#mods if you see this I’ve been a good girl I can be trusted with discord privileges

[flittingthroughthepines]

They should let me back in the hdg discord

[triplexdoublex]

Worth The Wait

Pairings: Rook X Reader

Warnings/Tags: Y/N is a virgin, loss of virginity, friends to lovers

“Yo, Kells. Can I talk to you for a minute, man?” Rook asks, walking into the kitchen where Colson’s getting himself a snack from the fruit bowl on the counter. 

“Of course dawg, what’s up?” He answers, picking up an orange. “Want one?”

Rook holds up his hand and Colson tosses it to him. He catches it but instead of peeling it to enjoy as Colson is, he just places it in front of him on the counter; he has something on his mind.

“So you know my friend Y/N?” Rook starts.

“The one you have a thing for.” Colson states it as fact, popping an orange segment into his mouth. He knows Rook way too well. 

“You’re not helping!” Rook snaps. “But yeah that plays into my predicament,” he admits.

“I fucking knew it!” Colson boasts proudly. “Wait, what predicament?”

“If you’d shut the fuck up for five seconds, I’m trying to tell you!” 

“Damn, dawg, alright.” Colson hops up to sit on the edge of the counter to listen to his friend.

“Well, apparently she’s a virgin and —“

“Like an Anal virgin?” Kells interrupts.

“For the love of God, can you think with your brain and not your dick for once!” Rook exclaims, getting frustrated; his face twisting up into an annoyed expression. “No dude, a regular-ass, virgin!”

“Heeehee you said ‘ass virgin’,” Colson snickers immaturely. “But seriously, there’s no way! She’s fucking smokin’! How? Why?” Colson asks, in disbelief.

“ I dunno, I froze when she told me …. she said she wants ME to be the one to take her virginity!”

“Oh shit! That’s tight dude.” Colson puts his hand up for a high-five.

“I’m not tryna celebrate here, I’m trying to ask for advice.” Rook admits, smacking Colson’s hand down.

 “What do you need advice for? You know how to fuck! She's the virgin here, not you, dawg,” Colson laughs. “So when you doing it?”

“When?!” Rook exclaims in frustration. “I haven’t even decided if I am yet, and you’re not helping!”

“I’m sorry man, but, you lost me at, trying to decide.. if you ..should... fuck a.. hott girl.. who.. literally.. asked you to fuck her?” Colson says, confused, tracing a finger through the air as if he’s trying to solve an invisible math equation.

“Forget it dude, I should've known you were the wrong person to talk about this with,” Rook scoffs. “Where’s Mod?” 

******

“Aww that’s so sweet, she trusts you bro,” Mod says, placing a hand on Rook's shoulder, after Rook found him and explained the situation to him. 

“Thank you, that’s the point I was trying to get to with Kells; she obviously trusts me and I don’t want to like betray her or whatever by not admitting my feelings first, but I also don’t want to fuck up our friendship, by telling her my feelings.”

“I think you gotta tell her, dude.” Mod suggests “Even if it means she changes her mind about you taking her virginity. But I think your friendship will be okay; like I said she obviously trusts you and has an important connection with you or she wouldn’t have even asked for you to be the one. She chose you for a reason.”

“ Yeah, man, you’re right. It’s the right thing to do.” Rook agrees. “We’re supposed to go out for dinner tonight and then go back to her place. I still wanna take her out though. I’ll tell her during dinner.”

****************

“ Hey, you alright? You seem unusually quiet.” You ask Rook over dinner. “Nervous,” you tease him playfully, poking him in the arm. “If anyone should be nervous it’s me, silly! But I know I’m in good hands, you're the only person I feel I can trust my body with. It’s like ever since I went through puberty yearsss ago, every guy I’ve ever interacted with since had just been trying to get into my pants — every guy but you. I can see through all their intentions, with their lavish gifts, sweet talk, swindling and manipulation. I know they’re only after one thing, so I’ve never let myself trust a single man with my body. But you —  you’re different. You’ve always been there for me, always respected me, listened to me, hung out with me ; and not because you expected my body in return, but because you're genuinely a good guy. But—“  you stop to take a deep breath. “I have to be honest with you — and I completely understand if you change your mind about tonight after I say this — but I think I’ve fallen for you.”

“Oh, thank god!” Rook sighs, almost laughing with relief; a huge weight lifted off his chest. “I’ve been so quiet because I’ve been trying to come up with a way to tell you that I’ve fallen for you,” he reaches out for your hand “and I didn’t want to go through with tonight unless I told you first— I couldn’t betray your trust like that, and the more you talked me up, the more guilty I felt about having not told you yet—“

“Hey—“ you smile, breaking  him from his ramblings. “You wanna get out of here?” 

“Hell yes,” he stands, opening his wallet to throw a hundred dollar bill on the table as you tug him towards the exit. “That should cover it.”

*****************

His lips on your neck feel like heaven, each tender kiss a ‘little death’ of its own. “Is this okay?” He breathes against your flesh as one of his tattooed hands slips under your bra— both of your shirts lost long before the two of you even made it to your bed.

“Mmm, perfect,” you respond breathily, with your head tipped  back and chest arching off the bed into his touch as you reach behind you removing your bra. 

“No, these are perfect!” He smiles, cupping both your breasts— one in each tatted up hand.  He kisses down your chest, pausing momentarily to lick between the valley of your fleshy mounds his hands are encompassing, before continuing downward, stopping only when he gets to the waistband of your pants. “Did you .. um want me to— “ he swallows thickly the words ‘eat you out’ caught in his throat.

“Let’s save that for another day,” you smirk, sitting up and fumbling with his belt . “You have a condom? You ask, unzipping his pants. “Sorry,” you laugh, apologizing  for your eagerness. “I’ve waited way too long for this.”

“No worries at all,” he smirks with a slight chuckle. “Yeah, I got one, he reaches into his back pocket pulling out his wallet. He opens it, retrieving the gold foil packet and brings it to his mouth. Gently he takes hold of the edge with his teeth as he quickly sheds his pants and boxers, tossing them both to the floor along with his wallet. He blushes, noticing you taking in the sight just below his Marilyn Monroe tattoo, as you quickly strip out of your remaining clothing as well. 

“Let me—” you boldly reach for the condom packet, plucking it from between his teeth. Cautiously you tear it open, and remove the slippery sheath, silently berating yourself as you struggle to remember the right orientation to roll it on. 

“Other way,” he corrects you, as you bring it to his tip. “Turn it around.”

“Sorry,” your face flushes red. “I’ve only done this once and it was on a banana in like 9th grade health class,” you laugh, flipping it over.

“That’s perfectly fine,” he cracks a smile,  looking down at you. “Mmmm, shit!” he hums under his breath, feeling you roll it down his hardened  length with a few quick strokes. With his ink adorned fingers he parts your shy legs, getting a good look at you for the first time. “Fuck, look at you all ready for me,” he admires your wetness while softly stroking your already engorged clit with his thumb; the excited bud peeking out past your folds. You let out a small whine at the sensation and Rook’s eyes flick to yours, watching as they flutter with every swipe of his thumb. “Ready? He pauses to ask.

“Yeah,” you coyly pull your bottom lip between your teeth. 

There’s a split second before either of you make the next move where you’re lost in each other’s eyes; your entire friendship having led you two to this very moment. The trance is broken when you both quickly go in for a kiss at the same time, bumping heads.

“Sorry!” You echo each other with a laugh, rubbing at your heads.

“Let’s try this again,” he snickers. 

With his cock in his hand, his bottom lip ghosts against yours in a breathy kiss while he slowly enters you. Your tongues write unspoken words in each other’s mouths as he sets an unhurried and gentle rhythm, remembering it was your first time.

“I appreciate you being gentle with me but, you won’t hurt me I promise. I may be a virgin but I definitely own my fair share of toys,” You whisper seductively in his ear before allowing your tongue to slither amongst the serpents of his Medusa tattoo.

“Oh. Oh shit, okay” he smirks, quickening his pace to match his rapid heartbeat.

“Fuck, John, just like that!” You wrap your legs around him, your heels digging into the flesh of his ass, briefly anchoring him deep inside you.

“God!” he lets out a shrill whine. “I never thought in a million years I’d get to hear you say my name like that.”

“And I never thought I would ever hear you whine like that,” you tease. 

“Shut up,” he laughs, kissing you before you can notice the embarrassed hue of his cheeks; the playful banter so typical of your friendship. 

Your lips and bodies smack against each other,  hungrily chasing the sweet peak of release that’s starting to mount up in you both. You arch your hips off the bed, meeting his thrusts half-way, increasing the depth of his penetration.

Using his neck as leverage you pull yourself up; your nails leaving halfmoon tracks on his nape. “So close, John. Don’t stop.” You press your forehead to his.

“I’m not stopping ‘til you cum,” he huffs into your mouth as he kisses you with the passion and focus of an Olympian.

“Almost — oh shit, yes! Yes! I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” You cry out in euphoric bliss; the orgasm far more intense than the ones you’ve had solo.

It’s not long before his own fluid desire surges down the length of his shaft, filling the condom. You momentarily ride out your highs together before he pulls out and disposes of the condom in the small waste basket beside your bed.

“I hope that lived up to your expectations,” he says out of breath with a smile, as he flops back down next to you. 

“It was perfect,” you return the smile as you settle into an embrace. “Definitely worth the wait.”

Taglist: @taytayize123

[keltonwrites]

Where no one knows your name

How many times is a person meant to make new friends? When I moved into an apartment in DC with an absolutely iconic girl from Craigslist, I wrote in my journal, “you never know when you’ll meet your next bridesmaid.” Charmingly juvenile, as I was 24 years old. Ironic, as I never had any bridesmaids. And embarrassing, knowing I wrote something that’s surely been embroidered on a bachelorette party t-shirt by now. My point was: you can meet people you fall in love with anywhere, anytime, assuming your heart (and calendar) are open. Now my heart and calendar are open and I am one of Elizabeth Bennet’s sad sisters, cloying and desperate for attention while everyone at the ball ignores me. Meeting people here is unnerving and hapless and eye-clawingly vulnerable. My first new friend told me she was moving away in a few months. Do you invest deeply in hopes of another faraway friendship? Do you just go back to waving as you pass on the street? I like this girl! What an embarrassing thing to have to say to someone! Do you just invite people to every and anything like a lunatic? I can’t even remember to call the people I am forever-and-ever in cahoots with. I’m also deeply bound by what I’ll call the Movie Trap: say it’s 3pm during not-a-pandemic, and you get the urge to see a movie. You look at the showings, and there’s one you really want to see at 7:15. You think to yourself, “I should make an effort,” and you text a friend. “Hey, you wanna go see This Cool Movie at 7:15 tonight?” No one ever says yes. Don’t give me an example of when someone has, because it’s always one of these answers:

“Oooh, I’m actually seeing it with Kate tomorrow - wanna come?”

“Can we go to the 9pm showing? Stuck at work.”

“Yeah but let’s see Movie You’ll Fucking Hate instead.”

Now maybe I’m just lighting flares guiding you to the worst parts of my personality, but this drives me nuts. No, Liz, I don’t want to go tomorrow. I want to go tonight. At 7:15. So I can be in bed by 10. And you’d have to drag my dead body and prop open my eyes to get me to see something like Marriage Story in theaters. The Movie Trap is a big reason I usually hang out by myself, or I make plans weeks in advance. (Don't I sound like a blast.) Just the idea of being like, “I like you! Wanna hang out in October?” makes me want to collapse into a puddle of sad adulthood. Which is why on Friday at 4:30pm, when a girl I’d met a week prior asked if I wanted to grab a drink, I just said yes. I put on a pretty dress, did my makeup, put stuff in a purse, and drove the 25 minutes to town. It was really fun! And how novel to have new contacts in my phone like “Maggie blue house” and “Jess concert friend” — a throwback to the days of “Greg guy on L train” and “Devon ad party.” The very concept of not knowing someone’s last name or even needing it, and a year from now updating their contact info and smiling at your origin story. But for the most part, no one is in our phones. In terms of phone numbers collected, here is the list:

Two friends we knew prior who thank god you guys exist.

New friend who is moving away.

New friend who is game to drink tequila and ride mountain bikes.

Neighbor-not-yet-friend who I really fucking like and am not sure how to cross hang-out threshold with.

​Not to say there aren’t any other prospects or people I’m platonically gaga over, but I don’t have their phone numbers. There are honestly a lot of people like this because when you live in a small town (and you’re from the Midwest) you say “oop, sorry” to every person/object you bump into, and you say “hi :)” to every person you see. These are the rules. If I drive by you and don’t wave, it’s because I was so deep in a daydream I probably shouldn’t have been driving in the first place. This isn’t acceptable, because in our urgency to tattoo our vaccination status on our foreheads so we can make friends, it turns out just driving by someone can be a viable strategy. A few days ago, a man was driving by our kitchen window and then our driveway, and then he reversed back up to the kitchen window and started waving. Ben went outside — it was that kind of wave. The man had seen from his car a smokejumper emblem on the back of a truck in our driveway. “Hey, are you a smokejumper?” We aren’t. But my dad was, and he was in town visiting, accompanied by the emblem on the back of his truck. The guy said we should drink sometime. Numbers were not exchanged. We’ll call that a node, because it’s not quite a connection. And it’s mainly nodes, waiting to be connected, to have relevance. But first, no matter who you’re trying to befriend, you have to answer everyone else’s Do I Care Quiz. The quiz is employed by 93% of locals to determine how they feel about you existing within their personal 50-mile radius. The first question is non negotiable:

1) Are you visiting?

Variations on this question include “how long are you in town?” or “what brings y’all to town?” or my least favorite and most insulting, “did you just finish Jeeping?” I know I have blonde hair and say y’all, but how dare you. (Also, to be clear, you can own a Jeep, customize your Jeep, mod out your Jeep, and love your Jeep, but you’re not Jeeping until you drive too fast through a tiny town so you can hurl your Jeep over a mountain pass without ever getting out of it.) So the answer to “are you visiting” is “no, I live here.” Which brings us to the next question, my favorite for how loaded the gun, kneeling in the grass, scope on, target locked it is.

2) Are you part-time or full-time?

The first time I answered this question, I didn’t realize it was essentially like asking how someone voted in the 2020 election. The judgment was cocked and ready and the palpable relief/joy/or at the very least, tolerance, exuded by answering “full-time” was like when the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a 40 degree day. I was fine, but wow that does feel better. The third question though does not have a standard hoped-for answer. This is where nodes turn to connections turn to phone numbers.

3) What brings you here?

It seems like the best possible answer would be saying you work in town, and you’re going to begin construction on displaced-worker housing to ensure the people who run this town can actually live in it. We’d have everyone’s phone number. Saying you’re a writer who works remotely and bought a house from a legendary and beloved local who could no longer afford it is really something you keep to yourself. But in the interest of making friends, I just word vomit my entire history. We might as well find out at the onset if I make your eyes roll back into your skull. Not at all threatening that all it takes is a single social signal misinterpreted to be the absolute death knell of my ability to make friends in a town of some 1400 adults. In fact, I’ll share one such interaction. I was hiking with Cooper, about 5 miles by foot away from my house. I was on a trail, crossing a sloped meadow, and a group was traversing up the hillside to the trail. I said hi, where y’all coming from. One girl answered and we talked about the trail. She eyed me up and down. “Did you just move here?” “I did!” “I served your family last week,” she said. “Oh,” that phrasing. “Must have been my in-laws.” “Heard you bought Jack’s house. Such a bummer when locals like that are forced out.” “We didn’t even know about his house,” I said. “We were looking at another house and he asked his realtor if he could get us to come see his house. We just loved it, and him!” She had no emotional reaction to this. “You moved from California?” she asked. (Dangerous question.) “Yeah, got these sea level lungs, haha,” attempting to disarm with humor was a failure, “but couldn’t be happier to be out of California.” “It’s not like this all year. Winter’s really hard here, you’re in for a rude awakening.” “Well California’s the last place I lived, but I’m not from there. I’ve lived in brutal winters. At least Colorado gets sun!” I laugh with cloaked loathing. “It’s different when you live at altitude,” she said, like no human aside from her had ever been literally anywhere. “Are you trying to go around?” She indicated the path behind her. “No, y’all go ahead, just gonna wait to give you your space. I’m sure you’re faster than me.” “K, good luck making it to the lake." Maybe she was thirsty. Maybe she was hungover. Maybe she just has vicious delivery, but it felt like every blade of grass was leaning against the wind to listen. She was with four other people and not one of them said a word. I left that interaction not wanting to see another human ever again. But that interaction, and her intimate knowledge of exactly which house I lived in, made me want to decorate like we lived in a gingerbread house, all candy canes and plum drops, screaming to any passerby that we’re friendly. One of the mayor’s first questions to me was “what are you going to do to the house?” There are rules here about what your house can look like, and I kept emphasizing we bought the house because we loved it, not because we wanted to change everything about it. And now, instead of wanting to decorate the interior, I want to put up shades so we don’t contribute to light pollution, I want to hang a sign by the water spigot saying “grab some if you need” for hikers and mountain bikers, I want to paint a sign for the wild mint by our door that says, “I mint to tell you to take some,” because our neighbors were openly panicked they wouldn’t be able to just grab mint from the cabin’s garden anymore. Without question, COVID makes things harder. Dinner parties feel like dares. Dropping cookies off at someone’s house feels invasive. Grabbing a drink feels like the ultimate sign of trust. But at least we have nodes who can connect who can think to invite us and who can see that despite having lived in California, we’re not all that bad. In the meantime, I’ll be painting signs about water and mint, hoping to garner the benefit of the doubt from the so beautifully, earnestly, and waiting-to-see-if-you’re-worth-it doubtful.

Subscribe to the newsletter at tinyletter.com/keltonwrites — high altitude relocation and renovation in a tiny mountain town.

[rosyfingereddawnn]

That’s The Way

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: none, this is kind of an introductory/fluff chapter if you will :)

Story summary: Y/N Y/L/N, an ordinary seventeen-year-old girl, gets pulled into the world of rock and roll on a fateful night at the Marquee Club in London when she experiences the musical phenomenon of the Five Live Yardbirds. She grows up fast, navigating her way through the downfall of The Yardbirds, the legendary skyrocket of Led Zeppelin, era-defining decadence instigated by the ‘60s and ‘70s mindset of free love and personal gratification, and finding the courage to express how she fell deeply in love with one of modern music’s greatest guitarists.

Author’s notes (from Molly of rebel-without-a-zeppelin): Hi everyone! A little disclaimer on my part: this is the first story I’ve ever shared for public consumption. I’ve been toying with this idea in my mind for a very long time now, and I’ve finally mustered up the courage to share it with you all. I hope you like it. I am incredibly honored to collaborate with Syd on this project; this is truly our baby, as it has a very long, detailed, intricate plot, so saddle up for lots (and lots) of drama! This is also a sloooowwwww burn, like really, really slow lol. Over the course of the story, please feel free to send me your theories and comments; I would absolutely love to read them. Please enjoy, and happy reading!

---------

3 May 1965

The sound of a car horn beeped incessantly from the front of Y/N’s house. Dropping her backpack down on her bedroom floor with an annoyed huff, she sprinted down the steps. She never did get enough time to prepare, and it was no different today. With her friend Carolyn in tow, Y/N made a beeline for the front door, the click-clack of her Oxford shoes pounding across the hardwood floor. Y/N’s mum, who nonchalantly strolled out of the laundry room with an armful of freshly washed and folded bath towels, leant against the doorframe.

“Now remember Y/N: no drinking, no drugs, no sex. No going home with strange musician guys, nor are you allowed to go to their hotel,” her mum instructed calmly, knowing she’d receive an eye roll from the girl. Her stern expression at home on her gracefully-aged face, the girls receive the speech they get every time they go out.  “You too, C. Even though I’m not your mother, I still worry about your safety.”

Both Y/N’s mum and dad had a very protective instinct over their eldest daughter, just like their other three children. Even at Y/N’s healthy age of seventeen, she longed for the freedom and trust that her older brother had gained at her age.

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Carolyn replied with a little laugh.

“Mum! This is literally the fourth time I’ve been to a Yardbirds gig, and nothing bad has happened,” Y/N huffed. Her mum raised her eyebrows.

Lillian, Y/N’s little sister, walked into the foyer and surprised Y/N with a big, tight hug around her waist. Y/N gasped at the sudden contact, but chuckled when she realized it was her younger sister, and reciprocated the hug.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Y/N. Boys are icky. And stupid!” Lillian said in a whiny voice, her face muffled by being buried in Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N ruffled her sister’s muss of dirty blonde waves affectionately, rubbing her back to soothe her worries. “I promise, I will come back perfectly fine! I won’t let any boys mess with me, Lil,” Y/N said with a smile, “And when I come back, I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

Lillian gazed up at Y/N with a similar smile, her small teeth shining a bright, pearly white and her chin resting on the taller girl’s stomach. “Okay,” she said, content, before releasing from Y/N with a stuffed animal tucked under her arm.

“Where’s Charlie?” Y/N asked, hoping she could say goodbye to her younger brother before she left.

“I think he’s riding around the neighborhood on his bike with his friends,” Y/N’s mum replied with a shrug. Y/N felt a little disappointed, but she figured she’d talk to him tomorrow at breakfast about her night out.

Thomas, Y/N’s older brother, continued to honk the horn rather obnoxiously, growing quite impatient. It’s a wonder the neighbors weren’t at arms, knocking on their door. He was forced by his parents to be Y/N and Carolyn’s chauffeur to the Marquee Club in London.

“We have to go, or else Tommy will have my head,” Y/N said as she started to open the front door.

“Wait!” her mum said, sloppily placing the towels down on a nearby counter to dash to the door and give Y/N a hug and a kiss on the head goodbye. Finally pulling away her weathered hands flew to Y/N’s shoulders, and gripping them firmly, she continued, “Be good. Love you.”

“I know, I will. Love you too,” Y/N smiled, before dashing down the steps and to the passenger seat of the car. Carolyn was in quick pursuit, following her to the car and taking a seat in the back.

“It’s about time,” Tommy huffed impatiently, tapping his fingertips on the top of the steering wheel as he put the transmission into drive.

“Sorry. Mum was giving me and C a safety brief,” Y/N replied apologetically.

“Why are you two still in school uniforms?” he snorted, shifting to look over at the girls; their studious appearance of white oxford shirts, sweater vests, plaid kilts, white knee socks, and smart oxford shoes would be quite out of place among the audience at the show.

“No time to change, just like usual,” she replied, turning on the radio, soft melodies pouring out at a low volume.

The three drove in silence, except for the sound of the radio playing, until Carolyn had dozed off on the somewhat lengthy car ride. Occasional small talk between Y/N and her brother permeated the quiet that fell over the group, but it picked up when they were only a few blocks away from the venue.

“You gotta stay safe in there, Y/N,” Tommy said, looking straight ahead. His teeth clamped down sharply on his bottom lip: a dead giveaway to the nerves he must have been feeling.

“I know, Dad,” Y/N joked, punching him lightly across the shoulder. Her bright smile wavered and fell when she saw his grim expression.

“I’m serious, you know. I don’t want my sister being pestered by some wankers in a blues band.”

Y/N smirked at her brother’s sudden defensive behavior. “I can take care of myself. Trust me. This isn’t my first rodeo. You should’ve seen the first Yardbirds gig we went to. Utter chaos...” The tilt of her lips signalled that she was joking, and Tommy huffed out a laugh.

Carolyn, stretching with a grunt, had miraculously woken up just as Tommy pulled up to the front door of the Marquee. Glancing at the venue with awe dancing in their eyes, Y/N and Carolyn disembarked from the car, walking closer with the façade of calmness and competency.

“I’ll be back later to pick you girls up. Have fun, but not too much fun,” Tommy rolled his window down as he said this, winking playfully.

Y/N waved to her brother as Carolyn thanked him graciously for the ride. Arms linked, Y/N and Carolyn entered the famous Marquee. Nervousness and anticipation began to pool Y/N’s stomach as she was greeted by the decadent atmosphere of the club: the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat hung in the air as her eyes were flashed by many people mingling about, dressed in typical mod clothing. Y/N and her friend looked at each other, feeling like aliens in their intelligent dress. They tactfully made their way through the crowd as they found their way to their usual spot, a small leather-upholstered booth set against the wall near the stage.

“Today might be the day, Y/N,” Carolyn said as they settled into their seats.

“I don’t know,” she replied, smoothing out her skirt, “the idea of that is both scary and exciting to me at the same time. We’ll just roll with the punches, I guess.”

“Which Yardbird do you have your eye on?”

Y/N smirked as she thought for a moment. “Hmm...I’m not sure. I guess they’re all pretty cute in their own way. What about you?”

“Yes, I agree. But I must admit, I do have a very soft spot for Chris Dreja.”

“I’ll pray for ya, C,” Y/N chuckled.

~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, backstage, five live Yardbirds were performing some pre-show rituals in the hopes of easing the preliminary anxiousness. Jeff, Keith, and Jim were peeking out the little sliver of curtain that allowed them to see their gathering audience.

“Look! It’s those two schoolgirls again!” Jeff pointed to the two teenage girls in school uniforms, chatting in their booth waiting for the show to begin. They were huddled together in conversation, legs daintily crossed as their faint giggles floated over to them. Jim couldn’t help but smile at the sound, though he recovered quickly, not wanting his bandmates to get any ideas.

“What’s wrong with that? They must like us,” Keith replied.

“I think they’re both really pretty, especially the one with the Y/H/C hair,” Jim pointed out, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Yeah, maybe we should invite them backstage after the show… have a nice little chat,” Jeff winked at the singer and the drummer cheekily.

After taking a final glance at the two conversing girls, the three returned to the backstage area where Paul and Chris were. Jeff immediately enlisted Giorgio, their manager, to complete the agreed-upon mission. Jeff loosely draped an arm around Giorgio’s shoulder before bestowing the request as politely as possible. Not trying to be suspiciously polite, of course, because everyone in the band and its entourage were firsthand witnesses of Jeff’s temper and stubbornness. Yikes.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to do me a favor,” Jeff said to Giorgio with a mischievous smile.

Giorgio rolled his eyes, knowing this “favor” would have to do with scouting girls from the audience. “What d’ya need, Jeff?” he sighed exhaustedly.

“Don’t complain, please,” Jeff deadpanned. “There are two pretty birds in the audience, wearing their school uniforms. They’ve been coming to our shows for a little bit now, and they seem nice—”

“You want me to bring them backstage after the show?” Giorgio interrupted, somehow telepathically knowing, by routine, what the guitarist’s request would be.

“You finish that sentence like you know what I’m about to say.”

“That’s because I do, Mr. Beck,” Giorgio retorted sarcastically, “this happens a lot more often than you think it does.”

“Whatever,” Jeff grumbled moodily, knowing he was right, before walking back to the group of musicians in preparation.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N and Carolyn continued to gossip happily about what was happening at school, not a care in the world. They felt the stares of older men in the club, who silently disapproved of their knee socks being scrunched by their ankles, because that wasn’t the “proper” thing to do. But they didn’t care. Who are they to judge?

Every teacher scolded girls at school who did the same thing, because they didn’t want their long legs to be “tempting” or “distracting” any boys. A bloody nuisance, is what it is.

The girls were snapped from their thoughts by the sound of a heavy guitar tone being blasted through the speakers in an opening riff. Their eyes were stapled, almost transfixed to the stage as they took in the five sharply-dressed men in front of them, singing their songs and playing their instruments.

As much as Carolyn enjoyed The Yardbirds and music in general, Y/N had a rather deep connection to it, odd enough as it was. She could play the piano fairly well, so she understood where these musicians were coming from cognitively and creatively. From what she’d read in magazines about current popular musicians, like The Yardbirds for example, she liked the same music they did. Y/N understood dynamics, tempo, tone, key, and musical notation, just like they did. Perhaps she’d be able to get into an intelligent musical conversation with at least one of them one day.

Two straight hours of hits, obscure songs, and blues covers from The Yardbirds’ catalogue were played for the Marquee Club patrons, hypnotizing its drunk and high onlookers with polished musicality and instrumentation.

As the final song concluded, both Y/N and Carolyn, unbeknownst to the other, felt a sinking feeling of disappointment that fell like a pit in their stomachs. They wouldn’t have the chance to meet the band. No one from the entity had approached them yet, and momentarily the five live Yardbirds would be exiting the stage for the night.

After they said their goodbyes and thanks to the crowd, they disappeared behind the curtain. The main lights of the club brightened to signal that the show was over, as the voices of all the patrons raised in rave of the spectacular show they had just witnessed.

Discouraged, but still in light spirits at what they had just seen, Y/N and Carolyn stood up from their seat and headed for the front door. Y/N expected her brother to be waiting in front; it was late, so might as well not make him wait longer than he needs to.

Y/N and Carolyn were merely a few feet from the door when Y/N felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning around to see a man with a dark beard already baring a jovial tight-lipped grin at her, the girl was quite surprised, maybe a little weirded out, but she reciprocated the gesture as genuinely as she could.

“Hello sir, what can we do for you?” Y/N greeted, discreetly nudging Carolyn to help her out and become a united front with her in front of this stranger.

“Good evening ladies, I was sent by Mr. Jeff Beck to offer you an invitation backstage to hang out with the band.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped and her face broke out into an obvious mad blush, much to her dismay. She was internally screaming. The Jeff Beck had spotted them in the crowd?! This had to be a dream.  Wait, this could be a complete drunken buffoon trying to trick them. Y/N remembered what her mother had said, and took the proper precautionary measure.

Y/N smiled in the most composed way she could. “Thank you for such a gracious invitation! Could I ask your name, if you don’t mind?”

“Giorgio Gomelsky, manager of The Yardbirds,” he replied, in a seemingly proud manner.

Okay, this was real. Y/N knew that Giorgio was definitely the manager’s name. She turned to Carolyn, who looked just as excited as she was.

“What are your names, dears?” Giorgio asked, pulling them out of their daze of what seemed like a fake reality.

“I’m Carolyn, and this is my friend Y/N,” Carolyn piped up, excited that she finally got an opportunity to speak to someone close to The Yardbirds.

She internally agreed to let Y/N handle the “diplomacy” part of the introduction, knowing that she was best at that. Carolyn knew her friend was quite shy, so she knew to step in when Y/N was starting to feel anxious. She noticed Y/N starting to fiddle with her fingers while talking to Giorgio in the most collected way she could muster; as excited as Y/N was, Carolyn knew she was growing very nervous.

“Well, it is certainly lovely to meet you both. So, what do you say? Would you like to meet the lads?”

After one final glance of excited mutual agreement, Carolyn replied, “Yes, we’d love to.”

Giorgio led the pair of girls back the way they came, through a sea of inebriated people, but this time through the backstage door. Y/N made an appoint to walk behind Carolyn, in an attempt to collect and relax herself. She was starting to sweat a little, her stomach doing flips and her hands becoming cold and clammy.

~~~~~~~~

“Our guests should be arriving any minute now,” Jeff said as he was placing his guitar back in its case.

Chris was standing and chatting with Paul in a corner when he turned around in surprise at the news. “Guests? What guests?”

“We had Giorgio invite two girls from the audience to come back here,” Jim replied, walking over to sit down in a metal folding chair.

“And why weren't we made aware of this?” Paul asked, as he walked to get another metal folding chair to place near Jim.

“It was their idea,” Keith replied, pointing two fingers between Jeff and Jim. Paul and Chris just nodded in recognition.

“I didn’t hear you disagree, Relf,” Jeff clapped back. He then told Chris and Keith to get some chairs for themselves and the two girls that would be walking through the door at any second.

Before Keith could respond, a couple knocks resounded in the room, signalling the arrival of the guests. Jacket lapels and ties were quickly straightened, even though each person was still glazed with quickly-drying sweat from the show they had just played, before the room fell unnaturally quiet as Giorgio opened the rather squeaky door.

The initial tension in the room that lasted a split second could be cut with a knife. Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, a cold sweat already running down her back, as five pairs of eyes landed on her, Carolyn, and Giorgio, warm smiles following suit.

She felt like internally combusting.

“Boys, this is Y/N,” Giorgio broke the momentary silence by introducing her, “and Carolyn.” Y/N smiled shyly and sent them a little wave, a dusty shade of pink seeping its way to her cheeks. Carolyn’s greeting was much more exuberant than Y/N’s, as she took the initiative to go over and shake all of their hands amiably. Y/N realized she had to follow her friend in order to make a good first impression.

Knowing that the boys wanted to spend time with the girls without being chaperoned, Giorgio left the room to attend to other business affairs.

Upon first glance, Y/N was the most beautiful girl that four of the five Yardbirds had ever seen. Perfect features, long legs, a calm, gentle, sweet demeanor… Just an absolutely angelic young woman; a vision.

Jeff had obviously recognized her beauty, from seeing her at multiple shows, but he thought she was way out of his league. He decided to focus on getting her to laugh and relax around them, because he noticed just how nervous she looked. She was turning pale right in front of his very eyes! Paul and Chris began to internally question themselves, how have I not seen this girl before? She is so gorgeous! Jim had been glancing at her sporadically throughout the show, soaking up her faraway presence. He noticed how her eyes glistened in childlike wonder as she watched them do what they did best: perform the Chicago blues.

“Well, it is very nice to meet you both,” Keith replied enthusiastically. “I’m Keith,” he alluded to himself, then pointing to the other members of the group while giving their names, “and this is Chris, Paul, Jeff, and Jim.”

“I mean, we know who you guys are, but it’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Carolyn replied. Y/N nodded in agreement.

“Come and sit down! Make yourselves comfortable. We don’t bite,” Jeff joked, motioning to the open chairs. The girls smiled and accepted his invitation, Y/N taking a seat between Jeff Beck and Jim McCarty, while Carolyn took a seat between Keith Relf and Chris Dreja. The chairs were arranged in a circular formation, so each person could talk to the other with ease.

“Tell us about yourselves!” Paul initiated, “I think Y/N should go first though, because you haven’t said too much yet,” he laughed at the last part. Y/N giggled (a little too idiotically for her own liking), but she felt herself become starstruck at how her name sounded coming from one of their voices.

Y/N clenched her cold, clammy hands in her lap as a method to ease her anxiety before starting with a smile. “Well, I’m from Saint Albans. This is our fourth time, I believe, coming to see a Yardbirds gig. Carolyn and I came to see you with Eric Clapton once, and then this is the third time with Jeff.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic! I guess I see where your favor lies in terms of guitarists,” Jeff responded playfully.

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N laughed, “I will admit that I love what you’ve done with the body of work. Clapton was a blues purist, which I respect, and he’s great, but I think your playing is much more interesting and unorthodox.”

Paul, Jim, and Jeff all raised their eyebrows at Y/N’s comment. They were impressed with how she understood their musicality.

“Are you a musician?” Jim asked Y/N.

“Not in your sense of the word,” Y/N chuckled, “But I’ve been playing the piano for most of my life, so I understand music. Probably more than your average female audience member,” she added with a grin.

“That’s so cool! Are you classically trained, or is it just a hobby?”

“Classically trained,” Y/N admitted to Jim shyly.

“Oh wow, so you’re the real deal,” Jeff added.

“I’m not a professional, so I’d say no,” Y/N laughed.

“You probably know more about music than all five of us combined!” Paul said.

“Well, I know that you know much more about the blues than me!” Y/N answered playfully.

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Paul smiled at Y/N. She cursed herself in her mind for feeling weak at Paul’s simple sentiment, but tried to keep her composure as best she could.

The four of them, especially Jeff and Y/N, began to bond over their love for different musicians. Y/N expressed her love for Chet Atkins and his fingerpicking style, Scotty Moore’s lively soloing style, and Robert Johnson’s slide technique and open tunings, rendering the three men shocked at her knowledge on the subject. Y/N loved how easily Jeff could make her laugh, and how interested Paul and Jim were at whatever she had to say, significant or insignificant. Chris Dreja, who was in a little group with Keith and Carolyn, occasionally spaced out of his conversation to hear what Y/N had to say.

They bonded for about an hour and a half about everything and nothing, until Y/N abruptly realized that Tommy was probably waiting for a while outside for her and her friend. She apologized to the band profusely for such a sudden departure as she and Carolyn walked towards the door.

“Say you’ll come visit us again after the show?” Jeff called to Y/N as she turned towards him in the doorframe.

“Absolutely,” she smiled brightly.

---------

Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!!

Taglist: @y0uth--anasia @reincarnated70sbaby

[omorial]

AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC A

Just a note- I'm not autistic! I did this based on my own research and what I've learned from friends. I had someone read over it to make sure it wasn't being insensitive, so I hope anyone who reads likes this!

- Mod Zale

Mari loved her little brother!

Sunny was the light of her life, the center of it, and she cared about him so much. Even the things that some people might consider weird, or be mean about. Because those things made Sunny Sunny, and people who were mean about it were just bullies.

Like how he didn't talk much. People were mean about it, but Sunny just didn't like to talk, and who cares? He can still communicate, and it makes him happy! As long as he's comfortable, it didn't matter if he talked.

He also wore the same thing a lot, but that's just because it made him comfortable. Routine helped him, and if it helped, it was fine. Having a signature outfit was cool, too! Like you were a cartoon character!

He had favorite foods, too! Like steak! That was one of his favorites. He says some foods bother him and make him feel icky, so they don't make him eat those, because he should eat what makes him feel good! Eating is supposed to be fun!

As long as Sunny was happy, it didn't matter if he did things other people thought was weird. Those things made Sunny Sunny, and she loved him for him.

•••

Kel was excited!!

Hero said they had new neighbors, and he was finally taking Kel to meet them!! Hero said he hadn't taken him yet because they needed time to adjust, which was kind of weird, but whatever. He could make a new friend!

"Calm down, Kel, he hasn't met anyone else in town yet and his sister said he's nervous." Kel looked at Hero, pouting. Hero bent down, looking at Kel. "Also, I was told he doesn't like to talk much. So be nice to him, okay?"

Kel nodded. "Yeah! I'm super nice!"

Hero laughed again and Kel stuck his tongue out at him as he stood up.

He bounced in place as he waited for someone to answer the door, excited to meet someone new.

"Hey, Mari." Hero said, and Kel looked at the girl who answered the door. She must be the big sister! "This is my brother, Kel. How're you all settling in?"

"We're settling in well, Hero, thanks for asking." Mari turned to Kel, and he beamed up at her. "Hello, Kel! You should meet my little brother, Sunny! He's in our room upstairs right now, the door on the left, you can go up there if you want!"

"Hi!! Okay, cool! Nice to meet you!" Kel rushed out a response before sprinting into the house, giggles from Hero and Mari following him.

Kel rushed upstairs, almost tripping in his excitement. He made his way to the door he'd been directed to, barely remembering to knock before opening the door.

There was a boy sitting on one of the beds, probably Sunny, with short black hair. He was fidgeting with something, and didn't seem to notice that Kel was there. 

Kel knocked on the doorframe before walking into the room, waving slightly. "Uh, hi? Sunny, right?"

He still didn't seem to react so Kel walked further into the room, trying to get his attention. He walked up to the bed, and Sunny still didn't seem to register he was there. Kel bounced in place little before deciding to tap Sunny on the shoulder.

Sunny startled a little, looking up. 

Kel smiled sheepishly and waved again. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Uh- I'm Kel! I'm Hero's brother, you've met Hero right?"

Sunny looked at him for a second, before nodding. He grabbed a notebook off the nightstand beside the bed and Kel moved a little so he could see it better.

'I'm Sunny. Nice to meet you.'

"Hi Sunny! Uh-" Kel glanced around, eyes catching on the cube thing the other boy had been fidgeting with. "What's that?"

Sunny fidgeted with the pencil he was holding for a second before replying. 'It's a Rubix Cube. You have to solve the puzzle by getting the same color on all sides.'

"Oh, that's cool!" Kel looked around to see more things that looked akin to Rubix Cubes on one of the shelves set up in the room. "Do you collect them?"

Sunny nodded.

"That's so cool! Can you show me how to solve one?"

Sunny's eyes widened slightly and he nodded, moving some so Kel could sit beside him. Kel beamed.

•••

School had started, and Kel was excited because he and Sunny were in the same class. Sunny was fun, and liked talking to him, and he knew so much cool stuff! He was such a cool friend!!

Sunny seemed nervous, so Kel tried to send him silent support any way he could. He seemed to appreciate it, so it was a success!

It was lunch, and the two of them had sat down at a table. They'd both brought lunch, so they didn't have to wait in line! 

Kel started eating but stopped when he looked at Sunny, who was frowning at his food.

"Sunny? You okay?"

'... Fine. Mom just gave me Mari's lunch instead of mine.'

"Oh." Kel glanced at the pasta Mari took for lunch, then back to his pb&j sandwich, tilting his head. "Want mine? It's just a pb&j."

Sunny frowned more. 'Are you sure?'

"Totally, bud! You can have it, I don't mind."

They switched food and the issue was averted, lunch going smoothly after that.

•••

Basil fidgeted with his bag, looking nervously at the friends Aubrey was introducing him to. It wasn't that he didn't think they'd be nice! He trusted Aubrey! It's just- he was nervous.

The boy in orange- Kel, right? -smiled before speaking. "Hey Basil! Nice to meetcha! I like your bag, the flowers are cool!"

Basil flushed, stuttering out a thank-you as the two older kids- Mari and Hero -said hi as well.

The last one, Sunny, waved a little. He was wearing short sleeves, which confused Basil because it was kind of cold out.

Sunny held out a notebook in front of him, and his eyes widened as he took it.

'I don't like wearing long sleeves a lot. It feels weird.'

"Oh!" Basil gripped his bag, handing the notebook back to Sunny. "Sorry it was obvious I was wondering! I- I didn't mean to be rude."

Sunny put the notebook in front of him again, and he read it.

'It's alright, I don't mind. It's nice to meet you. Flowers are pretty cool.'

Basil looked at Sunny, eyes wide. 

"Uh- okay. Thanks! Your notebook is pretty cool." Basil looked at the drawings on the cover. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

Sunny nodded.

"That's so cool! You must be really good at art."

Sunny wrote something down and Basil read it.

'Um- I guess. Thanks, though. It's fun.'

Basil smiled a little. This was seeming okay.

•••

Sunny closed the door to the bathroom, pulling at his hair. His eyes stung.

His wrist, his fingers, everything hurt. He couldn't do this- it hurt.

He wiped at his eyes, sliding down against the door as he tried to calm down. It just- it was too much. Mari was pushing him too much. It hurt.

He pulled at his hair again, trying to hold back his frustrations as the crying got worse.

He didn't want to play the violin anymore.

It hurt.

•••

Sunny had collections.

He had, rubix cubes, and stuffed animals, and he had so many of them.

It was fun. It gave him something to focus on. And he liked them.

The stuffed animals were comforting, and soft. The rubix cubes were fun to fidget with, and it was fun to figure out how to solve them, too.

Drawing was also fun. It was fun to do, and he could do it in bis own way, just for fun.

He could draw his friends, and draw out his frustrations, and it helped.

Collecting things helped.

[m-y-fandoms]

Fuyuhiko x reader -  Fuyuhiko’s S/O saves his sister from being killed by Sato

Request: congrats on the blog!! i really like your writing!! could i request fuyuhiko's s/o protecting natsumi from being killed by sato?

Of course! I love Fuyuhiko actually, he just barely missed my top five favorite DR characters list, definitely top 10. Warnings: blood, violence, spoilers for the Danganronpa 3 anime and Super Danganronpa 2, reader’s gender not specified  - Mod Kokichi

     “See ya, babe. Don’t be late after last period today, I got some shit to handle for my dad as soon as I drop you off at work,” Fuyuhiko spoke lazily, a nudge on your shoulder to get your attention again.

     “Yeah, ‘course!” You smiled as he leaned in and pecked you on the cheek, routinely, like he had every morning for the past few years. “See ya, ‘Hiko!” He nodded, sauntering off with books under his arm and his free hand in the pocket of his slacks. “Bye, Peko!” You bowed your head to the swordswoman who followed diligently behind your boyfriend, nodding her acknowledgment to you. You sighed, watching him disappear into the entrance of the main wing of Hope’s Peak Academy. Your eyes glossed over dreamily, lingering on him. Was that a new cologne on him today? Maybe he was wearing his uniform a little neater than usual this morning…

     “Let’s go, fuckin’ space cadet!” A shove from behind knocked you forward toward the entrance of the Reserve Course wing, You sighed deeply. “My brother ain’t that cute, damn!”

     “Natsumi, you could’ve just said something.” You pushed back the frustration in your voice in favor of a small smile in her direction.

     “Whatever, we’re gonna be late, and I’m not dealing with another one of Mr. Nakamura’s lectures on the value of punctuality!” She stuck her tongue out as if gagging, her blonde hair floating through the air as she rushed past you, her shoulder roughly knocking into yours.

     “Geez...that girl…” You shook your head, following behind.

     You couldn’t really complain about anything or anyone at Hope’s Peak, seeing as you were just lucky to be there in the first place. After dating Fuyuhiko for a little over two years, he got scouted and asked to attend Hope’s Peak’s main course as the Ultimate Yakuza. You were so happy for him, and proud, but he wasn’t as thrilled. He was really attached to you, with your father and his father being childhood friends and clan members, and your own childhood friendship with him had blossomed into this loving and loyal relationship. It was the best kind. After all, people always say the healthiest and longest-lasting marriages came when your spouse was your best friend, and you definitely intended to marry that boy one day. With how close you two were, he’d be damned if he was splitting up with you for some stupid school, but both you and his father weren’t having it. Mr. Kuzuryu only gained more influence and pride once his son started going to the best school in the country, and you just wouldn’t let your boyfriend pass up on the opportunity of a lifetime, and so…

     Fuyuhiko had gotten his father to personally pay for your tuition in order to enter the Reserve Course. It wasn’t like your family was poor, but you weren’t Hope’s-Peak-level rich. You protested at first, of course, feeling like a burden, but you could see that Fuyuhiko was quickly getting angry at your refusals and excuses, so you accepted. Plus, he told you that he wanted someone he trusted to look after his little sister, Natsumi, and you let him give you this excuse as a justification to accept his father’s financial support.

     The Reserve Course wasn’t that bad, certainly much more high class than your previous school, but sharing most of your classes with Natsumi was a pain in your ass. Her father was the leader of the Kuzuryu clan. Your father was one of his subordinates, below him, and she seemed to like to remind you of that every five minutes. She talked down to you endlessly, and seemed jealous of the attention her brother gave you, but you had absolutely no room to complain to Fuyuhiko about it after what his father had done for you, so you just didn’t. As far as he knew, you and his sister were on good, neutral terms. She was mean and a smart-ass to everyone, so he didn’t expect you two to be having sleepovers and make friendship bracelets, but he figured you liked her, and she didn’t hate you.

     You could sense a deep insecurity in Natsumi: a need to be recognized, a want to be in the main course, an inferiority complex that you sometimes saw in other Kuzuryu’s you knew, so you tried to always be nice to her. Everyone has their struggles, and her aggressive personality was how she pushed back hers. She was in your life for good, if you wanted to stay with Fuyuhiko, and besides, you promised him you’d look after her. And so, you kept your chin up and walked to class with a smile...until you opened the classroom door.

     “I’m telling you, Kuzuryu, I don’t care who your father is, none of us do! You’re in the Reserve Course just like us because you’re no better than anyone else here!” The green haired girl, Sato, Natsumi’s current and longest-standing arch-enemy, loomed over Natsumi, her face red with anger and hands balled into trembling fists at her side. Really...they’re starting early today...school just started.

     “Move your stupid face and smelly breath out of my face before I move it for you!” Natsumi spat back, leaning further into the argument. You quickly ran and stood between them. Every day was like this, with you or your classmate Hajime Hinata - a plain boy with a big heart - breaking it up before it escalated. But it was wearing on you, having been going on for over a month.

     “What the fuck did you say, bitch?! Just because your dad is some thug criminal doesn’t mean no one can touch you! You’re testing my patience!” Sato’s hand raised, and your own shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

     “Woah, woah!” Your breath was shaky. “What’s it about, today, guys? What happened?” Sato was mad about you stopping her, of course, but she liked you, certainly more than she did Natsumi, and she respected you and Hajime for always looking out for your classmates, even if she didn’t want to admit it. After all, you’d stuck up for her and others just as much as Natsumi over the course of the semester - not taking Natsumi’s side so much as simply diffusing the situation - so she paused her attack, huffing. You couldn’t actually believe Sato raised her hand to Natsumi. They always bickered, every single day, but it hadn’t gotten physical, yet.

     “She’s talking shit about Mahiru again! I told this bitch to stay away from Mahiru and keep her name out of her mouth, but of course her jealousy knows no limits!” Sato spat, and you looked to Natsumi as if for confirmation. Just then, Hajime Hinata, as well as your professor, waltzed into the room together, just a little late after the bell. Upon seeing the scene before them, Mr. Nakamura spoke out:

     “What’s going on here? I’m a few minutes late and you guys think class should turn into a free-for-all? Get to your seats!” You looked to Natsumi, then Sato.

     “Guys, this isn’t worth it, please…” Your eyes pleaded softly. Sato scowled, turning away and returning to her seat. Natsumi pushed past you, her lips close to your ear.

     “I’ve told you before and I’m telling you again, I don’t need you fighting my fuckin’ battles for me…” she whispered, her tone flat and menacing, “I don’t care if you’re dating my brother, if you get in my way again, I’ll handle you and Sato.” You knew she didn’t mean it. She was hotheaded like her brother, and at this moment she felt bested by Sato, not having gotten to say her piece and have the final word in the argument. She was embarrassed and angry. So you let her go back to her seat without a response or retort.

     When the class period ended, you caught Natsumi walking past Sato as everyone was leaving the room, speaking harshly. “Hey, Sato, raise a hand to me again, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

~

     You were in the back of a sleek limousine, sitting on Fuyuhiko’s lap, your arms around his neck as he attacked your neck with rough kisses. Being alone in the back was nice and all, but it felt so...off. Usually, Natsumi rode along with you, and any friends that were riding back to the Kuzuryu east-side guesthouse after school to hang out. Friends and non-clan members weren’t allowed in the Kuzuryu main manor, it was far too dangerous, but the Kuzuryu’s owned many little extravagant homes, lounges, stores and clubhouses where you’d meet up and pass time with friends.

     “ ‘Hiko, why isn’t Natsumi here, again?”

     “I told you, some shit about a photography club meeting after school. You know she likes taking pictures and shit.” His brow furrowed at the interruption before going back to your neck. “Geez, just savor it. I rarely have time to be alone with you.” You pushed his shoulders back.

     “Y-yeah but, Natsumi isn’t in the photography club for the Reserve Course. I know because I’m in it...we don’t have a meeting this week.” You started to worry.

     “Whatever, who cares. Maybe she went off to give some kid a handy behind the school.” You rolled your eyes at his facetious tone and he smirked. “Why do you care? She’s fine.” He took his attack south to your collarbone, and you let him as you continued.

     “Well...it’s just…she’s been having issues with this girl in class and I’m worried…”

     “Issues?” His head popped up, face screwed up in an annoyed and anxious expression, but then melting into careful suspicion just as fast. “What kind of issues? I’m sure that if it was that bad, you’d have told me a while ago, yes?”

     “W-well, of course, but...I mean nothing’s happened, really…they usually just swear and insult each other, but today, things almost got physical…” He paused, thinking.

     “...what’s been going on?” Physical for a boy used to being around yakuza could mean anything from a fistfight to a bullet to the head, so he automatically assumed the worst most of the time.

     “I don’t know...they just hate each other. Natsumi doesn’t like this girl...Mahiru Koi...something. She’s in your class. She’s jealous of her, I think...and so Sato, the one Natsumi is fighting with, is defending Mahiru to be a good friend, but-“

     “Pfft! I thought you were gonna say something serious. This is petty high-school girl shit, s/o! If they wanna throw punches, break their nails and pull hair, let them. Natsumi and I see blood spilled every day. She can handle herself in a fight. Let her pop this Sato chick in the mouth, then. Who cares? Bet it will settle this little spat of theirs. You shouldn’t be so stressed about it.” His eyes softened, rubbing your back with one hand.

     “I know, it’s just...I mean you told me to look out for her, and it’s not like I don’t care about your sister, she’s like family to me…”

     “It’s not your job to babysit and bodyguard her. I just said that so you’d take the damn tuition money and I think you know that,” he snorted, shifting your position on his lap to kiss you on the forehead. “If she really needs someone like Peko, we’ll get her someone, but we both wanted to go to school without the clan’s influence. You know that…” he trailed off.

     “I know, but-“ the driver stopped abruptly.

     “I’ll see you after work. Don’t stress about this, seriously.” Fuyuhiko pushed your folded up work clothes into your hands, and you gave him a look of warning, as if to say ‘you aren’t taking this seriously’ before he gestured toward the limousine door, giving you a playful slap on the ass as you exited with the driver patiently holding the door open for you. “I love you.”

     “I love you, too, ‘Hiko,” you smiled before pushing through the large crystal doors on the upscale, Kuzuryu-owned men’s clothing boutique for your shift.

~

     The next day was like any other school day: dropped off at the gates, Fuyuhiko’s peck on your cheek, Natsumi walking with you to first period...but, what was that grin on her face…? She hated waking up early, she hated first period...she was always sluggish or irritable and waiting for her morning caffeine to kick in. You decided you were being paranoid, and shook it off.

     When you entered the classroom, the students were all huddled in the corner, surrounding Sato, who was screaming at Hajime about something.

     “-and I am not just gonna let this slide, Hinata! You better fuck of-“ Hajime saw you two enter, and Sato’s eyes followed his own, her rant cutting off. Locking eyes with Natsumi, who smirked back wickedly, she flew out of her seat, launching herself at your future sister-in-law. Natsumi fought back, her hands around Sato’s neck as Sato pulled her down to the ground.

     “Oh my-stop!” You pulled at Natsumi’s arms, everything seeming to happen so fast. She threw an elbow back toward you for interfering, and it hit your side roughly. You grimaced, the pain working hard but your adrenaline working harder. You thrust yourself between the girls, pulling Natsumi back with all of your might. Hajime rushed over, pulling Sato off the ground and holding her back as she kicked and swung.

     “I told you-! You-let go of me!!!” Natsumi resisted as well, and you and Hajime locked eyes, barely keeping hold of the two combatants.

     “What could possibly be worth all this!” You wheezed, Natsumi quickly overpowering you.

     “That cunt! Let me go, Hinata or I’ll fuck you up, too!” Sato roared, catching the attention of Mr. Nakamura, who rushed in and quickly pressed his authority, threatening both girls with suspension or worse if they spoke another word or touched each other. They were both sent to the headmaster’s office, with Hajime being asked to escort them since they ‘obviously needed to be monitored like children’.

     You sat in your desk seat, uniform askew, armpits wet with perspiration. Another student filled you in after class. Apparently, Natsumi had gone over to the photo development room in the main course’s wing after school, and ripped up each and every photo Mahiru was going to present at the upcoming photography competition on campus. Twenty photos for a gallery opening up tomorrow for student work. Twenty priceless, stunning photographs by the Ultimate Photographer, all gone. Oh...so that’s why Sato was so pissed. You had to admit, it was hard to defend Natsumi at this point. You released a breath you’d been holding in, putting your head down on your desk to just calm your thoughts before texting Fuyuhiko. You filled him in about what happened, every detail, and your thoughts on it, taking Sato’s side as gently as possible. You had hoped to get his counsel, simply wanting validation and reassurance that there was nothing to worry about, but you ended up only making it worse.

     Natsumi texted you about fifteen minutes later, calling you a fucking snitch and many other expletives, saying with malice that now her brother was on her case. Fuyuhiko then texted you saying he told Natsumi she better go straight to the limo after the last bell rang like a fire was lit under her ass, and that he wanted you to stand outside her last class and wait for her to make sure she did just that. You swallowed your spit down hard, throat going dry all of a sudden. You didn’t intend for this to happen. Now Natsumi was going to hate you, and Fuyuhiko is going to be in a bad mood. Why did you have to be so stupid? Why did Natsumi have to cause so much trouble? Maybe you should just let her suffer on her own, and stop stressing about it like Fuyuhiko said. This wasn’t fair, for you to feel like this because of her behavior.

~

     You left your last class a few minutes early, rushing to Natsumi’s classroom with an exhausted and anxious air about you. You found the class, and leaned on the wall beside the door, preparing for her to march out and scream at you and who knows maybe even strangle you because that’s what she was into now apparently and-

     Your ears perked up at a loud sound, like muffled yelling and a crash of glass. It sounded nearby, but far away at the same time. The yelling picked up, a bit louder now, and you felt yourself get nervous for no reason. It had to be on this floor, and close. You looked around, and held your bag close, sprinting down the hall. The sound got louder, confirming your suspicions until you were in front of the music room, with yelling and then a strangled cry coming from the other side. You panicked, fumbling with the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. You pounded on the door, your breathing getting harder and faster. Backing up, you braced yourself, and ran at the door with the strength of fight-or-flight adrenaline in your veins, throwing your shoulder into the hard door and it flew open, slamming into the wall on the other side.

     “NATSUMI!” You didn’t have time to baby your injured shoulder, as the scene before you needed immediate action, obviously. A broken glass fish tank was scattered on the ground, gravel and quickly dying freshwater fish littering the floor. The room was a mess, with sheet music and desks knocked over and spilled out everywhere. Sato stood near the window, her hands around Natsumi’s neck in a vice-like grip, and Natsumi gasping and flailing, her eyes slowly rolling to the back of her head. “Sato, what the fuck are you thinking?!!!” You ran at her, and Sato didn’t even look in your direction, her mind clouded with hatred and blood lust. Knocking into Sato with all you had, she fell forward into the window, releasing Natsumi as the window splintered and cracked around her.

     Natsumi hit the the wall beside the window and fell to the floor, gasping and choking, her lungs clawing desperately for air. Sato leapt at her again, and you tackled her to the ground, looking up at Natsumi.

     “Go! GO! Fuyuhiko will be at the gates! Get him!” Natsumi looked shocked, traumatized, and simply stared at you, while Sato spat and growled and tried to buck you off, reaching for Natsumi’s skirt. “Get someone! Please!”

     “I-I told you I don’t need y-your help, s/o!” She tried to keep up her gangster’s-daughter persona even in her shaken-up state, but her voice betrayed her and tears sprung from her eyes. Sato threw you off and started to stand.

      “Run! Natsumi, RUN!!” She heard the seriousness in your voice, the fear, and she had never heard you sound like that before. You were her brother’s sensitive, pacifist, kind-hearted s/o, and here you were, in danger because of her. She shook off her pride, and ran toward the door as you grabbed Sato’s ankle and she tripped to the ground again. Natsumi disappeared down the hall, screaming for help the entire way.

      “Fuck you! Fuck you!! She deserved this! You ruined everything!” Sato sounded like an animal more than a high-school girl. She reached to her right, twisting her body around violently until she could reach a long shard of glass from the fish tank, and she brought it down hard on your thigh, the glass tearing into your flesh.

     You screamed out in pain, your vision blurring quickly at the shock of it, sobs coming immediately from your mouth. Blood gushed out of the inches-deep wound, and your heads involuntarily released Sato. When you steadied yourself, steeling your nerves, and reached out to try and neutralize her again, she pulled the glass out of your leg, slamming it down again, hitting a vein deeply before pulling it out. You yelped and forced yourself to stand as she did, blood spurting freely from your leg. You fell more than threw yourself onto her, your head beginning to spin and feeling consciousness leaving you slowly. Leaning on her, you wrapped your arms around her waist with all of your remaining energy, and gripped tightly, hoping you could at least burden her enough to make leaving to room slower and making it impossible for her to catch up to Natsumi or flee the scene before help came.

     Now with a great strength advantage over you, she arched her back, threw her head back, and slammed you behind her into the wall. Your head hit the wall with a crack, and immediately you slumped to the ground, your world going dark.

~

     “...hear me? S-.....” fuzziness. Emptiness. Darkness. “-lose you, please! You h-“ A voice faded in and out, then finally out for good. Hours later, you felt yourself stir.

     When your eyelids flew open, the ceiling above you was white, clean, calming.

     “S/o?!” Fuyuhiko? You sat up quickly, a pounding in your head making you gasp and whimper. “No, no! You need to stay down.” A hand on your chest softly guided you back onto the pillow below you. You turned your head to the side. You took in your surroundings slowly. A hospital. You were in a hospital bed, and Fuyuhiko had been in a chair beside you, now standing at your side. His hands flew to your face, cradling your cheeks. “You’re an idiot, you know that? Are you fucking crazy?” His words were harsh, but there was no anger behind them, only worry and pain. You felt the wrap of linen around your head wound, and adjusting your leg at all resulted in a sharp spike of pain shooting up your body.

     “Where’s Natsumi? Is she okay? Did Sato-“

     “I don’t wanna hear that bitch’s name. And why are you worried about Natsumi right now?!” Now there was anger. “You almost fucking died, s/o! I almost lost you!” His voice cracked on that last word, and your eyes widened at the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes before he angrily rubbed them away with his sleeve. “Natsumi’s fucking fine. She didn’t have anything more than a few bruises on her neck. Nothing’s broken or injured except her pride. And she will be coming to thank and apologize to you at length later.” You didn’t comment on that last bit, deciding instead to ask about what happened after you passed out.

     Natsumi found a security guard at the entrance, he explained, and he saw her screaming from his position at the school gates. He rushed over to yell at her and figure out what the hell was going on, before having her grab him by the wrist and force him into the school with stuttering gibberish about you and that you were in trouble or something like that with the security guard running close behind. When they got to the music room, the door was open and Sato was nowhere to be found.

     Fuyuhiko had screamed your name, his throat ripping apart as he swore and cried and snot ran down his face like a fool. He ran to what he thought was your corpse, blood splattered everywhere, pooling under you, a little patch of blood on the wall behind you head. He took in your closed eyes and thigh oozing slowly-drying blood, and picked you up into his arms, his clothes getting covered in the liquid. He screamed at Natsumi to call for the police, an ambulance, anything, while the security guard called for backup and went off to find Sato. You were brought immediately to the hospital along with Natsumi, and he’d been waiting by your bed ever since, just pleading, begging you to wake up. Sato was apprehended by police a few blocks from the school, obviously off her rocker and in a manic state.

     “You...you were almost gone. You lost...just so much blood,” he sniffled.

     “But, I’m here,” you reached up and grabbed his hand, a comforting smile on your lips, “aren’t I?” He scoffed at you.

     “You fucking idiot,” he shook his head, leaning down and kissing you roughly on the lips, tears from his eyes falling onto your cheeks. “I fucking love you. Don’t make me worry like this.” He pulled back, face inches from yours.

     “I love you, too, so much.” You looked back at him with some indeterminable emotion washing over you. You were just overwhelmed.

     “I will always love you. Please, don’t leave me.”

[domjaehyun]

i love this for u babes. no bc seeing people try you repeatedly really blows me bc you literally don’t do shit lmaooooo like you just be on ur blog and then they come attack u then scream and cry “hostile” when u stand up for urself. i hate it here. very mych a microaggression but i digress.

the safe space tho for black women would be literally so amazing. i have mostly black friends in real life but most of them don’t like kpop and most of the friends that i’ve made from kpop are nbpoc so i’d really really love to meet black girls who love kpop too omgggg it’s a good idea babes. i don’t think the selfie thing is invasive bc i’ve been in discords for different erotic audio creators and shit like that and they had us take a selfie with our id so the mods could check if we were over 18. only the mods saw it so i feel like it’s an okay strategy.

🥺🥺🥺

i . i adore you 😭😭😭 i’m not even kidding like i love . this message and you like genuinely this is PRECISELY why i want to do it!!!! like a lil while ago i was making a big ol brain dump in my notes app for like . how it could work and the screening process of determining who’s like . Safe yknow?? but yeah i feel like there are so many . Factors to consider bc i have to think abt screening for so many things AND on top of that i would have to make sure like . people aren’t lying abt anything yknow?

it’s not even just their race/gender bc like, as i’ve been reminded of today, not all black women mean well so like :/ i’m trying to protect y’all, my followers who are black women, more than i’m protecting myself yknow? like i can personally go head to head with ignorant ppl and have the time of my life proving them wrong and making them look stupid, but if this is a safe space, they have no place here yknow? just like if someone said their blog was a safe space for trans people and then regularly debated with terfs or smth…like i wouldn’t want anyone who follows me to get offended by proxy when they see me defending myself from racists :/

and omg rly….. inchresting…… maybe that would be how i’d do it then!! i obvi wouldn’t be sharing anyone’s images with anyone like not even my close friends bc if i’m offering you a safe space, you should be able to trust me that i will do my very best to keep you safe, right?

SO I WILL TINKER W THIS THOUGHT SOME MORE W A MUCH MORE SERIOUS AND DELIBERATE MINDSET!!!!! thank you very much, my love, this message means a lot to me 😭😭😭

[piceuscelus]

oops have some more fucktoy ciri verse, this time with branding! sooo the usual noncon, body mod via hot iron branding, mind control, sex slavery, underage, daddy kink, any of the usual warnings on the verse i’ve forgotten,

also on ao3!

It’s Lambert who suggests it, one day while Vesemir is fiddling with the old brands still sitting in the armory, from the days when Kaer Morhen had herds of cattle and other livestock. 

“We should mark her,” he says. “Permanently.”

“With what?” Eskel asks, before he looks over to Vesemir. “Those?”

Lambert nods, then shrugs. “Or others, we have what we need to make more, don’t we?”

Eskel hums. “What do you think, Geralt?”

He hums right back, thinking for a moment. Ciri is in the dining room currently, entertaining Coën; he can just hear the sounds of skin slapping skin and Ciri whimpering desperately, half-pained. He thinks about all that smooth, blemish-free skin they all love to bruise and mark, and the idea of something permanent….

“Yes,” he nods. “Yeah, we should.”

– – – – – 

They decide to use one of the old Kaer Morhen brands, specifically the one they used on the bitches marked for breeding, but also make some new ones, too. The process of making the new brands takes about two weeks, and meanwhile they get all of the use out of Ciri they possibly can.

Sure, her pain isn’t of much concern, but they don’t want to deal with any of the brands getting infected.

The night before they plan to brand her, they put her up on the bench after dinner. She’s eager for it, even without any of the usual potions, squirming against the bonds as she’s tied and begging prettily to be used.

“We’ll use you, little slut, be patient,” Lambert snaps when she asks for him specifically, and Coën follows the words up with a harsh slap to Ciri’s backside, leaving a livid red handprint. Tears spring to her eyes but she doesn’t beg any further, just makes a weak, wanting little noise, still squirming against her ties. 

“Be good, Ciri,” Geralt orders, and she makes another meek little noise.

“I will, Daddy, I’ll be good, sorry,” she says softly, and he reaches over to pet over her hair in approval.

Lambert finishes up with getting her strapped to the bench, and his hand joins Geralt’s in her hair, but he grips harshly and pulls, making the tears spill over. “Needy little brat,” he hisses. “Beg me to fuck your throat.”

“Please fuck my throat, sir,” Ciri gasps immediately, still with tears streaking down her face as Lambert doesn’t relent on the grip in her hair. Geralt – and the others – settle back into their seats to watch. “Please, want your cock so badly, please give it to me – I’ll be good, please fuck my throat, sir, please?”

Lambert huffs. “Not half bad,” he says, about as close to praising Ciri as he ever gets, and finally lets go of her hair. She doesn’t drop her head, though, just opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out, practically a welcome mat, and that makes Lambert laugh. 

“Nasty little whore, you really are desperate for it, already drooling.” He pulls his cock out of his breeches and rubs the head of it over her tongue, laughing again when she makes a needy noise and tries to surge forward to suck at him. It’s futile, with the straps keeping her immobile on the bench, but it’s fun to watch her struggle, and Lambert lets her try for several minutes, just teasing her with rubbing his cockhead over her tongue, her lips.

Eventually, though, he gets bored with that and steps forward, rolling his hips so his cock pops right into Ciri’s throat. She chokes and gags violently, the bench rattling with how hard she convulses; Lambert just groans.

“Gods, yeah, just like that, keep your throat nice and tight,” he mutters, rocking his hips.

It doesn’t take long for Ciri to turn red, and then near purple, and only when her head starts to wobble does Lambert pull back enough to let her breathe properly.

“Thank you, sir,” she chokes out around heaving gasps, “please, please want your cock again, thank you, please fuck my throat – ”

Lambert just grunts and fucks back into her mouth. At this point, Geralt has pulled his cock out of his breeches to stroke, and so has Eskel. After a bit longer of listening to her gag and convulse, though, apparently Coën is tired of waiting; he steps up, breeches already gone, and sets to fucking his cock into her ass. He never preps her, not after that first time, just uses a ton of lube – according to him, it’s the only way she’s tight enough to enjoy. Ciri sobs when he says it, but begs for him to fuck her sore every time.

Ciri screams, at least the best she can around Lambert’s cock in her throat; Coën and Lambert just laugh and keep moving. Geralt has to swallow back a flood of drool at the thought of how sore and used she’ll be tomorrow, how loud she’ll scream and cry when they brand her – how pretty she’ll sound when he makes her come with each brand.

They spend the rest of the night fucking her, until all of her holes are gaping and she’s cross-eyed, nearly unconscious from the amount of times she’s been fucked straight through several orgasms in a row. She’s still drooling and mumbling thanks and pleas when they plug her up to keep their cum inside and put her to bed.

– – – – –

The next morning, Vesemir is the one to get her out of bed and take her down to the dungeons. She goes obediently and without question, as usual, and Geralt tries to ignore the way his cock throbs at the wide-eyed, trusting look she gives all of them when they crowd into the room with her.

“Arms up,” he orders, and she puts her arms up immediately, looking up at him when he comes near. He can’t resist kissing her, petting a hand down her front to feel the way her belly is still bulging from their cum and the plugs. She hisses, tears welling up at the shifting, but just bites her lip and looks at him, arms still held in the air.

“Good girl,” he praises, and she beams. He steps aside to grab the chains that Vesemir already set up, and pulls her wrists up a little further to lock them into the manacles. It leaves her balanced on her tiptoes, wobbling a little, and he swats at her ass just to see her flail and hear her squeak.

Eskel gets her feet chained, leaving her entirely suspended with her legs spread. She looks a little afraid, at that point, but when Geralt pets over her hair and whispers, “Be a good girl,” in her ear, she nods.

“I will, Daddy,” she says, and then, when Lambert snorts, “I will, sir, I’ll be good.”

“Mhm,” Lambert nods, intentionally doubting. Geralt chuckles when Ciri huffs, but when she opens her mouth to protest he stops her with a mean pinch and twist to her nipples.

She cries out and thrashes for a split second before settling when he lets go. “Sorry,” she says. “I’ll be good, I’m sorry.”

Eskel steps up to her front, so she’s essentially pinned between he and Geralt, and puts a hand over her cunt, making her gasp. 

“You’ll get a reward if you are,” he promises, and from the way Ciri shudders and her head lolls, he presses at the pugs keeping her stuffed.

“Yes, sir, thank you sir, please, I’ll be good.”

The two of them step away, Geralt with one last nipping kiss to Ciri’s throat and Eskel with a mean flick to her already-swollen clit, and Vesemir lights the fire in the makeshift oven he built in the corner. He goes first, once the original breeding bitch iron is hot, stepping in front of Ciri and, ignoring her frightened squeaking, carefully pressing the metal just above her cunt, right over her womb.

She screeches, shrill and piercing, and Eskel is quick with Axii. 

“Come.”

She screams again, pleasure this time as she gushes all over the floor. “Th-thank you,” she stammers when she’s done and Vesemir has pulled the brand away, leaving an angry red burn that clearly marks her as one of Kaer Morhen’s breeding bitches.

Geralt spares a momentary thought to getting some hunting dogs again, just so they can let the mutts knot Ciri, but pushes it aside for later. 

Coën and Lambert go next, both at the same time, marking her inner thighs on each side. Her entire body jerks and convulses with the pain, but Eskel’s Axii is strong, and when he orders her to come again, she does with a reedy whine, panting like some kind of overtaxed animal. 

Since Eskel is maintaining the Axii, Geralt goes after Coën and Lambert. His brand is the biggest of them, though none of them are particularly large.

“Look at me, Ciri,” he orders, and she does, eyes hazy but on him, mouth open and spilling drool and a little blood where she must have bitten her cheek or tongue. “You’re mine, aren’t you? And ours.”

“Yes, yes,” she slurs, nodding. “Yours, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” 

He presses his brand right below her throat, on her collar and just slightly between her perky tits. Her voice gives out on the scream she gives at the pain of it, but she’s whispering a hoarse, “Thank you,” before Eskel even makes her come.

When the Axii drops, she sobs, thrashing in the chains, but Geralt puts her under again quickly, making soothing noises.

“You feel so good, don’t you, Ciri?” he asks. “Everything feels so good.”

He watches as his will overtakes her own, her face falling slack, and his cock throbs. He’ll have to take care of himself until all their brands are healed, but that’s fine. She sleeps in his room; he’ll be able to look at her, and see the brands when he changes her bandages, and hear her sweet, hurt little noises. It’ll be plenty of fodder for him to jerk off to – and besides, he can feed her his cum off of his fingers without risking her healing.

Eskel is last, and he circles around to her back, placing his brand just above her ass. Thanks to Geralt’s control, she comes without even being ordered, feeling even intense pain as pleasure now, and he’s not the only one who groans desperately about it.

“Good girl,” he praises, carefully holding her up as Lambert and Vesemir unshackle her. “Such a perfect little toy, Ciri, and all ours.”

“Y-yours,” she slurs, voice shattered, and passes out.

also in the work on ao3!

[wolfhowlingdragonflyingsirensong]

spoilers

Since I recently played Life is Strange, which whoah, is totally an experience that I recommend to everyone, I’ve come to appreciate how well the game handles choices. It’s interesting how choices can seem meaningless good acts, like helping Alyssa avoid being hit, translates to her trusting Max enough for Max to save her. But, the game also points out how we can’t control consequences, since good deeds are done with nothing but good intentions can have fatal consequences, such as warning Victoria (and her believing you) leads to her murder, or the biggest good deed of them all, saving Chloe, leads to a storm that (can) kill lots of people. And ultimately, what’s cool is that every choice is canon, since Max it’s not a blank slate, meaning every choice the player makes is something Max considered. What do I mean with Max not being a blank slate? I mean regardless of your choices, Max likes waffles AND bacon and eggs. This is a minor example, but it serves for many things. Max can comfort Victoria or not, and later when they talk at the party regardless of your choice, Max at first is pretty angry, so she’s completely capable of standing up for herself and others. Max loves Chloe regardless of the player's feelings towards her. Max can be pretty uncaring or a literal angel, by Kate. And all of this is canon because even nice people contemplate not being nice all the time, even if it’s only a thought. This brings me to the ships topics. First of all, I’m glad that this game has non-ambiguous, non-sexualized, soft wlw romance (actually two counting BTS!) without the canon protagonist being turned evil or something, and I think that’s incredibly important. If the game had only Chloe as a love interest, I would totally get it and have no problem,  because the game is pretty much focused on their bond. Not that it matters to those who do, I personally don't ship it because I self-project (and I totally recognize it) on friendships I had in my youth that were a bit like Chloe and Max's friendship in the first episodes, and they were toxic. Don't get me wrong, I loved my friends and they were (are) good people. I like Chloe a lot, and there's no denying that there are strong feelings on Max's part for Chloe that are romantic, and it's up to the player to determine if Max is going to pursue Chloe. Denying it means that is both not reading Max's diary and erasing her sexuality. I write this because I don't want to seem like I don't ship them because I like Grahamfield, it's not that, I could very well be into both, and I think Chloe develops so much at the end of episode 5 that, while before I thought she was only in love with Rachel, at that point is totally understandable for me. If you ship Pricefield then that's awesome! You have all the canon content to back you up and a beautiful story of love with the childhood friends-to-lovers trope, can't get much better. Plus, the whole game is about their bond. It's incredibly well developed at the end mostly when you see Chloe growing out of her initial angry phase, and maturing in a beautiful way. So, shipping Grahamfield in this fandom sometimes feels like hey, you are a giant dick. I don't like hate on any ship or character (especially dunking on Chloe, because she's a representation of how trauma is not nice while actually being cool and kind, as well as being one of the few wlw canon protagonists), because both choices are completely canon, it's entirely up to the player. Again, if Chloe was the only canon love interest then that would be totally cool. Buuuut Max can choose to go on a date with Warren, write on his slate that he is cute, raise his grade (which can be done as a friendship thing only), help him in his experiment, kiss him, and if she does, she writes in his diary "I wanted one kiss from a boy I cared about", that to me, reads as having a canon interest in him too. And since Max is bisexual from what I understand, erasing that part doesn't sit well with me. Both Chloe and Warren have flaws, which hey is what happens with characters. Can you imagine having perfect characters? That would be so boring. He is a realistic 16-year-old boy to Max's 18 and Chloe's 19 years. He is extremely awkward, dorky, a little cringy, a boy with a harmless boy with a crush and that's normal at that age. He's helpful almost to a fault, and while some argue that's because he feels entitled, let me tell you, no niceGuy I've ever met has been so helpful if you don't give in, they don't back out after someone lets them down nicely, and he states his interest in Max clearly, and niceGuys don't tend to do that because they like to pine away and be angry that a girl didn't read his mind and magically fell in love with him. He believes Max from the get-go and helps her all the time, regardless of his feelings, which is like, basic decency, so if you want to call him a piece of shit I think that's going a little too far. If you want to take the words of others, Kate says he's a smart and silly cutie-pie with a good heart, suggests they take him with them to their tea-shop tour of Portland after everything and supports their date (besides them being friends, he brings her homework and is shown worried about her). I don't remember that part well, but I think Alyssa and Dana also support Grahamfield (and Brooke is very jealous!) so I think if he was an asshole they wouldn't be so supportive and Brooke wouldn't be into him, or Stella in another reality. My only point is that hey if you don't like him that's fine, but to call him a pervert or entitled or assholery is kinda uncalled for, to be honest, and using the nightmare sequence, in which EVERYONE is out of character (except Jeffershit) and shown being assholes, as a canon that he is bad seems to me like going out of your way. It's a nightmare for a reason, do you really think Kate would have said those things to Max if you save her? She's incredibly grateful. Or do you think Chloe would have done those things??? She would NEVER. Then why is Warren being treated as someone who would do those things for a nightmare? I don't get it. There are two myths regarding him: that he spies on Max and that he photoshopped a photo with them. First one, you can verify with mods that he can't see SHIT, he is merely waiting for her outside. Second, the photo is developed, not photoshopped, Max doesn't say hey we never took that photo, she merely is surprised he kept it. Now, he's a bit pushy when it comes to the drive-in (he acknowledges he's a pain in the booty), says like a stupid joke (a 16-year-old making stupid jokes, what a crime), and has that photo, which for some is crossing boundaries, and hey, that's fine. I, personally, just think a 16-year-old having a photo with his friend and crush is not creepy or bad. So, now that I'm over the ship discourse, which I hate but had to write to explain, I'm so glad this game brought so many interesting characters. My only complaint is that it felt a little too short when it came to other characters, I guess it's because the literal theme of the game is about abandoning youth and growing up as well, so that's because it's very focused on Chloe and Max's relationship, besides the romance. I adore Kate! I’m so happy we were able to save her, it was seriously one of the best moments I’ve ever seen in a game, I would have liked to see her future children’s book with Max’s photos, their tea sessions, and her coming back to school. I would love to have seen more of Stella, (a POC I think) that according to her words, faced an abusive home and poverty to end up studying in a prestigious school like Blackwell, busting her ass to work and yet being super cool and kind! I would have loved to see more of Daniel, how he faced bullying, how his home life is, his budding romance with Brooke, his future drawings. I would have loved to see more of Dana! How she dealt with abortion, a heavy topic, and yet she's super happy, nice, and in a loving relationship apparently. I would have liked to see more of Juliet's reporting skills, I feel like she could have been more important to the plot, or at least more exposés on bullying and the Prescotts. I would have loved to see more of Alyssa, what she likes, her relationships, etc. I would have loved to see more of Taylor! How her mom was doing, what steps was she going to take in not falling with the Vortex Club bullshit, her love for fashion, like Courtney. We didn't get to know Courtney at all I feel and I would have liked to! I would have liked to see more of Victoria, her insecurities, her relationship with her parents, her inner thoughts (she's totally bi too I bet), even her friendship with Nathan seemed deeper. I would have liked to see more of cool hipster Evan, or good skater boy Luke. In short, I would have LOVED to have them all hanging more with Max. The ending, oh man, what an ending. It's incredibly hard, and I hate that saving Arcadia Bay seems to go into "bury your gays" trope, because if there was a way to save them both I would. The writing is very powerful, ending the way it began. This leads me to my initial topic, choices. I love that the game gives us choices, and considering there are other alternative realities, maybe both choices are canon in different universes. If I was in Chloe's shoes I couldn't choose to sacrifice my mom, and Joyce dies if Chloe is saved, as well as many other innocents, so I can't choose that ending, I just can't (and I understand that's totally personal for everyone). A really tough choice, at least for me, and hey, if it wasn't specified that practically everyone died, I would have saved Chloe no questions asked. I do love, however, how Chloe matures so much in the course of 5 days and her bond with Max. She sacrifices for Arcadia Bay, and a lot of it is because of Max, because she doesn't want her to make that choice. So now if you excuse me, I'm still playing the funeral scene in my mind and the bathroom scene (totally broken) and had to write this as cathartic, so feel free to disagree with me or whatever you prefer, each one of us experiences a different game because of our different experiences in life. Next step: BTS and LIS2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9uy4V8SvPk

[thewritingginger]

Herro Lovelies!  Welcome to the Holiday season. I have made up a prompt list (my first time making one) and I hope there is something that can suit your fancy

💛 ~

⬇️ Prompts & Rules for requesting are below the cut ⬇️

Rules for prompt requests:

Can pick up to 2 prompts from either or both prompt lists

Can request a female or male reader (haven’t delved into writing for male readers yet but more then happy to try)

Can request reader with more then one s/o (platonic or romantic)

No character x character 

Can give any specifics if you want; Body type, Height, Body mods, etc..

And lastly be nice beans :)

Fandoms:

Obey Me!

Castlevania

Ikemen Sengoku/Vampire

Mystic Messenger 

(Can request one I hadn’t listed and I’ll say if I can or can’t )

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

Naughty List (NSFW & Angst Prompts)

 “Only good girls/boys get gifts for Christmas.”

 “Why don’t you come sit on Santa’s lap.”

 Sucking on ‘candy canes’ 😉

 “I have a special present for you.”

 Single during the holidays [Angst]

 Reader or s/o dresses up in a little festive outfit (Tell me who/of what)

 “You smell like gingerbread, makes me want to take a bite.”

 “Tell me baby, have you been a good boy/girl all year?”

 Sees someone else kiss s/o or reader under mistletoe [Angst]

 “The stockings aren’t the only things being stuffed on Christmas.”

 “Someone had a little too much spiked eggnog!”

 Wandering hands under the dinner table

 “I need you to pretend to be my s/o.” “Why? You hate me!”

 “Wrapping presents”

 “Oh, that kiss didn’t mean anything.” [Angst]

 “Let me help warm you up.”

 “Oh, you’ve got some powdered sugar on your face let me get that.”

 “These cookies look delicious but . . . you look better.”

 Drunken confession; one-sided love [Angst]

 Steamy phone times for those cold nights apart

 “What do you want for christmas, baby?” “To dominate you.” (Dom.Reader)

 “Your family hates me!” [Angst]

 Surprise Visit (long distant relationship)

 Fun time good time while visiting family  

 Starting the New Year with a bang 😉

Nice List (Fluffy & Funny Prompts)

 “You’re all I want for Christmas.”

 Playing in the snow

 “You look so beautiful in the Christmas lights”

 “You’ve got whipped cream on your nose.”

 Wearing matching Christmas pajamas

 “Ah, we’re snowed in, I really wanted to go see the lights with you.”

 A Christmas dinner for two

 Visiting the family

 Decorating the house together

 “Your feet are so cold!”

 Reader can’t get home for the holidays and S/O tries to cheer her/him up

 Baking together

 Jesus wasn’t the only one born on Christmas, reader goes into labor 👁👄👁

 Gets Cocoa together

 Family Photos (Reader & S/O w/ Kid(s))

 Late night cuddles

 Holiday proposal

 Bringing home a “Charlie Brown Christmas tree” (kinda wonky/ sparse etc.)

 First time seeing snow (Reader or s/o’s first time?)

 Burning the Christmas ham >.<

 *Achoo* Looks like someone might have caught a cold

 “Do you trust me?”

 “Babe, have you seen my jacket?”

 “I should put you on the top of the tree.”

 Christmas Morning

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

A/N: Like I’ve stated above I’ve never written a prompt list myself so I hope they are ok. Also I did sprinkle in a few angsty prompts cuz idk I thought it might be interesting and I still haven’t gotten around to writing any angsty/heartbreaking things. 

Masterlist

[coincount]

the last of us part ii sentence starters. JACKSON

I don't know what happened.

You go half way across the country with someone...

Maybe I was starting to buy into the whole... cure business.

Maybe I just wanted to do right by her.

Because of her... they were actually going to make a cure.

The only catch... it would kill her.

Think of all the lives we'll save.

C'mon, baby girl. I've got you.

We should head back.

About what we were talking about earlier... I can't say I'd've done different.

I'll take it to the grave, if I have to.

Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack.

He told me a joke and I thought of you.

It's pretty late and I've gotta get up in a few hours.

I wanna show you something, just give me one second.

Well, that didn't suck.

What is the downside to eating a clock? It's time consuming.

Oh, shit. Fuck.

I heard you had quite a night after I left.

I... she kissed me.

We're broken up one week and you make a move on my girl?

Oh, fuck, this is awkward.

I'm messing with you, man. I don't care.

It's kind of fucked up that you did that.

We've got reports of infected out north.

Can't imagine they got much sleep.

Shut up. I was just about to get up.

Heads up, you're the talk of the town this morning.

It was a strange night, man.

Just tell her you never saw me.

Where is your fucking loyalty?

I don't want to hear what that bigot has to say.

You be safe out there.

Those boys have been up for far too long.

Watch yourself. I mean, there's too many sightings of infected recently.

I was gonna check out the creek trails.

Will you get your girlfriend to the stables, please?

I shouldn't have kissed you in front of all those people.

You wanna fuck him up?

Fuck yeah! I mean - frick. Don't tell your mom.

Get off of her, you monsters.

You're gonna like this route.

Run your routes. Mark your logbooks. Clear any infected you see.

You run into anything you can't handle, you come back.

What were you dreaming about?

You were doing your teeth grinding thing.

Grab your gear. I wanna show you something.

You sure you don't wanna do this when the sun's out? And it's warmer?

What are you doing wandering around out here by yourself?

You did all this in the dark?

She seemed out of it these past few days.

Stop being weird, you're freaking me out.

I'm not being weird.

We can't all be as graceful as you.

It's too high.

Eyes on me. Stop looking down.

Consider it an opportunity to work on your fears.

How about I work my foot up your ass?

We can figure it out.

Find a way to lure him out.

Do you hear yourself?

What is going on with you?

Should I say congrats?

I fucking knew I couldn't count on you.

I want what you want, but not at any cost.

Fuck it. I don't give a fuck... I'll do the whole thing myself.

Fuck... my shoulder.

This is a bad idea.

Where's that lookout?

That's how you do it.

Fuck, I'm so lost...

Horse tracks... where's the patrol?

How come we never talked about this stuff?

I got the impression that you didn't really like her.

I've grown to like that tattoo of yours.

You wanna see something spectacular?

Come on, stupid.

What do you think of this view, huh?

I'm gonna guess this bong was someone else's.

That's where the next lookout is.

Let's get back to the horses.

Question: were you wearing those same clothes yesterday?

We're here to kill infected, not to look fancy.

You're way too reckless.

You'll probably die from hypothermia from wearing canvas sneakers in the snow!

You know how you're gonna die?

Ha! Did I ruin your punchline?

I bet they've still got supplies.

What do you know about this place?

Infected almost never make it out this far. We usually catch them on the outer perimeter.

What are you doing tonight?

Some people were talking about sneaking out.

You think anybody out there is still making movies?

What if they're all just like us? Just surviving day to day?

Looks like infected did this.

Got more blood over here.

I hear infected inside.

How the fuck did they get in there?

I see a bunch of different tracks.

Nice throw, by the way.

How'd that runner get in here?

What's the most infected you've ever taken down on patrol?

Let's keep it quiet.

Help me up there? I wanna look around.

Alright, let's figure out how to get in there.

Are you clean?

Please die of old age and not because you get infected. I really don't wanna have to shoot you in the face.

This way.

Here. Fix yourself up.

I see spores in there. Masks on.

Remember. I don't wanna have to shoot you in the face.

Keep it extra quiet.

Let's make sure the rest of the building's cleared out. And then get the fuck out of here.

What do you think, hit the runners first?

You know what? I'm impressed with us.

Man, the guys are not gonna believe our numbers.

Let's go to the next lookout and take a fucking break. We earned it.

You see a way out?

You're just gonna hurl me up through that hole in the roof.

Careful when you get up here! It's pretty windy!

Storm's really picked up!

How far are we from the lookout?

Weather's getting worse! Should we turn back?

Where are you!

Just trust me.

Let's make sure it's clear.

They... did a lot to survive after the outbreak.

There's gotta be a generator around here somewhere.

I bet you could mod your gun with this gear.

There's something behind this!

It's obviously a sex den. That's why he didn't tell you about it.

It's porn.

It's a gas mask bong.

God, he was so smart.

Does weed go bad?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

We're gonna be stuck here a while, right?

Can I ask you a question?

Scale of one to ten. One being like... absolute trash, and ten being life-altering... how would you rate our kiss from last night?

Why are we still talking about this?

You're infuriating.

You make me wanna go back outside into that blizzard.

Gimme your hand!

We're gonna have to run!

There's too many of them!

I'll cover you, get going!

Where the hell'd they all come from?!

Hey, you got a gun?

Hope you're a good shot!

Keep up with us.

We gotta warn everyone... come back with a clean-up crew.

We gotta live through this first.

We gotta move! Get to the door!

That door isn't gonna hold them for long.

That's our way out!

You keep those infected off of me!

You need me to take over?

Just keep those infected away!

Make those shots count!

How did you get this scar?

I told you a real fucking story.

Oh, you want a bite mark?

You're supposed to be on patrol.

People are counting on you, you get that?!

Why aren't you at the fucking lookout?!

I don't like you riding solo, we don't know what's out there.

What if they need help?

Be smart about it, yeah?

Save your bullets!

You scared us.

We'll just ride out the storm and get out of your hair.

You are nothing but lucky.

Where the fuck have you been?

You all act like you've heard of us or something.

Get off me!

Who are you?

Why don't you say whatever speech you've got rehearsed and get this over with.

Don't you fucking move.

You stupid old man.

You don't get to rush this.

You're okay, you're okay.

Where is that noise coming from?

Get the fuck off me!

You're gonna fucking die!

We didn't think anyone was gonna show up.

You want what I want, right?

I'll fucking kill you.

Could I sit down, please?

She wants to make sure you're eating.

So they just get to get away with this?

What if we get hit by hunters again?

I'm leaving tomorrow. And if you wanna come with me, great.

You have no idea what you're walking into.

You can't talk me out of this.

I couldn't get to the horses.

We'll figure something else out on the way.

You can still change your mind, you know.

I just don't want you to feel like you have to.

You go, I go. End of story.

What do you need? I can go get it.

I wish I could let it go, but I can't.

That's not going to fucking happen.

Grab some ammo.

Get going. You're losing light.

[searchingwardrobes]

Not the Type: 2/7

Thanks again to the mods of the @captainswanmoviemarathon​ for putting this event together! Also thanks to @hookedonapirate​ for her beta skills. For my non-American readers, I hope I explained everything in this chapter, especially bust-throughs, adequately enough. I don't know that I've ever seen that aspect of cheerleading portrayed in a movie before (though I could be wrong). But if you search google images for bust-throughs, you'll see pictures of what I'm talking about.

Summary: Emma Swan first notices him in the stands at the Friday night football game. She can tell right away Killian Jones is not the football type. Then again, she’s not the cheerleader type either, but here she is with pom poms. Life hasn’t ever gone the way Emma planned. Lately, that’s actually been a good thing. Maybe Killian Jones is a good thing, too.

My loose Captain Swan AU of the movie Bring it On

Rated: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells​​​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​​ @let-it-raines​​​​ @teamhook​​​​​ @bethacaciakay​​​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​ @shireness-says​​​​​ @stahlop​​​​​ @scientificapricot​​​​​ @welllpthisishappening​​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​​​ @thislassishooked​​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​ @kday426​​​​​ @ekr032-blog-blog​​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​ @nikkiemms​​​​ @optomisticgirl​​​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​​ @carpedzem​​​​ @ohmakemeahercules​​​​​ @branlovestowrite​​​​ @superchocovian​​​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​​​​ @vvbooklady1256​​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​​​ @jennjenn615​​​​ @snidgetsafan​​ @spartanguard​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​

At the next game, he wasn’t in the stands. Not that Emma was looking or anything. And she wasn’t disappointed. Nope, not at all.

“Earth to Emma!”

She jumped and turned to Ruby, who was squatting with her hands cupped in front of her. Ashley was across from the brunette, doing the same.

“We haven’t got all day,” Ruby grumbled.

“Sorry,” Emma told them hurriedly. She braced her hands on their shoulders as Ariel, her spotter, came behind her and grasped her waist. Emma jumped up into the girls’ cupped hands. They dipped with her, bending their knees together, then popped her up to chin level, with a light assist from Ariel. Behind them, another stunt group lifted Jasmine up above their heads. Down below, Mary Margaret and another girl pulled on the ropes to hoist the giant bust-through to an upright position. The bust-through they had spent hours making last Sunday afternoon, only for it to get obliterated in mere minutes. Making the bust-throughs for the game and the posters to hang around the school would take away from much needed practice time, so they came in on Sundays to do it instead. Emma had chafed at it initially - they all did, really - but the girls ended up having a blast every week. It still wasn’t fair that they were taken away from their athletic training to do 1950s crap for the boys, but oh well.

When the bust-through post was close enough, Emma grabbed it. Farther up, Jasmine held it as well. On the other side of the bust-through, the rest of the squad was doing the same. The stadium speakers suddenly thrummed with Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” and the fans surged to their feet. Below Emma, the football team thundered past with a feral yell before tearing through the yards of poster paper. Ariel braced her thighs and Emma tightened her core so she wouldn’t fall. Every damn time, she felt her life flash before her eyes. The only comfort came in her absolute trust that Ariel would catch her. She discarded the post, and behind her Ariel counted out loud, “1, 2, 3, hup!”

Ruby and Ashley bent their knees, then pushed through with their arms to pop Emma up into the air. She kept her core tight, her knees together, toes pointed, and her arms out in the shape of a “T” so the three girls could catch her neatly. It was a simple stunt, actually, and not as high or dangerous as most Emma was used to. They just didn’t usually do stunts on hard packed turf with twenty large high school boys rushing past.

Half the girls ran around as fast as possible to pick up all the bits of poster paper, while the other half hoisted up the pvc pipes they used for the posts and rolled up the ropes that held the bust-through. Those had to be reused every time.

Arms loaded with crumpled up poster paper that smelled of glue and tempera paint, Emma raced off the field as fast as she could before the opposing team came running out not caring if they bowled over a five foot five, ninety pound cheerleader.

She really hated football season.

The girls shoved the remains of the bust-through into the trash, then slid the pvc pipes and ropes underneath the bleachers to put in the cheer supply closet later. Then they lined up on the sidelines for the kickoff, their poms shaking in the air.

“Gooooooo Knights!”

Like every other game, the marching band followed the kick off with the school fight song, and Emma was busy high kicking when she saw him. Killian stood out like a sore thumb - the only one in the student section not chanting, “fight, fight, fight!” Instead, he was lounging back against the bleacher behind him, glancing around at his fellow students with a mocking expression upon his face. Emma felt her lips curl up into a smile - probably the first time she didn’t have to force one during this exhausting Rockette’s-style dance. Her legs burned as usual when the song finally ended, but it didn’t bother her quite as much when Killian caught her eye and winked. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her smile from growing and spun away from him with a tilt to her chin.

“Push em back!” Mary Margaret, their captain, yelled. “Ready? Go!”

The girls all chanted together, going through the motions of the cheer. “Push em back, push em back, defense push em waaaaay back!” They went through it twice before efficiently moving into their stunt groups. Ruby and Ashley tossed Emma into the air this time, with Ariel giving her an extra boost. In the air, Emma twisted her body in a layout, the rush of it sending adrenaline through her veins. It only lasted a moment before her stunt group caught her in their arms, but Emma would never tire of the thrill that the brief moment of weightlessness brought her.

Emma popped out of the dismount with her arms above her head. “Go Knights!”

She never had to fake enthusiasm when she got to do a stunt like that. Her eyes caught Killian’s again. Both eyebrows arched, he managed a half bow from his seat in the stands, both arms outstretched dramatically. Emma shook her head with laughter, though his obvious admiration of her skills sent a thrill through her. Nevertheless, she rolled her eyes at him.

Just then, Emma heard the loud grunts and collisions of a particularly nasty tackle. The crowd gasped, and next to Emma, Mary Margaret dropped her pom poms.

“David!” she cried out, then her hands flew to her mouth.

Emma let out a cry too when she saw her brother lying motionless on the field. Instinctively, she reached for his girlfriend, and Mary Margaret threaded her arm through hers. The cheerleaders all took a knee, but Emma and Mary Margaret never let go of each other.

“Get up, get up,” Emma whispered.

David started moving his legs, and the girls let out a sigh of relief. He was able to get up without the aid of the coaches hovering over him, and the crowd cheered. He had a slight limp at first, but his leg must have just been stiff because his stride soon became normal. He took off his helmet and grinned and waved at the crowd. The cheerleaders stood again and waved their poms above their heads in celebration. Next to Emma, Mary Margaret was still shaking a little bit.

“He scared me to death,” she told Emma.

“I know,” Emma replied, and a shiver went down her spine as she thought about how bad it could have been. David was always pointing out that she and Mary Margaret could fall out of a stunt and break their necks just as easily as he could, but it felt different. Football injuries just felt way more common, and then there were all those retired pros with neurological problems. David said that playing at the college level was unlikely since Storybrooke High was just a double A team, and she was secretly glad. The less he smashed his brains in, the better.

David was the big brother she never knew she needed, accepting her, teasing her, and irritatingly trying to protect her from the moment her prickly thirteen year old self had arrived in his home.

He had also sat on the sidelines at how many gymnastics classes? Classes she had dreamed of taking since she watched Gabby Douglas win the Olympic gold medal on TV when she was eight years old. Then, when Emma was twelve, Simone Biles became her hero. A former foster kid winning Olympic gold? Emma didn’t think such a thing was possible, but Biles gave her hope. Then Ruth Nolan made that hope reality.

“Whatever your dreams are, Emma,” she had told her, “I’ll invest in them. It’s what a mother does.”

Emma was behind, of course. She’d had school friends as she grew up who taught her the basics on the playground - handstands, cartwheels, back walkovers. She’d even learned to do back handsprings in the backyard of one of her foster homes. Still, her goal to make the high school gymnastics team seemed almost impossible. Then she read about Misty Copeland, the star principal dancer for the American Ballet Theater who didn’t start dancing until . . . thirteen. Surely, if she could defy the common thought that girls had to start ballet at three or four to achieve greatness, then Emma could defy the same thought in gymnastics. And with the support of Ruth and David, she had. She’d made the gymnastics team as a freshman at Storybrooke High.

Then, after one amazing season on the team, they had received the devastating news: the state of Maine was cutting high school gymnastics completely. Ignorant politicians spun it, of course. There would still be a state meet each year where gymnasts would represent their schools in individual competition. It would just be privatized, the politicians explained, saving taxpayers thousands of dollars. Privatized was a fancy way of saying that only gymnasts in clubs at private gyms could compete. Clubs that cost an extravagant amount of money. Money that Ruth Nolan simply didn’t have.

And that was how Emma Swan ended up a cheerleader.

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

“You and Mary Margaret still wanna stay over at my house?” Ruby asked after the game as she slung her cheer bag over one shoulder.

“Of course we do,” Mary Margaret replied. “Right Emma?”

“Yeah sure,” Emma said vaguely as she pulled the rubber band out of her hair and shook out the loose waves. Cheer ponytails were so tight they gave her a headache. Of course, as a gymnast, she’d had to put her hair in an equally tight, equally hairsprayed bun. She rubbed at her scalp. Maybe she should chop her hair off like Mary Margaret. No, scratch that, she didn’t have the flawless skin and cherubic face to pull that off like MM did.

“Are you sure?” Ruby asked with a glint in her eyes. “Killian lives there now, you know.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m familiar with what a foster brother is. Of course I know he lives with you.”

“Just wanted to be sure you could handle the sexual tension,” Ruby said, bumping Emma teasingly with her hip as they headed to the parking lot.

“For the last time, there is no sexual tension between me and Killian!”

“You did have cheer sex with him.”

“Mary Margaret! I thought you didn’t buy into that crap!”

“Did I just say that out loud?” MM’s face was crimson.

Ruby threw her head back and guffawed. “Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Emma.”

“God, if you two don’t stop . . . I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”

“You’ll what?”

Emma grasped for a good threat. “Smother you with a pom pom!” she finally blurted out, waving the one she still grasped in her hand in Ruby’s face.

MM literally collapsed against the side of Ruby’s car in hysterics, and even Emma lost it. It wasn’t really that funny, but they were all simultaneously exhausted and electrified from the game. Once they calmed down, they tossed their stuff in Ruby’s trunk. There was only a pleasant chill to the air this early in the season, so Ruby put the top of her convertible down, and Emma leaned contentedly against the headrest as the wind rushed past. The football team had won tonight’s game, and there was a spirit of celebration in the air as Ruby drove through the parking lot and out onto the street in front of Storybrooke High. When kids and even adults noticed a red convertible with three cheerleaders in red and white, they raised their fists in the air and shouted, “Go knights!”

“You know, it would mean a lot more if they were cheering for our victory instead of someone else’s,” Ruby commented dryly as they cruised through Storybrook’s only light after it turned green.

Mary Margaret leaned between them from the backseat, which surprised Emma, since the brunette was usually all “safety first.”

“Well, that’s all gonna change come December 5th ladies when we-”

Ruby lifted one fist in the air as she joined Mary Margaret in her cry of, “TAKE STATE!!!”

“Now wait a second, slow down,” Emma cautioned. “We have to place at regionals first.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Please, Emma, Storybrooke has dominated regionals since we were all in kindergarten.”

“Well, if there’s one thing gymnastics has taught me, it’s to not get cocky, so don’t jinx it, okay?”

“We also need to have confidence,” Mary Margaret added, giving Emma’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Confidence, not pride. Now sit back and put on your damn seat belt.”

“Intense much, Emma?”

Ruby tilted her chin and practically howled at the moon. “Someone needs to. GET. LAID.”

Emma lunged over and clapped her hand over Ruby’s mouth before she could add anything further. “Don’t. Say it.”

“God, Emma, she’s driving!”

Ruby pinched Emma in the side with her free hand, sending the blonde jerking back to the passenger’s side. “Why Emma, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

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

Killian Jones knew that Emma Swan was just down the hall from his bedroom - keenly aware of it. Just as he had been aware of her since the night he’d first seen her. He had been completely honest when he told her that it was her expression and not her body that had drawn him in. If he’d wanted to ogle enticing figures in short skirts, he would have just been staring at the entire squad since the game started. But it was Emma Swan’s clearly irritated, flashing green eyes that had managed to tear his gaze away from Tolkien. He wasn’t sure what she had against the marching band’s rendition of “Louie, Louie,” but the hatred clearly ran deep.

He clenched his jaw as laughter floated down the hall from Ruby’s room, and he adjusted the knobs on his guitar effects pedal to distract him. Granny had been abundantly clear that he was to stay far away from Ruby’s friends.

He was a little offended at Granny’s lecture, to be honest. As if he were a dog in heat unable to ignore the scent of females.

Killian strummed his electric, then adjusted the feedback again. Halfway through Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy,” he’d pushed thoughts of Emma Swan far away.

Until he glanced up in the middle of a frankly ridiculous, out of control guitar solo to find her standing there in his doorway, slack-jawed and staring. She was tantalizing in a teeny, tiny pair of shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top, her blonde hair piled up on her head in a messy bun. He managed not to drop his guitar and flashed her a lopsided grin as he continued to play.

“Emma!”

The girl in question jumped a foot in the air, clutching her hands that held a purple toothbrush to her chest. “Shit, Ruby!”

“What are you doing?” Killian’s foster sibling asked from the hallway.

“I, uh . . . went to brush my teeth.”

“Um, the bathroom is that way.”

“Right, right, I knew that,” Emma mumbled.

Killian winked at her before she scurried away, still strumming. So maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt the delicious tension between them. This was a pleasant turn of events . . .

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

Emma grumbled at herself under her breath as she squirted toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She couldn’t believe Killian had caught her staring - practically drooling - over him. The way he’d smirked at her as he continued to play left no question that he knew she was checking him out. She was pretty sure Ruby knew it, too. Yet in her defense, how was a girl supposed to ignore an attractive guy when he was playing the guitar?

Emma started to brush, a little too vigorously at first. She was irritated with herself, but she didn’t need to scrub her gums raw, so she slowed down. She almost jumped out of her skin when Killian came through the open bathroom door behind her, but she calmed herself before he noticed. He winked at her as he retrieved his toothbrush from the cup by the sink and got some toothpaste. Emma arched a brow at him as she continued to brush. Somehow, the idiot managed to smile at her charmingly even as he worked the toothbrush around his mouth. She rolled her eyes and looked at her reflection instead, but that didn’t work either. His gaze only found her reflection in the mirror, and he waggled his eyebrows at her. She almost choked on her toothpaste.

Then he spit, rinsed, and ran his hand across his mouth in exaggerated, satisfied fashion. “Ahh,” he said, then bowed to her and left.

Emma scowled at her own reflection in the mirror. Stupid attractive eyebrows. No one was supposed to look that good brushing his teeth. She finished brushing, rinsed, then headed back down the hall to Ruby’s room. Her friends stopped chatting the minute she walked in.

“What?”

Ruby arched a brow. “Please, Emma. I caught you drooling over Killian when you were supposed to be brushing your teeth.”

Mary Margaret pointed an accusing finger. “And you’re smiling.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she tossed her toothbrush into her overnight bag. “So I’m smiling. So what?”

“So, you don’t normally walk around smiling. It’s not the natural resting state of your face.”

Emma laughed as she plopped down on Ruby’s bed with her friends and grabbed some potato chips. “The natural resting state of my face?”

“Yeah,” Ruby explained. “Take MM here. She naturally smiles. Just walks around smiling. You - not so much.”

“Okay, fine,” Emma muttered around a chip, “so I think he’s cute. Are you happy now?”

“Very.”

Emma lifted a hand the minute she saw Mary Margaret’s face. “I think he’s cute. That’s it. I’m not saying I like him or that I want to date him, just that objectively I can admit he’s cute.”

“Puppies are cute, Emma,” Mary Margaret pointed out, “that guy in there is not just cute.”

“How is he your foster brother anyway, Ruby?” Emma asked, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere else.

“Oh, that. Well, Granny knew his mom from way back. They used to come visit every summer when we were kids. Anyways, when Killian’s dad left, he asked if she’d take him.”

Emma blinked. “Wait, his dad just dumped him here? And where’s his mom?”

“She died of cancer a few years back.” Ruby shrugged. “And I don’t know, his dad wanted to go back to England or something. Killian gets pissed whenever I bring him up, so I’m not really sure. He has a brother too, but Liam’s in the Navy.”

Emma fell silent as she grabbed more chips. As she munched, she tried to imagine being sent to a new town, new school so your dad could . . . what? Live his own life with no responsibilities? It was pretty screwed up.

The sound of an electric guitar filled the apartment above Granny’s diner once again, and Ruby let out a huff of frustration as she stomped to her door.

“Kill, seriously? Can you stop with the guitar already?”

“I live here too,” Killian shouted back.

“Both of you shut up so I can sleep,” Granny yelled at them both.

Mary Margaret and Emma caught each other’s eye and burst out laughing. Ruby groaned then slammed the door shut.

“I’m serious, Emma. If he starts dating you, maybe he won’t be around here so much, driving me insane!”

“That’s not very romantic, Rubes,” MM scolded.

“And remember, Emma Swan doesn’t date.”

“Emma Swan needs to stop referring to herself in the third person.”

Emma didn’t have her poms anymore, so she threw a pillow at Ruby’s head instead.

[funkymbtifiction]

What’s been your experience of knowing a person of each Enneagram type?

It’s nothing if not interesting. 😉

1s: can be principled, dutiful, and reliable. Their pet peeve is for people to be rude, irresponsible, inconsiderate, or late. I’ve known an sp 1 and a soc 1. The sp 1 does indeed resemble a 6 due to content fretting, low self esteem, terror of getting it wrong, and general anxiety, but shows 1 behaviors of obsessive cleaning, a desperate need to control everything, and rigidity in setting up “house rules.” In so doing, she has denied herself anything that is not “useful,” which I find terribly sad. She has no room for pleasure in her life. The soc 1 is far more inclined to be assertive, to correct others, to point out what they are doing wrong, and to show her anger. Much less self doubt.

2s: ah, 2s. I’ve known a few marginally and one “sort of” well, since I spent ten days with her on a visit to another state. She truly reminded me of Molly Weasley in her bustling about, her attending to everyone’s numerous needs (and ability to keep us all in line), her pride in doing things for everyone, and her sensitivities. At one point, her daughter told her, “MOM, STOP MOLLY WEASLEY-ING CHARITY! SHE’S FINE. SHE DOESN’T NEED WATER. THANKS.” Ha, ha. I liked her a great deal, but it amused me how defensively she drove – under stress, I saw her 8 come out, though I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time. We all snapped to attention whenever that happened.

3s: I admire their work ethic but… the one I know offline has to find some way to impress people, no matter what. If that is in showing you his muscles and making sure you know how far he biked today, so be it. It used to be because he was proud of his professional life. Since retirement, I have seen him struggle enormously with having a sense of purpose and trying to find one that doesn’t hinge on his non-existent work. That is what worries me about 3s – getting old, and no longer having society regard them as “useful and essential” is HELL on them. Please, make sure, if you are a 3, to do the internal work on figuring out who you are, and recognizing your own worth as separate from what you do, before you reach that age.

4s: I have known a lot of 4s, some healthy and some not. I have two delightful healthy ones in my life right now – an sp/sx 4 and an soc/sp 4, and they are indeed different. The sp 4 is more internal and less aware of or inclined to change herself for others; the soc 4 looks outward, and is highly attentive to other people. Sp 4 can take on others’ pain and burdens in a sense and feel overwhelmed by it – and with both of these beautiful girls, I’ve seen it turn them toward compassion. But they do tend to run high on “drama.” It’s not a song, it’s an opera. I knew an unhealthy 4 once who was hell-bound to remain miserable and a victim wallowing in her pain and thwarted (almost sadistically gleefully) anyone’s attempts to help her rise above her bad situation. She wanted to stay there. And she drove everyone who knew her insane. Eventually, she lost all her friends due to her being the wet mop all the time -- which of course, fed into her sadistic happiness at being miserable, abandoned, and unloved.

5s: can be callous at times, just because they are so lacking in emotional self-awareness and so fixated on logical solutions, but they will give it to you straight if you ask for it. They tend toward severe social awkwardness—think Mr. Darcy at the Netherfield Ball. Most inclined to disappear five minutes after you meet them and remain unseen until you leave. I knew a five once, the father of a friend, who would call out hello to me as he walked right past me, straight down into the basement, where he hid for hours among his books. Given he had a house full of giggling, silly girls, I don’t blame him. He was truly Mr. Bennet.

6s: can be either the warmest, funniest, most loyal people you will ever meet – or the biggest pains in the butt, and I say that as a 6. I know one other sp 6 and he reminds me of myself, just older and male – we both are hilarious, we both tease people to establish a rapport with them, we both crave feedback and support from trusted others, and we both swing between concern and optimism. But unhealthy, paranoid 6s are out in force right now freaking everyone out about the COVID-19 and the world doesn’t need that. It needs HOPE. So for heaven’s sake, put down the freak-outs, the paranoid accusations, the wild conspiracy theories, and accept that your worst-case scenario projections are just that -- the product of your own scared mind. It may or may not happen, and trust me, 6s, I know damn well that your worst fears usually don’t happen anywhere except in your head.

7s: are enormous fun to go on vacation with, but can be flakes. Lovable ones, but still flakes. They promise more than they can deliver and then avoid you rather than face up to the music when they realize they don’t want to do what they promised. They are hilarious, witty, optimistic, and their enthusiasm is infectious, but sometimes they fail to realize that not everyone wants to be endlessly teased, mocked, or come home to a mountain of stuff followed by a maxed-out credit card bill. Life is not always a joke, sometimes it is serious. And they are inclined not to finish a serious conversation if it in any way makes them uncomfortable or feel like they’re about to confront part of themselves.

8s: I have only known one and… there are things I like about her. Her courage. Her ballsy attitude. This woman made a place for herself in a man’s world, in a time when that was not done. She bulldozed her way to the top. Unfortunately, she never shut off the bulldozer. She has burned bridges behind her, made countless enemies, and gets into foolish personal and legal fights because she refuses to back down from anyone, and will turn anything into an argument. She lost my mother as a friend, because she thought bullying her was a good idea. My mother set up polite boundaries and the 8 trampled them, something my mother does not forgive. Something 8s need to remember – what is fun for you (you consider fighting “bonding”) is not always fun for someone else who is not an 8. Being an 8 is an asset, but only if you learn to tell the difference between a threat and a non-threat.

9s: are some of the most precious people on earth, but also the must frustrating for me, because I see them being mercilessly treated by the rest of the world, which tends to walk all over them. I wind up counseling 9 friends who are frustrated at ‘not being heard’ but cannot find it within themselves to assert themselves in any way, or think they deserve to be heard, or know how to recognize what is NOT okay. Being a 9, a peacemaker, someone able to understand everyone’s point of view, is a valuable gift, but you cannot use it for good if you are incapable of believing you deserve good things, too.

Each Enneagram type has a health level. You can find them at the Enneagram Institute. Figure out which level is ‘you’ and start working toward the next one up, through conscious choices. You don’t have to stay this way. Your life is yours to command.1s, you don’t have to be perfect. 2s, you don’t have to please others. 3s, you don’t have to win every time. 4s, you don’t have to stay in a place of self-loathing. 5s, you don’t have to fear trying things. 6s, you don’t have to be afraid all the time. 7s, you don’t have to run away from everything. 8s, you don’t have to turn every discussion into a fight. 9s, you don’t have to give everyone whatever they want. It’s time to take back your life.

- ENFP Mod

PS: Most of these examples come from my extended family, none of whom follow this blog, so if you’re one of my friends (unless you are the 4) -- I’m not talking about you. ;)

[sepublic]

Here's a new one! So may I ask what your take would be if Kipo were to meet any of the 3 amphibia girls? I mean Kipo, Anne, and Sasha all got Fruncles. But this is mostly an excuse to talk more about Kipo! We need more discourse!

           Well dang, that’s something I never considered! Although it’s worth noting that Grime is a TOAD Uncle, not a Frog Uncle… And this distinction apparently means a lot to the people of Amphibia, given how they have an entire caste system revolving around this difference in species!

           Getting into Kipo herself, and how she’d react to Amphibia in general… She’d take to it naturally, obviously! She’s already met Talking Frogs… She already eats Cave Moss Lasagna and bugs and worms back home in the burrow! And as terrifyingly dangerous as Amphibia is, it’s probably not THAT different from the surface… Knowing Kipo, she might not even notice a difference if she were to be suddenly teleported from Earth to Amphibia! Her first assumption would likely be that she’s on another continent, or somewhere else in the United States, but that’s about it!

           And, this fact segways into Kipo meeting Anne… I think one of the important things to consider is that Kipo has no shame! She isn’t necessarily insecure… She had a VERY loving and supportive father, who encouraged Kipo’s interests in science and astronomy and so forth! Her friends Dahlia and Asher were good people, and really, it seems there was no reason or cause for any kind of ‘bullying’ that would lead Kipo to suppress who she is! Well, besides the whole thing about being Half-Mute, but that didn’t come up until VERY recently in Kipo’s life, and so far, the people she’s met have been supportive! Sans Wolf, but that barely lasted and she’s a child dealing with legitimate PTSD, so it’s understandable!

           I think Kipo would simultaneously be much more ‘wild’ for Anne as a friend, someone who’s a lot more upfront and wears her heart on her sleeve… But she’d also vouch for Anne’s confidence as a person! She might hear about how Anne was afraid of fully expressing herself back home, and… Kipo wouldn’t really get the anxiety because it seems culture in the Human Burrows has progressed past that sort of thing. She DOES live in the future, after all. But like Mulholland-Song taught her, you may as well live it on your sleeve who you are, and embrace that! Besides, Anne’s reasons for not ‘fitting in’ are definitely a lot tamer than Kipo’s… Not that Kipo would ever compare, of course!

           Kipo is a VERY supportive and encouraging person, she’s going to tell Anne to be who she is and not care! And as for Anne’s situation with Sasha, well… More on that later- But for now, Kipo and Anne would get along just fine! Kipo’s more openly-feral attitude would help Anne embrace the cultures and norms of Amphibia, more quickly than she already did back in Season 1… In general, they’d be enthusiastic sisters with one another! Kipo would be an AMAZING outlet for Anne’s growth, and the two of them would get into whacky hijinx… Sometimes Kipo reins in Anne, sometimes it’s the other way around!

           Then, we have Marcy! As I’ve already said before, Kipo is a nerd and proud and embracing of it… It’s going to be like Luz and Marcy! Kipo is going to be the PERFECT friend for Marcy, the two of them would stay up all night discussing science and whatnot! They’d be talking about their hyperfixations to one another, Marcy listening intently and fascinated by Kipo’s discussions of what Lio taught her, and Kipo is just so INTERESTED in Marcy’s talk of videogames and RPGs, she’s never gotten to play those sorts of things as a kid! And Marcy’s eyes twinkle and brighten up, as she invites Kipo…!

           It’s going to be amazing. They’re nerds and 100% neurodivergent. Marcy will have had past reservations about being a nerd, about being definitely autistic… And Kipo’s going to say, who cares?! Lio and the Burrow community were always supportive of that sort of thing, she’d get Marcy to proudly indulge in being neurodivergent, in being a nerd! Kipo would be fascinating to Mar-Mar and vice-versa, because they’re people who can ramble on about science for hours and understand each other, they’ve even got plenty to teach one another! Kipo’s going to be SO fascinated in Amphibia’s culture, how it differs from those of the Mod Frogs as a more expansive civilization with a proper past… Marcy will happily answer, and Mutes! OH Marcy is going to be having the time of her LIFE studying Mutes, freaking out over them, inevitably stimming and asking questions at a thousand miles per hour as Kipo happily answers each one and keeps up without blinking an eye!

           Kipo and Marcy are nerds, they’d indulge in one another’s passions and interests, and there’d be a certain special understanding between them, a unique one… At least, more unique than most relationships with other people already are! There’s going to be a connection… Kipo’s going to introduce Marcy to Lio, HE’s going to encourage and indulge in Marcy’s hyperfixations! Kipo’s going to spend all day working with Marcy on her Creatures and Caverns campaigns, playing videogames… Discussing the history behind the tech, the little ways the programming comes together! It’s going to be great.

           Like Anne, Kipo’s also going to be someone who helps Marcy keep her head and mind open… Kipo’s very much a more socially-oriented, people person. Marcy’s going to admit that she has difficulty talking with anyone else that isn’t Kipo, Sasha, or Anne… And Kipo’s going to say that’s okay, that it’s understandable if eye contact isn’t a thing for her! The way I see it, if Marcy doesn’t have a name for a lot of her autistic habits and stims, Kipo certainly does and she’s going to make Marcy EMBRACE that part of her identity, instead of feeling shame! She’ll tell Marcy Wu that it’s okay that she doesn’t readily, instantly make friends with everyone else, the way Kipo or Anne do…

           Kipo is more than ready to introduce Marcy to her other friends, and she’s going to give her pointers on how stand tall and be confident! And as for Marcy’s loneliness… Like I said, Kipo’s going to encourage Marcy to make other friends. I think Wolf, Benson, and everyone else will get along just FINE with Marcy… And speaking of which, I think Marcy is someone who would be incredibly fascinated in Kipo’s Half-Mute nature, and ALSO be supportive of it! If Kipo ever feels down and like a freak, Marcy tells her that she’s the coolest person in existence… And that’s without being Half-Mute, being partially Mega Jaguar just cinches the deal! She’s going to nerd out on Kipo’s Jaguar paws, help her figure out how to control herself…

           In general, Kipo will be a GREAT person for Marcy! She’s going to teach her to be more open about who she is, to unapologetically embrace that… Tell her it’s okay to not be the most readily-sociable person! These two will be utter nerds who get to nerd out with one another to the fullest extent, everyone else is going to groan when they start ranting at several miles-per-hour about the latest hyperfixation or science subject, and that won’t stop these two!

           As for Kipo and Sasha… Well. Kipo doesn’t have the MOST experience with these sorts of toxic, manipulative friends… The closest she has is her brother Scarlemagne, but he was a bit more up-front and wearing it on his sleeve about his intentions. He certainly wasn’t trying to trick Kipo, and throughout their interactions, there was this sense of Kipo having the emotional power over Hugo… And then of course, we find out she had the logistical power as well, thanks to Mulholland!

           Sasha is definitely much more of a confident person than Scarlemagne. A lot of the time, she doesn’t even consider or self-reflect if people will hang around her or not… While Scarlemagne is VERY fussy about if he can trust people and this manifests almost literally in his pheromones’ ability to control others and have them be completely honest; Sasha takes people for granted! She doesn’t realize she’s lost them until it’s too late… And unlike Scarlemagne, she won’t default to violence and bloodshed! At least, so far… Not to compare trauma, but Scarlemagne has definitely been through worse and has a lot more reason to be aggressive, amidst him having enabled this behavior through his attempted take-over of Las Vistas! Sasha is ALSO someone who is planning to conquer Amphibia alongside Grime…

           But the thing about her is that she HAS Grime- She can trust him, and vice-versa! They didn’t expect one another to be close friends and allies, but they’d die for one another without hesitation! Sasha’s ultimately a MUCH more confident person than Scarlemagne, and that can lead to her being less paranoid and self-reflecting because she isn’t constantly checking herself. Not to mention, while Scarlemagne is someone who is used to rely on brute force first, as someone who was always in a position of weakness beforehand…

           Sasha has ALWAYS been in a position of power and privilege. She’s never really had to worry about being on the lower-end of a power imbalance. As a result, she’s someone who’s very much used to using honey instead of vinegar, she’d rather avoid conflict and assume the best of others, that if somebody made a mistake- It was just that, a mistake!They didn’t REALLY mean to defy Sasha, they have her best interests at heart inherently! She’s much more willing to forgive and forget, but inevitably, she’ll also have a line that’s going to be crossed somewhere…

           Scarlemagne and Sasha are definitely fascinating characters. They’re not very easily open to others in the emotional sense… Sasha puts up the façade of this, but in the end, she doesn’t really connect much with her ‘cronies’ and ‘minions’. She has a VERY select friend-group of people she’s truly open with… But even THEN, there’s a certain distance between Sasha, and Anne and Marcy! And especially with Toadcatcher as of late, Sasha is someone who’s going to hide her feelings behind blunt, brute force… She’s someone who’s feeling her friends slipping away, and she’s probably going to become more like Scarlemagne, and default to obsessive control not just of others, but Amphibia itself, just to feel safe!

           …So when it comes to Kipo and Sasha interacting, this is definitely going to be an interesting one. Kipo’s going to recognize a lot of familiar story-beats, here and there… But she’s also going to see Sasha as someone who still has a lot more confidence and manipulation than her brother. Sasha is someone who could likely get to Kipo more easily than most, come across as way more trust-worthy… Without really meaning to or considering this with malice, Sasha is someone who could try to assert control over Kipo.

           But the thing about Kipo is- She’s a healthy person! She’s had postivie friendships before, she KNOWS what a healthy relationship is like… So while she may initially allow for some of Sasha’s ‘eccentricities’ at first, it’s going to become obvious to her that Sasha is toxic, and manipulative. Kipo is someone who will readily stand up to Sasha and defy her, call her out… And Sasha is going to VERY surprised. Depending at what point in her development that Sasha meets Kipo… I can see her taking a moment to self-reflect. Or, maybe she feels that precious threshold being crossed, and tries to lay down her authority…

           And alas, Kipo isn’t having it! Kipo’s going to be open, blunt, and honest in her own way, that this isn’t how friends should act, and that even IF Anne and Marcy are Sasha’s best friends and vice-versa, there’s still a lot of room to improve! And Sasha’s going to be shocked and taken aback, she’s going to brush off Kipo… And I think inevitably, she’s going to cut ties with Kipo and go off and do her own thing. There’s no need to make herself more uncomfortable by arguing with Kipo, Sasha prefers to avoid conflict! And Kipo, well…

           I think Kipo would let Sasha go, at first. But she’d also consider how Anne and Marcy are doing, and how THEY need help. Respecting boundaries is important and all… But sometimes, people need help. Sasha might see Kipo being kind to Anne and Marcy as a threat, and force her friends to choose between her and Kipo… There’s going to be a LOT of discourse. But in the end, Sasha is going to listen when she sees her friends turn to Kipo’s ‘side’… And if this is pre-Amphibia, ideally this is an environment where she can at least feel safe in reconsidering her actions, and opening up.

           Speaking of environments, I think Kipo would also take a while… But she’d get Sasha to appreciate and be more open-minded towards the Surface, as well as Amphibia! Sasha might be surprised by Kipo’s Half-Jaguar nature, but amidst everything else… She’s just going to take it in stride, as much as she already does. She dismisses the Frogs as ‘just slimy frogs’, yet Sasha clearly interacts with the Toads and treats them as actual people, with all of the little quirks and eccentricities that come with navigating social relationships! And her bond with Grime, well…

           …It’s obvious that Sasha KNOWS that non-humans are still people. She’ll most just bring it up whenever she’s trying to convince someone like Anne to get back to her side, to choose between her loyal, childhood friend, VS some strangers who are also gross and slimy frogs! But in the end, I doubt Sasha has any particular prejudice against non-humans. There IS a bit of an issue with seeing Amphibia as a place to ‘take over’ and ‘have fun’ in the beginning… But as of Toadcatcher, I think Sasha has somewhat matured in recognizing Amphibia fully as a functioning place and society, and not some adventure RPG to play around in like Marcy would. It’s a place with stakes and consequences.

           So, Sasha will be taken aback by Kipo’s half-jaguar nature, but ultimately, I think she’ll express more intrigue and interest than anything else. She’ll definitely ask a lot of questions, though be less concerned with the scientific know-how, and more how Kipo’s abilities could help the two of them… But Kipo is to strong-willed and confident, and knows better. She’s not going to fall for any of Sasha’s bad ideas.

           Really, Kipo is going to take ONE look at Sasha… And Anne and Marcy, as post-Toadcatcher, and she’s going to immediately tell that these girls are unhappy. That they have concerns, but also they clearly miss one another and want to be back together. Kipo is VERY much a problem-solver, as most scientists are by nature… So she’s going to ask a simple yet obvious question, of why can’tthey be friends again? There’s clearly a past to work with, a desire to get back together… So what, REALLY, is the problem?

           Kipo’s not going to take any of Sasha’s excuses. She’s going to get right to the heart of the problem, while Anne and Marcy admit more quickly that she has a point, and take her side in reaching out… And Sasha Waybright, she is NOT going to respond well, at least not initially! There’s a reason why she’s associated with Brawn while Jock Anne is Heart, and nerdy Marcy is Mind… Sasha is someone who’d rather punch her way through her emotions, close them off, and close her eyes as she shuts her ears and starts singing literally anything to drown out the noise. She’s going to drown herself in literally anything else before she gets to the heart of the problem…

           But in the end, this is Kipo we’re talking about here! Sasha did well against Yunnan with Grime’s help, but ultimately Kipo is someone who could very easily overwhelm her in a fight. She CAN turn into a Mega Jaguar after all, although this is an ability she has to wield with tact and precise care… Regardless, it’s basically going to be that meme of someone running down a hallway while a T-posing phantom chases after them, except it’s Kipo who’s after Sasha and she’s telling her to confront her fears and insecurities and actually open up for once! And Sasha’s going to be shutting her eyes and ears and insisting she can’t hear Kipo, not at all!

           Kipo isn’t dumb, but at the same time, she’s got a LOT of overwhelming positivity that’s inevitably going to get through Sasha’s barriers. The thing about Sasha is that I think she IS considering reconnecting with Anne and Marcy, but on her own terms… She’s going to inevitably cave in. Sasha isn’t Scarlemagne, who is much more insecure for a reason. Sasha will have Grime as someone she can fall back on, and with her past friendship with Anne and Marcy, and the idea that SHE hurt them, not the other way around (which again relates to what I said about Sasha being on the upper-end of the power imbalance), not to mention she never killed anyone…

           She’s going to begrudgingly accept Kipo’s advice, or at least humor ONE request to meet with Anne and Marcy and talk things out. It’s going to be hard and embarrassing, and Sasha will be digging her heels into the dirt the whole way through. But Kipo will be ELATED, she’s going to praise Sasha for taking this important, momentous step! Kipo is a girl with a lot of patience, if she can get to Scarlemagne’s heart and change him to some degree, even if he DOES mess up in the end… Keep in mind, Scarlemagne’s final scene had him more intrigued about Kipo’s willingness to sacrifice herself for her friends. She obviously changed him…

           Sasha isn’t as scared as Scarlemagne, that makes her a lot less dangerous and more reasonable. She’ll hesitate on saying sorry because she didn’t do anything wrong, but Kipo’s gonna give her a stink-eye. And when Kipo is DELIGHTED to see Sasha finally say sorry for once, she’s going to smother her in a hug… And then it’s a carrot-and-stick approach for Sasha, where the stick is Kipo being disapproving and unhappy, and the carrot is Kipo being happy, supportive, and offering friendship and love! Sasha is NOT immune to this girl.

          If anything, I can see Sasha developing a soft-spot for Kipo, like she does Grime… Especially since they’re both friends who don’t have to worry about a power imbalance between them, who won’t hesitate to call the other out, and help them reflect on their actions! Sasha will trust Kipo as someone who can rein her in, as someone who is on equal standing and can’t be as manipulated or hurt… I can only imagine how GRIME will react to all of this! But hey, Kipo got to Jamack. Jamack’s technically a Frog, but. I imagine a Jamack and Grime interaction would be interesting, especially with the background context of both knowing Kipo as a person- Especially if Kipo helped Sasha become happier!

           Otherwise, I can see Sasha trying to be closed-off whenever she’s caught up in Kipo’s antics. Trying to be too cool for school, but Anne, Marcy, and Kipo aren’t having it! And on another note, I feel like Kipo would try introducing Wolf to Sasha… Or at the very least, bring up her experience with Wolf; She knows how to deal with someone who is afraid of losing the people they have and going a bit too far to keep them, so Kipo will be able to navigate Sasha’s issues this way. Perhaps Wolf and Sasha could form a friendship, but maybe not; Sasha is a bit prissy compared to Wolf’s more blunt attitude and lifestyle. But then again, Sasha is also learning to be quite the brawler herself…

           Either way, Wolf is someone who Sasha will REALLY have to learn to be emotionally-open around, if she ever wants to be Wolf’s friend! It’ll be intriguing, to say the least. Maybe the two could connect on hiding from their emotions through being tough and ruthless, while also having that shared soft-spot for Kipo! Maybe they never QUITE get along, but Wolf and Sasha at least bond over a mutually-shared goal of making Kipo happy, and they’re fine with maintaining their relationship on this sort of professional ground.

           It’s definitely going to be a LOT of fun… Not to mention, Marcy whole-heartedly going along with Kipo, following in her footsteps, thinking of her as the coolest person to exist! Anne is having a bit more trouble keeping up, but her and Kipo bond over being much more sociable people, and quickly form a lot of in-jokes between them! Kipo and Marcy will get into hijinks and shenanigans, especially with Marcy working to catalogue and record data on Kipo herself and her Mega-Jaguar capabilities… Anne is going to freak out and go Mom-mode, telling them not to get into trouble; And Sasha will stand to the side, too-cool-for-school as she mutters something about those girls getting themselves killed, but really, she’s enjoying it too!

[imagineclaireandjamie]

In a later book Jamie & Claire find an orphaned baby, & discuss if Claire wanted/wants another child, whether she's still fertile, & she says she let nature take its course when she returned to Jamie etc. but it didn't happen. What if it had? Claire & Jamie become exhausted older parents - she's well into her 40s in the 18thC @ Frasers Ridge. How do they cope with young babies? What would Bree think as a 20-something arriving to find a baby sibling or two & she's also pregnant?

abreathofsnowandashes said: Hello Lennykins! A bit of a random question but do you think you’ll write anymore of that story you did where Claire and Jamie keep the Beardsley baby? Your initial piece was divine!

svoba asked: I don´t know if there was or is a similar request for it, but … what if Claire and Jamie DECIDED FOR A NEW BABY after they settled in Fraser Ridge (conversation about her sterilization or when Jamie asked her is she wants the baby-girl)? Before/after Bree come through the stones?

Anonymous asked:Imagine Claire having another baby after coming back or explore her raising the orphan she almost kept in the books and the influence of this on Brianna.

There have been quite a few calls over the years to continue my Beardsley Baby fic and now that we’ve at last reached the point of seeing that plotline brought to the screen, I’ve finally written a second chapter (not sure how many more there might be; we’ll see how next week’s episode affects the inspiration).

~Mod Lenny

Part One

The Beardsley Baby - Part Two

**************************************************

Roger had clearly told Brianna about why they had been held up in Brownsville, but perhaps it took seeing them with Julia for her to truly believe him.

“And her mother just… left her? In the snow?” Brianna asked, horrified and clutching Jemmy closer to her chest. 

For his part, Jemmy was curious about the small, wrapped bundle occupying what he saw as his place in his grandda’s arms. He reached out and managed to get a fistful of the baby’s blankets before Claire successfully extricated his hand and distracted him by kissing it and then pretending to nibble his knuckles. Jemmy’s giggling soon shifted to squealing and Julia’s face contorted into a cry. 

“She purposely left her nearby so we would hear her and find her,” Claire told brianna as she kept her attention on Jemmy while Jamie tended to Julia. “But, yes, she just left. I only hope she didn’t suffer any complications later.”

“I’m not entirely sure she wouldn’t deserve it if she did,” Brianna muttered under her breath. 

Jamie made a low grunt of agreement as she loosened Julia’s swaddling blankets and brought her to his shoulder. His large hand rubbed small circles into her tiny back. The days in the saddle, held tight to his chest and stomach against the cold had gotten her used to the smell of him, the sound of his heart beating in her ear, the comfort of his warmth. She settled quickly for him and Claire glimpsed the contented smile that flickered across his face. From Brianna’s frown, Claire suspected their daughter had noticed it too.

“So you’re going to take her in,” Brianna remarked. “That’s good of you. At least you’ve room with the two of you for now. By the time she outgrows it and needs a room of her own, maybe you’ll have more of your house to yourselves again. I, for one, can’t wait to have the cabin back for just Roger, Jem, and I.” She looked over to where Mrs. Bug was busy scolding various children and lecturing their mothers about how they ought to be the ones scolding the children in question. 

The space did feel that much more crowded after having spent a few weeks camping in the open air (thought the warmth so many bodies generated wasn’t entirely unwelcome at the moment).

“Thank ye, a leannan, for all ye’ve managed while we were away,” Jamie said, using one hand to keep Julia in place and the other to give Brianna’s shoulder and appreciative squeeze. “That there wasna bloodshed is a minor miracle.” 

“I’ll tell you about the geese later,” Brianna replied with a sly smile. She became more relaxed as Claire took Jemmy from her arms. 

“How is it you seem to have grown so much in less than a month?” Claire addressed him, earning more giggles. 

“He’ll be crawling and walking and getting into everything soon,” Brianna said, resigned. “Time to start baby-proofing everything so he doesn’t fall into the hearth when we’re not looking.” 

“Baby proof?” Jamie repeated, slowly while Claire chuckled, rubbing Jemmy’s back. 

“She’ll be right behind him in the blink of an eye,” Claire said.

“More like siblings than niece and nephew,” Roger remarked, then shook his head. “Uncle and — no, aunt and nephew?”

“That’s it, I guess,” Brianna said with a bit of obvious discomfort at the thought. 

“I’ll go put the wee lass down,” Jamie announced. “A basket will do for now but I’ll have a cradle for her in a day or two. D’ye like the sound of that, Julia? A warm place to lay yer head,” he crooned, shuffling off toward their bedroom with Claire and the others watching him go.

“He’s taken to the wean and no mistake,” Roger said quietly. 

“Pretty quick, too.” Brianna reached to take Jemmy back from her mother. 

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” Claire teased. “I seem to recall you requesting a baby sister on several occasions. I believe there was even a letter to Santa about it once.”

Brianna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, when I was five or six. And I’m not jealous. I’m a grown woman and married with a kid of my own.”

The kid in question began squirming and squealing loudly so that Roger took him and began floating him around the room making airplane noises. 

“It wouldn’t be unheard of for you to be a little jealous,” Claire told Brianna, keeping her voice low. “Even if you are an adult with a child of your own. Emotions don’t exactly follow logic. In fact, I believe they often fly in the face of logic.”

“It’s… strange, is all. To see you and Da with a baby that isn’t one of the grandkids. To think of you starting over at your age,” Brianna admitted. 

“I don’t know that it’s really starting over when you never did it the first time,” Claire said with quiet sadness. 

“I mean… you did the baby thing with me,” Brianna pressed, “and Da… He’s been around babies before.” 

“Never had the chance to raise a child of his own,” Claire reminded her daughter. “And it isn’t something he and I have done together, much as we once hoped to. I think… maybe that’s why we decided to take her. That and the fact that we wouldn’t trust the Browns as far as we could throw them after the display we witnessed upon our arrival,” she tried to lighten the mood. “All those little things you learn and share when you’re raising a child together… we never had that.”

“Like how the other person sounds when they’re dead tired and just want the baby to go to sleep so they make exhausted funny voices and sing ridiculous made-up songs,” Brianna recalled with a sigh. “Or when you’re about to get up and they gently push you back down to bed and get the baby for you.”

Claire smiled. “Exactly. The way they look at the baby when they don’t know you’re looking. Or the relief you feel when they lay out the punishment you didn’t have the heart to inflict.”

“Of course, there are also all the little infuriating things,” Brianna added. “Like when he says ‘yes’ after you’ve told them ‘no’ a thousand times.”

“Hmmm, Frank used to do that with you a lot,” Claire reminisced. “Drove me mad. It’s how you ended up with a car at sixteen.” 

Brianna smiled. “I remember. I knew exactly which one of you to go to whenever I wanted something.” 

“Mmmmhmmm, and someday soon, that’ll be Jemmy playing you and Roger off one another. And you won’t have a television you can stop him watching as punishment. Or records to take away, or—”

“I get it, Mama,” Brianna sighed. “And I’m sorry I played you and Daddy off one another… And I’m glad you’ll get to do all that with Da and this new baby.”

“Thank you, darling.” Claire hugged Brianna and cupped the back of her head momentarily. “You know you’ll always be my baby, right?”

Brianna flushed but smiled. “I know, Mama.”

[sayakas-dr-imagines]

Hello! May I request Hiyoko and Mahiru with an fem s/o who is a reserve course student? Thank you! (Some angst would be nice :3)

AI don’t know a lot about the reserve course, so this was challenging. I tried though, and I hope you like it nonetheless!

- Mod Sayaka

Mahiru Koizumi and Hiyoko Saionji With A Fem S/O Who Is In The Reserve Course!

Mahiru Koizumi

- You have always been interested in photography ever since you were a child. Despite having no desire to actually participate, you decided to learn as much as you could, and become as experienced as possible just in case your view changed when you were older.

- Due to this, Mahiru had been your friend well before she was scouted to attend Hope’s Peak. At first it was just a nice little routine, you would visit her, and she would talk to you about photography, with you either telling her facts of your own or taking small mental notes.

- But then it evolved into talking about more things - other likes, dislikes, and even home life. She would talk, and you would listen. You would talk, and she would listen. It was nice. All of the memories you two had together are nice to look back on in the end.

- The time you two were spending together gradually increased overtime, and then it became daily for you two to run off, and try to find places to take photos. You were always able to help with angles and were always honest with how you felt about her pictures. She appreciated that.

- She always told you that even if somebody isn’t an ultimate, she believes that they can still take a talent and build a career on it, just like any other ultimate could. That was always your motivation in life.

- But when Mahiru was scouted by Hope’s Peak Academy, you were ecstatic. Of course, neither of you wanted to have to leave each other, but your thought process was that “as long as one of us achieve our dream, then none of us can lose, right?”

- Mahiru never approved of this thought process of yours. She said that it’s only a win for her if we both turn out to have successful careers in things we want to do. You knew that she was right, but by sticking to the same idea that you always have, you were trying to convince yourself just as much as you were trying to convince her.

- And you thought that as long as you stuck to it and pretended to believe your own words, eventually you would genuinely start to believe it. But your mind doesn’t change so easily.

- The truth is, you were horribly upset that she was scouted to attend Hope’s Peak. You felt happy for her, you were so happy that she finally has the chance to achieve her dream - but at the same time, if she does achieve that dream, then what will happen to that duo you grew up with? Will you be forgotten?

- You were eventually confident enough to be vocal with these concerns and told Mahiru you were worried. She was thankfully very understanding, and made a mutual promise that we would never forget about each other.

- Despite this promise, you were still nervous. You didn’t want to grow apart - you wanted to stay together.

- That’s why, when your parents agreed to pay the fee to let you be a reserve course student, you were so excited. Your first instinct was to tell Mahiru, and she had a similar reaction to yours.

- “That’s amazing, S/O!” She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you close, and you did the same. You didn’t even realise what you were saying, or doing. It just slipped out.

- “I love you Mahiru.” There was a moment of silence between you two, before she finally broke the agonising silence with her own words. 

- “I love you too.”

- You two made a solemn promise to each other that those feelings would never change. That your relationship would never change into something more unappealing, or something unhealthy.

- You promised each other. And in your entire life, all of the promises you’ve made with Mahiru have never been broken. Never before have you ever had a reason to be suspicious of her breaking a promise - because you trusted her with your life.

- “Mahiru?” Until now. The redhead in question wasn’t responding to your texts, and she was never around you in school. You hadn’t seen her for a while, so you thought she was sick. But then you saw her with a group of people you didn’t know.

- She spun around, and looked almost shocked to see your face. The group of people were confused. They were obviously ultimates - they all had that aura around them of their personality and general presence. Something you and a lot of other reserve course students lacked.

- “S/O, hi.”

- “Mahiru, who’s this?” One of the girls asked. She looked unwelcoming, and her aura had a sort of “leave here, and never come back” feeling to it.

- Mahiru, supposedly in her panic, turned back around and said, “Nobody. Anyway-” You didn’t cut her off, but you tuned her out. Nobody? These new friends of hers didn’t even know who you were, and now she wasn’t even going to bother to introduce you, or give you the chance to introduce yourself?

- Your body was moving on its own at this point. You grabbed her hand and pulled her away to another area - not far away enough to not be in public, but far away enough for her to basically be inclined to speak to you.

- “S/O! What are you doing? Jeez, I’m just trying to talk to my friends.”

- “I get that,” you say. Your face must be red from anger at this point, you think. “But I’m your friend, too! And you’re not even going to bother to say “oh, yeah, that’s S/O”, I mean, c’mon, Mahiru!”

- Mahiru looked almost offended at that comment. “S/O. I swear, I’ve finally made some more friends, and you can’t even be happy for me?”

- “I can’t even be happy for you? What the hell do you mean?” You have to stop yourself from yelling. “You’ve been refusing to talk to me or be anywhere near me for the past few days!”

- “Well maybe I want some friends who actually have talent.”

- She seemed to cut herself off after that, looking terrified of what just escaped her mouth. She slapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes brimmed with tears, as did yours. “Wait, S/O- I didn’t mean it. I swear.”

- “No, Mahiru... Just don’t.” You turn around, wiping your tears away as you run off to any secluded place you can use to cry without anybody bothering you. Nobody could see you in this state - absolutely nobody. 

- Because even if they did, they wouldn’t care, right? I mean... who would care about somebody who doesn’t even have any real talent?

- You look up, and see the mountains that you told Mahiru to take a quick picture of as a memento a few months ago, and can’t help but feel sick.

Hiyoko Saionji

- Just like Mahiru, you two had the fortune of growing up together. Back when she was younger, she was far more trusting than she is now. You knew about her misfortune from a very early age, so you were always her shoulder to cry on whenever she felt like she needed help.

- You two were the perfect duo - you being a perfect balance to her mischievous and childish behaviour. She often referred to you as “big sis” when you two grew older, and she stuck to you like glue.

- Whenever she felt upset or threatened in any way, she usually ran to her father as support. But if by chance her father wasn’t around and you were, she’d immediately go to you for any sort of help you could give her.

- She was always very protective of you. She believed that because you were her friend and you grew up together, that you deserve the same treatment that she deserves, which is to be treated as a superior. You never agreed with her on this, but there is no arguing with her. You learned that a while ago, and the hard way too.

- You two were simply jumping around, with her babbling on about whatever nonsense crossed her mind. You joyfully listened, and then stopped yourself when she mentioned something about both of you being higher-ups in the world, and with both of you deserving to be treated like royalty.

- You told her that you weren’t royalty though, and that although you would be okay with Hiyoko being treated like a princess, you just want to be known as a normal girl with a normal backstory.

- She cried. Loud. She threw a tantrum until you took it back, and said that you should be treated as a superior too. Ever since that day, you learned to just go along with what she things is right, because it’s not worth the heartbreak of hearing her wails.

- Hiyoko believes wholeheartedly that you are just as talented as her - even if you aren’t an ultimate. She says that whoever doesn’t think so should go back to the pig den where they belong, since obviously they escaped there a few years ago.

- You were always there to protect her from people who made her cry out of nowhere, even if she was actually being nice to them for once. This led to assumptions being made about you. People began to spread rumours that you were just as bad as Hiyoko.

- You didn’t care, and continued to defend Hiyoko with your life. She was simply misunderstood, right? She would never turn on you. She would never turn on anybody she truly cares about.

- When Hiyoko was scouted by Hope’s Peak Academy, she wasn’t happy. Rather, she was upset that you wouldn’t be there with her - protecting her, helping her. You reassured her that she’d be fine without you, but it’d be a cold day in hell before she believes that.

- She would constantly whine about having to be alone in a whole new area without her best friend, without the one person she could turn to other than her father. 

- So in order to make her happy, you convinced your parents to pay the fee. It took my begging, whining and compromising, but eventually, they caved, and paid the fee to allow you to be in the reserve course with some other students just like you.

- “Hey, Hiyoko! I have something to tell you.” You tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around. Upon seeing you, her face lit up like a small child.

- “Oh hey! It better be good news!” She smiled, looking up at you with excitement. She really did remind you of a child sometimes. Not just her looks, but her attitude and overall aura was that of a small child’s.

- You nodded. “It is- I got into the reserve course.” She immediately threw herself at you, wrapped her arms around your midsection. 

- “Yes! I knew it - you’ll will be with me forever!” Hiyoko sounded so amazingly happy that you got into the reserve course, and so you couldn’t help but hug back.

- “Of course we wi-”

- “I love you, S/O!”

- There was a moment of awkward silence between you two, before Hiyoko desperately tried to cover up her tracks by going back on the statement. “No- no, I mean like... y’know...”

- “I love you too, Hiyoko.” You smiled fondly down at her. She grew silent. The silence this time was far from awkward, it was in fact, a very comfortable silence. A comforting quiet, a nice change from the usual ruckus that happens whenever you’re around Hiyoko.

- “Yeah. Yeah, love you, S/O.”

- That was the happiest day of your life. Where you were both finally able to confess your feelings for each other, and also the day where you confirmed that you would be going to the same school as her.

- But little did you know, that going to the same school would be the root of both of your issues. It was your dream, and Hiyoko’s, for the longest time. But neither of you anticipated that your shared dream could cause the biggest nightmare of your lives.

- “Go away, you fat pig!” Hiyoko spat, stepping in front of you. You were having a civil conversation with Mikan, and apparently, Hiyoko wasn’t very pleased with this.

- “I-I’m sorry! S-so s-sorry!” Mikan hurried away, around the corner. Hiyoko huffed, pleased with herself, and turned back to face you.

- “We were just talking, Hiyoko.”

- “Yeah, well why were you talking with that useless bitch instead of me? You said you love me, remember? So why don’t you spend time with me?” Hiyoko whined, stomping her foot down.

- “I do spend time with you, Hiyoko! But sometimes I want to hang around with my other friends, too-”

- “Oh, yeah, riiiiight. What kinda moron would willingly be around a reserve course student?”

- She seemed to not notice what she said for a few seconds, because it took her a moment to look just as taken aback as you did.

- “Apparently you’re the kind of moron that would, Hiyoko.” You turn away, your eyes stinging with the unwanted tears that threatened to spill at any moment.

- “W-wait!”

- You hastily walked away. There was no point in hiding anymore - your tears were already flowing down your cheeks, showing no sign of stopping.

- Nobody asked what was wrong. Nobody even gave you a passing glance.

- Of course they didn’t. After all, what kind of moron would willingly be around a reserve course student?