in her Shitty Human era she was still a timely gal, her mother didn't raise no late hoe. "Don't stress it Raj, we have like 15 minutes. Introduction to drafting and sewing, right?"

"Yes ma'am. Wanna start going?" "Sure thing" This year is for a new start, making new friends, and getting a chance to create new first impressions. Rebrand herself y'know, and the hindrance that is Scarlet's existence, wrapped in all the ancient things she'd rather not think about, won't stop her.

The walk to class was a pleasant blur. With Kylie yawning and walking essentially shoulder to shoulder with Ra'jah had they been the same height, they slipped into both comfortable conversation, and silence. With all the noise around them, their presence brought an ease without any awkwardness.

A trek opted through the outdoor route that was albeit a tad longer, provided some well needed greenery and fresh air.

"You excited for class?" Ra'jah asked, only half aware of where she was walking to. Her body was on autopilot, and Kylie knows the way, probably.

"You're amazing if you can get excited by class"

"It's fun!"

"Only 'cause you're good at it"

"You're good at it"

"You know what I mean. Isn't this one your favorite?"

"It's not my favorite"

"Uh huh"

"I just like it a lot. Maybee essentially jus' cause I don't hafta try" It was a mandatory course, but Ra'jah's not complaining. Perhaps it's a little vain to enjoy something just to remind everyone you can do it, but it was an easy break from the rest of the courses. And a nice little egoboost.

"So I'm right!"

"C'mon it's October and we're still on basic techniques"

"It's called introductory," She remarked. "Do you even pay attention half the time?"

"No but bitch neither do you"

"True" Kylie grinned in agreement.

"The way you're coming for me but it's easy for you too!" She hasn't been sewing as long as Ra'jah, but she has great taste so it really balanced out. "And let it be known that I use that class time to think about incredibly productive things"

"Oh that's her name?"

"What?" She didn't mean for her tone to drop. Didn't mean for her legs to stop walking, planting themselves into the cement. Didn't mean for the smile on her face to plummet at the implication. Her visceral reaction was louder than the cluelessness she gave off.

"Calm down" She giggled, as if Ra'jah's reaction woke her up from her grogginess, her breathlessness equivalent to a shot of espresso for Kylie. "You just seem really occupied sometimes is what I meant"

"Me? No I'm not" She couldn't convince herself.

"Okay babe. The models of your fashion sketches just look a little reminiscent"

"You know Scarlet isn't the only person with ginger hair right?" Ra'jah bites back, the condescending tone not her intention, but not exactly unwanted in the moment. Scarlet is insufferable, she doesn't want her own name slandered is all, being associated with the arrogant shit.

"Baby, I ain't mention Scarlet. That's all you.'' She had a shit eating smirk and maybe Ra'jah takes everything back about how nice friends are. IF there was inspiration, Scarlet is objectively nice looking so it's not a big deal there might be similarities if you squint.

"She was implied"

"If you want her to be"

They get inside and take a seat at one of the large tables, divided into stations with a sewing machine and some material at each one. Ra'jah takes a spot at the edge, with Kylie seated to her right.

On paper, it's all been planned out for Ra'jah; during her strolls between classes she'll take in all her surroundings and actively look for inspiration, pondering all the natural shapes and patterns of the world in a way she can manipulate into clothing. On paper, she'll make the most out of the introductory class, sketching designs between the minimal notes and sewing practices. On paper, she'll finish the mornings class with ease and have extra time to practice some new things.

In reality? Paper is flimsy, especially when its accountability is held by a fleeting mind. It's hard to bask in the world when unwanted questions plague her head. Mostly revolving around a certain redhead. God, fuck her. Fuck her pretty eyes and fuck her sculpted face and fuck her euphonious voice. Does everyone who sees Ra'jah see her patheticness? How she allowed some cunt to infiltrate her mind, set up home in her head and take up all the space? Let her infect every cell in the brain like a parasite until her skull is nothing but an infiltrated shell for an infestation caught up with infatuation?

"Ra'jah, you good?" The girl sat across from her, Trinity, piped up, and Ra'jah had to bite back a smile. The icy, timid girl she met just a few weeks ago was starting the conversation.

"Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"You just looked a little spaced out"

"Nah, it's just that this class is a breeze an' I'm just thinking about a project for another class"

"Mmm"

"Plus it's hard to just think of designs when there's no inspiration"

"I mean, we're supposed to practice gathering and making ruffles right now"

"Oh shit! We are?"

"Yeah girl!" Ra'jah, shaking her head at herself, finally picked up some of the fabric around her and got to work. "You'll be alright?"

"Oh don't worry about me! I'm all good"

"Okayyy if you need anything just yell" Ra'jah replied with a hum and a nod. Watching the girl running the fabric under the machine, memories of the first time they'd talked flashed, days of the nearly silent girl feeling so distant.

"I really like your earrings" The girl raised her head, looking left and right a little as if making sure it was directed at her.

"Thanks." She mumbled, vaguely looking at Ra'jah's direction.

"If you don't mind, where'd you get them?"

"Uh, I thrifted it."

"Oh, cool" Ra'jah smiled, before quickly adding "Thanks". The raven haired girl didn't reply. The start of the intriguing game of 'does she hate me, is she shy, or both?'

After all the awkward attempts made for the quiet girl to be comfortable and maybe make a friend, a sense of pride rang through her. She met Kylie and Trinity here a mere month ago, and yeah, maybe she could be nice. She could walk the fineline of warm socialization without being annoying. The new Ra'jah doesn't do unnecessary mean quips just for the sake of a little power rush. She can be authentically her while being polite. New Ra'jah makes friends- not enemies.

"Oh by the way" Ra'jah snapped her head up at Trinity's voice

"Yeah, what's up?"

"I know it's a little random but do you know what you're gonna be for Halloween?"

"Huh. Well, I haven't really thought about it" Ra'jah remarked, "I just don't care for Halloween and all that"

"Really? Girl, you're not gonna do anything, dress up, go out, nothing?"

"Baby all that work and money for some costume I'll wear once? No ma'am- and the fuck will I do, I barely have ideas for school!"

"Hey, you could wear anything and it's a costume. Wear a black dress, you're a cat"

"You think I'm that basic?"

"Yeah?"

"Fuck you" She snorted, and Trinity had a goofy smile, looking at Ra'jah with a sense of familiar fondness. "And thanks, really, but I don't care for all that spooky shit anyways"

"Damn, alright!" Teeth out and all, she laughed. The blonde on the right leaned in a little, a pleasant opposition of Trinity's hesitation is Kylie's eagerness

"Jesus Ra'jah, what did Halloween do to you?" The southern girl butts in. "You could dress as the grinch of Halloween, steal children's candy"

"You know what, yeah, I'll be a sluttified grinch"

"You're kinda built the same already" Trinity joins with a grin

"Hey!"

"Sluttified? Are you implying the grinch isn't sexy enough?" Ra'jah choked a little at that, found herself smiling with some dopey content, at what exactly she's not sure.

"Do ya'll think being the grinch would count as like, being a furry?" Trinity asked, voice dripping in an odd amount of seriousness.

"What? Baby no" Kylie jumped in. "Yes! absolutely, how would it NOT?" Trinity argues, and maybe it's the easiness of everything. Of how nice it is to just fall into banter when you let people in. Bouncing off the two girls, she doesn't need to think of how to be funny, how to one up herself, remind everyone of why she's worthy. She can just, be. And that warrants a smile.

With Ra'jah's elbow propped on the table, she rested her cheek against her palm to face forward, before turning a little to face Trinity

"But why do ya ask Trin? About Halloween"

"Oh, kinda last minute but I just want some ideas to figure mine out" She shrugs, and Kylie leans over once more. It's a little heartwarming, how physically close she always instinctively wants to be.

"Oh! Are you going to the Halloween party this weekend?"

"Nah parties aren't really my thing"

"Awh, but it'll be fun!"

"Yeah standing in a mass of people I won't talk to will be so fun"

"Fine- Ra'jah, are you goin'?" Rajah turns her head to follow the voices like a cat keeping up with a beam of light.

"Uh..."

"RIGHT, forgot, Halloween's not your thing". A party where she can have a disguise, let loose and have fun. It feels almost embarrassing to admit to her newfound friends that she's never been to a party, and the thought of a Halloween party didn't even cross her mind. Maybe Halloween isn't not her thing, it's just not something she'd indulge in. For reasons. Like, schoolwork.

"Welllllll…" Ra'jah hummed, dragging on with a small grin

"OH the prospect of partying changes things huh?"

"You know, me an' Halloween, we complicated okay!" They laugh, but Ra'jah's left thinking. New or old Ra'jah both, spends a little too much time in the internal realm of the brain.

The class falls silent except the murmurs of the buzzing machines, and the three chatter in whispers. Although usually it's mostly her and Kylie with occasional injections of confirmation from Trinity

"You're insane if you think spaghettini is better than fettuccine" Kylie protested "Spaghettini is literally the objective worst"

"Says who?!" Ra'jah paused sewing to look up at Kylie in defiance

"Me!"

"Trinity which is better"

"Huh? Ya'll It's too early for this." Trinity complained.

"Oh, says the bitch who asked if the grinch was a furry" Ra'jah retorted, but Trinity brushed her off to look at Kylie "Oh wait! Also, Kylie, what're you gonna be for Halloween?" She gave a little snicker before answering

"Don't come for me but honestly? Was thinking about being a cat"

"AAAAAH!" Ra'jah and Trinity erupted laughing.

"But like, a hot one okay!" Ra'jah quickly tried to redeem herself.

"You'll be the hottest ass cat around" Plus, worse comes to worst, Ra'jah will be a witch or something, and they can be hot and basic together.

When the class ended, they packed their things, and exchanged their goodbyes

"I'll see y'all around!"

"See you! Good luck on your textile project Trin"

"Thanks!" She waved, yelling a final "Bye!"

"Bye!" The three part, and Ra'jah makes her way to her second class. History of costume and design was next, and quickly weighing it out, she decided to take a quicker path through the halls. Suddenly, the weight of a body knocked at her side, the two stumbling around for a few seconds. A gust of papers had fallen from both parties' arms, and landed on the floor.

"Oh shit! I'm so-" Scarlet cuts herself off when she looks up at whom she's bumped into.

"Maybe watch where you're going" Ra'jah snorts out of sheer instinct, squatting down to gather her papers where Scarlet follows suit, just a little too close. The vague, sweet scent of strawberries she gives off is suffocating.

"Maybe if you weren't such a stuck up cunt taking up half the hallway I wouldn't hit you" The attention sends a masochistic jolt down her spine

"Uh oh someone's in a bad mood. Stuck up cunt that's a new one! Love the creativity. You should drop out of this school and be a writer" As much as she screamed internally to just shut the fuck up and get your things, it was so easy to slip back to this.

"Thanks but I'm good! When you fail out this year you can give it a try"

"Baby, me? Fail out?" Please don't imply that. Please don't make me doubt that I can and deserve to be here. I don't want to seek approval from others, but I can't help but be hurt at disapproval. Of course, her thoughts don't verbalize as the words that come out of her mouth. "That's a lot of talk for a girl who probably spends more hours getting fucked than studying" Before she can think it through, process the flash of hurt on her face and the way her fingers tense around the last piece of paper, before Ra'jah can really understand the weight of her own words she continues. "But I guess that's how you get yo' A's right?"

Their exchanges were in aggressive whispers, hushed to anyone above them. To most people, they'd find a sight of two girls muttering to one another while they pick up some things they've dropped.

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet" Scarlet huffed, standing up in one swift motion. Those words aren't a compliment. Like, at all. So why does Ra'jah's dumb, twisted heart stop for a second? The implied connection of herself and 'pretty' slows her body and slurs her mind until she's pushing herself up off the ground in slow motion. It's been so many months of mundanity, the small interaction felt all so familiar and foreign and exciting at the same time.But the haziness of her words and their little games makes her forget for a second of what the fuck just happened, and a wave of patheticness washed over her as she started to walk, eyes focused at the cream walls. For all her hemming and hawing, Ra'jah hasn't. Fucking. Changed.

A rush of everything dives into her guts, a sick adrenaline coated in dread, self loathing and the slight urge to cry, nestling in her stomach like a bird claiming a branch as it's home. Her skin was electric, and she hated to admit she loved it, the thrill of interacting with her, cattiness and all. Imagine feeling this much from fucking bumping into someone? Fingers clenched, nails digging in her own palms at how much she hates her. Intense emotions are a high of their own, and Ra'jah can't help but indulge. The piercing sting of her flesh being pressed in with her nails is intensified as she listens for the faint voice of that lanky girl always accompanying Scarlet.

"You good Scarlet?"

"Yeah, thanks" She can't look back, but she can't help but wonder- are they hugging? Holding hands? It doesn't- it shouldn't matter to her. The fun amusement pales in comparison to the misery settling in. The realization that she's fighting with Scarlet like they're 16 at the back of English class.

Of all the schools, why'd that girl have to come here? Of all the things to pursue, why the same as herself? Of all the people, why'd it have to be her? Ra'jah didn't have the audacity to explore the last question. What she means, she's not too sure. The only thing in the world she's sure of is that she can't be both New Ra'jah™ and Old Ra'jah™ to different people. The line between the two existences isn't so bold anymore, and painting over the bumps isn't as effective as she'd hoped.

***

Truth be told, watching herself move around in skirts was one of her favorite things- just about tied with watching others watch her. Maybe that's why she joined cheer in highschool. Especially with the support from (or, lack of thereof) a certain grimacing purple haired girl, a runaway model from a fashion show who wound up wandering this school. She never needed to turn and look, didn't need sight to know there's a burn at her back, nor who it's radiating from. Scarlet always walked with just a bit of a straighter back, just a bit more purpose, and just a bit more stride in her step when her favorite pair of wandering eyes were around. A small part of her always wants to turn around, catch her gaze and watch her frantically look away and pretend she's talking to someone. Or maybe she'll hold it, stare back with just as much intensity. But her wistful attention is enough of an ego boost. The scowl ridden bitch, smile washed away just for her, and yet that's where her attention lied. It made her bite back a smile.

Scarlet is a pretty thing, and she didn't need constant confirmation to remind her that she's beautiful. She's hot, she knows it, Ra'jah knows it, and Scarlet knows that's all she is to her. A pretty thing. Whatever. She's not important.

In fear of her brain melting, and/or being fried to a crisp, Scarlet doesn't bother having two classes back to back. Her mental capacity is full, and a nice salad will probably help with that. She's on her way to meet with Yvie for lunch, thinking about their weekend plans, when she takes a misstep and stumbles, all her weight focused in her shoulder which slams against someone else's side.

"Oh shit! I'm so-" the universe is an asshole. May the odds never be in my favor.

"Maybe watch where you're going" Her sneer is venomous, and the universe has suddenly become just the second biggest asshole.

"Maybe if you weren't such a stuck up cunt taking up half the hallway I wouldn't hit you" Ra'jah didn't do anything, a rational voice lectures, but she ignores it the way she's ignoring the taller girls face. Scarlet's grabbing at her papers, avoiding eye contact because that selfish pile of shit on her right takes up enough space as is, and if she looks into her eyes, sees that stupid fucking face this close she might do something bad. Like, in the sense of, punching her. Yeah, she can't look at her or she'll beat her up. Because that's a fight she'd win.

"Uh oh someone's in a bad mood. Stuck up cunt that's a new one! Love the creativity. You should drop out of this school and be a writer" Ra'jah snides, and she needs to drop out before Scarlet gets grey hair from her.

"Thanks but I'm good! When you fail out this year you can give it a try" Her words are about as empty as her own stomach, because she hasn't eaten since last night, and Ra'jah will quit fashion school and become a science engineer before she fails out.

"Baby, me? Fail out?" Yeah, with the flawless outfit you're wearing that you sure as hell made just because you were bored one night. Your pants could literally be sold as a luxury brand. The girl who started sewing when she a embryo in the womb, you'll fucking fail out. "That's a lot of talk for a girl who probably spends more hours getting fucked than studying- But I guess that's how you get yo' A's right?" Scarlet looks up, not at Ra'jah but away from the ground, and the urge to yell, hit her, and cry come up at the same time. She wants to scream, get everyone in hearing range to know that Ra'jah is a loser who will amount to nothing. She wants to reach out and choke her. But articulating her anger into words is too much, and she ends up just whispering whatever words are willing to come out as she gets up, not caring if she left any papers behind.

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet" And that's the closest thing to honest Scarlet's said all day.

In the distance, she sees Yvie walking towards her, so she waits until the freshly dyed green haired girl is caught up beside her.

"You good Scarlet?"

"Yeah, thanks" The two walk together, side by side, and Scarlet loops her arm through Yvie's, linking the pair.

"You know, Scarlie, you should stop wearing heels before you break your ankles"

"Hey!" She giggled, slapping the taller girl's arm in response. "I never fall, people just get in my way" Yvie scoffs, unable to stop the corners of her lips turning up and giving her away, forever endeared by the shorter girl. Scarlet's affection makes her forget that they've only known each other for a month. They reach a set of blue doors, and Yvie opens it, holding it for Scarlet to come through. Her face seems puzzled

"Are you down to go to Mika's Cafe? I want to get some coffee"

"Sure, they have nice breakfast sandwiches and omelettes, I'm down" It's only a few minutes away from campus

"What's on your mind"

"Just like, school stuff. I have to make a dress for creative fashion design, and I'm just thinking about it, and what I wanna do" Would it be tmi to blurt that Ra'jah is insufferable?

"Cool," Yvie hummed, and spiteful words cycled through Scarlet's head, deciding on what exactly to say, before Yvie beats her to it, whipping her head in some seeming urgency

"OH by the way, I know you're busy with your project and you're determined on getting in the top 5 and all,"

"Uh huh"

"Buuuuut, there's a Halloween party this weekend, and I was gonna go with Brooke and her friends but they're not going anymore," Scarlet knows how Yvie feels about Brooke, and to be fair she's only met her a few times in passing, but how someone like Yvie could fall for someone as uptight as the boring blonde is beyond her. She doesn't dare bring up another possibility of why her dorm mate would be avoiding the stoic girl, a possibility involving a particularly hot headed latina glued to the Canadians side. "They decided clubbing downtown would be more fun or whatever," They're outside on the pavement now, and the afternoon breeze graces their skin. It's a welcome environment, and Scarlet slows down her pace to enjoy the air, with Yvie quickly matching her pace.

"Wouldn't you rather go clubbing though? Like not with Brooke and them but with others," Scarlet is friendly and all, but she swears Yvie is somehow friends with half the school. She sure as hell can find a group to go with.

"I guess, but I want to go to the party," she quiets a little as she continues, "There are some people I want to see there, for fun and stuff"

"Mmmm!" Scarlet widens her eyes, looking at the taller girl with a knowing glare, sprinkled with a teeny bit of judgement.

"It's kinda lame to go there alone!"

"No it's not!"

"Scarls, yeah it is"

"Why do you even care? Wanna impress some girls?" In response, Yvie rolled her eyes so hard Scarlet could practically feel it.

"'Cause you want me to go to a fun Halloween party by myself?

"Yes! You could walk up to anyone and there's like an 80% chance you already know them, and a 100% chance you'll become friends anyways" The quirky girl's charm is undeniable, she'll be fine without Scarlet. Yvie gives a defeated sigh

"Seems kinda homophobic"

"Ugh you know what's actually homophobic? The fact that more people aren't madly in love with me. I'm LITERALLY perfect" The prospect of love feels like it's been dangled infront of her, her whole life. Imagine looking like Scarlet, and never dated before?

"You're right girl, you are" Yvie laughed her deep, hearty cackle and Scarlet wanted to melt a little.

"Thank you, finally someone with taste" Looking at her outfit, she remembers that the tall girl's taste is kind of debatable, and Scarlet almost wants to say she takes it back

"You think Ra'jah has good taste then?"

"What?"

"Also a party seems like the best way to meet more people y'know?" She brushes over her last question, and it's much better that way.

"You know what, whatever 'll go with you" Scarlet agrees so she'll shut up. If she hears her roommate bring up she-who-shall-not-be-named-because-shes-a-stick-in-the-ass anymore she might lose her mind. And, she really doesn't have any other plans for the night so might as well.

***

AN: going to be a while for the next chapter bc im busy so here's a lil thing lol xo

***

They weren't supposed to meet here. Weren't supposed to see each other. At least, that's what Scarlet tries to tell herself.

"You are such a fucking pain, oh my god" Scarlet seethed because everything is hazy except the impassive girl standing before her and she can't think straight. Her cold eyes are apathetic and Scarlet wants to implode, like a glass thermostat engulfed in a burning heat where it's not a question of if, but an inevitable when? "Maybe I am arrogant" Her voice was coated in a sickly sweet frustration. She pushed further into Ra'jah's space, the taller girl stiffening at the ever decreasing space between the two. How can she be so still, so unreactive? This is all so amusing to her? Is she having fun, so fucking detached from everything and watching Scarlet crumble? Pretending like she cares about Scarlet past her pretty face? Enjoying her sadistic game? Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her.

"Maybe I am narcissistic" Their faces were inches apart, and Ra'jah could feel the angry womans hot breathe on her cheek, the pungent smell of alcohol intruding her nose.

"But I'd rather be a confident, arrogant narcissist than whatever kind of sad fuck you are"

Scarlet growled, and she wanted to breathe fire, burn Ra'jah's existence out of her mind and scream at everything she felt because of her. Except that she sees her, and wants her, wants to hurt her and touch her and without thinking her hands are digging around Ra'jah's waist.

"You are such-" Scarlet was interrupted as the other girl leaned in, framed the shorter girl's face with both her hands, and pressed her lips against Scarlets. Any thoughts or mental functionality she had were put to an abrupt stop. This wasn't supposed to happen. It's been so long, but no time has passed since they were last like this. The plug to her brain was pulled, and it's all static and her bodys done a full 180. Ra'jah's piercing lips are numbing, and her overheated body feels like it's been dunked in ice where all her nerves are all in shock. They weren't supposed to do this anymore, it's the only thing they've ever been able to agree on. She was frozen, unable to move, or think, far too busy being hyper focused on the familiar sugary lips on hers, sending waves of nostalgia through her body. Time has only heighted the intoxication. She gains some composure and surges forward, but Ra'jah's pulling away, opening her mouth to finally say something.

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet"

#rpdr fanfiction #as6 #ra'jah o'hara #scarlet envy #trinity k bonet #kylie sonique love #yvie oddly #ra'jah x scarlet #enemies to lovers #lesbian au #fashion school au #a series of mutual feelings #pazinae #concrit welcome

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jonesyjonesyjonesy · 3 years ago

Note

Ma'am when are we getting the next DEF canon fic I'm sorry I'm just one of the hungry little birds in need of a hefty dose of the old man and you'll probably recognize me 😌

I could probably hazard a guess, but I'll leave you anon, Anon 😉

First things first, if you have no idea what the DEF canon is: DEF is for Dead End Friends the first old!jonesy fic I wrote out of sheer need and it was received...so gd well I had to keep on with it.

You can read Dead End Friends here and the sequel, Self Control, here.

There are also a few oneshots floating around here in the canon, including Buttons, Familiarity, Pause, and Predictable.

✨ So I do actually have two things I've been working on in the DEF canon, one of which is our standard depravity (well...not so standard) for which I recently shared a moodboard (currently titled Caligulove).

While I'm thrilled by the concept and ideas I've been playing with, I simply don't have the time at the current moment. I would love to write it by the end of the year, but that's not looking likely between Wildflowers and my outside projects (this is a good thing, though, this means I'm getting work as a writer 😌).

This being said...there's been some sad, potentially triggering events surrounding Josh Homme that have made me take pause in continuing to develop this fic. I know we are in the classic rock fandom, everyone did shitty things (and in this particular case, there's a lot of history to the issues going on with him), but I just want to give it some space before I reengage and hope for the best surrounding him and his family.

✨ The other thing I've been working on is completely antithetical to what the DEF canon STANDS FOR (Dead End Friends or Depravity Everlasting, Fucks). It's a much more emotional piece in third person if you can believe it that engages with the potential repercussions of the affair, including f...feelings? ICK I KNOW. But old!jonesy is really impossible not to love. This one is under the working title Reptiles but will probably change. It's pretty close to done, but it scares me a little because the DEF canon has sort of gotten out of my hands and taken on a life of its own. But perhaps with a little public accountability...I shall.

Real talk, the reception for the DEF canon was UNPRECEDENTED and was really the fic that put me on the proverbial map, if one can be had in such a small fandom as ours. And that couldn't have happened without you, anon, and anyone else who shares your enthusiasm. Bless you💖

come here sweet baby anons

#dead end friends #fanfiction #my fics #anon #anon asks #jjj #def #the def canon #self control #familiarity #pause #predictable #buttons #adore #old!jonesy #john paul jones #tcv era

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har-rison-s · 5 years ago

Text

heaven: 2

everything

request: Stan x Reader where they were together back in Derry and kind of forgot about each other after moving away but they always had a void in their lives. And then when Stan is just about to do it after Mikes call his phone rings and it’s you and you’re crying after just getting off the phone with Mike to come to Derry. You both end up going back and seeing each other at the restaurant and you guys just catch up after all these years that passed and old feelings come back. A/N: Hello. This is part two, as promised. Quick, I know. I'll try to write more cause I really want to, and I like this story. I even have ideas for the plot, yay! But I wanna write other requests, too, especially for Bill and Eddie. Don't know why them specifically, but I guess I wanna explore writing all the Losers at some point. I hope you guys like this. Happy reading!

main masterlist

IT masterlist

heaven masterlist

previous part next part

warnings: None! :) I suggest you listen to “Losers Reunited” from the IT2 soundtrack.

word count: 2.1k

gif credit goes to owner, which is not me!

Derry is dark. It is summer, and yet the night here falls quicker than in other towns. And it was more gruesome here. The night hid more in Derry than what appears to the eyes of someone passing by. Y/N knows that well.

The Jade At Orient Express neon entrance lights shine bright in the dark night and almost make Y/N squint her eyes at the brightness. She sighs as she stands before the entrance door. This won't be easy. But she will see her friends. More memories will come back. Good and bad. God, she'll probably remember things she doesn't want to and has happily forgotten. She hesitates to pull the door open, standing just half a foot away from the handle. Her friends will be there with her. It will be okay.

Her chance of opening the door is stolen by someone else's hand. They pull the door open before Y/N can even step closer to it and hold it open for her. She has to thank this stranger, so she turns towards them with a grateful smile. Her eyes first see the dark jeans the person is wearing, the sweater and then the shirt collar peaking out of the sweater. Then, dark curls that cast shadows on the frail chin, the round cheeks, the pointed, small nose and the brown, dark eyes. She sees thin eyebrows, dark roots of the curly hair. Looks awfully familiar. Could it be…

When their eyes meet, both pairs widen in shock and freeze. They realise who they're both looking at. Y/N's lips change into a widely-opened o-shape and all she lets out is a squeal. To Stanley, it still sounds the same as her child-like squeals did back in the day.

His face breaks out into a wide smile and he even chuckles. “Hello there.” He greets her finally. Y/N smiles, too, and immediately goes to embrace him. The restaurant entrance door is long forgotten.

“Don't you “hello there” me, mister Uris.” She tells him when she feels his arms sliding around her back to hug her. Y/N sighs and closes her eyes. She feels somehow peaceful in this little moment in time. “I didn't even know how much I missed you.” She admits upon opening her eyes. “Until I… Until Mike said your name.” Y/N tells him.

That's when they pull apart and look into each other's eyes again. Wow. Stanley sure has grown to be taller, Y/N thinks to herself. But his eyes… They're the same, only older. They look exactly the same. They hold the same soul, the same big world inside of them.

Everything about Y/N is the same, Stanley observes. She's only aged, that's all. She's the same little Y/N who'd run around after bubbles and birds and chase the bugs she found beautiful. Same little girl who always had a trick up her sleeve. The same girl who was once his girlfriend. Stanley smiles.

“I hate to have forgotten you.” He tells her, and Y/N's eyes show agreement. “We should go inside, right?” He asks, then, and Y/N nods.

“I don't know if we're late or early, but I don't see anyone I could recognise inside just yet.” She admits, and Stanley again swings the door open and they both go inside.

“Actually, I don't think we'd know how our friends look right off-the-bat.” Stanley speaks. They both look around the lobby. No one really stands out here.

“We were best friends.” Y/N says. “It didn't take us too long to recognise each other.” She points out when she looks at Stanley again. He agrees. They spent the much more time together than with their other friends, they remember that. They were a couple, after all.

Stanley and Y/N both look at each other with questioning eyes, as if not sure that they're really here, that they do see each other and are, in fact, back together in their hometown. The sight still seems like dreams to them both. An illusion. One of them is more suspicious that it might be an actual illusion created by IT.

They don't have time to think, their names are called by a familiar voice. And that voice belongs to Eddie Kaspbrak. They could recognise his intonation any place, any time. Y/N and Stanley turn towards the man with welcoming smiles and watch him walk closer to them.

“Stanley? Y/N? Is that really you two?” He asks. There's a glad smile on Eddie's face and his eyes keep a guessing glance on the two in front of him. Mischief is in them, too.

“It's us.” Y/N tells him, nodding. Eddie breaks out into a laugh. “My God, how you've grown.” She tells Eddie, looking him up and down. She would like to give him a hug, but she knows Eddie too well and that she shouldn't even try.

“He hasn't.” Stanley says and Eddie gives him an annoyed glance. “You haven't changed a bit.” He tells his friend and even dares to pat his shoulder, at which Eddie flinches a little.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie brings his hands up, “now that we're done laughing at me--did you guys come together?” He asks and sticks his hands into his jean pockets.

“Oh, no, no.” Stanley shakes his head. Y/N hides her little smile and blush of the thought Eddie's question brought.

“We just met outside.” Y/N explains.

“Wait, you're not, like, together, you're not married to each other?!” Eddie raises his voice. His eyes widen in big surprise. “How is that--”

“Keep your voice down!” Stanley shushes his friend, worried of the heads already turning in their direction. Y/N feels puzzled, and embarrassed, by Eddie's question. Maybe in another life they would be married. A life that isn't changed by a killer clown demon that lives in the Derry sewers… “Where are we all dining?” Stanley asks Eddie, then.

“I'll ask the waitress.” Y/N volunteers and leaves both men standing by the entrance. She approaches a girl that looks as if dressed in a uniform and speaks. “I'm sorry,” she starts.

“Hello, ma'am, how can I help you?” The girl asks her, a nice smile on her face.

“We're supposed to meet our friends tonight. There could be a reservation for eight under the name of Hanlon?” Y/N guesses. “Mike Hanlon?”

The waitress nods. “Come with me.” She tells her and Y/N looks over her shoulder to wave at Stanley and Eddie. They understand her message and all three start following the waitress.

She leads them to a room just around the corner which has a big table in the middle of it, fish tanks around it and two people already standing beside the table. Well, that is Mike, and the other man must be…

“Bill!” Y/N cheers. She can't keep her excitement to herself and she walks over to the grown man without a stutter. Bill Denbrough turns around to greet the happy face of Y/N and can only hug her back when she embraces him.

Bill was the first Loser she became friends with, and they clicked right off the first moment. They were almost as close as Y/N was with Stanley, but not quite the same. Bill smiles. “Y/N.” He finally says. “So good to see you. And Stanley! Eddie!” Y/N succeeds to grant Bill a kiss on the cheek before he runs to his other friends. And she turns to Mike Hanlon.

“Hi, Mikey.” Y/N greets him, and Mike smiles at her before they both embrace.

“Y/N. I'm glad you came.” He says to her, holding her tight. “Was afraid you wouldn't.” Y/N sighs at that. She was, too. She closes her eyes and pulls herself back. She gives Mike a smile.

“I had to come back.” She tells him. “I remember everything now, Mike. And I had to come back.” She nods, and Mike responds with the same gesture.

“I thank you for it. I know it's not easy.” Mike says. Y/N nods. It's certainly hard. She feels a lot of things coming back all the time, and when she felt like she remembers everything there is to, more comes back. Including her feelings for Stanley. It's hard to even look at him now that they're back, hard to talk to him.

They sat down at the table once Richie, Ben and Beverly arrived. Y/N was between Eddie and Stanley, Richie sat next to Stanley and Beverly, Bill next to Mike and Beverly, and Ben between Mike and Eddie. Y/N felt at peace finally, now that she was with her childhood best friends. She could smile and laugh freely, she could drink as much as she wanted to, eat as much as she wanted to, say anything she wanted to when she wanted to. No judgement from any of the people around her.

The Losers Club recounted memories shared, recalled people they used to know, guessed where they were now. They told each other what had happened in their lives during the twenty-seven year pause. And what good lives they are all leading.

Ben's on top of the world with his architecture, Beverly has become a fashion designer, Richie is a famous comedian, Bill is a writer. Eddie drives famous people around, Mike has spent all this time researching the history of Derry and of IT--and done a great job of it, too--, and Stanley has an accountancy business to his own name. Well, that's as far as career.

None of the Losers would willingly uncover how un-great their personal lives are and have been since the incident in 1989. They each know the others' weaknesses, but they have yet to remember them and realise exactly what is wrong in their friends' lives. There's a door they have to unlock in their memory files.

The door in Y/N's mind is opened a slit already. She feels exactly like a teenager. The way she did all those years ago. She's completely sure her feelings for Stanley have come back. She loves what they feel like. But God, it's wrong. Y/N noticed the wedding ring on his left hand. Stanley's married. And Y/N's feelings are wrong. But oh, how she hopes that he feels the same now.

He does, and it feels strange. But the feelings are familiar. They feel like home. Y/N feels like home to him. He was stealing glances at her through the whole dinner. Stanley wanted to see what had changed, what her smile was like now. If her eyes gleam the way they used to when she talks about something she likes. Or, rather, he was testing himself to see if he can actually take his eyes off Y/N. He can't.

She returned these longing stares once in a while. Y/N was inquiring something with her eyes only. There was a question she didn't want to ask out loud. Stanley's responsive hazy look lets her know that the answer is 'yes'. He knew what she was asking.

It was dangerous to even think of the question, and its answer. The situation they were in, Stanley's relationship status, their friends' company. If they could be alone… Y/N's afraid to think of what would happen if they were. But she'd love nothing more.

Y/N knew of Mike's true intention of calling his old friends back to their hometown. So she wasn't as surprised and pissed off as her friends were. Neither was Stanley. He was scared, yes, terrified more than he had ever been, but he knows of what he was afraid, and he knows they have to do what they promised to.

Neither of them were cowards, and they were on Mike's side of the situation. Y/N tried to convince Richie and Eddie, and Ben and Beverly, too, tried to convince them to stay. But they went back to the hotel, anyway. Richie and Eddie were scared shitless, she understood that. But they need to take action.

When Stanley felt his horrid fear again, he grabbed onto the closest thing next to him. That was Y/N's right hand. She glanced down at it, and then their eyes met, but Stanley didn't withdraw. And she didn't want him to.

Stanley told Mike and Bill he was going back to the hotel to get the Losers back on track, get their minds straight. So they can all work like a team. So that they can all stay and finish the demon clown once and for all. Y/N told him she'll go with him and got her bag out of her own car.

They got into Stanley's car and silence surrounded them instantly. Silence full of tension and things longing to be said out-loud. They looked at each other and sighed a deep breath. There's a conversation going back and forth between their eyes. Frantic, quick, questioning, afraid, doubtful. Neither of them are certain of anything. But they know of one thing. They go back to the hotel and clear everything out. Everything.

Permanent taglist: @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @empressdreams @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @mrsmazzello @benhardyseyes @langdonzvoid @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @sunshine-stan-uris @radiantrichie

Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g @sadhwstudent @shawni-h@gothackedalready @seasidecrowbar @starred-river @raspberryacid @facelessbish @tozierskaspb @plum-duels @whereyoustand

@happy-at-home

If you want to be in any of these lists, don’t hesitate to let me know!

#stan uris imagine #stanley uris x reader #stanley uris imagines #stanley uris imagine #stan uris x reader #stan uris imagines #adult!stan uris imagine #adult!stanley uris imagine #adult!stan uris x imagine #adult!stanley uris x reader #adult!stanley uris request #the losers club x reader #the losers club imagine #the losers club imagines #har-rison-s writes #har-rison-s writings #har-rison-s work #heaven part two

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tierneysinclair · 5 years ago

Photo

“Nobody’s ever been arrested for a murder; they have only ever been arrested for not planning it properly.” ― Terry Hayes, I Am Pilgrim

Basic Information

Full name: Tierney Sinclair Pronunciation: Tier-Knee Sin-Claire Nickname(s): Not if you like to live. Tierney doesn’t do nicknames. Tierney is the only name he’ll answer to. Birthdate: September 8, 1979 Age: 40 Zodiac: Virgo Gender: Cis-Male Pronouns: he/him Romantic Orientation: Straight Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Nationality: American Ethnicity: White Current Location: Miami, Florida Living Conditions: Tierney lives in a small apartment above his new garage. It’s nothing fancy and that’s the way he likes it. Well worn couches, outdated kitchen appliances, wear worn towels. He doesn’t live in the slums but owning only new things has never been a part of Tierney’s lifestyle.

Background

Birthplace: Las Vegas, Nevada Hometown: N/A Social Class: Presents as lower-middle class but has enough money in the bank to be upper class if he really wanted to be. But he never will. Educational Achievements: None. Tierney never went to school. By the time he was released for the testing facility it was too late and too hard to get someone like him caught up. Sporadically home schooled by staff and other people Tierney isn’t the sort of person you want on your trivia team. He struggles with complex math, history, and all other assorted ‘average school knowledge’. Father: Unknown Mother: Unknown Sibling(s): Unknown Birth Order: N/A Pets: None Previous Relationships: Nothing lasts longer than a night. Do one night stands count? Arrests: A lot. By the time Tierney aged out of the foster program he’d been arrested more times than he had fingers and toes. Nothing major, minor mischief and petty theft. It wasn’t until he was picked up by the Syndicate that he started doing bigger crimes. And by then he had the support network to not get arrested. Prison Time: Surprisingly, not a lot. Accumulated, no more than a few months. It pays to have friends in low places.

Occupation & Income

Current Occupation: Hitman for the Blackburn Syndicate & Freelance Motorcycle Restorer Dream Occupation: None. Tierney has a limited view of both his life and the world. The idea of having a ‘dream’ anything is a foreign concept to him. Past Job(s): He was boy once at a greasy diner once. When they found out he’d lied about who he was a week later he was fired. Chicago wasn’t kind to kids with rap sheets and level five rankings. Falling in with the Syndicate has been the only ‘real’ job he’s ever had. Spending Habits: Tierney is a very frugal person. He buys almost everything second hand or used and very rarely spends it on anything new. The only expensive things he owns are his bikes and a flat screen TV. Tierney’s not ashamed to admit most of his money gets spent on bike parts anyways. Debt: Never. Credit cards mean government ability to track him. And being in debt t other people is a one way trip to being killed over it at a later date. Tierney repays any debts he can’t avoid as quickly as possible, but he tends to avoid accruing debts as much as possible. Most Valuable Possession: Some people might say it would be his bikes, and from a purely financial stand point it most definitely is, but according to Tierney it’s the Blackburn Syndicate, hands down.

Skills & Abilities

Physical Strength: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney works out twice a day, every day, no exceptions. He needs to be in top physical condition for every job and now it’s just become a part of his daily habits. He’s supremely strong in his own right but mix his powers in with it and a supremely dedicated force of will he could probably lift a car above his head.

Speed: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney isn’t the fastest hitman on the market but he’s perfectly capable of darting in and out of a situation with speed. It’s part of the job to act quickly and what he lacks in sheer speed he knows he more than makes up for elsewhere.

Intelligence: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney never went to school. What schooling he did get the few years he had between testing and aging out was sporadic at best. He’s not ashamed of his faults but he doesn’t go around talking about them much either. Besides, being able to recite the presidents holds no bearing on his life choices so...what’s it matter? Tierney knows how to do his job exceptionally well. What Tierney doesn’t know ranges from complex math to the English Oxford Comma.

Accuracy: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney’s powers require a certain degree of needed accuracy coupled with the fact he’s exceptionally talented with a range of deadly weapons. He prides himself in hitting exactly what he’s aiming at every time. Sure, he misses, but that usually because his target makes an unexpected move before he can account for it.

Agility: Above Average | Average | Below Average

He’s getting older, he won’t lie about that, and that’s starting to show. Tierney is less likely to look like a stunt double these days. No somersaults or daring roof top leaps happen these days. Besides, it’s more dramatic to sweep in like an avenging angel and sweep out just as quickly. Agility is good for running away. But you only run away when you get caught. And Tierney never gets caught.

Stamina: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney’s powers are tied directly to his stamina. It’s taken him years and years of practice to build up the stamina he has now. He can use his powers for hours before he starts to feel winded and hours more before he gets tired. (Unless he goes for the super taxing activities like lifting buildings or psionic explosions.) It’s perhaps his greatest strength, his ability to keep going when others weaker than him might stop.

Teamwork: Ciara Sawyer is his go-to partner. Hell, most would call her his only partner. He doesn’t like working with other people and tries very hard not to do it. He will when he must but he’ll be begrudging about it the whole time. Talents/Hobbies: Motorcycles, Lockpicking, Murder Shortcomings: His sense of justice, the inability to kill someone who isn’t involved with what he’s doing. It’s a bonus he can erase minds when he wants to. Anyone who knows Tierney from work and outside of work knows he has a severe weak spot for his gang. Touch a hair on their heads and he tends to lose focus. Languages Spoken: English Drive?: Yes. A MV Agusta Brutale. Jump-Start a Car?: Yes Change a Flat Tire?: All the time. Ride a Bicycle?: No way. In hell. Swim?: Not because he likes to. Play an Instrument?: Nope Play Chess?: Yes Braid Hair?: No Tie a Tie?: Yes. Of course! Pick a Lock?: Oh hell yeah. With his mind. Cook?: Yes, but not well.

Physical Appearance & Characteristics

Faceclaim: Joel Kinnaman Eye Color: Brownish/Greenish Hair Color: Ashy Blonde Hair Type/Style/Length: Average/Well Kept/Short Glasses/Contacts?: None Dominant Hand: Right Height: 6′ 2″ Weight: 187lbs Build: Athletic Exercise Habits: Two session, morning and evening. Every day, two hours. With intermittent practice in between with others. Skin tone: Fair Tattoos: Left shoulder reaching to just below his elbow, spiders out to cover some of his chest and back. Got it to cover up an old gunshot scar. A faded string of numbers on his right arm (080879-58-05). Piercings: None Marks/Scars: Tierney is covered in scars. From battle wounds to childhood scrapes, to remnants of his life as a test mutant. Most can be found on his chest and back but part of why he wears pants and sleeves is to hide the others. Don’t want his identifying marks to get out and doesn’t like explaining to others what happened to him in order to get that many scars. Clothing Style: Dark colors, long pants, long sleeves, deep pockets. Usually a coat when the weather allows. The more places to hide the things he needs to work the better. But he cleans up well, he has plenty of suits in his closet too. Usually second hand stuff, the only time he buys something fancy is when he’s on a job. Jewelry: A set of dog tags labeling him a level five mutant. Nothing more. Allergies: None Diet: Average. More fast food than probably healthy. Physical Ailments: Stiff knees. Jumped off a few too many building in his younger years. Spent too many hours kneeling behind walls after that. They don’t bother him much but anyone with eyes can see they’re stiff. His left shoulder is also stiff, he favors it. Perhaps on of his worst gun shot injuries to date. It haunts him. And aches when the weather changes.

Psychology

MBTI Type: ISTJ-A (The Logistician)

ISTJs are often called inspectors. They have a keen sense of right and wrong, especially in their area of interest and/or responsibility. They are noted for devotion to duty. Punctuality is a watchword of the ISTJ. As do other Introverted Thinkers, ISTJs often give the initial impression of being aloof and perhaps somewhat cold. Effusive expression of emotional warmth is not something that ISTJs do without considerable energy loss. ISTJs are most at home with "just the facts, Ma'am." They seem to perform at highest efficiency when employing a step-by-step approach.

Enneagram Type: Type 6 (The Skeptic)

The committed, security-oriented type. Sixes are reliable, hard-working, responsible, and trustworthy. Excellent "troubleshooters," they foresee problems and foster cooperation, but can also become defensive, evasive, and anxious—running on stress while complaining about it. They can be cautious and indecisive, but also reactive, defiant and rebellious. They typically have problems with self-doubt and suspicion. At their Best: internally stable and self-reliant, courageously championing themselves and others.

Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral

A lawful neutral character acts as law, tradition, or a personal code directs her. Order and organization are paramount to her. She may believe in personal order and live by a code or standard, or she may believe in order for all and favor a strong, organized government.

Temperament: Choleric

Cholerics are extroverted, quick-thinking, active, practical, strong-willed, and easily annoyed. They are self-confident, self-sufficient, and very independent minded. They are brief, direct, to the point, and firm when communicating with others.

Element: Earth & Fire Emotional Stability: Stable Introvert or Extrovert?: Introvert Obsession(s): Motorcycles. Tierney doesn’t know a lot outside of how to kill someone and get away with it. But he knows practically everything there is to know about motorcycles. How they work, how the break, how to fix them. Everything. Some would call him obsessed but Tierney calls it laser focused. Compulsion(s): Protecting his family. It’s what’s on his mind in every situation. All of his actions are dictated by this fact. Even for decisions that aren’t going to impact the Syndicate are measured against this need. It’s never occurred to him that it might, in fact, be a problem. It’s just natural. Phobia(s): Mutant testing facilities. It’s irrational, especially now, to be afraid of getting taken back to the white walled hellscape he grew up in. But he is. He scrubs his name clean where ever he goes and actively avoids anyone in a lab coat who starts asking questions. He even takes down fliers asking for mutants to ‘willingly’ submit to testing. He doesn’t talk about those years for damn good reasons. Addiction(s): None Drug Use: None Alcohol Use: Often Prone to Violence?: Always Prone to Crying?: No Believe in Love at First Sight?: No

Mannerisms

Accent: Depends. A bit of a hodgepodge of Boston and Midwestern. Tends to adapt to the common accent after a while when staying in a place for a prolonged period of time. Speech Quirks: None Hobbies: Motorcycle Repair, Motorcycle Rebuilding Habits: Spinning things in the air when he’s concentrating. Leg bouncing. Ordering more food than he can eat so he has left overs in the fridge. Nervous Ticks: Rubbing his nose and spinning objects in the air at high rates of speed. Drives/Motivations: Protecting his family. Fears: Losing his family, someone dying on him, being taken back in for testing. Sense of Humour?: Dry. Like the desert. Do They Curse Often?: Like. All the time.

Favorites

Animal: Bear Beverage: Heineken Beer and/or Black Coffee Book: None. Tierney hates reading. Color: Deep Green Food: Ciara’s Flower: None Gem: Emeralds Mode of Transportation: Motorcycles Scent: Fresh brewed coffee, rain on the horizon, motorcycle oil, pizza grease on your fingers Sport: Football and Hockey Weather: Rain Vacation Destination: None

Attitudes

Greatest Dream: End mutant testing. Tierney sees nothing productive in the act and goes out of his way to end it whenever and wherever he can. Mutants are people. Not lab rats to be poked at or taken away from their families. Greatest Fear: Losing one of his family and being taken back for mutant testing. Most at Ease When: Elbow deep in one of his bikes with of his closest friends lounging on the couch across the way. Least as Ease When: He doesn’t know what’s going on around him. When his plans has fallen through and he’s no longer in control of what’s happening around him. Worst Possible Thing That Could Happen: Alma being murdered. Biggest Achievement: Taking out the president of the company that held him as a test subject when he was a child. Biggest Regret: He has exactly Eleven. Eleven deaths that weren’t supposed to happen but did.

#hc #mrtask #murder tw #violence tw #abuse tw

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your-worst-knightmare · 5 years ago

Text

Red: Pt. 10

Masterlist here

Jason’s whole morning was a mess of bleary-eyed madness. Louis had left the safehouse with Bizarro long before Alfred had arrived in a limo to pick Artemis and Jason up. Both of them didn’t have many belongings save for weapons, which Alfred insisted that they let him take care of.

“Master Jason, it’s wonderful you and Miss Artemis are able to visit this time of year. Your stay will be busy, I must warn you, but everyone will be there.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Jason asked, trying to shake the weariness from his brain.

“Have you really forgotten, Master Jason? The annual Wayne charity gala is tomorrow.”

“Well it seems that you won’t have to call the rest of your family now,” Artemis remarked.

Jason could only slap his forehead. “Alf, i came for business, not to party. We’re all in danger. I mean, we don’t know for sure, but–”

“Then it seems suitable that you wait until at least the gala is over. Most of the family hasn’t arrived yet anyhow. Oh, and Miss Stephanie has arranged a shopping trip for the two of you. She assumes you both hadn’t brought adequate clothing in advance.”

“Aw, Alfred–” he was swiftly cut off by a jab to the side.

“Thank you Alfred. I’m sure Jason can enjoy some time with his family without any talk of business.” Artemis gave Jason a look, and he knew better than to oppose both her and Alfred.

The old man chuckled to himself as he pulled up to Wayne Manor. A full house was always nice, if not a bit of a handful. “I’m sure he can, Miss Artemis, I’m sure he can. Try to enjoy yourselves for a while. In the meantime, let me show you to your rooms.”

In short, Jason was not enjoying himself in the least. He was hungry and tired, and of course stupid Stephanie Brown made him go shopping. And Replacement would never let Damian hear the end of it if Jason dared complain. He would get his revenge. Somehow.

The one person Jason wouldn’t mind seeing wasn’t even in the city. Yeah, because Damian’s got friends now. Like Jason wasn’t the first friend Damian ever had. The little brat left him a note apologizing for his absence, but its formality only made Jason laugh. The kid should be with his friends, maybe learning how to talk like a normal ten-year-old.

Naturally, Steph wouldn’t make Damian go shopping. It was dreadful, with Steph practically hijacking Artemis and leaving Jason and Replacement (Tim) stranded in high end stores suspended in utter confusion. It wasn’t that Jason didn’t know how to shop, it was that stupid Brown wouldn’t let him touch anything without her approval of the item first. That left very few items in the store left for Jason to choose from.

It was simply maddening. Steph finally brought him a green suit and insisted that it was the one. “It’s viridian. It’s so in Jason,” he mocked when she asked to see it on him. He didn’t even get to see what she had gotten Artemis.

He didn’t have to try it on. And hallelujah, he got to go home. Much to nobody’s surprise, he didn’t get much rest when he got back to Wayne Manor either. Jason had scarcely returned to his room when he was tacked by a ten-year old whirlwind. Damian. The boy greeted him in the formal dialect of the League, a habit not yet broken. “Akhi! You came back!”

“Well that’s obvious, isn’t it? Woah, okay, let me breathe here Damian.” The boy obeyed and sat on the bed. He clearly wasn’t ready to leave anytime soon.

“Where have you been?” he asked, crossing his arms.” You haven't visited most– if any of your safehouses lately. I… I’ve been worried.”

Well the kid had changed then. Jason had to give the little prince some credit. The kid would never have said that in his right mind had he still been with the League.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to not even go on patrol? To not answer any messages? You practically disappeared, Todd.” Damian wasn’t buying it. One thing hadn’t changed, that was for sure. The prince would get the truth out of him one way or another. Honestly, Jason was a little (okay, maybe a lot) embarrassed to tell Damian that he’d been caught and in custody for two months. He hadn’t even tried, really tried to get out.

But, Jason figured it was better to be up front. Especially with a family of detectives with a notorious history of using secrets as blackmail.

Damian only scoffed in response.” Tt’. Really, akhi? You’re getting soft.”

“Speak for yourself, brat. Now let me sleep. I’m tired.” He flopped onto the bed, with no regard for the assassin prince still sitting there.

Instead of leaving, Damian snuggled up into the crook of Jason’s arm and soon fell asleep listening to the rhythmic beating of his brother’s heart.

Jason’s next interruption (named Artemis) came too early into the next morning. Damian was still where he had fallen asleep, dozing softly. At the sound of a knock, Jason regrettably blinked himself awake. “Come in,” he yawned.

“I see you’ve been able to rest. I was going to ask if you wanted to come train with me.” Artemis raised an eyebrow at the scene. “ It seems that you can tolerate at least one of your brothers' presence.”

“It’s a love-hate relationship.”

The Amazon snorted. “So are you going to take me up on my offer or not?”

“Yeah, I’m coming Red.” He carefully shifted Damian off of himself. Thankfully, the kid’s eyes remained closed. “Wait, before you go can you help me with my shoulder?”

“Are you not capable?” she asked, nevertheless sitting down beside him. Jason pulled off his shirt to let her inspect the wound. Most of his torso was covered in bandages as well as his shoulder. Peeling them back to see how the wound healed was a tedious task. Enhanced healing made it even more annoying on account of never knowing what to expect.

“Ow. Easy, Arty.”

“ Oh, be quiet. You should be fine by tomorrow. Just keep the gauze on for compression,” Artemis said, starting to re-wrap the bandages.

Jason closed his eyes with a small sigh, glad to sit there and do nothing. Relaxing was a weird way to put it, but he couldn’t find any other way to describe it. The tips of her hair brushed his face, surrounding him the scent of her shampoo. For the first time in months, he felt… calm.

“I assume you’ll be able to take care of yourself from here. Meet me downstairs in five.”

“Thanks Princess!” he called after her.

As soon as Artemis left, Damian’s eyes flew open. Jason groaned.”You’ve been awake this whole time?”

Damian nodded, grinning devilishly. “You’re getting soft akhi,” he piped, poking his brother in the ribs.

“And I’m going to kill you if another word comes out of your mouth.” Jason pulled on some suitable clothes for training and shooed Damian out before going to join Artemis.

Surprisingly, the training room was empty. That was especially unusual for this time in the morning with the Bats. Then Jason realized that everyone was probably helping out Alfred downstairs for that night. Not that training was easy work either. But he’d go help after.

“Took you long enough.” Artemis said, smirking. “Warm up and then we spar.”

She was going to kick his butt. He knew it. But he wasn’t going to argue. “Yes ma'am.”

Jason had half a mind to say that being an Amazon was plain cheating. Yeah, he held his own, but barely. The strength of the Lazarus wasn’t always on his side. Then again, Jason didn’t always have the privilege of fighting people his own size.

“Another round?”” Artemis asked, helping him up from the floor.

“Yeah, give me a sec,” he huffed, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his shirt. “Next round, I pick the weapon though.”

By the time Artemis was satisfied with the amount of training done, Jason felt like he was going to drop dead on the spot. Which–in a weird way– reminded him of how much he’d missed training with her. She didn’t let anyone get away with slacking off. Neither did Alfred, for that matter, which was why Jason needed to hurry up in the showers or else face the wrath of an all-powerful butler. A butler much too tired to deal with any kind of nonsense.

The evening came faster than Jason had anticipated. He examined his appearance in the mirror, doing his best at looking presentable. At first, he hadn’t been sure of Steph’s choice of colour, but he was surprised to say that he actually looked… good? Fingering the cuffs of his jacket, he eyed the ‘finishing touch’ that Bruce insisted he wear. A Rolex– one that Bruce had originally got Jason for his sixteenth birthday. He’d never gotten to wear it. Death tended to preoccupy a person.

After staring at the timepiece for at least five minutes, he finally made the decision to put it on. He headed downstairs, where a few of Bruce’s close friends as well as the boys were already present. The girls were soon to arrive, fashionably late, as Alfred had put it.

As if on cue, the doors to the hall were thrown open (a bit dramatically if Jason had anything to say about it). And Jason stopped. Wow. The girls all looked supermodel gorgeous. And Artemis– Just woah.

Her dress was clearly made to match his own outfit. Steph had clearly outdone herself there. It was green, high-necked and sleeveless, which flowed elegantly to her shins. Her red hair was pulled back, keeping the delicate curls out of her face and making the designs etched into her side-shave all the more striking. A gold armband circled her bicep, emphasizing her muscular physique.

“Good evening, Jason,” she said coolly, practically gliding across the floor.”Tell me, when did you decide to fulfill your dreams of being a statue?”

“This? Oh, this is a technique used to evade the reporters. You should try it sometime. Works wonders.”

The Amazon’s lips curled upward in amusement. “I see.” She reached across the table to steal an untouched patry from Jason’s plate.

“Hey! I was going to eat that.”

“It can’t possibly be that hard to get another,” she said, taking a bite. “Besides, you weren’t eating it.”

He gave her a look. Artemis shrugged, mouth full. “Ah, it’s fine. I’ll steal another one from the kitchen. Bruce wants us there for a briefing anyway.”

“Briefing?”

“Yeah, so the press doesn’t find anything fishy with us.” It sounded like a weird thing to do, but even when he was a kid, Jason had pre-gala briefings. What to say to the reporters, how to act (well mostly) what impression to give off. There was a whole science to it. Alfred didn’t teach the Bats drama in vain.

The kitchen, which seemed colossal while empty, slowly shrank as more and more people shuffled inside. Bruce quizzed each of them of their roles, and things they were not to do. Jason, for example, was not to get drunk and cuss out the press. Much to his own chagrin, Jason was expected to actually talk to some of the guests, and give off a good impression.

“Remember, you are all representing the Wayne name, even if you don’t bear it. Please act accordingly.”

On the bright side, Jason was able to sneak another pastry out. Man, he’d missed Alfred’s cooking. For all of his redeemable traits, Louis hadn’t been the best chef. It was a step up from the cooking at the correctional facility, but Alfred’s skillset was simply legendary.

The flash of cameras and clamouring reporters soon arrived to the manor. Limos that looked long enough to fit thirty people pulled up one after the other. He remembered watching them as a kid, in awe of the lavish use of their money. He remembered smiling so much at the cameras that his cheeks hurt. He remembered eating so much food that he felt sick afterwards- thereafter getting to wait the rest of the party out in his room. There was something satisfying about knowing there was a party downstairs and choosing not to be a part of it.

Jason was relieved once the guests settled into the hall and calmed down. Because he spent so little time with his own family, he felt like more of a guest himself. His brothers were busy talking to the elite, making small talk about whatever rich people were interested in. Artemis didn’t have much care to mingle, which was a small comfort to Jason. At least he could talk to her and not seem like a total loner.

“Bruce said I have to talk to some people this time.”

“Do you really plan to?”

“Well I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

“Oh quit your blather Jason. What’s on your mind?”

He leaned an arm on the table, sighing. There were so many things. Coming back to Wayne Manor made him enough of a trainwreck as it was. Add onto that the threat of lurking Owls and the thought of Biz and Louis by themselves didn’t help. And the gala? All of that was the perfect recipe for something to go wrong. Artemis was the one thing that kept him from losing his mind. Well, partially.

“So many things Arty. Everything just piles up, you know?” She nodded solemnly, silently telling him to continue. “And I just…” he stopped, shaking his head, his entire vocabulary ceasing to exist.

She took his hand and looked him in the eye. “I know. It really does happen at the worst times. Family is a difficult thing, Jason, but it’s better to keep them in your life, despite how much you may want to drop-kick some of them off a roof.”

He laughed dryly. “How are you so perfect with everything Princess?”

“Perfect? I’m far from it. But you may keep believing that if you like,” she smiled.

Oh, he was so glad she was back. Her presence alone was strangely soothing. She could say nothing and deliver a whole conversation. He hoped she understood his mess of a mind. Words alone couldn’t convey his thoughts. Life was hard, feelings more so. He’d have to unwind all of that later. Public settings weren’t the place to get emotional.

“How do you think Biz and Louis are doing?” Jason asked, taking a sip of whatever carbonated drink the waiter had given him.

“I’m sure they’re getting along. Louis seems likable enough.”

“I thought you two didn’t get along?”

“Yes, we may not see eye to eye, but I know a sincere man when I see one. He’s dedicated to doing right, and I respect that.”

Jason gave her a small round of applause, making the Amazon roll her eyes. “So glad to see my favorite people getting along.” He raised his glass. “To the reunion of the Outlaws, and you being friendly,”Jason toasted and drained the rest of his drink without another word. Artemis gave him an exasperated look before following suit.

Tipping his glass to the light, he could’ve sworn he saw something. Was that… an owl? There was too much evidence of the Court following them for it not to be. What did they put in his drink? Upon placing the glass down, he nudged Artemis, motioning to his drink. Thankfully, she got his message.

She swirled her own glass around in her hand, watching the last sips slosh around. Finally, she set it on the table. “We really must ask the waiter what mystery drink he is giving out. I simply must have some more,” Artemis said, throwing a little too much enthusiasm into her last sentence.

The guests started to file to the middle of the hall. What the elite of Gotham had with waltzes, Jason would never know. But it seemed like a good way to pass information around the room discreetly. Jason got up, offering a hand to Artemis. “A dance, m’lady?”

“Sounds wonderful.” The pair glided across the floor, Jason grateful for Alfred’s training in this type of thing. He leaned close to Artemis’ ear, scarcely daring to whisper. “We need to tell someone they’re here.”

“We’ll split up,” she breathed. “Find Barbara. I’ll find Dick.”

“‘Kay.”

Jason was just about to hand her off to another partner when Artemis winced. “You okay?”

“Yes, it’s just… my head.” She brought a hand to her temple, grimacing. “I’ve got to go.”

Jason nodded. He could tell Dick himself. “Go on, I’ll meet you later.” He saw her off, and sat down in the corner, trying to locate Dick. He managed to catch his attention, only– his head started to pound too.

“You okay, Jay? You look terrible.”

Jason sucked in a breath. “Some’n messed with–” his tongue felt like lead. Nope nope nope. He needed to leave. “–drink.” he managed, dashing out the door and to the nearest washroom.

#rhato #red hood #jason todd #artemis grace #batfam #rhato 2016 #fanfic #Red:pt10

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grayhyacinth · 5 years ago

Text

His Highness

Prince!!Todoroki X Female Reader

O.o Its so weird to switch from character x character to character x reader..

Warnings: None

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

The birds tweeted their cheerful melody in the early, spring morning. Their song lifted (Y/N) spirit as she tied the last strings of her shoe. She wasn't a morning person, oh no! If anything, the sun was a wake up call for the young advisor who loved her sleep. If you gave (Y/N) an entire week off, you could expect to find her in the comforts of her soft, cozy bed.

As (Y/N) headed downstairs for breakfast, she smiled warmly at the maids who were cleaning every inch of the palace. Spring cleaning was a big event for the servants! The cooks served healthy meals to provide plenty of energy for the long day. If anything, Spring was a tiring season for both the servants and royalty.

"Advisor (Y/N)!" A maid exclaimed. She rushed up to (Y/N) and bowed respectfully.

"Y-yes?" (Y/N) had the position of the Prince's advisor for a couple months now, but it was still weird to be called "Advisor" or have people bow to her out of the blue.

The maid hesitantly lifted her head. "Uh... Um well, the young Prince is still in bed, ma'am."

(Y/N) groaned. "Please don't tell me he threw a paper plane at you?!"

The maid's eyes widen in shock before waving her hands, reassuring the Advisor that nothing of the such had happen. "Ma'am, I need to clean the Prince's room... uh so--" She bowed deeply. "Can you please kick him out??"

Taken aback, (Y/N)'s jaw hit the floor. No one had ever spoken about the young Prince in such a manner before! Usually, "kick him out" was changed to, "please excuse the prince from his room." This was a new experience...

With an amuse smile, (Y/N) said, "Mhm! But you have to wait by the door! I'll tell you when the coast is clear!" And winked.

(Y/N) approached the Prince's lair and knocked.

Silence.

Confused, she turned over to the maid who gave a puzzle expression in return. "Odd..." She pushed open the door and gently closed it behind her. The room was extremely dark with an exception of only a few strands of sunlight seeping through the curtains. Behind the red-velvet curtains were huge glass doors that led to a pristine balcony.

(Y/N) walked over to the plush bed. It was neatly made and the pillows were fluffed. She smoothed out a crinkle in the sheets, deep in thought. Where are you???

"Oh? Nice to see you, (Y/N)." A voice said behind her.

Spinning around, (Y/N) swiftly pulled out a sharp, silver dagger and pointed it, threateningly at the person.

It was Prince Shouto.

Shouto lifted an eyebrow in amusement at the terrified girl. He lean against the doorway that led from the bedroom to the bathroom and a bathrobe was wrapped around him, enticingly. Water dripped down from his dou color hair onto his pale skin, which then seeped into the fabric causing stains that only increased the level of attractiveness.

Embarrassed, (Y/N) tucked her dagger back from its hiding place and bowed deeply. She wasn't just embarrassed for pointing a weapon at his highness, but also because of his gorgeous appearance.

"Lift your head, Advisor." Shouto commanded. He then gracefully walked past her and sat on the lavish bed. He studied her, memorizing her appearance from head to toe. "Are you sick? Your face is disturbingly red..." He lifted a hand towards (Y/N) delicate face, but then thought twice and decided to put it down. Shouto cleared his throat, averting his gaze. "Its unwise to push yourself and further ruin your health. I suggest you take the day off."

(Y/N)'s eyes widen at how concern Shouto was. It was rare that the young Prince ever showed emotions towards the servants. She shook her head and gave a small, gracious smile. "I'm not sick. It's just a little hot in here..."

"Hm.... Alright." A mischief grin popped onto his highness face. "Then I would like for you to pick my outfit for today."

"You- wait what?!" (Y/N) was absolutely shocked. The Prince would like for her to choose his clothes?? What?! His expression didn't change a slightest. If anything, Shouto only got more serious. "Uh... I- I mean, of course, your highness."

She hastily walked over to his wardrobe and rifled through his clothing. There were so many clothes that ranged from simple cotton to elegant silk, a light t-shirt to a long over coat, and rough trousers to smooth dress pants. After careful consideration, (Y/N) chose a white button up shirt and a blue jacket that had golden embroidery. Along with an elegant beige pants and shiny black shoes.

"Here." (Y/N) laid them out on the bed. "I suggest you dress quickly so that you can make it to breakfast. If not, then I'll make it." She mumbled the last part and bowed, dismissing herself.

The girl practically ran out of the room and down to breakfast, not bothering to offer a smile or remove her frown.

(Y/N) sat down at the breakfast table and scarfed it down. The Advisor was permitted to sit at the table meant for royalty and had servants that attended her every need. Such as getting extra syrup, napkins, or another spoon. But, (Y/N) always dismissed the servants and if they didn't leave, she gave them a get-out-of-my-sight-look, which always left her guilty.

The moment breakfast ended, the servants threw it out and the cooks prepared lunch. This was when her duty as the Prince's Advisor began. (Y/N) would be in her study room, sorting out documents and answering letters all the way 'till the afternoon, while Prince Shouto is attending meetings, being tutored, and dealing with private letters.

"Advisor (Y/N)?"

Looking up, she smiled warmly at the butler who was holding the tea she ordered. (Y/N) took off her glasses ushered in the butler. She accepted the tea and leaned back, taking a sip.

Chai Tea.

"So, what's the tea this time?" The servants has taken into account at the unusual sentences that (Y/N) used that was called, "memes."

"Tutor Iida has been extremely lenient about his highness's lack of work, lately. But it seems that the young Prince refuses to work today."

(Y/N) spat out her tea and stood up, her ears could not believe what they just heard. The Prince was ignoring his education?!

The butler nodded his head rapidly, agreeing with her expression and added, "Not only that, but it seems that the young Prince refuses to even touch his work regarding the kingdom. He seems annoyingly stubborn."

He's even ignoring his princely duties?!

(Y/N) shook her head in disgust, and hastily shuffled her papers together.

"Wh-what are you doing, Advisor (Y/N)?!"

"I'm visiting the stubborn Prince and lecturing him! That's what I'm doing!"

Once organized, she rushed over to the library, shoving past housemaids, nannies, housekeepers, and gardeners. The moment (Y/N) saw the doors, she slammed them both open and angrily stomped over to the pompous Prince who was leaning against his chair, his feets on top of the table.

Ugh. How un-royal...

"What is the meaning of this, Shouto?!" (Y/N) placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow.

"A- Advisor (Y/N)!" Iida bowed and pointed a menacing figure at his majesty. "The Prince has become an absolute wreck! His work is under-performance and incohesive. I suggest you do something about this, right now!"

Absolutely shocked, (Y/N) glanced at the young Prince who was examining his nails in a bored manner. Noticing that the attention was on him, Prince Shouto beckoned her over.

"...Your highness, what is it?" She leaned in, her ear an inch away from his mouth. The Prince's breath fanned her face, sending shivers down her spine. It was surprisingly minty.

"Sit on my lap."

(Y/N) jumped back in mortification, clutching her ear in disbelief. This was the second time the Prince had commanded her to do something improper! What had gotten into him?

Seconds passed between the duo, and (Y/N) finally gave into the command. She had to make sure the Prince received proper education so that he'll be fit for the throne, even if she had to sacrifice her dignity in the process...

Iida gave a sceptical look at (Y/N), 100% unsure of what's happening here. He didn't even know if he was okay with it! But, (Y/N) gave a small nod for Iida to continue with his lessons, and that was enough.

"So... Uh... The Kingdom has 4 classss. It goes from Lower Class, Middle Class, Upper Class, and then the beasts...."

The Prince shifted in his seat. One arm was wrapped tightly around (Y/N) and the other writing down notes. She looked back, face blazing in a deep red, at the Prince who simply gave a cheeky grin.

"What's wrong?" Shouto whispered.

(Y/N) quickly turned around and re-focused back on the lesson, giving it her all to ignore the sneaky soon-to-be king. She wasn't going to let this get to her! If anything, this was absolutely nothing! It was like a stick on her path, an insignificant obstacle... so why did it feel like (Y/N) was missing the big picture?

The lesson dragged on, switching from History to Foreign Language, and then Math. The occasional scribble of Shouto's pencil, the sound of pages turning, footsteps echoing and people shelving novels lured her to sleep. (Y/N)'s mind became foggy and her head felt 10x heavier than before. The bright lights above them became unbearably intense, causing her to shut her eyes to keep them out.

What was she sitting on? Why was it so comfortable? (Y/N) forgotten the Prince behind her and leaned back, her head resting cozily in the crook of his neck.

Shouto glanced at the girl, a small grin graced his lips. He twisted the girl on his lap so that they were chest to chest. His fingered drew soothing patterns on her soft back, a hopeful thought emerged but he quickly shot it down. Shouto wasn't going to do anything out of bounds, not unless (Y/N) was fine with it. Hm... But lately, the girl had let things slide. So... would she be fine with this?

Once the lesson ended, Iida quickly excused himself, not bothering to bow to the Prince or pack his things up neatly. It was honestly an amusing sight for the soon-to-be king.

"Mm.." (Y/N) stirred in her sleep.

Shouto couldn't help but chuckle at the adorable girl. She was honestly like a kitten... or would a tiger suit her better? Nonetheless, the girl had his heart trapped between her sharp claws, even if (Y/N) didn't realize it, Shouto was bewitched by this feisty cat since the moment she walked through the palace doors.

He'll make her realize it soon enough.

#bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #bnha #todoroki shouto #shouto x reader #mha shouto #shoto x reader #bnha todoroki #mha todoroki #todoroki x reader #mha #my hero acadamy #my hero academia #reader x todoroki

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